Chiang Mai - Part Four

I wake up instinctively as the car rolls to a stand still in a small arid clearing not far from the main road. The sun is unforgiving as I try to find a quiet corner of shade to change my shoes. I speculate on what Mr. Cher will be like, picturing an intimidating native with a stern face and an obvious disdain for intrusive 'farang'. Instead however, I hear the approaching sound of a light trot and from around the corner comes a bounding Peter Pan. Mr. Cher is entirely different to the begrudging local of my imagination, and endears me to him immediately with his gentle boyish charm. Tong explains that he'll meet us in the village at the end of the day, so we bid him farewell and dissolve into the wilderness.

It doesn't take long to discover that although Mr. Cher speaks very little English, he's more than a little proficient in the art of mime. He's also diligently learnt the foreign words for everything that might be interesting to a bumbling tourist like myself, and I find his efforts incredibly sweet. Before we enter the forest he stops at the edge of the clearing to fashion me a hat from a giant leaf. I'm certain he realizes it will make me look ridiculous, but I happily accept the challenge which makes him belly laugh down to his sandals. Instantly bonded, he hands me a long reed of grass which he demonstrates how to transform into a whistle. And so we begin our trek through the countryside like the Pied Piper, disturbing Mother Nature with our glorious racket.

The beauty is mesmerizing and we explore secret pathways with ease as Mr. Cher warmly greets the few people we come across. Everyone here is self-sufficient and the diversity of plant life is baffling. We soon establish a 'guess what it is game', and I'm excited to discover plants for soap and antiseptic alongside tobacco and cinnamon. We amble through flower farms, vegetable patches and tiered crops, across jungle, bridges and waterfalls. Mr. Cher delights in making propellers from leaves and guns from bamboo, and our intrepid adventure is interspersed with the magnificence of comfortable silence.

I feel peaceful and uninhibited as the sun sets and we arrive at the village. Greeted by a cheerful Tong, there's not a soul to be seen except for one man and his three-year-old sidekick. He invites us to drink at what they've affectionately named their 'Hillside Starbucks', and I eagerly sample the home brewed coffee made from beans grown in the village. Resting ahead of the long drive home, we casually chew the fat in a communal area proudly decorated with newspaper clippings documenting the community. I feel grateful to have tasted the kindness of the Sko Karen people, and happily accept the invitation to stay with the tribe if I ever return to Chiang Mai.

As the village comes to life with the return of its occupants, Tong folds me into the car along with the gift of coffee and a homemade strainer. I wind down the window to wave goodbye to Mr. Cher, and with that, close the door to another unforgettable experience.

Mr. Cher

Flower farm

Waterfalls, bridges, fishermen

Tiered farmland

Mr. Cher's bamboo gun

The Sko Karen village

Hillside Starbucks