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Here begins my workation. This is the first part of my 8-day Udon Thani itinerary, it covers 3 peaceful, offbeat temples and costs just around 5,000 baht. Wat Kham Chanot is the highlight here. This isn’t ‘Everything You Need to Know on a Workation’; it’s simply a personal journal about temples in Udon Thani. But maybe it will help you plan things a little better.

Day 1: Flying to Isaan

I boarded the Thai Airways flight from Bengaluru at 00:40 AM. Not a minute late. Compared to Indigo, I always recommend Thai Airways because the seat reclined well, with more check-in allowance and more leg room. 

By the time we landed in Bangkok, it was still dark, but I could see the red-orange spreading over the blue sky. After my immigration process, the sky became clear white, and the city was waking up to the hustle and bustle. I took a cab to Don Mueang because my next flight was from DMK Airport. 

Booked my room at Don Muang Hotel because they offer early check-in. I slept for three hours and woke up groggy. 

I picked up a protein shake, sandwich, and banana from 7-Eleven for around 100 baht. 7/11 is a blessing for every budget traveller. 

By evening, I was on a Nok Air flight to Udon Thani. The flight lasted an hour, but something inside me slowed down. The Udon Thani airport is small. Everything was quiet. 

I booked a Grab and reached The Old Inn Hotel. Every time I am in Udon, I book this hotel; its vintage architecture and interior are something that makes me feel better. Even the location is convenient; it’s just five minutes from the night market. 

That night, I didn’t go out. I didn’t open my laptop. Just sat at the window and listened to the pouring raindrops outside. I didn’t call anyone, and I didn’t eat anything, just had Lactosoy milk. 

Udon is a place where I am not alone. This city allows me to listen to the part of myself I usually ignore. When we stop chasing inputs, the mind starts recovering what it already knows.

Day 2: Walking into 5,000 Years of Silence

Ban Chiang isn’t a name you’ll often hear in travel vlogs or those fancy Instagram reels. But it should be.

Ban Chiang is a museum in Nong Han District, near Udon Thani. It is one of the oldest places in Southeast Asia where people lived, worked, and left art and stories behind. Before the pyramids or big cities, people here made clay pots, used metal tools, and buried their dead with care in pots. Ban Chiang’s pottery is a symbol of Udon Thani. 

In Udon province, you will see the Big Clay Pots frequently.

The bus ride was about one and a half hours. Any bus to Nakhon Phanom or Sakon Nakhon will take you to Ban Chiang for less than 100 baht. The closer I got to Ban Chiang, the more rural everything became. 

You will find rice fields, barren land, and small townships in between. Most farmers in Isaan grow sticky rice. Farmers wear a chequered cloth called pha khao ma on their head or waist—part towel, part hat, part tool, depending on the hour. 

While watching them, I was thinking how Kerala has changed in the last 30 years. What I am seeing now here is something I used to observe in my childhood, but never after.

At Ban Chiang Museum

The museum stood quietly, surrounded by some shops and sleepy dogs.

150 baht is the charge for foreigners. You will be welcomed by ladies in traditional Thai costume, which is an indigo-coloured petticoat and top. But you will find this costume only on Thai Airways, in temples, and some places like this.

The museum has a fascinating collection of artefacts unearthed from the Ban Chiang archaeological site. This includes thousands of ceramic vessels of various shapes, sizes, and intricate painted designs, as well as bronze tools, jewellery, and even human skeletal remains. These findings span a remarkable period, from the Late Neolithic to the Iron Age (roughly 2100 BCE to 200 CE). No wonder it’s a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Pots, Mor Lam and Udon Thani

It’s fascinating to see pots that were buried with the dead. Spiral designs in burnt ochre. The bones of those who once believed the earth was flat and the sky was a god. The sophisticated spiral designs on the pots show how advanced their thoughts were.

While walking through the museum corridors, I remembered a line I once read: “Pottery is the first global language.” It makes sense. Every culture has hands, clay, and fire. Before writing, this was how people said, ‘We live here. We eat together.’

Outside the main museum, there’s Wat Pho Si Nai, just 300 metres away—the open-air excavation site.

I spent four hours there. Didn’t feel like enough.

By 3 PM, I was back at the hotel, logged in, sent some emails, and fixed two landing page copies. Then I shut the laptop.

By 8 PM, I was at the night market.

