I came to Chiang Mai for a week and stayed a month, which I am told is the most common confession in the north. The city is small enough to cross on foot, wrapped in a square moat and the crumbling brick of its old walls, and there is a temple on almost every lane. Mornings smell of incense and grilled sausage, afternoons slow down under the heat, and in the evening the markets roll out across whole streets. Above it all sits Doi Suthep, green and patient, with a golden chedi catching the last light.
These twenty routes start in the old city and drift outwards: up the mountain, out to tea villages and waterfalls, north to Chiang Rai and Pai, south to the horse carriages of Lampang. Most are easy to do without a tour. Bring a jacket for the hills, a scarf for the temples, and more film than you think you need.
