The number one rule that was established when we decided that we’d document our travels on this here blog: If ‘it’ ever begins to feel like ‘work’, we abort mission. Or, less dramatically stated, put things on pause until shooting the camera or pushing the pen once again feels exciting.

Over the past few months we’ve fallen into a routine, taken advantage of all the conveniences of having our very own place and generally made ourselves a home here in Chiang Mai.

We spent the day in Mae Sot, a small town situated on the Thai/Myanmar border. It is noted for being a primary trade hub between the two countries and home to an abundance of Burmese migrants and refugees.

Our best-laid plans came unraveled only two short weeks before they were meant to begin. After months of anticipation, plotting itineraries and building an extensive we have to take the mamas here list, we got the news.

Are you guys going to the monk thing in the morning? she asked. We’d just arrived. Greeting our friends at the corner table where they waited, we exchanged hugs, casual ‘how are yous?’ and scooched our chairs into place for dinner. What monk thing? I thought, a little confused until the realization hit me a mere nano second later.