Rice, Rice, Baby

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By Dan

There’s nothing like going to sleep in a bamboo hut thatched with teak tree leaves, in the middle of rice paddies in the mountains west of Chiang Mai, having eaten a big dinner cooked on a campfire in the bamboo hut featuring rice grown in those very paddies, to get you humming a little Vanilla Ice song. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For twenty plus years, no trip to Chiang Mai and the north of Thailand has been complete without a trek out into the mountains. On my first trip here, with my dad and brother in 1986, the whole tourism thing was new enough that we actually went to a hill tribe (the term used to describe the various ethnic minorities living around here) village that may not ever have had Westerners pass through. Many millions of tourists have passed through the region since that time, so genuine ethnological experiences probably can’t be had in an overnight from Chiang Mai. And, we had two kids in tow whose legs are noticeably shorter than Christina’s and mine, one of whom is an avowed non-hiker. Thus, we set our sights a little lower. We wouldn’t be emulating Margaret Mead, but we would hopefully enjoy the outdoors and have some fun.

We set out from the Chiang Mai Thai House with our guide, Mr. O, a 25 year old guy of mixed Thai/Karen (the main hill tribe of the north) descent who would better have been named Mr. Giggly. The guy was occasionally tough to understand, but it was never difficult to see that he thought things were pretty darned funny. He just never stopped laughing. His warm demeanor and real delight in playing with the kids made our 36 hours with him a real delight.

First stop, about 45 minutes outside of Chiang Mai, was a market in a small town where Mr. O stocked up on provisions and we wandered around. The kids were especially taken by some of the critters for sale in the food section. There were ferocious looking, eel-like river fish; a big bucket full of enormous frogs that were clambering around in a failed attempt at escape; and some very funky looking little crabs; among other things. Abby bought a snazzy macramé bag to hold her water bottle in, and off we went. Back on the road, Mr. O/Giggly showed us that it wasn’t just an English thing for him. At a police checkpoint, while he got the major grind from a mean looking Thai police guy, he never stopped giggling. Since he managed to escape without any money paid, his technique must work.

Next stop was an elephant camp, for a little pachyderm experience. After meeting our rides, and the friendly mahouts (elephant jockeys) who would accompany us, off we went. Right away, we passed the lady who hangs out on a platform 10 feet off the ground, selling her wares next to a sign that says “Make Friendly With You Elephant – Buy Banana 20 Baht One Bunch”. Well, I’ve always made it a point to stay on good terms with multi-ton mammals on which I am sitting, so we sprung for the make friendly medicine, and off we went. Grayson and I were sharing one elephant, whose name was something like Padung, and Padung would go about 5 steps before reaching his trunk back and sniffing around, looking for a banana handout. We’d place a banana at the tip of his trunk, and he’d nimbly swoop it down to his mouth and consume it in one bite. If we were rationing things a little, Padung would snort a little before trudging on. You may have thought it’s gross when your kid sneezes without covering his or her mouth, and you catch a little spray. When an elephant snorts, you really get bombed – elephant boogers are no laughing matter.

Since Mr. O was close personal friends with the mahouts, he had put in a good word for us. Our mahout hopped off Padung a short way into our ride, leaving Grayson on Padung’s neck and in control. Sadly, it was more in the figurative sense than the literal, because either Padung didn’t speak English, or Grayson had missed the day of elephant communications at school last year (Miss Erker, how did you leave that out of the curriculum?). Basically, Padung went when he wanted to go, and stopped when he wanted to stop. I didn’t have any better luck, and neither did Abby or Christina on their elephant, but we all had a very good chuckle.

Leaving our elephant friends with a final banana or two, we headed on to a Karen village that was a few km. up a dirt road. Having been wowed by the slick newness of Bangkok and Chiang Mai, it was interesting to start seeing a more traditional sort of village, which made us feel for the first time like we were in a developing country. There were dogs and pigs lying around the dusty paths, a very modest shop selling potato chips and soap (which appear to be the two main items for sale in most of the countries we have visited), and random collections of stuff piled around haphazardly. We ate our lunch (tasty pad thai and roasted chicken) with a variety of local kids checking us out, while sitting on a teak platform under the village chief’s house.

The chief, who we, of course, started referring to as Mr. Chief, was also our next mode of transportation. We loaded into the back of his songthaew (a pickup truck with a covered back, and a row of benches on each side), and headed up the rough dirt road another 10 km or so. This is the dry season in northern Thailand, and it is hot and dry. Like in India, it sort of felt like fall, with many leaves yellow or brown, and the ground littered with fallen leaves. Farther up the mountain, though, it grew noticeably greener, and fortunately, a bit cooler. (We had some serious hiking to do.) Eventually, we pulled to a stop, and met the guy whose bamboo hut we would be staying in for the evening. He was to accompany us, along with Mr. O, on the next part of our journey. Tossing our canvas rucksacks on our backs, we struck out on the trail. I tried not to think about the umpteen varieties of poisonous Thai snakes we had learned about at the snake park in Bangkok, any one of which would have a representative lurking under any leaf, rock, or root in our path.

