Marshmallow Restival and the rhythm of doing less

I knew I’d enjoy (and probably needed) this festival before reaching the gate, especially after the run of high-octane events of late. Abonzo Yama Mitsu sits on a rolling hill just outside Chiang Rai town, with a 360-degree view over the valley and Kok River below. The open stage backed out onto layers of endlessly folding hills, with sunset perfectly framed in the distance. It’s the kind of place that is so naturally captivating that it demands you unwind the moment you arrive.

I was quickly greeted with a big and familiar smile from Jirapahn ‘Tung’ Khaokum – a Bangkok-based violinist I’ve worked with and seen perform over the years. I’m a big fan. Turns out he’s the first violin in the Marshmallow Symphony Orchestra. I hadn’t expected to know anyone here, so seeing him right away lifted my arrival spirits.

‘I was invited by my friend Note – the conductor, who brought musicians from Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Phayao together for this orchestra,’ Tung told me. ‘We first played at the organiser’s wedding and they liked the style so much they asked for a 30- to 40-piece band for the Restival. I felt really taken care of and very impressed by the whole experience.’

Marshmallow Restival dubs itself a relaxation festival. No midnight sets, no frantic timetable, just workshops, a well-curated music program and a long, lazy view of the mountains. The crowd was mostly young Thai families with kids chasing each other between rows of camping chairs. I didn’t recognise a single band, but they were clearly the main draw for everyone else – the kind of line-up people had circled on their calendars months ago. And honestly, stepping into music I didn’t know at all was a perfect way to unwind.

‘We wanted to introduce a new idea," says Alongkorn Thaubol, Chief Executive Officer of Meaning Maker and Director of Marshmallow Restival. ‘Taking a break doesn’t have to mean complete stillness or doing nothing. We wanted a space for connection, between people and people; people and nature; and people and activities.’

Day one

Friday eased in like a lazy house guest. People wandered the market and food stalls, picked up a book from Passport Bookshop’s outdoor corner and sniffed their way through the perfume workshop as if choosing a new personality for the weekend. I joined a wine tasting with Frederic Debono, a French sommelier who could make a glass of white sound like a love story, all delivered in perfectly fluent Thai.

‘Bookshop on the Mountain became more than just buying a book,’ Alongkorn tells me later. ‘People listened to stories about how a single book had changed someone’s life.’ He was truly moved.

In the middle of the lawn, two signature scents that were created for the event had been placed on a shiny plinth like a tiny art installation. Every so often someone would wander up, have a polite spritz and walk away smelling slightly more restful. I certainly did.

Day two

Saturday brought more cars and more people. Half the crowd had young kids in tow and workshops were full of tiny serious faces. At Artepolé I watched a girl carefully label her perfume bottle while her dad waited like a proud assistant.

I tried my hand at calligraphy with Ki Bangkok and remembered I have the handwriting of a nervous chicken. Later Tul Hiranyalawan took a small group around the property for a photography walk, teaching them how to get maximum results from shooting photos on our phones.

My friend Karta soon arrived with his mom and they loved the whole thing. He said it felt like a holiday inside a concert, which is exactly right. Marshmallow Orchestra provided a sunset show with 40 musicians and a selection of familiar broadway tunes and light classical vibes. ‘Some guests said they were moved to tears simply sitting with the orchestra at sunset, even though they didn’t recognise any of the pieces,’ Alongkorn shares. Once night fell, P.O.P took to the stage and the crowd got rowdier, singing along and joyously waving their arms in the air.

Day three

By Sunday it felt like a tiny village, bumping into familiar faces at workshops and food queues. Everyone had evolved into a festival pro and lawn seating was being claimed with serious strategy by mid-afternoon. I even managed to carve out a slow hour on a bean bag with a Gabriel García Márquez novel I’d picked up from the book shop – which felt like the most on-brand activity possible.

I squeezed into the most popular workshop, making cocktails with Jom. I learned how to make a balanced, surprisingly inventive drink using local spirits. The day’s music program began with a smaller, breezier version of the Marshmallow Orchestra, easing us into the final home run.

As the sun began to set, the highlight band ETC took over and the mood lifted by a significant notch. The main singer wove through the audience, microphone in hand, serenading fans at close range while they sang along, clearly knowing every lyric by heart. Glow sticks appeared from nowhere and suddenly the whole field was on its feet. I spotted Tung in the distance, grinning wide and dancing along with his bandmates. Talk about ending on a high note.

Driving back down the hill, I had a little laugh about how upside down it all was. In the city we escape noise to rest; here the ‘noise’ was somehow restful. Glow sticks, orchestra swells, moms dancing with their toddlers, all safely contained inside a schedule with a clear bedtime.

‘We don’t want this gathering to become exhausting,’ Alongkorn says. ‘Around 3,000 people joined over three days and we don’t plan to grow much larger. The goal is intimacy, so participants can truly engage with each experience and leave feeling rested, not rushed.’ We like the sound of that.