Rediscovering "us" in Thailand: Chiang Mai

This is part 2 of 3 of a couple rediscovering each other after their children moved out.

Chiang Mai is where Thailand slows down and softens around the edges. Inside the Old City, a square framed by a moat and crumbling 13th-century Lanna walls, one wanders past ancient temples and modern cafés. For empty nesters, it's the perfect place to trade homework checks and packing lunches for slower days, shared discoveries, and the quiet realization that you're a couple first again.

Arrival, curry, and a very good view

We arrived from Bangkok around lunchtime, early enough to find our hotel, eat well, and explore. Our boutique hotel, tucked down a narrow alley, had an infinity pool and a breakfast buffet so generous we immediately accepted our fate. At $1 per person, moderation felt optional, and unlikely, for the next morning.

Our first mission was lunch, not logistics. We walked to a popular spot, saw the line snaking out the door, and did something revolutionary: We said "nope." No meltdowns, no negotiations, just a calm pivot across the street to Baan Buri, a reminder that plans are suggestions, not obligations.

In blessed A/C, we ordered green curry with chicken and khao soi, Chiang Mai's rich coconut curry noodle soup with crispy noodles on top. We finished with mango sticky rice – sweet mango, warm coconut rice, and just enough crunch to make it interesting. Somewhere between bites, I decided it might double as a life philosophy.

We spent the afternoon by the pool, reading, cooling off, and intentionally not doing much. In Chiang Mai, we chose to leave space in the day, which turns out to be its own kind of luxury.

That evening, we walked to The Good View along the Ping River. "We'll just walk" turned into wrong turns, a wobbly bridge, and an unexpected detour through a lantern-lit Chinatown preparing for Chinese New Year. Years ago, this would've meant stress. Now it just felt like part of the story.

The restaurant lived up to its name. As the sun set, the river glowed and the city lit up around us. We ordered papaya salad at a cautious "1" spice level, which translated roughly to "regret." Two mojitos and a ridiculous amount of water later, I regained feeling in my tongue. Husband Bruce's red curry and my crab noodles were excellent, once I could taste them again.

Flowers, temples, and dinner on the floor

We stumbled into the Chiang Mai Flower Festival the next morning simply by being available, one of the underrated perks of this stage of life. Floats covered in flowers, dancers, and music filled the streets. It felt like the city queued everything up just for us.

We drifted in and out of the crowds, pointing out details to each other the way we once did with our kids, only now, we could linger or leave whenever we wanted. When the noise wore on us, we slipped into a nearby temple where everything softened: bells, birds, and quiet space to breathe.

One building was men-only; instead of questioning it, we leaned into curiosity. Travel feels different when you're not rushing to the next thing.

Lunch at Kat's Kitchen delivered exactly what we needed: papaya salad (mercifully mild this time), khao soi, and drunken noodles. We passed plates, debated favorites, and agreed everything deserved a repeat order.

The afternoon returned us to the pool and the realization that travel feels quieter now, but also richer.

Later, seated on floor cushions around a low table, we enjoyed a khantoke dinner and cultural show. Traditional dances, music, and a fire performance unfolded while we shared northern Thai dishes. It felt like a date night from another era, unhurried and immersive. Our knees and hips complained, but the experience won.

Moats, markets, and cooking together

The following morning was for wandering along the moat, through temples, and into small corners we might have missed otherwise. Less "must-see," more "glad we did."

Lunch at See You Soon café included playful drinks and a standout pineapple fried rice served in a pineapple that Bruce ordered. I went for a croissant version of eggs Benedict, and as usual, we swapped bites. His won, but not by much.

Our cooking class began with a market visit, where our guide introduced us to Thai herbs, spices, and produce, including the largest avocado I've ever seen. No rushing, no distractions, just the two of us noticing things together.

At the organic farm, our instructor Lily guided us through spring rolls, curries, soups, and stir-fries, each of us choosing our own dishes based on mood and spice tolerance. Pounding curry paste was surprisingly physical; my arms filed a formal complaint the next day.

Dinner was what we made, shared with other travelers at a long table. A different kind of date night, one you can recreate at home.

Sticky rocks, gentle giants, and the lesson

Our final day took us into the hills. At the "Sticky Waterfalls," we climbed straight up rushing water thanks to grippy limestone. With ropes to steady us, it felt equal parts ridiculous and wonderful.

Bamboo rafting followed -peaceful, scenic, and just long enough for me to realize sunscreen is not optional and shade is a gift.

Then came the elephants. At a no-riding camp, we fed them bananas and sugar cane, then walked alongside them into the forest. No big speech, just quiet awe. Huge, gentle, and completely present.

Less magical: biting flies. I counted at least 15 bites on the backs of my legs. Wear long pants. You'll be hot, but you'll keep your blood.

We ended with one last dinner, mai tais, papaya salad, shrimp fried rice, pad see-ew, and mango sticky rice with coconut ice cream. A sweet, fitting finish to a city that fed us well in every sense.

Chiang Mai taught us to say "yes" to new food, new experiences, and even slightly intimidating waterfalls. We left with sore calves, happy stomachs, and the sense that this "just us" chapter isn't something to adjust to, it's something to look forward to.

Next time, the Sherry's travel to Koh Samui in Part 3 of this series.

Kim Sherry, mother of two daughters and a fourth-generation Alaskan who grew up in King Salmon, is a host on Alaska Public Radio program Hometown, Alaska. She loves to cook and appeared on the third season of "The Great American Recipe" on PBS as the first contestant ever from Alaska. She also participated in the new culinary show "100 Cooks" on the Food Network and HBO. Kim is an artist who specializes in pet portraits, has written and illustrated two children's books, is an avid gardener, and loves to travel.