Visakha Bucha Day: The Quietest Night in Thailand, and the One Most Foreigners Miss

After 22 years in Thailand, I have watched the country celebrate dozens of holidays. Songkran is loud. Loy Krathong is photogenic. Chinese New Year is colourful. The King’s Birthday is patriotic.

Visakha Bucha is none of those things. It is the one Thai holiday that goes quieter, not louder. And it is, by a wide margin, the single most spiritually important day in the Thai calendar.

Most foreigners living in Thailand have never heard of it. Or they might understand “Candle Festival” especially in Ubon Ratchathani. They think it is “another Buddhist day” and let it pass. That is a mistake I want to correct, because what happens at temples on Visakha Bucha night is one of the most beautiful things you can experience in this country.

by

After 22 years in Thailand, I have watched the country celebrate dozens of holidays. Songkran is loud. Loy Krathong is photogenic. Chinese New Year is colourful. The King’s Birthday is patriotic.

Visakha Bucha Day Thailand est none of those things. It is the one Thai holiday that goes quieter, not louder. And it is, by a wide margin, the single most spiritually important day in the Thai calendar.

Most foreigners living in Thailand have never heard of it. Or they might understand “Candle Festival” especially in Ubon Ratchathani. They think it is “another Buddhist day” and let it pass. That is a mistake I want to correct, because what happens at temples on Visakha Bucha night is one of the most beautiful things you can experience in this country.

What Is Visakha Bucha?

Visakha Bucha (วันวิสาขบูชา, sometimes spelled Vesak) marks three events that, according to Buddhist tradition, all happened on the same full-moon day in the sixth lunar month:

  • The birth of the Buddha (Do you know Lumphini Park in Bangkok? Lumphini is where Buddha was born, a city in Nepal)
  • The enlightenment of the Buddha
  • The passing of the Buddha (his Parinirvana)

Three of the most consequential events in the life of a religious figure, all stacked into one date. In 2026, that falls on 31 May, a public holiday in Thailand. UNESCO recognised the day as an internationally observed holiday back in 1999. It is celebrated across the Buddhist world, from Sri Lanka to Vietnam to Mongolia.

But Thailand does it in a way I have not seen anywhere else.

What Actually Happens on Visakha Bucha Night

The morning is normal. People go to the temple to make merit, offer food to monks, listen to a sermon. Standard Buddhist holiday material. If you walked through Bangkok at 10 in the morning, you would mostly notice that the alcohol shelves at 7-Eleven are wrapped in plastic and the bars are closed.

The evening is what you came for.

Just before sunset, families start gathering at their local temple. Each person carries:

  • Three sticks of incense
  • A single candle
  • A flower (usually a lotus or a yellow chrysanthemum)

The monks begin chanting. Then everyone, lay people and monks together, walks three slow circles around the ubosot (the main ordination hall). Clockwise. Candles lit. In silence.

This is called Wian Tian (เวียนเทียน). One circle for the Buddha. One for the Dhamma (his teachings). One for the Sangha (the monastic community). Three circles, three refuges.

There is no music. No fireworks. No selfie sticks, generally. Children walk between their parents holding tiny candles, learning by watching. Old people walk slowly. Younger people sometimes record discreetly on their phones, sometimes not. The whole thing takes maybe twenty minutes, depending on the size of the temple and the crowd.

When you finish your three rounds, you place your incense, candle, and flower at the altar in front of the ubosot, bow three times, and walk home.

That is it. That is the whole ceremony. And it is one of the most powerful religious experiences I have witnessed in any country, of any faith.

Why It Hits Differently Than Songkran or Loy Krathong

The reason most foreigners miss the significance of Visakha Bucha is that it does not perform for tourists. There is nothing to photograph that will impress anyone on Instagram. The crowds are smaller. The lights are dimmer. There is no marketing campaign behind it.

That is also exactly what makes it special.

You are not at a festival. You are at a religious observance that has been done in essentially the same form for over 2,500 years. The candles you are holding were lit by the same kind of fire as the candles at the first Visakha celebrations in ancient India. The chants are in Pali, a language that has not changed in two millennia.

Songkran is fun. Loy Krathong is romantic. Visakha Bucha is real.

Where to Go: Don’t Pick the Famous Temple

A common mistake is to drive to Wat Phra Kaew or Wat Arun expecting the best experience. You will get the best photos there, sure. You will not get the best experience.

The best Visakha Bucha experience is at your closest neighbourhood temple. The smaller, the better. A wat in your soi where the abbot knows the dogs by name. Where the ubosot is small enough that three slow circles take eight minutes, not forty. Where the family in front of you is the family that lives across the street.

Sebastien at the Candle Festival in Korat 2013.

Me in 2013.

Some of the most memorable Visakha nights I have had in 22 years were at temples I would not be able to point out on a map today. Anonymous wats in Pattaya, in Chonburi, in the back streets of Bangkok’s Bang Na district. The smaller the temple, the more present the experience. Of course for me, it was Nakhon Ratchasima. And the picture above is the CANDLE FESTIVAL. That is not the same. Candle festival is Asalha Bucha.

If you want a slightly bigger atmosphere without going full-tourist, try:

  • Wat Bowonniwet (Bangkok) — royal temple, beautiful, manageable size
  • Wat Phan Tao (Chiang Mai) — wooden, intimate, candlelit feels otherworldly
  • Wat Suthat (Bangkok) — stunning ubosot, neighbourhood crowd
  • Any forest monastery (wat pa) you can reach in the Northeast — the silence is unmatched

Practical Notes for Foreigners Going for the First Time

Bring something modest to wear. Long pants or a long skirt. Shoulders covered. White is ideal but not required. Take your shoes off when entering the temple grounds where indicated.

Buy your incense, candle, and flower at the temple itself. There is usually a stand right at the entrance, and the income supports the temple. The set costs 20 to 50 baht.

Don’t talk during the procession. If you must speak, whisper. Phones on silent.

Don’t photograph the monks during chanting unless you are very far away and very discreet. A picture of the candlelit procession from behind, showing the lights but not faces, is fine and beautiful. Anything closer is intrusive.

Bring children if you have them. They will remember it. Thai children grow up doing this, and there is something quietly profound about teaching a five-year-old how to walk slowly around a building three times in silence holding fire. They learn presence in ten minutes that adults sometimes spend years searching for.

Stay for the full three rounds. Don’t leave halfway through because your candle wax is dripping. The wax dripping on your hand is part of the point.

Alcohol Ban: A Practical Reality

Thailand bans alcohol sales nationwide on Visakha Bucha. Restaurants, bars, supermarkets, 7-Elevens, Tops Market, all of it. The shutters come down on the beer fridges around midnight the night before and stay down until midnight at the end of the holiday.

If you have an evening planned that involves drinking, plan ahead. Hotels can sometimes serve guests in-room or at restaurants under specific licences, but the rules vary and enforcement is real. Restaurants in tourist areas occasionally bend the rules, but I would not count on it.

Honestly, the alcohol ban is part of the magic. The country is quieter. The traffic is calmer. People are with their families. It is one of the few days a year where the volume of Thailand’s social life turns itself down.

Lean into it. Have tea. Walk to the temple. Come home. Read a book. Sleep early.

