Conveniently for us, our hotel was located slap bang on the Laos border crossing. After a quick breakfast, we donned rucksacks and walked down the short walkway to the Laos border. Passports stamped we loaded into speedboats, that's right, speedboats and crossed the river, a journey of only a few minutes, to the Thai border. As border crossings go it was one of the easiest. I would later be disappointed that no other border crossings involved speedboats.
Loading into minivans we were headed to Chiang Rai, for a quick visit to see the Golden Triangle - the point at which the Mekong borders on the three countries of Laos, Thailand and Burma and the site of the infamous opium routes of northern Thailand. We paid a visit to the Opium Museum where we learned that 'bong' is actually a Thai word and discovered the chemical formula for turning opium into high-grade heroin. Always useful to know. After looking at various opium pipes and 'bongs' and discovering the best way to smoke opium (lying down in the foetal position, if you're interested) we headed off to see a giant gold Buddha statue nearby. It was huge. Easily the biggest Buddha statue I saw on the whole trip.
Our final destination before lunch was The White Palace, the highly ornate Buddhist temple and vision of an artist who bought the plot of land and has made it his life's work to design and build these unique temples. They were impressive and quirky, bordering on the slightly insane. I also paid a visit to the best toilets in Thailand, housed in a golden temple.
After lunch, we drove for a couple of hours to Chiang Mai, our destination for the next few days. Arriving late in the afternoon we had very little time in Chiang Mai itself. We wandered past the street food sellers as dusk fell and I tried a kind of pancake/ravioli type food, filled with corn and onion. Slightly sweet, it was different and quite tasty. Unfortunately it was also the prime suspect in a later bout of dodgy tummy.
Wandering around the side streets close to the old city walls, we happened upon a Wat, where monks had just begun their evening prayers. We listened for a while to the hypnotic sound as around thirty monks, all kneeling, heads bowed, chanted in unison.
Heading back towards the hotel, the rest of the evening was taken up with drinks, laughter and good conversation at a local Western style pub. Next day we had an early start and were off for adventures with the hill tribes of northern Thailand.
Next morning after breakfast we were introduced to our guide, Sonny who, for the next two days would help us negotiate the tribes and open terrain around greater Chiang Mai. Splitting into two teams we packed ourselves into two open sided trucks. After a quick stop at the market to buy provisions for dinner, we drove into the northern Thai countryside.
Our first stop was Chiang Dao where we visited some local caves, home to a series of Buddha statues. Our next stop was to visit the Akha, Lisu and Karen hill tribes. We drove off road and into a village made up of a few simple wooden houses on stilts, where women sat splitting bamboo into strips that they would later sell for a few baht. Wild boars and water buffalo were tied up in holding areas while chickens and ducks roamed free. The tribespeople, largely dressed in Western dress, observed the tourists with feigned curiosity. They lived a relatively simple and traditional life reflected in the simplicity of their houses.
As we visited other tribes during the afternoon and saw traditional weaving and handicrafts being done by the women, it became apparent as they did the hard sell on us that it was yet another way for them to get us, the tourist, to part with our money. Interesting though the tour was, it left a taste of cynicism in some mouths.
As the afternoon drew on, with the heat and humidity showing no signs of abating, the brave and enthusiastic undertook a hill trek to that night's accommodation in a traditional homestay in the mountain village of Palong. Meanwhile, the more canny and astute of the group, myself included, opted to take the truck to the homestay, the pay-off being we would carry all the bags to the camp in return for first dibs on the beer, a good hour before everyone else got there. Some of us were on our third by the time the trekkers emerged sweaty and exhausted from between the trees.
After cold bucket showers in very rustic wash-huts, complete with squat toilets, the height of luxury in the middle of the jungle, we relaxed and enjoyed our surroundings. The homestead was a small group of huts around a central campfire, one hut housing a collection of handicrafts by the village that were available for purchase. We were all sleeping in one large woven bamboo hut consisting of simple roll mattresses and mosquito nets. When one person turned over, everyone felt the vibrations. You could see the earthen floor below through the gaps in bamboo weave.
In another hut across the path, tribeswomen from the village were cooking our dinner. Smoke emerged in big, bilious clouds from the chimney and doorway as they cooked over an open flame. Big pots of rice and vegetables were laid out over the floor of the hut waiting to be served up.
Sonny, our guide, led proceedings and dished up the simple but surprisingly tasty food. Among the topic of conversation that evening was everyone's bowel movements. A few people were suffering, myself included, with upset stomachs. One of our group had remained in Chiang Mai after a nasty bout of food poisoning. Though symptoms were less severe, it made for an interesting night as a few of us juggled squat toilets with upset digestive systems.
Entertainment that night was provided by children from the village, dressed in traditional dress who danced and sang around a campfire. As the wind rose, signalling the oncoming storm and blew smoke in every direction, we danced around the campfire with the children before being invited to tip them for their performance.
