Thailand, day 6. I've anticipated seeing the Yee Peng mass lantern release in Chiang Mai for years, and now – on the verge of actually seeing it – I'm feeling conflicted. Am I about to participate in a stunning cultural celebration or an environmentally-destructive tourist trap?
My fears were not unfounded: Thailand is littered with tourists and their aftermath. I've seen the styrofoam krathongs clogging the rivers, the burned-out carcasses of paper lanterns lining the streets.
But I also have a C$200 VIP ticket to the mass lantern release at the Cowboy Army Riding Club, which I'd secured months ago, after hours of frustrating research. (Find out what I learned about Yee Peng, Loy Krathong and where to see the mass lantern release in Chiang Mai.)
I arrive at the meeting point, perfectly on time for my "VIP transportation" the event, and encounter chaos. Thousands of people mill about, looking hopelessly for tour guides and buses – any semblance of organization. I meet a young couple from France (we have the same tickets!) and a retired couple from the U.S. who are traveling the world (also the same tickets!). If we're in the wrong place, at least we're in it together. We join a queue and share tales of our travels, laughing at the mayhem around us.
"This feels like a badly organized music festival"
Ninety minutes later we get on a tour bus (not our bus, but no one objects) for the 20-minute ride to the Chiang Mai Cowboy Army Riding Club. Here, the chaos is magnified. A fenced-off empty field, thousands of people, queues for tickets and food and temporary squat toilets. "This feels like a badly organized music festival," someone laughs. By the time we're allowed into the seated event space, tempers are rising; we all have numbered seats, but that doesn't stop people pushing to the front of lines, and other people yelling at them to stop.I'm starting to accept that this won't be the magical event I came for.
"Do not floating the lanterns!"
Impatience builds, and single lanterns start floating up into the sky. Between each performance, the frustrated MC calls out: "Do not floating the lanterns! Do not floating the lanterns! We want the beautiful picture!" I can only laugh; I have given up on the magical experience altogether.Finally, finally, the time comes to float our lanterns. This is not a one-person job, so I pair up with my new Colombian friend; all around me, strangers are helping each other out. As the lanterns start to rise into the night sky, I am enchanted; all fears of disappointment melt away.
For an hour we send lanterns skyward – thousands of them. It's magical and surprisingly fun; yelling has been replaced by laughter, pushiness by camaraderie.
Our lanterns look like a swarm of glowing jellyfish, drifting with the current; some collide and come crashing down to earth, and I think about the carnage we're creating. But for a brief moment, it's wonderful – exactly what I came for.
Of course the promised VIP return transportation never arrives, and the ride back to town becomes a comedy of errors. But I'm with new friends, and we are still grinning from the experience. Was it environmentally destructive? Yes. Was it stunningly disorganized? Yes. Was it an authentic cultural experience? No.
Was the Yee Peng mass lantern release magical?
But was the experience completely magical? We all agree: yes.Back at my hotel, I sit on the balcony and have a quiet Singha, watching the occasional lantern drift up into the sky. Good night Chiang Mai; once again, you have filled me with conflicting emotions.