Why I Still Go After 22 Years

I am not Buddhist. I was not raised in any religion that puts much weight on candles and chanting. And yet I have gone to Visakha Bucha at a temple every year I have been in Thailand, almost without exception.

Part of it is curiosity that turned into habit. Part of it is respect for a country that has been my home for two decades. But the bigger part is harder to articulate.

There is something specific about walking three slow circles around a building, in silence, with strangers, holding fire. You stop thinking about your phone. You stop thinking about work. You stop thinking about whatever was bothering you that morning. For twenty minutes, you are just walking, and breathing, and watching the candle in your hand.

I have spent a lot of time in 2026 thinking about AI, about Second Brains, about agentic workflows, about how to build systems that remember more and decide faster. All of that matters. All of that is real.

But Visakha Bucha is the opposite of all of that. It is one night a year where you are asked to do nothing. Walk three times. Hold a candle. Place a flower. Go home.

That is the part that has stayed with me through 22 years of living here, and the part I would not trade for anything.

If you have lived in Thailand for years and never gone, this is the year. Find your closest small temple. Show up at sunset. Bring a candle.

You will understand the country a little better the next morning.

Practical info for 2026

  • Date: 31 May 2026 (full moon, sixth lunar month)
  • Public holiday in Thailand
  • Alcohol sales banned nationwide for the day
  • Government offices closed
  • Most temples hold Wian Tian (candlelit procession) at sunset
  • Free, open to all, no booking needed

Songkran 2026: An Expat Ranking After 22 Years in Thailand

by

Songkran is Thai New Year. Officially “April 13 to 15”. In 2026, that landed on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, which looks neat on a calendar. But the weekend sitting right before it stretched the real celebration from April 12 to April 19 in many places. Eight days of water warfare. Some cities pushed even longer. This is one of those moments when Thailand quietly refuses to respect its own rulebook, and nobody complains. This year I did something I had not done in a while. I travelled for it. Three French-Canadians loose in Pattaya, then back home to Cha-Am, then one last run in Hua Hin.

Pattaya: Beautiful Chaos with a Cold Edge

Pattaya in Songkran is its own animal. The water starts flying around 4 PM and, in some streets, does not stop until 2 AM. Think about that. Two in the morning. Grown adults still ambushing each other with Super Soakers and buckets of ice water. There is no other city in Thailand, or the world, where the water fight runs on a nightclub schedule.

The tourist mix has shifted heavily. I noticed a much bigger wave of Indian, Chinese, and Russian visitors than in past years. More than I have ever seen. Walking Street looked like a soaked United Nations. The bar density is also off the chart. Whatever you think of Pattaya, the city has reinvested seriously since COVID and you can feel it.

Pattaya Songkran 2026
Pattaya Songkran 2026

But here is the thing about Pattaya Songkran. A lot of the tourists are not really playing Songkran. They are playing revenge. High-pressure jets aimed at your face. Ice water loaded like ammunition. It stops being a festival and becomes a combat sport. For me, that is the wrong spirit. Songkran is not about proving who has the biggest water gun. It is about sharing a moment, laughing with strangers, maybe blessing someone with a splash on the shoulder. The Thai version of that gets lost when everyone around you is treating it like a paintball tournament.

Cha-Am: The Quiet Return

I came back to Cha-Am and went for a run. Strange choice on paper, but after four days in Pattaya it felt like a reset. Cha-Am during Songkran is calm. The real action clusters around Soi Bus Station and Beach Road, and even there it stays gentle. Small town, small festival, small crowds. If you want to experience Songkran without being baptisedevery five minutes, Cha-Am is a good entry point.

Songkran Cha-Am 2026
Songkran Cha-Am 2026

The Hua Hin Finale

The best day of my Songkran 2026 was not in Pattaya. It was on April 19 in Hua Hin. We went to Soi Bintabaht, the famous bar alley just off Naresdamri Road, and that place is perfectly designed for this festival.

Here is why. The alleys are narrow. No cars. No motorcycles. Just people. Nobody is dodging a pickup truck full of teenagers with a fire hose. No motorbike is weaving through your battle. You can actually enjoy the festival without watching for wheels. The crowd was dense but not suffocating. The music was good, the atmosphere was warm, the fights were playful, not vengeful. The right size, the right energy, the right spirit.

I have done Songkran in a lot of places, and Soi Bintabaht on the 19th was the closest thing to how Songkran is supposed to feel.

My Personal Ranking

After doing Songkran in Bangkok, Nakhon Ratchasima, Pattaya, Cha-Am, and Hua Hin, here is where I land.

1. Hua Hin. Soi Bintabaht specifically. The scale, the vibe, the pedestrian-only alleys.

Hard to beat.

2. Nakhon Ratchasima (Korat). I lived there for about 17 years, so yes, there is sentiment. But the action around Yamo and Chomphon Street is some of the best street Songkran I have ever seen. A Thai crowd, not a tourist crowd, and that changes everything.

3. Pattaya. Crazy in the best and worst sense. Worth doing once. Maybe twice. Pack goggles.

Bangkok does not make the list. Khao San Road and Silom are where most of the action concentrates, and Silom this year reportedly pulled in around 200,000 people. That is not a festival. That is a compressed panic. I did it years ago and once was enough. Too many people, too much pushing, too little of the thing that makes Songkran actually Songkran.

Why Songkran Beats Coachella

Here is something nobody talks about. Coachella was happening at the exact same time as Songkran this year. People paid thousands of dollars to fly to the California desertand stand in the sun listening to music. Fine. Great artists, good experience. But for the same weekend you could have flown to Thailand. Slept in a decent hotel for

30 USD a night. Eaten for almost nothing. And been part of a national street festival that cannot be replicated anywhere else on earth. The social experience of Songkran is the real product. You are dropped into a country that has collectively agreed, for a few days, that everyone is on the same team. Strangers laugh with you. Kids ambush you. Elders bless you with scented water. There is no ticket, no wristband, no VIP section. Songkran itself costs nothing.

If you are thinking about travelling to Thailand, plan around Songkran. Pick a city that fits your energy. If you want wild, go Pattaya. If you want tradition, go Chiang Mai or Korat. If you want the sweet spot, go Hua Hin. If you want calm, go Cha-Am.

Just do not bring your expensive phone without a waterproof case. And do not expect to stay dry for a single second.

Highly recommended. It really is the kind of experience you do not find anywhere else in the world.

Nam Tan Sod — The Thai Drink I Had Never Heard Of in 21 Years

Fresh palm sap, fermented or sweet, sold for 50–60 baht a bottle in Phetchaburi at a roadside shop called Lung Tanom. The bottles are wrapped in Thai schoolchildren’s homework. A small post about a small drink almost no foreigner ever finds.

by

I had been in Thailand for 21 years before I tasted nam tan sod. Twenty-one years. A Thai friend introduced me to it on a small detour in Phetchaburi province this March, and the entire time I sat there drinking it I kept asking the same question: how did I miss this for two decades? This is a small post about a small drink that almost no foreign visitor ever encounters, even though it is one of the most distinctive things you can drink in central Thailand. In fact, it’s called Nam Tam Sod in Phetchaburi.