About 90 minutes of uphill hiking, with not a peep of complaint from the short-legged crowd, took us to a very cool temple and monastery complex which was originally built about 700 years ago by the Burmese, so that they could remember their soldiers who had died in these mountains fighting the Thai. The Thai had then built their own temple, and Buddhist monks had made it a popular place for contemplation. You really feel like you’re a million miles from anywhere. There are a new standing Buddha (about 75 feet tall) and reclining Buddha (about 25 feet long), each carved out of the same piece of wood. Apparently a tree fell a few years ago, and a group of 200 local folks, including Mr. O, dragged the tree up the mountain 5 kms to the temple complex, where a group of artists tackled the carving process. Pretty amazing.

Back on the trail, we hiked another hour or so, mostly downhill, to the hut that Mr. O kept referring to as our seven star hotel (because you could see at least one star through each of the seven holes in the roof). Up on stilts, it had a bamboo frame, a floor of bamboo slats laid over the frame, and a roof of teak tree leaves woven together. Quite a cool place. We were mighty sweaty, so first stop was the small pool in the creek that babbled nearby, which was much appreciated. It being the dry season, there aren’t as many paddies that are flooded and under cultivation. The set of paddies in which our hut sat was bone dry, with only a few old stalks of rice poking up. Another few months from now, though, and it will be the scene of a lot of activity.

Somewhat cleaned up, we hung out for the evening with Mr. O, Mr. Hut, and Mr. Chief, who had arrived from the other direction carrying the meat and veggies we’d be eating for dinner. The setting was just very, very cool, with the sounds of the creek, tree covered hills all around, and not another soul in sight. Mr. O gave some pointers on Thai cooking, with Grayson as a rapt audience. The hut man became known as Mr. Moonshine, since he was so quick to share his home made rice- and corn-based hooch. (I think he just wanted a drinking buddy, but I managed to consume only enough to be polite. It was the first time I had had anything to drink straight out of a bamboo mug since college, and this stuff was strong enough to, well, do something serious.) Our only other company for a portion of the evening was a very cool looking Karen woman of about 50 or so, who squatted next to our hut whittling a new handle for her machete. My guess is that she just wanted a little company, having had nobody to talk to but cows, pigs, and water buffalo for the past few days. She showed incredible dexterity with her machete handle project – I kept thinking that what she knocked out in 20 minutes, would have taken me weeks.

Who would have thought that one of the best Thai meals we have ever had, would have been cooked over an open fire in the corner of a bamboo hut in surroundings such as this? Well, it’s true. Wow, was that food good. A beautiful curry, a nice stir-fry, and oh, that rice. Plus, the smoke from the fire took care of any potential mosquito issue. Cementing the whole thing in Christina’s mind, of course, was when Mr. Moonshine earned his final name, of Mr. Massage, since it turned out that he was a trained and skilled practitioner of Thai massage. Christina’s aching dogs may never have been happier. Through the night, we discovered the one significant problem with Mr. O. He snores like nobody’s business. Mr. Chief and Mr. Hut/Moonshine/Massage, who had opted to sleep outside, reported their best nights of sleep in years. We couldn’t say the same. But, it’s all part of the experience.

Following a leisurely breakfast, highlighted by Nescafe consumed out of more bamboo mugs that Mr. Hut/Moonshine/Massage had whipped out with his machete, we shouldered our packs and headed down the mountain. Along the way, we stopped at a couple of beautiful waterfalls for some splashing. Wow, is this place pretty. At one waterfall, Grayson did some fishing with Mr. Hut/Moonshine/Massage /Bamboo Mug, who had a nifty little net that was the same design as the Chinese fishing nets we had seen in southern India, minus the pulley part. Meanwhile, Mr. O introduced the kids to the joys of slingshots. Next time out, we’ll save money by letting the kids hunt for our dinner! Eventually, we ended back at the Karen village from which we had begun, and waved goodbye to Mr. Chief and Mr. Hut/Moonshine/Massage /Bamboo Mug/Fisherman. Those two guys spoke as much English, combined, as we speak Thai or Karen, but we sure did enjoy them.

Next on the activity list was an hour long float down the Mae Win River on a bamboo raft. It was a peaceful float, although our raft man was a little grouchy, and each of Grayson, Abby, and I managed to fall off the back of the raft as we attempted to act as First Mate. It’s tougher than it looks. Having caused the complete disintegration of a similar raft on a sharp rock in fast water in 1989 on a nearby river, I was sorry to learn that my skills hadn’t improved. Oh, well. . . .

Final activity of the day was white water rafting, at a different stretch of the same river. We were in two rubber inflatable kayaks, each of which was captained by a local guy. The water level is really low, since this is the dry season, and we all spent a lot of time getting ourselves off rocks onto which we had run aground. There’s a definite opportunity for experienced, Thai-speaking river guides, because our kayak guys were absolutely clueless when it comes to running rivers. My guy’s paddling instructions were just about 180 degrees opposite from what I would have thought he should be telling me, and we managed to run aground on rocks that would seem statistically almost impossible to hit. His only five words of English were “right”, “left”, “forward”, “back”, and “stop”, so it was probably wasted on him, but at one point I explained to him that when he started making sense with his directions, I would heed his directions, but until then, I was going to paddle as I saw fit. That caused him to break into song, which may have been that old Thai favorite, “Farangs Are a Bunch of Losers Who Don’t Know How to Paddle or Eat Hot Food,” but it was all with a smile on his face so I think we’re still cool. The whole experience made for a very good chuckle, and was a fun way to end our 36 hour excursion outside of Chiang Mai. This is a really great part of the world.