CHIANG RAI – In the hill tribe villages of northern Thailand, no door (or kitchen) is closed to a stranger in need. The mountainous province of Chiang Rai is home to about half a dozen ethnic hill tribes, driven out of China and Myanmar by persecution and civil unrest.

Among them the Akha, Karen and Lahu live an isolated existence, preserving tribal customs, spiritual beliefs and languages and offering down-to-earth rural hospitality. Most have little more than a rice field or a few pigs to call their own, but they gladly offer what they have. Inviting wet, bedraggled strangers into their home to cook a BYO meal is just

I was spending two days exploring these rural provinces with Chiang Rai local Anan (Nan) Kodo, and I couldn’t have picked a better guide. An entrepreneurial Karen tribesman, Nan is the owner of My Dream Guesthouse, a collection of huts built on the banks of the Mae Nam Kok River overlooking a startlingly green vista of tropical gardens, pineapples and rice fields.

When he is not tending the guesthouse or his young family, Nan takes visitors on bespoke hill tribe tours, and with his sculpted cheekbones and beatific smile he’s proving to be Mr Charisma. Wherever we go, villagers stop what they are doing to chat, guffaw at his rapidly delivered jokes and welcome us into their homes. The “Nan effect” might have something to do with his impressive knack for languages (“I can speak all hill tribe dialects – Lahu, Karen, Akha, Lisu …”), but his boyish enthusiasm for life is endearing.

As we trek from the river into the steep foothills of Mae Yao, through jewel-green rice terraces and dense jungle, Nan bounces ahead, pointing out medicinal plants and rattling off facts about various tribes. Did I know that Karen people, despite a penchant for smoking tobacco, often live to 100? I did not but, according to Nan, their age is attributed to a pesticide-free diet and lots of yoghurt.

Under Nan’s tutelage, I’m well-versed in all things Akha by the time we reach Ban Apa, a rural village tucked into the mountainside. Within moments of our arrival we are being followed by gangs of small, giggling children and waved at by Akha women wearing elaborate headdresses festooned with silver, old coins and colourful pom-poms. Nan stops to greet a man sucking tobacco from a long silver pipe, who accompanies us to examine the town’s swing.

Of all the Thai hill tribes, the Akha are the most spiritual. The annual swing festival, when every villager takes turns to oscillate gaily on a huge bamboo swing, is one of many tribal ceremonies held to appease spirits, give thanks to the harvest and ward off evil. “The Akha sacrifice a dog whenever they build a house,” adds Nan with matter-of-fact cheerfulness, striding away before I can raise my eyebrows.

It’s a similar scene at Ban Yafu, an isolated hamlet set high among the slopes at 1000 metres, home to the Lahu tribe. Villagers live an agrarian life harvesting rice and rearing pigs. Some have converted to Christianity, but most worship ancestral spirits and a deity called Gui’Sha.

“And do all these tribes get along?” I ask, imagining God, Gui’Sha and spirits elbow-jostling in the heavens. In response, Nan simply beams. “You see the bamboo, the palm tree and the pineapple?” he says, pausing to point at a thicket of trees rustling in the breeze. “They grow together and live peacefully – just like the Karen, Lahu and Akha.”

Tonight we’re staying in the village and our hosts – a young couple with two small sons – are waiting. Pa Na is clad in faded blue Shan-style trousers, with sharp Tibetan cheekbones and a high-pitched laugh. His wife, Na Ne, wears a T-shirt, patterned sarong and rubber sandals. They welcome us warmly as Ja Nu, a village elder, hobbles down the road, waving his walking stick and grinning from ear to ear. “He always comes to see me,” Nan says, smiling with pleasure.

Like all Lahu abodes, the house is made from flattened bamboo and set high on stilts with a thatched roof and porch. The family’s livestock – chickens, piglets and an overweight sow – live beneath the house.

The village isn’t completely cut off from civilisation, however. A small shack sells Thai sweets and soft drinks. A town noticeboard features posters of solemn-faced political candidates. There’s even a formal decree, written in Thai, noting Ban Yafu’s official population of 165. But even with government assistance such as solar panels and a one-room school, life here is far from modern.

As dusk falls and smoke coils from the rooftops I leave the family to stroll into the foothills, watching villagers return from a day working the fields. Women emerge from the jungle hauling banana baskets on their backs; a strap across their forehead bears the weight. Others squat on their haunches, washing dishes in plastic buckets. Another heaves a pail of banana trunk mash over to a trough hewn from wood. She tips the contents out and six pigs fall upon it with guttural snorts.