Nam tan sod (น้ำตาลสด) literally means “fresh palm sugar” or “fresh palm sap.” It is the unprocessed sap from the sugar palm tree (Borassus flabellifer), collected in bamboo tubes hung from cuts in the flowering stalks. The fresh sap is sweet, slightly cloudy, and has a delicate floral flavour that has nothing in common with cane sugar or coconut.

That is the sweet, non-alcoholic version. There is also a fermented version. Left in the heat for a day or two, the wild yeasts on the bamboo and in the palm flower do their work, and the same liquid becomes a mildly alcoholic drink — somewhere around 4–8% — that the locals just call by the same name. Sweeter, fizzier, slightly tangy. Country wine, made with no equipment, no pasteurisation, and no marketing.

Lung Tanom in Phetchaburi

The place I went is called Lung Tanom — “Uncle Tanom” — in Phetchaburi province, not far from where I now live in Cha-Am. It is exactly what you imagine: a small open-air shop on a road outside town, palm sugar processing on one side, drink shop on the other, plastic chairs, a grandmother running the till.

The sweet version costs 50 baht for a small bottle. The alcoholic version costs 60 baht. Read that twice — sixty baht for a bottle of fermented palm sap. That is somewhere around $1.70 USD. In Bangkok, an equivalent fizzy thing in a fancy package would cost ten times that and be objectively worse.

The Bottles Wrapped in Homework

The detail I cannot stop thinking about: the bottles at Lung Tanom were wrapped in homework. Real homework, from real Thai students. Maths exercises in pencil. Penmanship pages. The kind of school papers that should have ended up in a recycling bin. Instead they were wrapped around 60-baht bottles of fermented palm sap.

I asked. The shop apparently buys waste paper from local schools as packaging. It is cheaper than buying paper. The students get a small donation. The bottles get wrapped. Everyone wins.

I sat there with a bottle of palm wine in my hand and a Thai child’s third-grade arithmetic homework wrapped around it, thinking: this could not happen in Canada. The hygiene rules, the recycling regulations, the school privacy policies — none of it would allow this in any country I have lived in. In Thailand, in Phetchaburi, on a small road outside town, it is just how the shop runs. Practical, cheap, slightly absurd, completely fine.

How to Drink It

The sweet version is best chilled, drunk straight, slightly cold. It tastes like a thinner, more floral coconut water. Not cloying. Not heavy. Refreshing in a way that is hard to compare to anything else.

The alcoholic version is more interesting. Cold, slightly fizzy, sweet up front, with a sour-tangy finish from the fermentation. It tastes like a country wine that has been doing what it does for a thousand years before anyone invented the word “natural wine.” For an aperitif on a hot day, in a plastic chair, in a small Thai town, it is hard to beat.

One bottle is enough. Two will catch up with you faster than you expect.

Why You Have Probably Never Heard of It

Nam tan sod is not on the foreign-tourist circuit. It is not in any of the major guidebooks that cover Thailand. It is not on Instagram in a meaningful way. It is also not really a Bangkok drink — Bangkok converts everything to a Western format eventually, but nam tan sod has stayed local because the supply chain stays local. The sap goes off quickly. The fermentation is uneven. There is no shelf-stable bottling industry around it.

It is a road-trip drink. You find it at small shops in palm-growing regions — Phetchaburi, Ratchaburi, Suphanburi, parts of Nakhon Pathom. You do not find it in a Phuket beach bar or a Chiang Mai night market.

This is also why, after 21 years in Thailand, I had never tasted it. I had spent most of my Thailand life in Korat, Bangkok, and the south. I never drove through Phetchaburi for a casual roadside stop. The drink was waiting. I just had to move closer.

The Bigger Lesson, If You Want One

One of the recurring lessons of long-term Thailand life is that the country still surprises you, even after two decades, even after permanent residency, even after thinking you knew the place. The food culture is deep. The regional variation is enormous. The drinks, the snacks, the markets, the small shops outside town all keep showing me things I had no idea existed.

That is also a useful counter to the version of “Thailand is changing too fast” that gets repeated every year. Yes, Bangkok is glassy. Yes, Phuket is overrun. Yes, the Songkhla beach is more developed than it was. But Phetchaburi — small, rural, an hour and a half from Bangkok — is exactly the same Phetchaburi it was 30 years ago, with palm sugar in the same bamboo tubes, country wine in the same recycled bottles, and grandmothers running the same shops.

Sixty baht for a bottle of country wine wrapped in a child’s arithmetic homework. That is one of those small things that, after 21 years, still made me laugh and write a Facebook post.

Practical: Trying Nam Tam Sod Yourself

  • Where: Lung Tanom, Phetchaburi province, central Thailand. Other palm-growing provinces (Ratchaburi, Suphanburi) have similar shops.
  • What to ask for: “Nam tan sod” (sweet, non-alcoholic) or “nam tan sod mao” (the alcoholic version, “mao” means tipsy)
  • Price: 50 baht sweet, 60 baht alcoholic (a small bottle)
  • Best with: A hot day, a plastic chair, no rush. Eat the local sticky rice with palm sugar dessert at the same shop.
  • Storage: Drink it the day you buy it, especially the sweet version. The alcoholic version keeps slightly longer.
  • From Bangkok: Easy day trip. Phetchaburi town is about 2 hours by car. Combine with Phra Nakhon Khiri or Khao Wang.

Twenty-one years to find it, and worth every one. If you live in Thailand, find a roadside shop in palm country and try it. If you are visiting, build a Phetchaburi day into the trip. Don’t forget to try the Nam Tam Sod in Phetchaburi.

Sebastien H. Brousseau is a Canadian lawyer, permanent resident of Thailand since 2014, and founder of ThaiLawOnline.com. He writes about Thai food, travel, and life in Southeast Asia. He lived in China 2002-2004 and Thailand 2004-2026.

Snakes, Scorpions, and 21 Years of Thai Wildlife Encounters

A python on a power pole, a cobra in my Roi-Et house, a scorpion in the bathroom, and the animals in Thailand that should actually worry you (not snakes). Two decades of Thai wildlife stories from Korat, Roi-Et, and beyond.

by

Originally shared on Facebook · February 2026 · 31 reactions (mostly WOW), comments full of similar stories

Somebody sent me a picture of a python wrapped around a power pole in Korat — six metres of snake, calmly digesting whatever it had just eaten, while neighbours took photos from a safe distance. I posted it. The comment section filled up with people sending me their own photos. After 21 years in Thailand, I have a small collection of these stories myself.

Here is the honest version of what wildlife you actually meet living in Thailand, ranked roughly by how much it should worry you.

The Python Near My House in Korat

I lived in Nakhon Ratchasima — Korat — for over a decade. Isaan, central plateau, half rural, half urban, half tropical. Pythons are not rare. They eat rats and chickens and the occasional small dog. They are not aggressive to humans. The one I saw near my house looked roughly the same size as the one in the photo somebody sent me — easily three or four metres, possibly more, sliding through tall grass behind the property.

I did not run. Pythons do not chase people. The local Thai response, which I learned to copy, is: take a photo, leave it alone, tell the neighbours. Sometimes a rescue team comes. Sometimes the snake moves on by itself. Either way, you do not get involved.

