Of all of my experiences in Chiang Mai, the most unforgettable has to have been getting my first tattoo. No, it wasn’t etched with a bamboo needle in the hands of a Buddhist monk, but was deeply meaningful to me all the same. I’d always been open to the idea of getting a tattoo, but had yet to find an image or idea that I liked enough to have permanently inked under my skin. While eating breakfast at the hostel cafe on my third morning in Chiang Mai, I noticed a flyer for a Canadian tattoo artist that had moved to Thailand. I curiously began scrolling through the artist’s Instagram feed until I came upon a design that resonated with me. Doubting that anything would actually come of it, I messaged the artist and quickly received a reply, and before long had a consultation meeting scheduled for the same day.
Later that afternoon I met the artist, Shannon Wolf (check out her stunning portfolio on Instagram). Originally from Toronto, she had spent years traveling as a freelance writer and photographer across Europe, South America, Asia, before setting up residence in Chiang Mai to focus on her passion for tattooing. The design of hers that caught my eye was of a candle, with beads of melted wax dripping down as it sat in what I later learned was a traditional Nepali candle holder. Shannon said the design had been inspired by a trip of hers to Nepal, as well as one of her favorite songs, about a light that never goes out. “You mean that Smith’s song?” I asked, and she nodded, adding that the Smiths are her favorite band. I liked the design enough on its own to begin with (the image reminding me of a theme that had been on my mind since leaving my full-time job the previous year), but then to hear that it was inspired both by a trip to a place I was going next, as well as a song by a band I greatly admired, I knew that this was something I couldn’t pass up. Another element that I found intriguing is that the tattoo, like all of her designs, was a “flash”. This meant that once her original design was tattooed, it would never be offered again to anyone else, making it completely unique to myself.
We met again the following afternoon for the actual tattoo process, which took around four hours - including prep/paperwork, and measuring my forearm to find the perfect placement for the stencil. After all, even if a tattoo turns out brilliantly, it’s all for naught if it isn’t placed with care. For the entire time leading up to this point, I had been wrestling with myself over where to put it. Part of me thought I should place my first tattoo, a decently sized one at that, somewhere easily concealed, but I also wanted it to be somewhere easily visible as a constant reminder of this journey I had been undertaking. I decided upon my inner left forearm, and to this day am grateful that it wasn’t placed elsewhere.
The tattoo itself took about three hours. Apologies to the tattoo veterans out there who may be reading this, and are very familiar with the process - but if any are reading, I invite you to think back and imagine if you had gotten your first tattoo while in a faraway country, just days before beginning a trek through remote Himalayan villages with a sore and scabby tattoo in the process of healing. (Please leave a comment below if you have had a similar experience of being tattooed abroad!) Shannon started with the outline, which was pretty painful for the first fifteen minutes. After that point, my body had adjusted to the pain, and it just started to feel like more of a background discomfort. The shading and dot work were almost painless, but at the very end, she used a technique called whip-shading, which results in a beautiful texturing but was the most painful part. I tried my hardest to avert my eyes until the process was complete, but may have stolen a couple of quick glances, which made me so excited, as it was looking better than I could have ever imagined.
Before starting to work on the tattoo, Shannon shared some of the challenges that are inherent in getting a tattoo in a developing country. Since Thailand’s tap water is unsafe to drink, any contact between running water and the fresh tattoo would put me at high risk for bacterial infection. This meant that each shower I took as the tattoo healed over the next two weeks would be extremely awkward, since my entire left forearm was essentially an open wound that needed to remain clean, but could only be washed with drinking water and unscented bar soap. I would try to wrap it up in a shirt or boxers, but usually just resorted to standing in the shower with my left arm constantly raised above my head, trying to scrub only with my right hand. Aside from keeping it away from tap water, I would need to wash it twice daily for the next two weeks, which provided an added challenge during my days spent trekking in the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal. I ended up luckily avoiding any complications in the healing process.
I’m very thankful to have met Shannon Wolf in Chiang Mai. Not only does her work possess a very distinctive character and high quality, she was super helpful in making my first tattoo experience as easy as possible. While I could’ve gone instead to one of the countless local tattoo parlors, or to the Buddhist monks, getting a traditional Sak Yant tattoo as my first didn’t appeal to me at all, as I think that would have felt like little more than a permanent souvenir. For me, it was the design that mattered most, and the meaning behind it, along with its significance to that specific time of my life. I see the candle as a symbol that reflects the vitality of one’s life - perhaps questioning one as to whether theirs burns fiercely or merely flickers. For me it also draws a parallel to the finite amount of time we are each given, and see it as a reminder to constantly question how I make use of my own time, as it is the most precious resource we all possess.
By the time I returned home, it had completely healed
While in Pokhara, Nepal, I had a meal by the light of a very familiar looking candle.