This report is written by a participant of for Cities Week 2025 in Chiang Mai
I had never studied or even really thought about cities before. I also have no background in architecture or landscape design. In my daily life, I work in the field of web and graphic design. My work happens almost entirely within a computer. I spend my days sitting at a desk, staring at a screen. Aside from occasionally touching paper, most of what I do lacks any real sense of physical texture.
But about a year ago, I began to discover the joy of fieldwork, of going out into the world to observe, to interview, and to ask questions. That experience sparked something in me. I found myself wanting to explore field-based research more deeply, to actually practice it. I wanted to walk with my own feet across unfamiliar ground, to begin my inquiries from what I could feel and sense directly, and to challenge myself to perceive the city in a new way.
I learned from another participant that Kyoto and Chiang Mai are often compared in urban studies because their shapes are quite similar. Kyoto is not surrounded by a wall, but it has a square-like layout, is enclosed by mountains, and shares a sense of closeness to the gods. In both cities, forests are located very close to the urban center, right next to areas with high accessibility and convenience. After just a five-minute walk into the trees, all you can hear are birds singing, leaves rustling, and the sound of flowing water. I came to understand that this is a city that lives alongside the forest, with deep nature existing just beside everyday life.
The fusion of commerce and mobility felt incredibly light and effortless. I often saw shops attached to the sides of motorbikes. There was a sense of casually moving through the city and easily setting up shop wherever needed. Compared to food trucks, which can feel more intentional or structured, these mobile vendors blended more naturally into the city. One lasting image was a vendor riding through the street with steam rising from a pot. It felt to me like a clear expression of tropical urbanism.
Workshop by Kitika This was a walking tour through the city of Chiang Mai, guided by Kitika, where we explored on foot and shared what we noticed along the way. The central part of Chiang Mai is clearly outlined on the map—it is a square-shaped area surrounded by a wall.
In an age without modern technology, how was it possible to construct a perfectly square city wall? Why are there five gates? How did the city’s geography—with mountains to the west and a water source to the east—shape the formation of Chiang Mai over time? The workshop began with a hands-on session where we wrote down foundational information on paper ourselves.
Photo credit: Moth Akkarakmon
Kitika teaches at Chiang Mai University, and his way of telling stories was so captivating that I couldn’t help but envy his students. I was genuinely surprised by how naturally he could hold our attention.
Photo credit: Moth Akkarakmon
After this short but intense lecture, we got on a bus and visited three parts of the city: the southern, eastern, and northern sections of the square. We visited local homes, stepped into temples, and even saw a nearly disappearing metal workshop and a lantern-making space where elderly craftspeople gather to pass down their skills.
Photo credit: Moth Akkarakmon
With Kitika translating and offering context, we listened carefully to the voices of those who live and work in these spaces. As we walked through these three areas, Kitika asked us to pay close attention to the details of the city. We were encouraged to observe the patterns, shapes, colors, and textures found throughout the streets and to take photos of anything that caught our attention.
This act of noticing became a way of engaging with the city. After the walk, we gathered to reflect. One of the key themes was the contrast between the vivid red often seen in temple architecture and the city’s recent push toward more subdued, organic colors—like the tones of natural materials, such as browns and creamy beiges.
Getting close to the daily lives of people who have lived in the area for a long time and hearing their authentic voices was a precious experience, even though the time was limited. Through this workshop, I was able to gain insights into how Chiang Mai’s city shape came to be and what actual differences exist between its various neighborhoods. I felt my distance from life in Chiang Mai and other tropical regions shrink.
During the transitions between areas, I shared with other participants what we noticed and observed. Even outside the workshop sessions, exchanging different perspectives allowed me to gain viewpoints I wouldn’t have otherwise had. For example, one person always observes the expressions of people living in the city, while another naturally focuses on architectural details such as patterns and use of color. Although we were walking through the same streets, it was fascinating to see how each person’s eyes were drawn to different places.
Photo credit: Moth Akkarakmon
Development and design aligned with global social changes do not necessarily fit each local context. Communities that have been formed locally, along with distinctive designs and cultures nurtured over time, risk being lost through development aimed at globalization. Chiang Mai is also experiencing increasing tourism, and in the city center, businesses catering to travelers stand out more than the daily lives of local residents. This made me reflect deeply on the preservation of culturally rooted design that responds to the land and climate.
Tropical urbanism means a sense of openness that embraces sudden changes and imperfection as they are.
Through encounters with people in Chiang Mai both inside and outside the program, I felt that a common trait among the locals is a generous spirit that adapts flexibly to change. One woman who has lived in Chiang Mai for many years shared an experience from a heavy rain day. She said, “Chiang Mai does not have a well-developed public transportation system, and when it rains heavily, the roads often flood and traffic jams occur. But people in Chiang Mai are easygoing—they don’t get angry or impatient; they just accept it.” This story left a strong impression on me and has stayed in my mind ever since I returned from Chiang Mai. Living in the tropics means adjusting to unique climate changes such as intense heat and sudden heavy rains. Above all, I feel that this mindset—the relaxed and accepting attitude—is the key to living comfortably in such a climate.
The theme I chose for my output during the program was the underwear situation of women living in tropical regions. During my stay in Chiang Mai, all the underwear I brought from Japan felt uncomfortable, and I realized it didn’t suit the climate. That became the starting point of my inquiry.
This project gave me the opportunity not only to talk with local women but also to hear real stories from women in their twenties living in Chiang Mai through an exhibition. One woman I spoke to said that since high school she has not worn a bra and only uses nipple covers.
Although this is not based on statistical data, the fact that several women I talked to shared this suggests that the number of women who go braless with just nipple covers may be higher in Chiang Mai than in Japan. Underwear suitable for urban life in tropical climates may not only be a matter of materials or design, but also the choice to simply not wear certain garments at all.
Even though my research period was short, I felt there is great potential in exploring the theme of underwear further. I hope to continue paying attention to this topic in the future.
‘The future of cities might begin with something as small and personal as the kind of underwear we choose to wear in a changing climate’.