Freddy and I had arrived in Chiang Mai, a city in northern Thailand, after a few days spent in Bangkok. I had heard good things about Chiang Mai, and so far, I had not been disappointed. If Bangkok is the fast paced, sprawling hub of Thailand then Chiang Mai is its smaller, laid-back relative. The time-is-money lifestyle that had seemingly taken over Bangkok had not reached this small city. The surrounding mountains, covered in lush jungle, as well as temples near the summit, gave Chiang Mai a serene feeling. It was in Chiang Mai that I truly began to relax during the trip. The worries of my old life were thousands of miles away. These worries were quickly replaced with an intrinsic sense of curiosity and excitement. I was in an ancient city in Northern Thailand for fuck’s sake, my life could not get any better than it was right now.

             This could be the first and last time I ever got to explore this beautiful city. A city that already had me considering whether to throw the ticket of my return flight to the United States in the Ping River which encircled Chiang Mai. It was time to take advantage of this opportunity and see what Freddy and I could get up to. Chiang Mai had a lot to offer any traveler: mystical Buddhist temples that always had the captivating scent of burning incense, elephant sanctuaries where one could see some of the biggest land mammals on the planet, jungle trekking through exotic flora and fauna, river rafting past hill tribe villages, cooking classes where you could make your favorite Thai dish, and more.

            So there Freddy and I sat, weighing our options as we munched on fried crickets and grubs. Fried crickets were, to my surprise, something I enjoyed snacking on. They are crunchy more than anything else and I like crunchy. I would compare it to eating Cheetos in terms of shape and crunchiness… but without the cheese powder. Although I am sure you could get fried cheese crickets if you tried hard enough. Fried grubs are another story. It was not until Freddy and I began munching on the grubs, which in my opinion are fucking disgusting, that we realized what we wanted to do. We needed to eat something that would make us forget all about putting those little white and yellow abominations in our mouths. We needed to get some good Thai food… so we might as well learn how to make it too.

            The smell of gasoline was ever present as Freddy and I sat in the back of the songthaew as we cruised along the road. A songthaew is essentially a shared taxi, characterized as a pickup truck whose bed has been modified to accommodate passengers. They are a common enough sight in Thailand and a good means of transport for a backpacker. I preferred songthaews over Tuk Tuk’s but they both had their own charm.

            On we went as our songthaew hauled us through the mostly dry streets of Chiang Mai. The water from the noon showers had mostly evaporated, which was replaced with a muggy humidity that clung to my white V-neck and beige shorts. We were on our way to meet our instructor and fellow attendees of the cooking class we had booked. We were meeting at one of my favorite places to go to anywhere in Asia… the food market. Walking through the open-air market as sellers hawked their products, speaking words I did not know and selling food I’d never seen or tasted really gave me a sense of adventure, of something mysterious and foreign which I wanted to discover. What vibrant fruit, odd-looking vegetable or candy would I taste and fall in love with?

            Freddy and I were the last ones of our class to arrive at the market. The other attendees of our class consisted of an Aussie, three Colombian women and a young flight attendant from Hong Kong. They stood in a semi-circle around our instructor, a flamboyant Thai guy who loved to joke, who was animatedly showing them the different ingredients we would be using for our meal. Freddy and I joined the semi-circle and introduced ourselves to the group, receiving a warm welcome from everyone in return. Our instructor introduced himself as Tim and briefly told Freddy and I what we had missed. He explained what ingredients we were going to be using for what dishes and what to look for to know you were buying quality stuff. Let me say that prior to this class I only knew how to cook the basics. I’m talking about grilling meat and stir-frying with veggies. I knew one or two Italian dishes for, you know, having a girl over that I’m trying to impress. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Wouldn’t you be fucking nervous trying to make some Massaman curry while you have got some cute Hong Kong and Colombian girls in your class?

            With our introduction to the class and ingredients we would be using, Tim told us to take a few minutes in case we wanted to buy anything else while we were at the market before we took a short walk to the kitchen we would be using. Freddy and I had only taken a few steps into the market before we found the girl from Hong Kong standing in front of us. She was short with long, straight black hair that went just past her shoulders. She was dressed casually, sporting jeans and a white t-shirt. “Have you guys ever had Mangosteens?” She asked us curiously and in perfect English. Freddy and I gave each other a quick glance and raised eyebrow before I responded that neither of us had ever heard of this ‘mangosteen’. Upon hearing our response, she held out a round, spherical fruit whose smooth peel was a deep shade of purple/red with a green stem. She began peeling at hers while she told us that her name was Mei. Mei was a flight attendant who had a few days to explore Thailand before working again. This was not her first time to Thailand, so she had some great advice (like tasting mangosteens). Just. Fucking. eat. a. Mangosteen.