The Cobra in My House in Roi-Et, 2004

The cobra is a different category. I saw one in 2004 inside my house in Roi-Et, moving very fast across the floor, hood not raised but unmistakable. A king cobra can grow to four metres. The smaller monocled cobra is the one most commonly seen in Thai houses. Either way, you do not deal with this yourself. You back out of the room, you close the door, you call somebody.

The local Thai approach to a cobra in the house is roughly: stand still, leave a clear exit, do not corner it. Cobras strike when threatened. They do not generally hunt people. The bite, however, is medically serious — antivenom exists in every Thai hospital but you want to be at a hospital quickly if it happens.

It did not happen. The cobra left through the back door faster than I could react. I had a neighbour come check the house with a stick that night.

The Scorpion in the Bathroom

The scorpion was in my bathroom one morning, on the tile near the drain. Smaller than I expected. Black. The Thai forest scorpion is large but its sting is roughly bee-sting territory — painful, swollen, generally not dangerous unless you have an allergic reaction. They turn up in bathrooms, under shoes, in old shoes you have not worn in a while.

The lesson I took from that morning is the standard Thailand lesson: shake out shoes that have been on the floor overnight, especially in older houses, especially in the rainy season.

The One I Will Not Eat Again: Snake Meat

I have eaten snake meat once or twice, in different contexts. Cobra at a snake farm restaurant where they butcher the snake at the table. Boiled snake somewhere in Isaan. The texture is fine — chicken-like, slightly chewy. The flavour is not particularly interesting. There is a market for it because of supposed medicinal properties, mostly virility-related, mostly placebo.

I would not eat it again. Not for moral reasons — Thai people have eaten snake forever and the population is not the problem. I just did not enjoy it enough for a second time.

What Should Actually Worry You: Mosquitos and Dogs

Here is the part of Thai wildlife that most foreigners get wrong.

The animals that actually injure or kill people in Thailand, every year, are not snakes. Snakes are statistical noise. The animals you should respect are mosquitos, dogs, and to a lesser extent monkeys.

Mosquitos: Dengue is the big one. There are tens of thousands of dengue cases per year, occasional fatalities, and no effective vaccine for most travellers. Repellent matters. Mosquito coils matter. Sleeping under a screen matters. I have had dengue. It is a real disease. I do not skip mosquito repellent any more.

Dogs: Stray dogs in rural Thailand are common and rabies is still present in the country. Most strays are calm. A small percentage are not. Vaccinate your own dogs. Avoid feeding strays unless you know them. If you are bitten, go to a hospital — the post-exposure rabies protocol is well-established and effective if started promptly. I have had to do the protocol once. It is not fun, but it works.

Monkeys: Cute until they are not. Monkey bites at temples (Lopburi, Phra Nakhon Khiri, certain national parks) are common. Treat them like small wild animals. Do not carry food. Do not stare. Do not try to pet them.

The Centipedes Nobody Warns You About

Thai centipedes — the giant red ones, sometimes 20 cm long — sting with a venom that is not life-threatening but is genuinely painful for hours. They turn up in damp places. Garden, bathroom, under flower pots. I have not been stung. People I know have. The standard advice is the same as for scorpions: shake out shoes, watch where you put your hands.

What 21 Years Has Taught Me

The fear of “tropical wildlife” is mostly disproportionate.

I have lived in Thailand since 2004. I have lived in rural Isaan, in beach towns, in central Bangkok, in Cha-Am. I have seen one cobra, a couple of pythons, a scorpion, no centipedes, plenty of mosquitos, and a non-zero number of strays. Nobody close to me has been seriously hurt by an animal. Several people I know have had dengue. One had to do the rabies protocol after a stray bite. Nobody has been bitten by a snake.

The version of Thailand foreign visitors imagine — pythons in every tree, scorpions in every bed — is a movie. The actual version is mostly dogs you should respect, mosquitos you should not ignore, and, every few years, a 20-foot snake on a power pole that gets a Facebook post and 31 reactions.

Practical: If You Encounter Each One

  • Snake (any size): Back away. Do not corner it. Call a snake rescue or local emergency number (199). Do not try to handle it.
  • Cobra specifically: Leave the room. Close the door if possible. Get to a hospital fast if anyone is bitten.
  • Scorpion or centipede sting: Wash, ice, painkillers. Hospital if you have an allergic reaction.
  • Stray dog bite: Wash with soap and water for 15 minutes. Go to any Thai hospital — they have the rabies protocol on hand.
  • Monkey bite: Same as dog bite. Rabies protocol applies.
  • Mosquito prevention: DEET-based repellent, long sleeves at dawn/dusk, mosquito coils outdoors, screens or nets at night.

Thailand is one of the safer tropical countries to live in if you respect the animals you actually meet rather than the ones in the imagination of visitors. After 21 years, the python on the power pole is the photo I share. The mosquito is what I plan around.

Sebastien H. Brousseau is a Canadian lawyer, permanent resident of Thailand since 2014, and founder of ThaiLawOnline.com. He has lived in Korat, Roi-Et, Bangkok, and Cha-Am over the last two decades and writes about life in Southeast Asia.

Phra Nakhon Khiri and the Question I Asked the Ticket Seller

Thai citizens pay 40 baht. Foreigners pay 200. After 21 years in Thailand, after permanent residency, after paying Thai income tax for over a decade, I asked the ticket seller a simple question in Thai: yutitham mai? Is this fair? On dual pricing, fairness, and a beautiful Phetchaburi hill palace.

by

Originally shared on Facebook · February 2026 · Phetchaburi, Thailand · 37 reactions

I went to Phra Nakhon Khiri, the historical park on the hill above Phetchaburi town, on a hot afternoon in February. The view is one of the better ones in central Thailand — a 19th-century palace, three hills, three temples, the town spread out below. I was there with Thai friends. I had been talking all morning about how much I love Phetchaburi and why I just moved to Cha-Am.

Then I got to the ticket booth.

The Sign at the Booth

The sign at Phra Nakhon Khiri lists two prices. Thai citizens pay 40 baht. Foreigners pay 200 baht. Five times the local price. There is no senior discount, no resident discount, no permanent-resident discount. If your face does not look Thai, you pay the foreign rate.

This is not new. Dual pricing exists at most national parks, royal palaces, and historical sites in Thailand. It is not hidden — the sign is in English and Thai. What is new, for me, is that after 21 years here, after permanent residency, after paying Thai income tax for over a decade, the sign still gets to me. It got to me that afternoon.

The Question I Asked

I was there with Thai friends. They had paid 40 baht each. I walked up to the ticket seller — politely, not aggressively — and asked her one question in Thai.

“Yutitham mai?”

It means: Is this fair?

I added a few examples. What if women paid 200 baht and men paid 40? Yutitham mai? What if Katoey paid 200 and other Thais paid 40? Yutitham mai? Why me? I am a permanent resident. I pay Thai taxes. I have lived here longer than some of the staff. Yutitham mai?

The ticket seller said nothing. She was not the right person to argue with — she does not write the rules, she sells the tickets — and I knew that. The point was not to win an argument with a 23-year-old Thai woman doing her job. The point was to ask the question out loud, in Thai, in front of Thai friends, in a place where the question rarely gets asked.

