Football Shirts and Farangs – Thailand in 2025

After our tremendous scare in the Thai capital, we were relieved to be flying to Chiang Mai, one of my favourite spots in the country and a place I have fond memories of. As I mentioned in a former blog, it is home to one of our good family friends, Phil, and his family. Coincidentally, Phil’s nephew, Freddie, his nephew’s girlfriend, Harriet, and their friend, Will, were visiting from Australia, where Phil’s sister migrated from England years ago.

Me and my new friend, Freddie, at a cooking class, Chiang Mai

The evolution of Southeast Asia

For me, when I think of Chiang Mai, I think of the square moat that surrounds the old city and the wonderful variety of culture, food, bars, shops and markets inside its water walls. Unfortunately, Kea didn’t have the best memories of Chiang Mai from her previous visit, so I was even more enthusiastic to show her the best places and help her fall in love with the magical northern city, like I had.

The southern side of the square moat, Chiang Mai

It didn’t take long, despite many of my old favourite spots either moving, evolving or shutting down completely. The rooftop THC bar, for example, had moved from the rooftop of an old building just outside of the eastern moat to a more chic bar on the inside of the moat. I’m unsure as to why it was called the THC bar because this was before cannabis was made legal in Thailand but it was a stylishly rustic and laid-back bar that attracted hippies and chilled backpackers. I spoke to the bar lady, who said the previous landlord had put the rent up so they were forced to move.

Of similar ilk was the reggae bar just settled behind the Zoe in Yellow bar complex, a bar that almost looked like it was falling apart, with a large chalkboard outside with different nations written down and a count of how many times a person from that country had completed their resident drinking game. It only strictly played reggae – as a reggae bar should – and again attracted a crowd not fussed with partaking in the organised chaos of the Thai nightclubs but instead opted for a more relaxed vibe.

The Simple Man, one of Chiang Mai best bars for live music

This hadn’t moved but had become bigger, had a refurb and installed bright neon lights. The live band geared up, brilliant, some live reggae. Just what I had been looking forward to, I thought, but as they began playing, I quickly realised that they were not playing reggae but the old western classics instead. Usually, I wouldn’t mind – who doesn’t like Country Road or Brown Eyed Girl? I think my frustration in this instance was in part due to every other reggae bar we’d encountered on our trip being similar by not playing any reggae and that my hopes were high that they would here after my previous visit.

These two examples showcase how much Thailand has and continues to evolve and change, no doubt due to two main factors – the post-COVID traveller boom and the legalisation of cannabis. Both contributing significantly to the injection of money into the area.

Super food and super company

My favourite two food spots, however, hadn’t changed and were exactly as I remembered them from the past. The southern moat evening street food market and the Kafe restaurant/bar on the eastern moat, where I took Kea on our first night. Last time I was at Kafe was again with my friend Harry, my Dad, Phil, Phil’s wife, Air and Phil’s sister, Wendy.

My memories may be hazy of that trip, largely probably because I spent the vast majority of it either drunk or hungover, but I do clearly remember our meal at Kafe. Air, being Thai, ordered the lot and dishes that were not even on the menu. Some of them, the names evade me now, were out of this world good and so my expectations were high this time around.

The food court at Chiang Mai's nightmarket

Kea ordered a Chicken Khao Soi, a coconut curry served with chewy noodles on top, a regional classic, and I ordered a Chicken Red Curry. Our mains were accompanied by another side dish of morning glory and of course two cold beers. The food was sensational, just how I’d remembered it. After the most tumultuous last 24 hours and whilst still with the deepest of sympathy for those affected by the disaster, we had found something to smile about. Great food and even better company can do that to you.

The following day we hooked up with Phil and Freddie, Harriet and Will, who were all of a similar age to us. We met at the Chiang Mai Sixes cricket tournament, shared a couple of cold beers and chatted away, catching up and sharing stories of our hometowns and friends. It still blows my mind how we share so many similarities with our Australian brothers and sisters despite being half the world away. It was the first time that I had met these folk, yet we all got on like a house on fire.

Eyes bigger than our bellies, Chiang Mai

Later that evening, we met up again at a traditional restaurant on the river and shared a mammoth feast. Once again, letting Air and Smile (Phil and Air’s daughter) order for us. I suppose I don’t have to say it again but you best believe I will. There aren’t many things that make me happier than moments like these. We felt like a family – smiling, laughing, joking, eating and drinking together. I forgot where we were, forgot that we were thousands of miles from home, it didn’t matter to me – I was absolutely contented.