Udon’s night market isn’t noisy. I remember once a taxi driver told me, ‘In Bangkok, the clocks chase people; in Udon, people chase sunshades.’

I had grilled chicken and some rice. Normally, there would be some music band playing songs, but today I couldn’t find any singers here. But someone played Mor Lam—Isaan folk music with a bouncing khaen flute. The beat is steady, almost like a heartbeat. I enjoyed my dinner with that music.

I walked through the Walking Street, had a beer, and by 10, I was back at my desk. I worked until 1 AM. No pressure, just a chill vibe.

Maybe when you start the day looking at 5,000-year-old bones, you may feel more relaxed. Maybe that’s what ancient places do. They don’t change your life; they just change the way you look at it.

Day 3: Sacred Wells & Kingdom of Naga – A Day That Didn’t Feel Real

My day began the usual way—Jok soup at the market. It cost me 35 baht. Jok is Thai rice porridge. Cooks simmer jasmine rice until it turns thick like oatmeal. Some shops use charcoal stoves, so a light smoke sits on the bowl. My Jok came within 15 minutes with small pork meatballs and fresh ginger strips on top. I added a spoon of thin soy sauce and a pinch of white pepper.

In Bangkok, people eat it when sick. In Isaan, they eat it as a healthy breakfast. Same bowl, two reasons.

Today I wasn’t visiting just another temple. I was visiting stories. Folk Legends. Places people whisper about- Nagas. Not for any proof. But for a hope.

Wat Pa Dong Nong Tan – The Well That Looks Back

The first stop was Wat Pa Dong Nong Tan. It’s not on the typical tourist route, and you won’t find many influencers here with selfie sticks. But that’s the point.

The architecture and sculptures feel very similar to Indian Hindu styles. You’ll find a long serpent sculpture at the entrance. It’s located in Kutsa, Mueang District—a calm space surrounded by trees. The paths are laid with mud bricks.

Inside, there are ten ancient wells. People believe they’re at least 1,000 years old.

I wondered why there were 10 wells in a few square metres of land. I couldn’t find any convincing answers at the location, but I observed that this area has a high water table and soft laterite soil. Digging a shallow well was easy, but the walls would erode. Instead of deepening one, people might have dug a new one every few years, leaving a ring of short wells.

After the wells, I walked to the temple. It’s simple but beautiful in a quiet way. On the chapel walls, you’ll find paintings that tell Buddha’s stories.

Locals believe these wells connect our world to the underground city of Nagas. The wells aren’t decorated or dramatic, just still water surrounded by silence and guarded by Naga King.

I couldn’t sit near the wells—it was too hot, with no trees nearby, just open land and the Naga King’s idol. The entire well area is covered with the Naga King’s tail (as fencing).

So I sat inside the chapel for 20 minutes. I didn’t take a photo, and I didn’t write anything. I just stared at the Buddha as if I was waiting for him to blink.

If you ever go, don’t rush. Let it make you uncomfortable. That’s when the place begins to speak.

The Journey to Kham Chanot – The Island That Doesn’t Sink

After visiting the ancient wells, I headed to Ban Dung district—about 1.5 hours away. My driver didn’t speak much English, but he was good with Google Translate. He told me, “This island never sinks.” Even during floods, he said, it floats, like it’s protected by something.

The road felt wild: forest on one side, dry land on the other. No homes, no shops, just silence. But as we got closer, Kham Chanot started to reveal itself—rows of tuk-tuks, small shops, and a proper car park. From there, it’s a short walk to the temple. The entrance is marked by a massive serpent sculpture, curling over the gate as if it’s guarding something sacred.

Once inside, you walk barefoot. The path is lined with the long, green tails of the Naga—Phaya Nak, as locals call him. The naga is sculpted in vivid green, stretching alongside both sides of the walkway. Some palm species trees (in Thai called Chanot) grow along the way; they look like a mix of a coconut and a palm tree.

Kham Chanot isn’t a usual temple in Udon. It’s an island in the middle of a lake—Wang Nakhin. For devotees, it’s the home of the Naga King—Pu Chao Sri Sutho and his consort Ya Tha Thip. In Thai, Pu Chao means ‘reverend ancestor’, like a great-grandfather. This concept of addressing Naga Lords as Grandfather also exists in Kerala; near my home, there is a Naga temple called Kalloor Appooppan temple, which means Kalloor Grandfather or Kalleli Appooppan temple.