Why I Pay (Most of the Time)

I want to be honest. Most of the time, I pay. I pay at Wat Pho. I pay at the Grand Palace. I pay at the historical parks. I pay at the national parks. I do not make a scene. I want to see these places, the surcharge is annoying but small in absolute terms, and the line moves faster if you do not argue.

The difference at Phra Nakhon Khiri was that I was not a tourist. I was a permanent resident having a Thursday afternoon out with friends. The dual price reframed the entire visit. Suddenly I was not a friend showing his Thai friends a place I love. I was a foreigner the system had decided to charge five times more for the same view.

The Argument for Dual Pricing

The official argument is that Thai citizens fund these sites with their taxes, so they should pay less. It is not an unreasonable starting point. Many countries do something similar — French museums offer EU resident rates, U.S. national parks have annual passes, Egyptian sites distinguish nationals.

The difference in Thailand is the size of the gap and the lack of a residency option. A 20% local discount for taxpayers is one thing. Charging foreigners 5x or 10x the local price, with no exemption for permanent residents who pay Thai income tax, is something else.

I have paid more Thai tax in the last ten years than most tourists will ever pay in entrance fees. The math does not really work.

What Phra Nakhon Khiri Is, If You Ignore the Booth

For all of that, the place itself is beautiful. King Mongkut (Rama IV) built Phra Nakhon Khiri in the 1850s as a summer palace. It sits on three hills. The western hill has the palace and an observatory. The central hill has Phra That Chom Phet, a Sri Lankan-style chedi. The eastern hill has Wat Phra Kaeo Noi, a smaller version of Bangkok’s Emerald Buddha temple.

You can walk between them. There is a tram if it is too hot, which on most days it is. Monkeys are everywhere — entertaining for fifteen minutes, less entertaining when one tries to take your water bottle. The view of Phetchaburi from the top, on a clear day, makes the climb worth it.

The historical park is genuinely one of the better day trips from Bangkok or Cha-Am. It is also one of the places where the dual pricing sting bothers me the most, because I love Phetchaburi and I want to bring people there.

The Bigger Point

This is not a complaint post. I live in Thailand. I will continue to live in Thailand. I am not leaving over a 160-baht surcharge.

The point is more about yutitham — fairness — as a value. Thai culture talks about it often. The country prides itself on hospitality. The foreigners who have invested their lives here, who married Thai partners, who built businesses, who pay taxes, who sit on Thai school boards, who run Thai law firms — most of us are happy to pay our share. We are also paying attention to the difference between paying our share and being told that, no matter how long we live here, we will always pay five times more for the same hill.

There are easier solutions than abolishing the system. Permanent resident discounts. Long-term-visa discounts. Tax-ID-based concessions. Other countries figured this out. Thailand could too.

The ticket seller did not have answers for me. She was not supposed to. The question is for the people above her — and one day, a sign that says “Permanent residents: 40 baht” would make the view from the top of Phra Nakhon Khiri even better than it already is.

Practical Information: Visiting Phra Nakhon Khiri

  • Where: Phetchaburi town, central Thailand. About 2 hours by car from Bangkok, 30 minutes from Cha-Am.
  • Entrance fee: 40 THB Thai / 200 THB foreigner. Tram up the hill: small additional fee.
  • Best time: November to February — cool season. Mornings before 10 a.m. avoid the worst heat.
  • Watch: The macaques. Do not carry food in your hand. Hold on to your water bottle.
  • Combine with: Khao Luang Cave (10 min away), Phetchaburi old town palm sugar shops, lunch at the local market
  • Dress: Modest for the temples (covered shoulders, knees). Wear shoes you can walk in.

Phetchaburi is one of Thailand’s most underrated provinces. The dual pricing at the top of the hill is a small note on an otherwise excellent day. I will keep going back. I will keep paying the 200 baht. And I will keep asking the question, politely, in Thai, until somebody in a position to fix it actually hears me.

Sebastien H. Brousseau is a Canadian lawyer, permanent resident of Thailand since 2014, and founder of ThaiLawOnline.com. He lives in Cha-Am and has been writing about Thai law and life in Thailand for over twenty years.

I Spend $600 a Month on AI — And It Is the Best Investment I Have Made

I pay for 8 AI services per month. 60 email agents. 225,000 legal embeddings. 50 years of Thai Supreme Court decisions in 2 minutes. Here is why every cent is worth it.

by

I Spend $600 a Month on AI — And It Is the Best Investment I Have Made

I pay for eight AI services every month. The total comes to approximately $600 USD. When I tell people this, the reaction splits cleanly: either they think I am foolish with money, or they understand immediately why.

At my laptop. Most of the $600/month is invisible — sub-agents running in the background while I work on something else.

Here is why.

What $600 a Month on AI Actually Buys

The services span different categories. There are the large language models — ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini — which form the backbone of most of what I do. There are specialised tools for research, for legal document analysis, for code generation. There are agent orchestration platforms that let the tools talk to each other and operate autonomously on tasks I define.

The result is not just faster work. It is a different category of work. Things I could not do before — not because of skill, but because of time — are now possible.

60 Email Agents

My email system is built from 60 AI agents. This is not an exaggeration for effect. Sixty agents, each with a specific role: one reads incoming messages and categorises them by urgency and type. Others draft responses based on context and relationship history. Others follow up on unanswered threads. Others summarise long email chains before I read them.

One screen for the work, one screen for the system that does the other work. Most days, the second screen has more activity than the first.

I do not spend my mornings in email. My mornings are for thinking, writing, and the work that requires my actual attention. The agents handle what agents are good at. I handle what humans are still necessary for.

This was one of the reasons I left Bangkok. I needed time to build this system properly. The city’s social gravity — dinners, events, the constant friction of urban life — made focused building difficult. I removed myself, built the system, and then could re-enter the city with the system working.

225,000 Searchable Embeddings

I built a custom database of 225,000 vectorised embeddings covering Thai law, legal cases, court decisions, and legal doctrine. This database can be queried in natural language, cross-referenced, and filtered in seconds.

A Python terminal showing pip install errors while setting up notebooklm-py for AI legal research
Where the law firm’s AI infrastructure actually lives — a terminal, a few Python packages, and a lot of patience with externally-managed environments.

The practical application: I used it to analyse 50 years of Thai Supreme Court decisions involving foreigners — cases spanning from the 1970s to the present, covering property law, family law, criminal matters, commercial disputes. A human lawyer working by hand — reading, categorising, cross-referencing — would need months to do this analysis. The AI system did it in approximately two minutes.

The value is not in replacing the lawyer’s judgment. The value is in giving the lawyer complete information before the judgment is made. I can now answer questions about Thai legal precedent that would previously have required weeks of research, if the research was possible at all.

The AI That Analyses My Travel Photos

This one surprised me most when I first used it. I asked an AI to summarise my travel history based on my photo library — geotagged images from 15 years of trips across 30+ countries. It mapped the journey, identified the patterns, told me things about my own travel history that I had half-forgotten.

“I asked AI to summarise my trips abroad based on my pool of pictures. Even me, I cannot remember the dates.”

