Finding Shangri-La

November 20, 2024

Shangri-La: Paradise Found

What would you do if, after an exhausting three-hour drive on windy, barf-inducing mountain roads, you arrived at your hotel only to discover they had no record of your reservation? Not only that, but there wasn’t a single room left in the entire city—hotels, Airbnbs, treehouses, you name it—because of a famous festival that just so happened to be the reason you were in town in the first place.

Would you spend two hours on the phone with a travel agent? Drive an hour or two out of town to find a bed? Extend your rental car and just sleep in it (if it were even available, which, of course, it isn’t)? Now throw in three tired, hungry kids, and you’ve got one of those “character-testing” travel moments that make you question every life choice leading up to that point.

Welcome to our version of Shangri-La.

If the name sounds familiar, you might recall it from James Hilton’s 1933 novel Lost Horizon, where Shangri-La is a utopian valley hidden in the Tibetan mountains—a paradise of peace and perfection. Spoiler: our Shangri-La had fewer monks and more pool slides.

But if there’s one thing we’ve learned on this year-long adventure, it’s to roll with it. That mantra has carried us through delayed flights, closed restaurants, and now, this particularly maddening saga of lost reservations and scarce rooms.

The False Promise of Paradise

Our adventure began in Chiang Mai, Thailand, where we’d booked a modest, two-star hotel for the weekend. After all, traveling for a year on a tight budget doesn’t allow for five-star splurges. We arrived, weary but hopeful, only to be met with the devastating news: “No reservation.”

Francesca whipped out her phone, showing the email confirmation as though it were the Magna Carta. The clerk, unfazed, replied, “Ah, well, there are many scammers in Thailand.”

Scammers? We’d booked through our credit card’s travel department! Surely Capital One had magical anti-scam filters? Apparently not. But hey, no problem—we’ll call them and get it sorted. Except it’s Yipeng Festival, the biggest holiday weekend in northern Thailand. Every room within 100 miles was long gone.

Rolling With It (Sort Of)

Two hours and several dropped calls later, Capital One suggested a guesthouse 90 minutes away. Francesca scoured Airbnb and every other app known to humankind: nothing. Eventually, the rep found a hotel nearby. We raced over to book it ourselves, only to discover it was full.

At this point, desperation outweighed our dignity. We called the Shangri-La Chiang Mai, a luxury hotel chain so far out of our budget it may as well have been on the moon. The rep mentioned they had one room left—for one night only. Four times the cost of our original booking? Sold.

We told ourselves, Just roll with it.

High-Stakes Car Chase

With a room secured, our next crisis loomed: the rental car had to be returned in 15 minutes, and we were 20 minutes away. I sped off, navigating Thai traffic—where road signs and traffic lights are mere suggestions—while Francesca pleaded with the rental office to stay open.

When I arrived, GPS led me not to the car return but to a government building guarded by men with guns. Panicked, I messaged Francesca, who provided a new location, which turned out to be inside the airport. Out of time and options, I parked in long-term parking and bolted to the rental counter, where I was relieved to find employees still lingering.

Miraculously, they didn’t charge me a late fee. Eight baht for parking? I’ll take it.

Ubers, Laziness, and Redemption

With the car drama behind me, I attempted to summon a ride back to the hotel. The first driver accepted my request, only to message, “I’m tired. Please cancel.”

When I asked for clarification, he replied, “I am lazy.”

Thailand, you win.

Eventually, a less-lazy driver took pity on me, and I returned to the Shangri-La, flopping into bed like a defeated gladiator.

A Lucky Break and Luxurious Karma

The next morning, Francesca searched for accommodations for the following two nights. The Shangri-La was booked solid, but I figured, If you don’t ask, you don’t get. I approached the front desk, fully expecting rejection. To my shock, they had cancellations. The room was double the price of the first night, but at that point, we were all in.

The kids, blissfully unaware of the chaos, basked in the hotel’s luxury. They splashed in the pool, zipped down the waterslide, and marveled at the personalized welcome message on the TV: “Welcome, Daniel. It is our pleasure to serve you.”

Life Lessons in Luxury

As we soaked in our accidental lap of luxury, Ryan, our eldest, dropped this gem:

“You know how you always say this trip is to see how people less fortunate than us live? Well, it’s also good to see how people more fortunate live.”

Touché, Ryan.

A Final Victory

The cherry on top? I called Capital One to request a full refund for the botched reservation and reimbursement for our three Shangri-La nights. To their credit, they agreed without hesitation.

So, while the road to paradise was anything but smooth, we learned an important lesson: when life gives you chaos, roll with it—and maybe treat yourself to a little Shangri-La along the way.