Wanderlust Mystical Ganges - to dip or not to dip?

Nestled in the lush, mountainous terrain, centuries removed from the frantic urban-mania of Bangkok and the country's crowded coastlines, Chiang Rai offers a glimpse of the country's true cultural origins. I was here to experience some of its Wild West feel and fascinating hill tribes. Realizing that it was worth doing a little research before deciding on a trek, I headed to the Hill Tribe Museum and Education Center in Chiang Rai. I met the Curator and Manager, Mr. Alberto de la Paz, who has been applauded by leading publications like The Times, New York Times and BBC for his dedication and obvious passion for the hill tribes. We went through the exhibits of hill-tribe agricultural techniques, models of their simple thatched dwellings, the striking costumes and explanations of traditional animist beliefs. The best choice for visitors would be three days of serious trek and home stay at the hill tribe villages. However, due to our tight schedule, Alberto suggested the one day tour offered by the PDA which included an hour of boat ride on Mae Kok River, 2 hours of elephant trek and most importantly, a visit to the hill tribe villages. Early next day we started our trip from the pier and boarded the multicoloured long tail boat for the trip upriver to Ban Raummit, a Karen village. The morning mist had begun to lift revealing the wilderness, distant forested hills and tall waving grasses on the river banks. We passed several men fishing rocks from the river to sell them in the city. The rest of the boat trip was uneventful. A murmur of excitement went through our group as we approached the pier of the Karen village. The sight of the cavorting elephants in the river and the camp was impressive. Once ashore, we were immediately besieged by the Karen villagers to buy some of their wares. I stopped at a tiny shop where a woman was working with multihued threads on her loom, making beautiful belts, purses and sarongs. After purchasing some of her creations, we headed towards the waiting elephants. Our mahout was a swash-buckling guy with a guerrilla style hat and poncho. I eyed the ominous looking dagger on his hip belt as I crawled into the seat on the elephant’s back. The elephant ride was a serious business. The village finally gave way to dense bamboo jungle and the elephant swayed side to side as it covered muddy trails, steep mountains and remote farmhouses. I noted with pleasure that our mahout controlled the giant with just a stick instead of the frequently used metal hook. I gripped the back of my chair while enjoying the breathtaking vistas. The raised bamboo houses had open windows and I could see Karen men and women, some dressed in traditional costumes, busy with their chores. We reached a Lahu village, where the elephants were fed and we waved goodbye to our mahout. Thankfully, my fears were unfounded as the mahout’s dagger had never left its sheath. Lahu women offered us refreshments and invited us to buy some of their handicraft. After some good-humored haggling, they went back to weaving on their long looms. We set out to explore the village and were greeted by a man who was carefully crafting a reed basket to hold his chickens. He explained, with the help of our tour guide Poo, that “Lahu” means hunter and they pride themselves on their trapping and hunting skills. Children gathered around us posing for photographs. It was time to depart for a 45 minutes trek to the next village. We trekked downhill and stopped to take pictures of the beautiful scenery, the Lahu spirit houses and passing villagers. We met some Japanese trekkers who informed us that we had missed the Swing festival the previous day. At the Doi Boa Viewpoint we appreciated the view of the valley below. We arrived at the Ban Yafu village and stopped for the much needed lunch break. After lunch we half heartedly followed our tour guide to the waiting songthaew for a ride to Huey Mae Sai Waterfall. The trail down to the waterfall was a relatively easy one that took us through the jungles straight to the thundering 20 metre high waterfall. After the reviving swim in the cool pool, we headed to an Akha village. Akha villages are quite easy to spot with a ceremonial swing placed at one of the highest points in their village. The spirit gates at the upper and lower ends of the village which, to the Akha, are very sacred, should never be touched. An elderly lady dressed in full traditional attire and her teeth permanently stained red from chewing betel nut, welcomed us into her yard. She then disappeared into a back room, returning with some jewelry she had been crafting, an offer I could not refuse. We were invited to one of the homes and offered pipes and tobacco. Another Akha woman gave us bracelets for good-luck and refused to accept payment. I hugged her and thanked her in my one-day Akha. Dusk was falling and it was time to leave. As we pulled out of the village, women and children gathered to smile and wave goodbyes. I waved back, marveling at the tenacity of these hill tribe people to maintain their unique culture and tradition in their adopted homeland.