What to do when you need a vacation from 'vacation'? Pack up and go

Despite the daily demands of a full-time job, life in a foreign country can feel a bit like an extended vacation. Each day brings new challenges and potential adventures, new phrases to learn, new foods to try, new roads to wander.

While the discovery and acclimation are exciting and, no doubt, a large part of the reason we travel, at times it can be downright exhausting. And in times like those, I found I needed a vacation from my "vacation."

So where do you go to get away from your getaway? Some seek the solace of a hearty meal within the walls of a Western-style restaurant. Others escape to the cinema to find comfort in a cold theater, cozy chairs and the ever-present, always-delicious movie theater popcorn.

Though these treats were tempting, for me they didn't often do the trick. A girl who grew up in the foothills of the Adirondacks needs nature! So after just a couple of months in Lopburi (the city where I was living and teaching), I headed for the hills. Literally.

Boasting lush landscapes and some of the highest peaks in Thailand, the northern province of Chiang Mai offers ample opportunities to escape. Nature tours and elephant treks take serenity seekers and outdoors enthusiasts through idyllic rice paddies, aromatic cabbage fields and crisp waterfalls to marvelous mountaintop lookouts.

With a long holiday weekend ahead, I packed a bag, booked a hostel, hopped on an overnight train and left Lopburi behind. Snug in the top bunk of an old sleeper car, the whir of the fan and the steady sway of the train lulled me into a deep sleep.

It was the crisp morning air that finally — many hours later — woke me from my serene slumber. I climbed down from my bunk to find what my heart had been hoping for: nothing but the greens and browns of fields whizzing by and mountains looming in the distance. And not a single building in sight.

Although this new province was unfamiliar, already I felt more at home.

The train chugged along, eventually into the province's capital city. From the station, it was just a short songtaew ride to my hostel (songtaews are pickup trucks that have been transformed into public taxis by the addition of two benches in the beds of the trucks).

Though the hostel was clean and comfortable — a quaint family-style home tucked away in a quiet neighborhood — I wasn't planning to stay long. One night to shower and sleep, then off to the mountains in the morning.

As hiking alone can be dangerous, I joined some other solo travelers and a local guide. Hiking shoes on our feet and packs on our backs, we jumped into a songtaew and headed toward the mountains.

After a couple of bumpy, breezy hours in the back of the songtaew, we stopped off seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

In a suspense thriller, this is the part where things go horribly wrong: tourists abandoned in a foreign land, stolen wallets, guns, knives, drama, death! But thankfully, we were not in Hollywood. We were in Chiang Mai and surrounded by beauty — fresh air, tall, green trees and blue skies.

Chi, our Thai guide, led us from the road, up a hill and across a rice paddy field to an elephant camp. I was happy to see the gentle giants, but unsure whether or not this type of tourism was healthy for them.

(Throughout Thailand's history, elephants have played their part: as hard-working laborers, valuable modes of transportation, and symbols of royalty. Their historical significance has been a double-edged sword as they have been both revered and exploited, a source of pride and a source of income for the Thai people.)

Were these elephants taken care of? Were they well-fed? Did they have room to roam?

The piles of fruit, the smiling faces, the surrounding forest and the open fields quickly assured me that these friendly fellas were enjoying a slow-paced, peaceful life with a bit of exercise and plenty of food.

So we did the same: feasted on fresh fruit and Thai-style noodles and then joined the elephants for a leisurely trek through the jungle, into an open field and back through a small creek.

We said our goodbyes, thanked the elephants with bunches of bananas and followed Chi back across the rice paddies.

"Where to now?" we asked.

Chi pointed toward the mountains and replied simply, "There."

All the way from the elephant camp to "there" we talked and laughed while we dodged swinging branches, crept carefully across creeks and continued climbing deeper into the jungle.

We exchanged tales of all types — childhood memories, work struggles and successes, stories of our travels — in a beautiful blend of international languages.

And we found out that Chi could not only speak Thai and passable English, but also some Japanese, German, French and several of the hill tribe languages. He even effected an impressive Australian accent!

It was near dusk when we finally arrived at our destination, a hill tribe village made up of just three families. They were already busy preparing dinner and invited us to make use of the bathrooms (two simple shacks with concrete floors, bucket-flush toilets and showers — basic hoses hung from above).

Chilled to the bone (no hot water was available in this remote village) but clean, we sat down to a family-style dinner of green curry and rice. We warmed our aching bodies by the fire and shared more stories and plenty more laughs under the clear, starlit sky.

When there were no more logs for the fire, we headed to our "beds," thin blankets laid out on a bamboo floor, covered with mosquito nets.

But we found that mosquito nets were unnecessary. What we needed were more blankets! The temperature in the mountains drops tremendously at night and most of us were ill-prepared for such extremes.

Yet, in spite of the cold and restless night, we set out early the next morning. In the mountains, you can't crank up the heat or pile on another comforter. The best way to melt away the chill is to eat a warm breakfast, get out for some sunshine and get moving.

So that is exactly what we did. From the village we trekked along through the jungle, passed through the cabbage fields and took a dip in the waterfalls. Not once did we encounter another tour group on our journey. Water buffalo, birds and the occasional hill tribe villager were our only company.

I had truly managed to get away from my getaway.

The only problem now was that I had to go back!

But the truth is, if you are blessed enough to live in a place where nearly every day feels like vacation, it's hard to have any complaints when your vacation from your "vacation" is over

To enjoying every day adventures big and small,

Ashley

Ashley M. Fitzgerald was a teacher, model and program coordinator in Thailand until December, when she left due to political unrest. She is now the international student adviser and registrar at Intercultural Communications College in Honolulu, Hawaii. She is a 2000 graduate of Harrisville Central School and a graduate of Middlebury (Vt.) College. "Grown Local, Gone Global" is published every other Sunday. You may send your questions and comments to her at afitzgerald@wdt.net..