When I return, the men have assembled in the kitchen. Pa Na has taken charge of tonight’s meal, slicing meat with a machete and directing Nan to chop vegetables for a curry of coconut, beans, galangal and garlic.

In Lahu households men are expected to pitch in with domestic duties, though should they object the tribe is fairly casual about divorce. According to Nan, it’s quite common and requires no lawyers, paperwork or hysteria – merely a pig and 150 baht ($5), payable to the village chief. “Liz Taylor would approve,” I quip but, unsurprisingly, no one gets the joke.

All families cook indoors, which dries out the bamboo and keeps mosquitoes at bay. My offer to help, however, is met with a swift chorus of disapproval. Guests must not lift a finger! It’s also considered terribly polite to let visitors eat first and, despite my protests, I find myself tucking in before everyone else.

Later that night, Na Ne and her sons slip behind a bamboo wall to sleep. Nan stays on the balcony with Pa Na to drink beer and they talk well into the night. Beneath a swathe of mosquito net strung from the beams I shut my eyes, listening to pigs snicker beneath the floorboards. Morning is a sensory riot of squawking roosters, the chopping of fruit and the scent of burning bamboo.

After a swift breakfast, we set off early in Nan’s jeep with Pa Na along for the ride. We plan to explore the most isolated parts of the mountains where hill tribes live amid misty contours of coffee and tea plantations, and plum and lychee fields. But in these highlands the weather has the final say. Soon, thunder clouds blacken the sky and fat raindrops splatter against the windscreen, transforming the dirt road into a muddy purgatory. I peer nervously from the window at the treacherous valleys and, as the jeep lurches and slides, I’m not the only one feeling uneasy.

“Pa Na is scared,” Nan says, a mixture of amusement and concern in his eye. I turn to see Pa Na crouched in the back seat chewing his thumb, most likely praying to God, Gui’Sha and any spirit he can think of. The deluge soon forces us to pull over; our plans for an outdoor lunch are abandoned. We’re stopped near a village when the elderly Akha man with betel-stained teeth appears. Safe and dry inside the home of our new friend, Pa Na busies himself cooking our lunch over the large, open fire pit.

Nan squats on the floor, cracking jokes in Akha dialect, much to the old man’s delight.

I perch on a wooden stool, popping pieces of spicy pork into my mouth and contemplating the warmth and generosity of these simple folk while also marvelling at the miniature United Nations before me: the Karen, the Lahu and the Akha. Three tribes in harmony together – just like the bamboo, the palm and the pineapple.

Staying there Bungalows at My Dream Guesthouse from 300 baht ($10) a night. Nan, an English-speaking TAT-licensed guide, offers three-day tours from 2800 baht a person including Chiang Rai transfer, accommodation and meals.

See mydreamguesthouse.com.

Requests for reservation, booking, tours, trekking and transport please contact:

Mr. Nan at:  

Chiangrai Times –Asian Oasis looks at promoting only sustainable tourism in a way to empower ethnic communities in Northern Thailand. A successful example is Lanjia Lodge located in Chiang Kong, in Chiang Rai province.

It takes approximately an hour from Chiang Rai to reach the hilly landscapes surrounding the small city of Chiang Khong. The Mekong River can be seen in a distance, forming the border with Laos. With ASEAN turning into a single economic community in 2015, the border between Laos and Thailandis becoming increasingly opened to locals from both sides of the river.

Today, Hmong people represent a community strong of 155,000 individuals, representing 16% of all ethnicities living in Thailand. Most of them have been granted Thai citizenship, except older generations. Their citizenship status did not however empower them until the nineties.

This is where we intervened with the Population and Community Development Association which looks at ways to grant economic autonomy to ethnic communities, explains Rachet Wapeetha, Sales and Marketing Manager of Lodges for Asian Oasis.

Asian Oasis vows to create only tourism products which can be labeled as sustainable community-based. The company has a range of four eco-friendly lodges, three located in Chiang Mai Province (Lisu Lodge, Lahu Outpost and Khum Lanna) and one located in Chiang Rai Province (Lanjia Lodge).

“Our aim is to bring here travellers who want to have a real interacting experience with local communities. The product so far has been especially well received by European travellers who are the keenest at looking at authenticity,” says Mr. Wapeetha. Lanjia Lodge is nestled on a hill with stunning views of green mountains, paddy fields and the Mekong River. Four pavilions have been built offering twin-bed or double rooms at Lanjia Lodges, all built with natural materials such as wood, bamboo or rattan. The only concession to modernity is electricity and hot water! There is no air-con and no internet- probably a deterrent element for younger generations of Asian travellers unable to locate themselves on facebook !!

