'Let's go to Khao Yai," a friend recently suggested via text. Along with her invitation, she attached a picture of a woman sitting amid beautiful flowers, clouded with faded hipster filter. It was an online review saying a blossoming garden in a Khao Yai resort was now open to all visitors for free. The sight of the gorgeous winter flowers drew me in. I said yes.
That weekend, we hopped in the car and drove up for our brief trip. After a few hours, we found ourselves in Khao Yai. Cool breeze, sunny sky. It was a perfect day for a getaway. We had steak for lunch, we bought fruit from roadside vendors. We took pictures amid sunflowers. We were having fun. That is, until we arrived at the resort in question.
Once there, we lowered the window and told the security guard that we were there to see the flowers.
"Sorry. We are closed for maintenance today," he replied almost sheepishly.
You can imagine our disappointment. Our bags were filled with cameras and lenses, ready to snap shots of the beautiful garden we had just driven for hours to see. And there, at the entrance, we were turned away. Just like that.
Feeling somewhat dejected, we turned the car around and parked for a while outside the resort's entrance. We noticed other cars stopping nearby, most likely in the same situation as we were.
My friend started searching for somewhere to go. Being a little less proactive, I decided to look up the resort's Facebook page to try and seek some sort of explanation. Yes, this is what we should've done before we actually left Bangkok, to at least make sure the place would be open on the day we planned to visit. A rookie mistake, I admit.
On their Facebook page, there was an apology and a lengthy explanation that filled me with annoyance, anger and shame. It turned out that after word got out about the free entry to the garden, people showed up in overwhelming numbers -- up to a thousand visitors over a recent long weekend, apparently. That level of popularity came almost unexpected and the resort was clearly unprepared. There was no explanation as to how the crowd was managed, if at all.
However, the bigger problem wasn't crowd control, but rather the attitude of many of the visitors; how irresponsibly and, dare I say, selfishly some people behaved. The Facebook post continued to detail the state of the garden in the wake of this rush of people. The flower beds were practically destroyed, having been trampled on. Twigs were snapped. Flowers picked. Over the course of a busy few days, devastation was left in place of beauty.
In order to preserve the flowers (or what was left of them), the resort decided to close the garden to the public. It is unclear when -- or if -- they will reopen it.
As bad as it sounds, this is really nothing new. People are nature's worst enemy. Reading that post, I was reminded of similar incidents I've encountered in the past. I've found writings etched on stones and trees on a trail atop the popular hiking destination of Phu Kradueng in Loei province. There are the masses of rubbish that can be found 3,000m above sea level on mountain trails in Nepal. Many people see vibrant flowers in full bloom, and their reaction is to break off branches, twigs and even the whole flower to bring the colourful petals close to their face for a perfect Instagram shot. The list goes on.
These actions would stand out if only a few people did them. But the current state of these natural wonders is not the result of the actions of a few. As a society, we are failing to coexist with nature, and even each other. Irresponsible and inconsiderate, we take what we can for ourselves and don't seem to care much if what we leave behind is in worse shape than when we found it.
How do we improve on this, both as individuals and collectively as a society? How can we be more responsible as tourists and as humans in general? Are we able to? How many more gardens will be ruined? On a larger scale, how many forests and mountains will falter at our hands and under our feet? We'll continue to see this happening if we don't change our ways.
Melalin Mahavongtrakul is a feature writer for the Life section of the Bangkok Post.