            No sooner had a lull in our small talk occurred did all three of us finish peeling our mangosteens. Within this purple barrier was a fleshy white fruit (sort of like an orange but white in color). We all took a section of our mangosteen and Freddy and I tentatively put it in our mouths while Mei devoured hers. At this moment I was not sure what to expect. Would this exotic fruit be disgusting? Delicious? What I experienced in that moment was nothing short of a euphoric bliss, a nirvana like state where only this mangosteen and I existed. It was sweet. Really sweet. As I began to chew, I realized that my entire life I had been living in ignorance. I was ignorant enough to think all I needed was apples, bananas, and berries to satisfy my fruit craving. Fuck all of that. It’s a lie. What I need is mangosteens, now and forever. These juicy little fruits were the key to ultimate happiness. With that said… could I still enjoy those apples, bananas, and berries I grew up eating my whole life? Sure. But my ignorance of this godlike fruit, this mangosteen, had been shattered.

            Two bags of mangosteens in hand, Freddy and I trailed Tim and the rest of the group through Chiang Mai as songthaews, tuk tuks, and mopeds zipped past us as we walked. Telephone and electrical lines zig-zagged back and forth above us, attached to buildings on either side of the road. These buildings, unfortunately, gave us no shade from the sun. Combine this sunlight with the muggy humidity and there is no way you won’t be sweating. You get used to it though… the humidity, the hot sun, the sweat… especially the sweat. In hot climates, sweating is your friend. Have you ever wondered why the countries or peoples who generally live in a hot or humid (or both) climate tend to always have spicy food? Spicy food makes you sweat. Sweating cools down your body so you don’t overheat. So, if you are a fucking superhuman or something and the hot Thai sun and humidity won’t make you sweat, the food will.

            Fortunately, our group arrived at the kitchen before we began sweating through our clothes. It was an open-air space, surrounded by a wall made of bamboo shoots that had been roped together. The floor was lined in worn gray and brown tile while the ceiling was lined with a bamboo weave, which really gave the kitchen an exotic feel. The shade from being inside, combined with the open-air aspect of the space, really allowed us all to cool down after our walk in the sun. I think we were all glad for it too. Who wants to be a hot, sweaty mess while making a meal?

            Any belongings we had brought with us had been set aside as the group gathered around a large, wooden table lined with cooking ingredients and utensils. Round wooden cutting boards, seasonings, mortar and pestles made from dark gray and brown stone, and knives made up some of the utensils we would be using. Tim, just as energetic and flamboyant as he was earlier, explained that we would each get to make: an appetizer, curry, soup, a main dish, and dessert. For appetizers we could choose from: spring rolls (fresh or fried) or papaya salad. For curries: yellow, massaman or panang. Soups: the hot and sour Tom Yum or the spicy coconut milk Tom kha kai. The main dishes consisted of noodles: the standouts being the Phad Thai and Pad See Ew. For our dessert we could choose between ice cream or mango sticky rice. Already my head was swimming with thoughts of hot and zesty soups, noodles fried with Asian ingredients, and which of these dishes would go good together. Being the ‘basic bitch’ that I am, I opted to make the Phad Thai for my main dish. It’s the staple Thai dish that is known outside of Thailand so I might as well try my hand at making it, right? With that said, you should really try Pad See Ew if you haven’t already. A dish characterized with noodles that are very wide and long, combined with veggies and meats before being fried in soy sauce.

            With everyone having decided the dishes they wanted to cook; we began prepping our ingredients. Vegetables needed to be chopped and curry paste made through the grounding together of various ingredients and spices in the mortar and pestle. Tim enjoyed poking fun at me, suggesting that ‘big strong American man’ should ground everyone’s ingredients in the mortar and pestle for them. It wasn’t too tiring of work; it was somewhat relaxing to be honest. As it was my first time using the mortar and pestle, it was somewhat of an alluring task. Humans everywhere, be it in regions such as the Middle East or Asia, had used tools like these to ground and combine ingredients together for thousands of years. It was almost romantic. The feeling of mixing these ingredients together in preparation to make a meal for myself or others. Something for them or myself to enjoy.

            As we finished the prep work it became time to make the various dishes that would make up our meal. First up for us to make was the spring rolls. We took our rice paper and placed it in water and removed it after 10 seconds. We each added the filling we wanted for our spring roll and then we wrapped it up like you would a burrito. Not too difficult, right? We then prepared our curry and soup. For my massaman curry I added my ingredients together in a pot with oil and sautéed. Then I stirred in some coconut milk and let it simmer before finally adding fish sauce and some final ingredients and let it cook for a few more minutes. Our soups involved boiling water and letting our ingredients mix inside the pot to make a delicious, bubbling creation. All of this was done under Tim’s watchful eye, who instructed us through the entire process.