What would be a typical stay at Lanjia Lodge? It is all about knowing the local Hmong villagers by visiting the school, visiting a shaman’s home who will initiate visitors about ways to deal with spirits. It is also about trekking in the surrounding for the fittest, making batik or other handicraft for the most talented or simply enjoy Hmong-style food and traditional dances and songs from the villagers in the evening.

“We want to make locals proud of their identity and show them that by keeping their traditions, arts and way of life, they are able to make a living. The majority of the proceeds from the Lodge are reinvested into the community. This represents something between three and four million Baht per year [US$ 97,000 to US$ 129,000]. Only a small amount will be kept for marketing and sales purposes,” tells Rachet Wapeetha. A stay at Lanjia Lodge costs around THB 2,500 per night. Some travellers might find it relatively expensive. But this is also for a good cause.

CHIANGRAI TIMES – Chiang Rai’s Bamboo Nest guesthouse in northern Thailand, travelers don’t just sleep in bungalows made of bamboo. Nearly everything on the premises is made of the notoriously strong but adaptable wood — the beds, the chairs, the garbage cans, the steps in the garden, the bathrooms and, as travelers quickly learn, even the cooking utensils.

After scanning the guesthouse’s dinner menu, which changes every other day according to seasonal produce, I order the grilled fish and sticky rice. Nok, my small-framed guesthouse hostess, leads me outside to the garden where I watch her hack down a bamboo trunk.

“This is going to be used to cook your sticky rice!”

She stuffs the grains inside the long hollow bamboo, seals the open end with fresh banana leaves and places it over an open fire to cook for 30 minutes.

When finished, Nok’s husband, Noi, sheers off the bamboo with a sharp machete to expose a perfectly cooked tube of rice — known in Thai as “khao lam” — fragrant with a light scent of bamboo.

“There are seven species of bamboo,” explains Nok. “We eat it, cook with it, and live in it, that’s why we named our place Bamboo Nest.”

The guesthouse is only 23 kilometers from Chiang Rai, perched above hilly terrain and terraced rice fields, surrounded by Lahu and Akha villages.

While from a distance the accommodation may look like the garden variety bamboo huts seen in nearby villages, these structures are actually comfortable, private bungalows.

They were built by local villagers over a two-week period — one week to collect the bamboo and another week to build.

Although they are basic, each of the four Bamboo Nest bungalows has a hammock, hot water, Western-style flush toilets and a porch with its own panoramic view of the valley and terraced rice paddies.

With a nod towards sustainable tourism the whole property is powered by solar panels, so leave that laptop in the bag. There aren’t many electric plugs on site and you can forget about TV and Wi-Fi.

Instead, guests wake to the sounds of birds chirping and spend the hours chatting with fellow travelers, reading in the hammock, star gazing and enjoying bamboo-fuelled fires late into the night.

Waterfalls, trekking and village life

It’s not all about lazing around. Guests with the willpower to tear themselves from that hammock can hike up to the beautiful waterfalls nearby. The walking trails run through thick bamboo forests and an Akha village, while the bridges and walkways over the waterfalls are all made of bamboo as well.

There are lush tea plantations and hot springs too, and further down the road is an elephant camp and rafting on the Mae Kok River, all within a short trek from guesthouse.

For guests reluctant to trek on their own, half-day walks to non-touristy villages and jungle treks lasting up to three days can be arranged as well.

Bamboo Nest also promotes hill tribe culture and traditions by organizing courses on basket and cotton weaving or crossbow making while spending a day experiencing village life.

Near the end of my three-day stay, Noi handed me a cup made of a stalk of bamboo that he’d just cut down.

“Take this as a gift, my friend” he said. “It will last a long time.”

As will my memories of his beautiful bamboo home.

How to get there

Bamboo Nest provides free pickup from anywhere inside Chiang Rai city limits with a minimum two-night stay. You can also take a boat from Chiang Rai or Thaton to the Huay Makliam Hot Springs and walk two kilometers to Bamboo Nest; by road it is a 23-kilometer, 45-minute drive from downtown Chiang Rai.

Low season rates (March-September) start from 500 baht per night. In the high season (October-February) from 600 baht per night. For booking info visit Bamboonest-Chiangrai.com.

By Derrick Chang is a Canadian photojournalist based in Hong Kong