Our family for the week, Chiang Mai

The times they are A-Changin’

A couple of days later we made the windy trip up to Pai, a once hippy-filled haven away from the hustle and bustle of city life, hidden in the remote hills of Northern Thailand. A place where nomads would go to escape from western ways, smoke cannabis and take other hallucinogens, despite its then-strict legality. A town where those would go to become completely at one with nature and connect with the wildlife around them, far from the concrete jungles. Whilst it does still sustain its wild landscapes and serene beauty outside of the town centre, Pai, by and large, has become somewhat unrecognisable compared to those that might have visited decades ago.

The view from our beautiful jungle bungalow, Pai

Here, after babbling on, I refer to the title of the blog – Football Shirts and Farangs – for the first time. My title doesn’t speak to just Pai, or Thailand in particular, but in fact to most of Southeast Asia – Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam too. The term unrecognisable would probably resonate with most old-school travellers. I know it did for my Dad, who explained how Koh Samui, Thailand’s largest island, was nothing like it was thirty years ago after visiting this winter.

I haven’t been to Koh Samui but I have been to Koh Phi Phi, Koh Phangan, Koh Tao and Krabi and can say that in 2017 they were overwhelmed with westerners. I can only imagine what they might be like now. I haven’t been but have heard stories about Phuket and Pattaya too, as although they have always held a seedy reputation, they have now become completely overrun with tourists. In fact, parts of Phuket have even been coined the Benidorm of Southeast Asia.

I hold no judgments, which is why I don’t agree with the abovementioned new nickname for Phuket. People have every right to enjoy the world, no traveller has more right than anyone else and I make up part of this western influx.

Pai before dusk

However, what I do believe in is that those who do visit must attempt to integrate with local life as much as possible, wherever they visit in the world. To treat the locals with the utmost respect and to act and practice the cultures and customs of where they are. To visit and not do any of this but to act with ignorance and arrogance, to look down on others and refuse to integrate, is where problems and bad reputations arise. Sadly, this does happen.

Our farewell supper, Chiang Mai

Football is fashion

My title describes the popular spots in Thailand and Southeast Asia, there are still many beautiful and untouched areas. Farang is the Thai word for westerner, or foreigner, and whilst some might have used it derogatorily in the past, it is now mostly said without intending to offend.

Furthermore, football shirts have become not just the popular choice, but the overwhelming choice of attire for western travellers. The last time I visited, the kids wore floral shirts and flip flops but this has now been traded for Premier League shirts and trainers. Fashion evolves, I get it. Perhaps it’s an identity thing; proud to represent that certain club or place. It could be a collector’s thing; building up a wardrobe of many different jerseys. Maybe a bit of both.

Harry and I, Bangkok, 2017

It could just be me, but I prefer to slip under the radar. I don’t enjoy others looking at me and then knowing where I’m from, what football team I support and that I’m English. Being slightly older than the majority of the demographic I speak about, perhaps the historical connotations of wearing club colours in the streets stick with me more. We never wore club colours to football matches; the last thing we wanted to do was draw attention to ourselves when walking through the streets of cities foreign to us as young teenagers.

However, this new wave of jersey-wearing tourists almost symbolises a metaphorical barrier between local and farang. Where once the unlabelled backpackers would attempt to fit in, even wearing clothes from areas they’d picked up along their way, the new movement of travellers, being in such large numbers now, often stick together in their tribes of football shirts. I’m aware this is a slight overreach and a certain generalisation; I’m without doubt that many of these jersey-wearing travellers do integrate, do practice customs and traditions and do treat everyone they meet with respect. I know that’s true, my sister and Kea’s brother were two of them!

I have no images of farangs in footie shirts, so enjoy this picture of a dog urinating on a wall showcased at the Wat Umong temple in Chaing Mai, instead

Although, it is noticeable that the hippies have moved on. Whereas nomadic living, travelling and backpacking was once done by the most adventurous of us or those seeking spiritual enlightenment, it has now become the norm for many young people. I was neither of the above, just a teenager wanting to see the world and get hammered every other night whilst doing so. Now I’m the same, without the excessive drinking.

Where have the hippies gone? Have they found somewhere else to go? Parts of South America, maybe? All I know is that in classic relay race fashion, it seems that in Southeast Asia the hippies have passed on the backpacking baton to the British middle-class gap year teenagers. The farangs have taken over!