This is not a trick. This is what happens when you combine a large, well-organised personal data set with an AI that can reason about it. The output is a kind of structured memory — an external version of recall that does not fade the way human memory does.

What AI Cannot Do (Yet)

I spend $600 a month on AI tools. I am under no illusion that they are magic.

AI is excellent at processing, summarising, categorising, drafting, and generating. It is not yet excellent at judgment — the assessment of context, nuance, relationship, and ethics that makes a lawyer or advisor useful rather than merely informative. A system that can analyse 50 years of Supreme Court decisions in two minutes still requires a human to interpret what those decisions mean for a specific client’s specific situation.

The combination — AI speed and scale plus human judgment — is where the current value is. The people who will be left behind are not those who refuse to use AI. They are those who use AI as a replacement for thinking rather than as a tool for more thinking.

Why $600 and Not Zero

Free AI tools exist. They are good. They are not the same as paid professional-grade access.

The difference between the free and paid versions of the major AI systems is measurable in context window size, response quality, speed, and especially in the API access that allows you to build automations. The 60-agent email system does not run on a free ChatGPT account. The embedding database requires API access at scale. The research tools that surface legal cases require premium subscriptions.

If you are using AI professionally and relying on free tools, you are using a hammer when the job needs a crane. The investment is proportionate to the return.

2025: The Year That Changed Everything (My Honest Year-End Review)

2025 was the year ThaiLawOnline doubled in size, a Bangkok earthquake sent me to the coast, I had 10 dates with very few second dates, and AI became my most productive business partner. The honest annual review.

by

Originally shared on Facebook · January 2026 · 68 reactions — my highest-engagement post ever

Every year I do a version of this exercise — looking back at what actually happened versus what I planned, and trying to be honest about both. This year, 2025, the exercise is more interesting than usual. More happened. More changed. And some of what changed, I did not see coming.

ThaiLawOnline: The Business Side

The headline numbers: ThaiLawOnline doubled in size in 2025. Four times more organic traffic than the year before. More lawyers on the team. More cases handled, more countries represented in the client base, more revenue. For a law firm that was running quietly for years without much investment in visibility, the growth was significant.

The reason for the growth is not complicated: I built an AI-powered infrastructure around the business. Not in the way that tech companies talk about AI — not as a slogan or a positioning statement — but practically, at the level of daily operations. Email handling, client intake screening, newsletter production, social media scheduling, legal research across 131,000 Thai Supreme Court decisions via a custom vector database. The AI does not replace the human lawyers. It eliminates everything that was consuming the human lawyers’ time that was not actual legal work.

The result is a firm that can handle more volume with the same team, respond faster, research more thoroughly, and do it at a price point that undercuts the competition. I pay roughly $600 USD per month on AI subscriptions. The return on that investment, measured in billable time recovered, is not close.

The Earthquake

In March 2025, I was living above the 40th floor of a tower in Bangkok when the earthquake hit. I felt the building move in a way that buildings should not move. I could hear walls cracking. Some residents could not open their doors. A TikTok video of my building swaying circulated widely — I recognised it because I live in the middle one, the slightly yellowish tower.

The pool, the onsen, the sauna, and the gym were all closed for inspection. Half the elevators were out. It took time to assess the structural integrity of everything.

I left Bangkok shortly after. Not because I was afraid, but because after the earthquake, my concentration dropped and I needed a new environment to reset. I moved to the coast. Cha-Am became my base. The sea is slower than Bangkok, and slower was what I needed.

An @Cha-Am sign with Thai script reading ชะอำ at the beachfront promenade in Cha-Am, Thailand
Cha-Am — the seaside town that became my base after the earthquake. Slower than Bangkok was exactly what I needed.

The Personal Scorecard: Honest Version

Health: I lost 3 to 4 kilos during 2025. I added 3,000 extra steps per day to my baseline. I implemented an 8-hour eating window. None of this was dramatic. None of it was a programme or a transformation story. It was small adjustments made consistently, which is the only thing that actually works.

Dating: I had about 10 dates if you want to know, and very few second dates. I have not found the right person yet. I say this without drama — it is simply the honest state of things. Dating in Thailand as a 56-year-old with specific interests and high standards for conversation is not simple. I am not complaining. I am being accurate.

Travel: Da Nang, Songkhla, Surabaya. Three cities that none of my friends were particularly interested in when I mentioned them. Three cities that gave me some of my best experiences of the year.

Cha-Am beach in Thailand on a sunny day with waves rolling in onto empty sand
Cha-Am beach mid-week — empty sand, slow waves, and Bangkok 200 km north as if it were on another planet.

The AI Year: What I Actually Use

By the end of 2025, my standard AI toolkit includes Claude (Anthropic), Gemini, Grok, Deep Seek, and Kimi. I dropped my ChatGPT subscription for the first time in three years — for the first time, ChatGPT felt behind the alternatives rather than ahead of them. This is a significant shift. OpenAI built the market. The market has caught up and, in several specific areas, passed them.

Cha-Am beach at night with a beach tractor parked under casuarina trees, Thailand
Cha-Am at night. The beach tractors come out when the sand is empty. So do the people who like quiet.

My AI system for ThaiLawOnline has 60 sub-agents. They write emails, send newsletters, post on social media, screen incoming inquiries, and maintain the legal database. I watch Netflix while three different systems work in parallel. I wrote about this publicly because I think the honest version of what AI can actually do — not the hype, not the fear, but the practical reality — is more interesting than either the utopian or the dystopian narrative.

One post on this subject got 19 sad reactions. Someone was worried. I understand that. The honest answer is that I am also slightly worried — not about my own situation, but about what happens when this technology reaches the parts of the economy where there is no equivalent of a law firm to restructure around it.

Hypnotherapy: The Surprise of the Year

I started hypnotherapy sessions in early 2026 but the groundwork was laid in late 2025. I had been sceptical about it my entire adult life. Then I tried it. The result surprised me. It works, at least for specific applications — breaking automatic thought patterns, accessing things that talk therapy surfaces slowly if at all.

I include this not because I am selling hypnotherapy, but because I think the pattern — I was sceptical, I tried it anyway, I updated my position based on evidence — is worth naming explicitly. It is a useful habit of mind.

What 2026 Looks Like

More travel. More writing. Continued investment in the AI infrastructure. A possible extended stay somewhere that is not Thailand, for a change of context.

More of what works, less of what does not. That is really the whole plan, and it turns out to be enough of a plan.

The year that changed everything did not feel like it was changing everything while it was happening. That is how it usually works. You look back and see the shape of it. You look forward and the shape disappears again into uncertainty.

That is fine. I have been navigating uncertainty for a long time. I am reasonably good at it.

Sebastien H. Brousseau is a Canadian lawyer and the founder of ThaiLawOnline.com. He has been based in Thailand since 2006 and writes about law, technology, travel, and life in Southeast Asia.

Why Thailand Still Bans Alcohol from 2 PM to 5 PM (Yes, Really)

Thailand still blocks alcohol sales at every 7-Eleven, supermarket, and corner shop between 2 PM and 5 PM. The rule dates from the 1970s — meant to stop civil servants drinking on lunch break. Fifty years later, the rule is still on the books. Here is the honest explanation.

by

Tourists discover this rule three or four hours after they land. They walk into a 7-Eleven at 2:15 in the afternoon, pick up a Singha, and the cashier shakes her head. The fridge is open. The beer is right there. They are simply not allowed to sell it.