Perhaps some believed Nagas are the reincarnation of ancestors. Who knows?

Kham Chanot Temple – World of Nagas

You don’t see them, but you do see their guards—dozens of serpent statues guarding the paths. There are idols of the Naga King, depicted as a naga in semi-human form. The face and upper body are human-like, with a long tail coiled as a cushion to sit on, and around nine naga heads as a crown.

Once you reach inside the chapel, it’s a different world: wooden floor, pebbles, a calm and serene atmosphere, a few monks chanting Buddhist mantras, and a holy pond. There is another big Naga statue near the Holy Pond. People leave coins near the holy pond; they believe it brings good luck. And this pond is believed to be the way the Naga comes to land. The orchids and palm species trees, along with the Naga stories, all together gave me a different feeling, a different way of Vipassanā yoga that I experienced in three hours.

The air smells of wet bark. For fifteen minutes, I walk alone. Then I saw a gentle tide of families joining the path, carrying serpent offerings covered in marigold petals and some prayers.

I touched one Chanot tree; it was cold, like stone. Their roots knit the peat together and keep the island whole. Ten acres of these tall fan palms feel like a green cathedral.

Magic of Kham Chanot

Now I understand the magic of this floating island.

The island rests atop a thick, spongy layer of peat—a dense mat of partially decayed vegetation accumulated over centuries. This peat acts like a natural raft: when water levels rise in the surrounding lake or wetlands, the peat absorbs moisture, swelling like a soaked sponge and gently lifting the land by a few centimetres. During dry spells, it releases water, shrinking back down.

This slow, rhythmic movement is like our lungs “breathing,” creating the myth of an immortal island. Adding to this stability are the palm trees that dominate the area, their tangled roots binding the peat into a cohesive mat. Species like the Nipa palm (Nypa fruticans) grow well in waterlogged soils, their roots reinforcing the peat like a biological net, preventing erosion and anchoring the land. Together, peat and palms form a dynamic, self-regulating system—nature’s answer to floating architecture.

Kham Chanot: A Harmony between Nature and Humans

I felt proud of polytheism; it’s beautiful when people respect and admire nature.

Long before churches or mosques, humans worshipped nature itself. I remember reading about Nefertiti’s Sun Temple (1350 BCE).

Historians say ancient Egyptians prayed to the Nile. Greeks built temples for Poseidon by the sea. We Indians worship the Ganges and the Cow. Even early Thai cultures saw the gods in the river Mekong.

I felt this ancient connection clearly here: an island protected by Nagas. It wasn’t superstition; it was gratitude. When you see the land as a god, you think twice before hurting it. Maybe polytheism protected nature by teaching humans to see it as something powerful, not a resource.

And while walking back, I kept thinking: This is how mythologies are born, through places like this that don’t behave the way land is supposed to.

After writing my notes, sitting under a Chanot tree, listening to trees, trusting old stories, I called my driver.

I returned to my hotel by 5 PM, logged in at 5:30, finished two reports, took a break, and worked again from 9 to 2 AM. Not once did I feel tired.

I should’ve been tired. Two temples and a head full of questions. But I wasn’t. My mind was calm. I remembered what my grandma used to say when I am impatient: “You should pray Naga Lords, If the Naga blesses you, Rahu can’t reach you.” Rahu, is the master of illusions, he play with our mind. He will make us restless, anxious, and obsessed..

No one will be ever satisfied. But tonight, that noise was gone. No craving, no loop, no thoughts spinning in circles. Just silence.

Like someone pressed pause on the algorithm inside me. Maybe the Nagas blessed me, they guarded the mind. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. Only that it felt like something had let go before I did.

A Pause Before the Climb

I came here to see temples, but I began to see myself. Udon Thani does not shout its secrets. It waits for you to sit still enough to hear them.

Next, 6 Days, the journey continues. If I have to tell you that in a TV Serial format. It might sound like-

Why does a twenty-two-metre Buddha keep watch from Wat Phu Thong Thep?

Who pressed those perfect handprints into the hill of Wat Phu Taphao Thong?

How can a white lotus hover on a lake without rotting, and why does its silence feel louder than prayer?

For now, I leave you with this thought: Why did ancient hands paint spirals, not stars or squares? Are we drawn to curves because galaxies and Nagas share them—or because the human mind sees itself in every twist?