A less beaten path

In Thailand it seems to be getting harder and harder to get off the beaten path. Every city, town or village has a vast infrastructure set up to cater to the tourist. Apparently, the Thais have caught on that their beautiful, majestic country is one of the world’s hot spots. And they are seizing the opportunity to cash in.


(Beautiful and there are no 7-elevens or Starbucks anywhere. Phew!)

In the northern city of Chiang Mai, a place many Thais consider the gem of Thailand, it feels as if every local runs a Hill Tribe Trek through the surrounding jungles. When you enter the downtown area of the old city, storefront after storefront promises unforgettable packages that allow the tourist to go elephant riding, bamboo rafting, and sleeping in an authentic hill tribe hut. It has become what Chiang Mai is known for, some would say. And the last thing you want to do on a supposed trip away from the tourists is to run into other tourists. It kind of kills the mood, you know?

Chris, a fellow traveller from Australia that we met during the day-long cooking course we took with a transvestite chef named Wa Wa, recommended the trek he did that was organized by his guesthouse. After spending an hour listening to Map, the hotel owner, describe how quiet and peaceful and “non-touristic” the trip was, we jumped on board and hoped that what we heard described was what we were going to get. In Thailand, like in the movie Forest Gump, you never know what you’re going to get.


(Our fellow trekkers doing their impression of Baby and Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing. This is my dance space, this is your dance space.)

Well, this decision worked out perfectly. Our internationally flavored group consisted of four Germans in their 30’s, one 20-year-old Swedish girl travelling for a year, one French lady who is an agricultural economist, a gap year British guy, an american boyfriend-girlfriend team from Oregon, my wife and myself. We were all young, eager and extremely aware that we didn’t want to exploit the local people with our trek through the villages. We also all wanted to get away from the grime and pushiness of Thailand’s touristic boom.


(Workers in the field)

As we ascended into the thickness of the wet jungle on the first hour of the hike, the path we were following felt pristine. The landscape was filled with farmers harvesting rice, cows grazing, and mountains slightly obscured by the sweaty haze the sits peacefully in Thailands’s sky. I was a sweaty mess after only 45 minutes but I allowed my mind to let let go of cleanliness associated with society. I was dripping perspiration like New York Knicks center Patrick Ewing at the foul line in the fourth quarter of a heated NBA game.

Our trek leader, Deng, was a 38-year-old Karen tribesmen. He was a short, powerful man whose subtle eyes, warm smile and soft voice enhanced our experience. He finished every sentence by saying “yeah” and adding a giggle. His manor was very deliberate with his answers, responding to every question we asked him as if he had never heard it before.


(Deng was an incredible leader. He seemed so at ease all the time.)

He would stop the group randomely and point out plants and their uses. At one point, he picked up a smooth, brown, oval nut measuring one inch in diameter and explained that Thai kids use them to play games with. He said they find them, play with them and then sell them in the market to tourists. We passed it along the line of trekkers so we could all feel it and because I liked being in the back of the line, I got to keep it. We also learned what trees make good kindling for fires, what plants not to touch and that if you did touch that certain plant the only way to get rid of the itch was to use the ambiotic fluid gathered after a birth. Seeing that no one on our trek was nine months pregnant, we avoided that plant at all costs.

With the help of his machete, Deng pounced into the jungle and cut us all the perfect bamboo walking sticks. They were strong, smooth and more helpful than I thought they would be. Our ascent to our first-night beds was steep and we kept going for about three hours. The warmth of the day was filtered through the clouds and the large, elephant ear leafs and it was nice to have breaks from the glare.


(The bamboo hut we slept in the first night. Cozy, ain't it?)

Meals were taken care of for the entire three days so all we had in our packs were a spare t-shirt, a warm cover, toilet paper, flashlights (or torches as they say in Europe), some candy for the tribe children, any medicine you needed (sleeping pills were a nice touch after a long day), dry socks, and water shoes. Remembering a suggestion from a friend who did this trip a few years back, I brought a frisbee with me. He explained that it’s an easy way to break down the language barrier between our tourist tribe and the local tribes we would encounter.


(Look Adam, we're riding an elefante!)

Our experience with the Dara Ang hill tribe, like our trek leader Deng, was mellow and authentic. My biggest fear was that the tribe would be on display for the white people to stare at like animals in a zoo. It was far from that. We entered the village riding elephants and climbed down off the backs of the mammoth, peaceful beasts as the children watched. They all were yelling politely, “Hello, Hello!” We waved and called back, “Hello, Hello!”


(I saw this little boy playing by himself with a bike so I went over and had a giggle fest with him. Then he started throwing dirt at me so I left.)

Instantly upon arrival I took out my frisbee and showed it to 20 barefooted kids who were staring at my American belly, Oakley sunglasses, and hiking boots. The tallest raised his hands and called for it. I threw it to him. Most of the children scattered but watched intently. They seemed afraid to try. I had a 20-minute toss with this one boy who, without any help from me, threw the disc perfectly. Maybe this frisbee idea is not as unique as I thought it was. The kid was a pro. But we played on and then another boy, a few years younger, jumped into the fray and was equally as good. He was a wild child, flashing spinning kicks in the air when it wasn’t his turn to throw the disc. We played together for about an hour in the tribe’s dusty field. Without words, we connected and just like I will never forget them, I hope they won’t soon forget me. It was the highlight of the trek.


(Andy and our trekker buddy, Joe, dances around the fire with the local tribe children)

While a lot of the trek is based around the tourists’ desire to break free from the maps and taxi drivers and the must-see sights laid out by Lonely Planet, one of the added bonuses is to get to know other travellers. The 11 of us were all from different backgrounds, countries and value systems. But as we got to know each other, we realized that despite all our differences we are all quite similar. Age differences didn’t matter. We taught each other card games, recommended books that made us cry, pined over health care systems from our native lands, and compared alotted vacation times. As usual, everyone wanted to know if we supported George Bush and like always we had to say, “No, we don’t.” And then many of them replied, “How come every American we meet doesn’t like him?” The only way to answer that question is to say plainly “America is a very divided country right now.”

The group was a loose family. We knew each other now and the barriers that normally would stop us from conversing in our normal, back home lives were crumbling away. As we slid down the mountain using the wet, moss-covered trail, the bamboo stick became an extension of my right arm. A blister had formed between my thumb and my pointer finger as I gripped it fiercly. It saved me falling on my ass about 15 times. As my knees began to shake from the impact of walking down hill, I contmplated what I liked better: downhill or uphill hiking. Both are difficult but in completely different ways. Like America with Bush, I am divided on this issue. I have concluded that hiking is never constant bliss. You are up and down, loving it, hating it, breathing heavy, coasting, challenging yourself, wishing it were harder, beating back prickly branches, enjoying the open trail. Without a trail description, I was walking blindly and each turn was new and unplanned. By the end of the three-day adventure, I was so proud that I took what the jungle gave me and I smiled with every change.


(Sweaty and happy, we finished the trek!)

As the group was escorted back to Chiang Mai in a pick-up truck plush with two benches, my mind wandered to the wonder of our three-day adventure. With our sweaty knees touching each other, I looked around at the others in my group and could feel their satisfaction. We walked almost 20 km during our trek and we caught a fleeting glimpse into the natural hillsides that were void of the tourist offices, tuk tuk drivers and drinking pubs that have grown like a virus throughout Thailand. We met tribepeople who lived a life so different from what we are accustomed to. And yet there was a sense that their feelings and thoughts were not much different from our own. We had succeeded in blazing what felt like a new path.