Welcome to Thailand. The afternoon alcohol ban is one of the most quietly absurd rules in the country, and it has been in effect since the 1970s.

The Rule

Under Thai law, alcohol cannot be sold from convenience stores, supermarkets, and most retail outlets between 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. It also cannot be sold before 11:00 a.m. or after midnight. The afternoon block is the one that surprises people.

Restaurants are not bound by it the same way — alcohol served with food in licensed restaurants is generally fine — but the corner shop, the 7-Eleven, the Tesco, the hotel mini-mart? Closed for three hours every afternoon for the purposes of selling you a beer.

Why? The Honest Answer Is: Civil Servants

The standard explanation, taught to anyone who asks long enough, is that the rule was introduced in the 1970s to prevent government employees and civil servants from drinking during their afternoon working hours.

That is not a joke. That is the actual reason.

The logic was: workers might pop out to the corner shop on lunch break, drink in the afternoon, return to work impaired. Restrict afternoon retail sales, problem solved. The rule was passed, the country adapted, and fifty years later it is still on the books even though almost nobody works the kind of office hours the rule was designed for, and anyone who actually wants alcohol in the afternoon can simply buy it at 1:55 p.m. and walk out with it.

What This Looks Like in Practice

If you live here, you adapt. You buy your wine before 2 p.m. or after 5 p.m. You build the rule into your week without thinking about it. The restaurants near your house do not care, so dinner is fine. The wine bar in Thonglor is fine. The only time it actually inconveniences anyone is the unplanned afternoon — guests arriving, a hot day on the beach, somebody texts saying they are coming over at 3.

For tourists, it is more disruptive. Beach drinks at 3 p.m.? Buy them at lunch. Hotel mini-bar? Sometimes works, sometimes the staff have been told to lock it. Buying at the airport on arrival? Allowed, because duty-free is a different category. The whole thing is a maze with quiet exceptions.

The Other Days You Cannot Buy Alcohol

The 2-to-5 rule is the famous one. There are also several full days each year when alcohol cannot be sold at all.

  • Election days (general elections, local elections — the day before and the election day itself, depending on the rule)
  • Major Buddhist holidays: Makha Bucha, Visakha Bucha, Asanha Bucha, the start and end of Buddhist Lent (Khao Phansa and Ok Phansa), and a small number of others
  • The King’s birthday and certain royal holidays in some periods

On those full-dry days, every retail outlet in Thailand stops selling alcohol. Some restaurants too. The rule is enforced more strictly than the afternoon ban — fines for breach are higher, signs go up everywhere, and 7-Elevens cover their fridges with paper.

Does It Reduce Drinking? Probably Not

The honest assessment, after 22 years here, is that the rule is symbolic more than effective.

People who want to drink at 3 p.m. do drink at 3 p.m. They buy at 1:55. They are at a restaurant. They are at home with stock. The rule does not stop drinking. It just adds an inconvenience to a small percentage of unplanned purchases. That is not a public health intervention. That is a ritual.

Thailand actually does have a real drinking problem in places — alcohol is one of the most commonly cited factors in road traffic accidents, particularly during festivals like Songkran. But the policies that would actually address that — better road enforcement, lower drink-driving limits, more reliable taxi alternatives — are different conversations.

The 1970s Rule in 2026

What strikes me most about the rule is how clearly it belongs to a different country. Thailand in the 1970s — agriculture-heavy, smaller cities, far fewer cars, an office-hour civil service that was the largest employer of urban Thais. That country made the rule. The country that exists today — digital nomads in Chiang Mai, tourism economy, mobile workers in Bangkok, fully remote workers like me in Cha-Am — has nothing in particular to do with civil servants drinking on lunch break.

And yet the rule remains. Like a lot of Thai legislation, it is easier to leave on the books than to remove. Removing it requires somebody politically willing to be the person who removed it. Leaving it on the books costs nothing — most people barely notice, and the ones who do, like me, write Facebook posts about it.

Tips for Visitors and Residents

  • Buy before 2 p.m. if you want anything for the afternoon. Easy to forget on a beach day.
  • Restaurants serving food are usually fine for ordering during the 2–5 p.m. window. Bars technically are subject to the rule but enforcement varies.
  • Hotel mini-bars are a grey zone — sometimes accessible, sometimes locked at the front desk
  • Check the calendar for full-dry holidays before a wedding, a party, or an event. Buddhist Lent dates move each year.
  • Duty-free on arrival still works — the 2-to-5 rule does not apply at airports for obvious reasons
  • Songkran: Many provinces also restrict alcohol sales around the festival itself; this is enforced unevenly

The rule is silly. It is also one of those small Thai quirks that, once you have lived around it for two decades, becomes part of the rhythm of the week. You do your shopping early. You laugh at tourists who did not. You write a Facebook post that gets 29 reactions and 2,000 views, and then you go back to your work.

Sebastien H. Brousseau is a Canadian lawyer, permanent resident of Thailand., Founder of ThaiLawOnline.com. He has lived in Thailand continuously since 2004 and writes about Thai law, travel, and life in Southeast Asia.

PS : Thailand officially lifted its 53-year-old ban on afternoon alcohol sales on December 3, 2025, allowing retail sales and service between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m

Da Nang in the Rain: Vietnam’s Central Coast When the Monsoon Hits

I arrived in Da Nang during October flooding. What central Vietnam teaches you when the monsoon hits — and why Hoi An demands a return visit in dry season.

by

Da Nang in the Rain: Vietnam’s Central Coast When the Monsoon Hits

I arrived in Da Nang in October knowing it was monsoon season. What I did not know was that this particular October would bring flooding — the kind where streets become shallow rivers and the locals navigate intersections with philosophical calm while water rises past their ankles. It was one of the more memorable arrivals I have had anywhere.

Central Vietnam in the wet season is not for everyone. But it taught me things that a dry-season visit never could.

A wet street in Da Nang at night with people walking under umbrellas during October monsoon rain
Da Nang at night, October rain. Streets stay open, people keep walking, the food stalls put up plastic sheeting and carry on.

Da Nang: A City That Works Despite the Weather

Da Nang is a modern, well-organised city on the central Vietnamese coast — the kind of place that has been built with infrastructure in mind rather than charm. The Dragon Bridge crosses the Han River and breathes fire on weekend nights. The beaches stretch for kilometres. The city is clean and navigable in a way that Hanoi, with its labyrinthine Old Quarter, is not.

In the flooding, the city showed its character. Traffic continued, businesses stayed open, street food vendors added plastic sheeting to their stalls and kept serving. Vietnamese pragmatism is something to admire. Nobody panicked. Nobody stopped. The city just adapted and carried on.

DA NANG BEACH sign in front of palm trees on a wet, overcast day on the central Vietnamese coast
Da Nang Beach in the rain — the kind of day where the city stops being a postcard and starts being a place that has to live with the weather.

Hoi An: One Day Was Not Enough

On the second day I took a car to Hoi An, about 30 kilometres south. This was the single best decision of the trip.