            Our last dish was the noodles. Oh boy, the main event. As I eyed my ingredients and the wok I would be using to cook my Phad Thai, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was about to make the best Phad Thai that had ever been made… or would it be a heaping mass of burnt veggies and noodles? To be honest with you, the Phad Thai that I cooked over that hot wok was damn good. In that moment while I cooked the Phad Thai, I was the Anthony Bourdain of this kitchen. I was the Iron chef… although Tim may have helped each of us, so we didn’t burn our main course, but it was all me baby. The trick with a wok is how heat is distributed around it. The very bottom of the wok, due to its shape, is incredibly hot and is where you want to have the ingredients you need cooking to be. Any veggies, meats, or whatever you put in that wok that doesn’t need much cooking or has finished should be on the sides of the pan. These ingredients will still get some heat but nowhere near anything situated at the very bottom.

            As the last noodle dish was pulled off the heat and plated, it was time to enjoy our meal. A large table, situated under the bamboo weave ceiling and lit by strands of café lights that hung over top, is where we would taste our creations. The table had already been set so the only thing left to do was carry our dishes over and get seated. Freddy sat across from me and Mei was seated to my left. Up until this point I had not had much time to speak to the rest of the group and it was the perfect time to get to know one another.

            The Aussie’s name was James, and he was from Perth. I asked him if he was a fan of an Australian Football team called the West Coast Eagles (who were based in Perth). He was. I told him I had been living in Melbourne the past six months and was, unfortunately, a Melbourne Demons fan. He laughed. The Melbourne Demons had some tough years and at the time were not considered to be particularly good.

            Next to James was one of the Colombian women, who introduced herself as Maria. Maria and James had been married for a few years, having first met each other when James went to study in Colombia for part of his university studies. Maria was from Bogota, as were the two other Colombian Women, who introduced themselves as Andrea and Sofia. Maria had moved to Perth with James and their trip to Thailand was, in part, to meet up with Andrea and Sofia, who were Maria’s childhood friends.

            With proper introductions out of the way we began the meal in earnest. These foreign dishes we had poured all our excitement and curiosity into making were delicious. There was some sharing of food between everyone as some of us had chosen dishes the others had not. I was the only one who chose massaman curry and it was a hit with everyone. Maria was the only one who had made papaya salad and allowed the rest of the group to try. The papaya was fresh and there was a zest to the dish. Not to mention that salads always tend to taste better when someone else makes it for you. The Phad Thai… oh man, the Phad Thai was amazing. Maybe the best I have ever had and no, not because I made it… okay, maybe because I made it.

            At this time, it was evening and things were getting dark, which enabled the café lights strung up above us to create a wonderful ambiance. It was one of those nights where it just felt as if everyone was in the moment with one another, truly connecting. One of those nights you don’t want to end. The longer the meal went the more we got to learn about one another’s lives. Talking to Mei or Andrea was like getting a glimpse of what growing up in Bogota or Hong Kong is like, which is something I will never experience.

            I have wondered before if people from different cultures, countries, religions, or race can coexist with one another. If you turn on the news it always seems to inform you of the hate, xenophobia, discrimination, and prejudice that occurs. It can be disheartening. However, sitting at that table with people from so many different cultures, all enjoying a meal and learning about each other’s lives and our unique human experience only reaffirmed my belief that we can coexist. In fact, it makes me believe that diversity is our strength. Our differences in culture and outlook on life, shared with each other, enriched each other’s lives in a way that is hard for me to put into words. I guess I would say it grounds you. Despite all our differences, everyone at that table was someone with whom I could share a meal with and enjoy their company. The market, the cooking, the meal was all part of the adventure. It was not the cooking class itself that was the highlight, it was sharing the experience with others. People who I could respect for their character and behavior. People with worries, hopes, dreams, and loved ones. Just like you. Just like me. That was what made that night beautiful.

*Afterword: I was extremely privileged to be a part of this cooking class and enjoy a good meal with good company. Every day, millions of people go hungry. I’d ask that we all be mindful and thankful for the food we have. The UN World Food Programme (WFP) and organizations such as Feeding America are trying to get food to the people that need it. Personally, I have the WFP app Freerice, an app where you answer trivia questions and 5 grains of rice are donated for every question you get right. Every contribution, big or small, will make a difference.