Performance over, there was little else to do in the jungle apart from talk and drink beer which is what we did, while watching the lightening in the sky and listening to the rain drumming on the roof of the hut, crossing our fingers that the hut was waterproof. It was. As evenings go, it was really quite peaceful, sitting in the middle of the jungle, listening to the rain in the dark.
After a restless night for most, we woke to a breakfast of eggs, toast and tea. The rain had largely dried overnight which was handy as me and a few others from the group were off elephant trekking. The majority had done trekking the day before and reports were mixed. Some reported elephants were being hit on the head or backs of legs. Others said their experience was fine and they hadn't observed any cruelty. With some trepidation I walked to the village to climb the specially built platform where you got on the elephant.
The seat was a metal frame with leather base and padding that mounted on the elephant's back and was secured by chains. Sharing the seat with Jackie, a fellow traveller, we clambered on and quickly got used to the slow, jerky movements as the elephant moved off. Ours was a relatively young elephant and was being 'driven' by a young guy in his late teens or early twenties, who sat on the elephant's neck and steered by means of rubbing his feet behind the elephant's ears. On a couple of occasions the elephant went off track in search of leaves or fruit and was given a smack with a stick on the top of its head but mostly the handler treated the elephant well.
As experiences go, riding an elephant isn't one I particularly want to repeat in a hurry. It was pretty uncomfortable, not to mention inelegant, particularly going downhill where your hips are pushed forward and you have to hold on for dear life. I'm still rather ambivalent about elephants being used for tourist rides. At the end of the ride, Sonny reassured us that the elephants would be rested for the remainder of the day, which made me happier that the elephant's welfare was being put first. (As an aside, about five minutes before the end of the trek the elephant raised its trunk and sent a shower of green elephant snot over me and Jackie. I was wearing a white t-shirt. To this day I've never been able to get the stains out.)
Elephant experience over, we were headed next to the Ping river to do some rafting on specially constructed bamboo rafts. In groups of three, we clambered onto the rafts and sat back to enjoy a leisurely raft down the river being steered by local drivers. Of course, boys being what they are, it wasn't long before the boys from our group who were on opposing rafts decided it would be fun to leap from raft to raft in an attempt to capsize them and pull people into the water. On a couple of occasions our raft almost capsized but, clinging on for dear life for the second time that day, I managed to avoid falling in. A favourite trick of the drivers was to smack the bamboo poles they used to steer off the surface of the water, which resulted in the person nearest getting a soaking. About ten minutes from the end of the rafting trip we successfully manoeuvred a series of small rapids, again without capsizing, although as we scraped the rocks our raft was feeler a bit flimsier than when it had set off. Earlier, the girls on our raft had told me they'd heard my name mentioned and that the boys were determined to get me in the water. I could see the end point in the distance. I began to think I was safe. Suddenly the Thai driver from the neighbouring raft leapt into the water next to us and began to completely dismantle our raft. Needless to say, I fell in. Somehow the other two girls managed to cling onto the bamboo poles, all that was left of our dismantled raft. I swam to the dock and clambered out, soaking wet. I'd loved every minute of the bamboo rafting and had had a great laugh, but I was pleased I had packed extra (dry) clothes in my backpack.
Clothes changed, and with wet ones tied to the top of the truck to get them dry as we drove along, we headed first for lunch then to a series of points of interest - first to see how elephant dung is turned into paper, then to an orchid and butterfly farm and finally to Tiger Kingdom where some of us opted to pay to see the tiger cubs. After washing hands and reading the safety instructions, we were allowed into a large open space where around five or six three-month old tiger cubs were laid with their handlers, some of them sleeping. Handlers invited us to stroke them or lay our heads on their stomachs. Some cubs would allow you to rub their tummies. It was a warm day and the cubs were sleepy and uninterested in wanting to 'play'. Again I wondered about the welfare of the animals. The cubs looked well looked after, as did the other adult tigers we saw outside, but they were still being held captive, some of them in cages, for the benefit of tourists to gawp at and have photographs taken with. Again, it didn't sit well with me.
Our final visit of the afternoon was to see the women of the Long Neck Karen tribe, famous for the brass rings they wear around their necks. The story goes, steeped in legend and local folklore, that centuries ago the women of the tribe were being attacked and killed by wild animals, probably tigers. They always attacked at the same spot on the body, the neck, so to protect their women the tribe started placing rings around their necks. Wild tigers no longer pose a threat but the tradition has stayed. From the age of five or six girls start to wear rings adding to them every couple of years until they reach maturity in their mid to late thirties by which time they can have twenty or more. The rings don't stretch the neck, a common misconception, but the weight of the heavy brass rings does cause the breastplate to be pushed down which creates the look of an elongated neck.
Visit to the tribe over we headed back to Chiang Mai for much needed showers and a brief rest-stop at the hotel before heading off to catch the overnight sleeper bus back to Bangkok. The journey and our return to Bangkok would be bittersweet.