Hoi An is what happens when a historic trading port is preserved almost entirely intact and then turned into a walking destination. The Ancient Town — a UNESCO World Heritage Site — is a grid of yellow-walled merchant houses, wooden shop-fronts, Japanese covered bridges, and Chinese assembly halls that have survived centuries more or less unchanged. Even in the rain, it is beautiful in a way that stops you.

I had one day. It was not enough. Hoi An rewards slow exploration — morning markets, tailors cutting fabric by hand, lantern-lit evening walks along the river. One day gave me a preview. I left with the clear intention of returning.

What October Taught Me About Vietnam

October is peak monsoon season for central Vietnam. The north (Hanoi) and south (Ho Chi Minh City) are drier at this time, but Da Nang and Hoi An sit in a climatic pocket that catches the northeast monsoon hard. Flooding is not unusual. In 2025 it was significant.

The lesson: if central Vietnam is on your itinerary, plan for February to May. The coast is at its best — warm, clear, manageable. The beaches are swimmable. The ancient towns glow in the right light. October is the wrong answer.

But here is what I also learned: even Da Nang in the flood was interesting. The city’s response to adversity was a character study. The food was still exceptional — Vietnamese cooking does not pause for rain, and I ate some of the best bánh mì and mì Quảng of my life at stalls that were ankle-deep in water. The people were friendly in the unhurried way that central Vietnam seems to cultivate.

Da Nang vs. Hanoi vs. Ho Chi Minh City

Vietnam divides cleanly into three zones, each with its own personality. Hanoi, in the north, is older, colder, more complex — a city with centuries of weight. Ho Chi Minh City, in the south, is relentless, commercial, electric. Da Nang sits in the middle, geographically and in temperament: easier than either, more liveable, less intense.

For first-time visitors to Vietnam who want the country’s highlights without the sensory overload of the major cities, Da Nang plus Hoi An is the obvious choice. Add Huế, just 100 kilometres north, for the imperial history, and you have one of Asia’s great short-trip itineraries.

Practical Notes for Central Vietnam

The Marble Mountains are worth half a day — limestone hills rising from the coastal plain, riddled with caves and Buddhist shrines, with a view from the top that stretches from the mountains to the sea. Avoid the crowds by going early morning.

Da Nang has a functional international airport with direct connections from Bangkok, Singapore, and Seoul. Getting around by Grab (the regional ride-hailing app) is cheap and reliable. Accommodation ranges from good budget guesthouses to high-end beach resorts — the cost curve is reasonable compared to Thailand’s beach destinations.

The interior of Da Nang International Airport, central Vietnam
Da Nang International — direct connections from Bangkok, Singapore, and Seoul. The easiest way into central Vietnam.

Eat mì Quảng. Eat bánh xèo. Eat the local white rose dumplings in Hoi An. These dishes are specific to this region and are enough reason to visit on their own.

Surabaya and the Asia That No Longer Exists

I went to Surabaya because almost nobody goes to Surabaya. A travel essay about Indonesia’s overlooked second city and the Asia that existed before mass tourism transformed it.

by

Surabaya and the Asia That No Longer Exists

I went to Surabaya in September 2025 partly because almost nobody goes to Surabaya. The second-largest city in Indonesia, major port, industrial hub — not on the tourist circuit in the way that Bali and Yogyakarta are, not fashionable, not particularly photogenic in the way that algorithmically successful destinations are photogenic. People go to Bali. People go to Surabaya because they have business there, or because they live there, or because they are looking for the kind of Indonesia that has not been optimised for visitors.

I am that third kind of traveller. I have been that kind for as long as I have been travelling.

Surabaya City of Heroes sign in a green park in central Surabaya, East Java, Indonesia
Surabaya — City of Heroes. The second-largest city in Indonesia, and almost no foreigners on the sign’s plaza.

The Asia I Found Before Tourism Found It

I need to be careful here not to be the kind of person who resents other people’s travel. That is not the point. But there is something true that needs saying about what Asia was like before the infrastructure of mass tourism transformed it, and what has been lost alongside what has been gained.

In 2009 to 2011, I went to Myanmar — then Burma — when there were no ATMs and you had to bring cash like a drug dealer crossing a border. You carried hundred-dollar bills, pristine and unfolded, because crumpled notes were refused. Bagan — the plain of 2,200 Buddhist temples spread across 40 square kilometres — had almost no tourists. You could walk between the temples in silence. You could climb one at sunrise and see nothing in any direction except other temples and the Irrawaddy River and the mountains beyond. It was one of the most beautiful things I have seen anywhere. I loved it with an intensity that surprises me still when I think about it.

In 2005, I went to Angkor Wat when you could still be almost alone in the temples at sunrise. By 2012, there were five times as many tourists. The experience was still magnificent — Angkor Wat does not stop being Angkor Wat because of crowds — but the silence was gone.

When I lived in China from 2002 to 2004, I went to villages where children touched me because a foreigner was rare enough to be remarkable, possibly lucky. Those villages are connected to everything now. The children’s children have smartphones and probably know more about the world than I did at their age.

What Surabaya Is

Surabaya is a city of three million people that functions as a city rather than a tourism product. The old Dutch colonial quarter has faded glory — the buildings are magnificent and largely unmaintained, which gives them an atmosphere that perfectly maintained heritage districts sometimes lack. The Arab Quarter near Ampel Mosque is a genuine neighbourhood where people live and work and worship rather than a recreation of one.

A fountain at a roundabout in central Surabaya with a residential tower behind, Indonesia
Central Surabaya — a working city with three million people, a working economy, and almost no tourist infrastructure.

The food is exceptional and almost entirely unknown to the international traveller. Rawon — a dark, rich beef soup made with black kluwek nuts, served with rice and fermented shrimp paste — is one of the great soups of Southeast Asia and is Surabayan in origin. Lontong balap, rujak cingur, tahu tek — a city’s worth of dishes that do not appear on any “best food in Asia” list because no international food media has bothered to send anyone to Surabaya.

I ate extremely well. I paid almost nothing. I was the only obvious foreigner in every restaurant.

An Indonesian chicken and rice dish on a banana leaf with sambal and salad, served in Surabaya
A standard Surabaya plate — rice in a banana-leaf parcel, chicken in chilli sauce, sambal on the side. The food is exceptional and almost entirely unknown abroad.

The Traveller’s Paradox

There is a paradox at the heart of the kind of travel I have always sought. The places I love most are the ones that have not yet been discovered. But the act of writing about them — of recommending them, of sharing photographs — is itself part of the process that transforms them. I helped kill the secret of places I loved by loving them too visibly.

I do not think the answer is silence. The answer, I think, is honesty about what we are doing when we travel and what we are willing to accept as the terms. We go to places. We consume them, transform them, sometimes damage them, sometimes contribute to them. The best we can do is travel with attention — to pay for things fairly, to treat the places and people we encounter as ends rather than means, to understand that our presence has consequences.

I went to Surabaya because I wanted to find Asia that had not been fully processed into a product for people like me. I found some of it. It will not last. But for a few days in September, the rawon was extraordinary and I was more or less alone in the city that made it, and that was enough.