PART 1 of this story can be found here.
FOR those with Rousseau-inspired notions of colourful tribal people living at one with nature, the Shan of Muang Pon are going to be a big disappointment. These villagers, with their satellite TVs, Toyota, Honda and Nokia, are a thoroughly modern bunch. But they are still distinctly Shan, with a different language (most speak perfect Thai), cuisine – less spicy and earthier than Thai food – and history.
Shan-style temple, Mae Hong Son (© Andrew Spooner)
“We come to Thailand from Burma 200 years ago,” says Ood. To the north of Thailand sits what is now known as the Shan State – an autonomous region of Burma, with its own flag, national anthem and government. Known in Thailand as the Tai Yai (the Great Thai), records show that Shan history stretches back some 2,000 years. “Many Shan people live in Thailand,” she adds, but is not sure of the number.
With my body aching after my long journey, Ood’s suggestion for the first day is almost genius. “Would you like to go to hot spring?” she asks. We jump on a pair of clunky 125cc step-through Honda motorcycles – these are the ubiquitous vehicles of choice in this part of the world – for the 30-minute journey to the Karen village where the springs are located.
The road winds through thick, verdant forest, skirting along a rugged, swirling river and reveals something of the ethnic diversity that peppers this part of Thailand. “This village Karen,” shouts Ood, as we zoom through on our bikes, “the next one is Hmong.” We cross a bridge and arrive at a series of huge, steaming concrete tubs of sulphurous water. With water this hot I’m wondering where we are going to bathe. “Let’s go to river,” says Ood.
Just by the wide river that marked our route, the hot springs turn into a stream. At the confluence, where refreshing cool meets searing heat, is the bathing spot. With a backdrop of deep green woodlands smothered over meandering hills and scintillating azure skies the setting is almost perfect.
The gentle pulse of running hot water soon soothes away the last knots in my muscles, easing my mind into a semi-comatose state. Getting roused for the trip back to Muang Pon is tough but the ride is more like a cooling drift through a divine landscape than a journey on a rickety Honda step-through. My arrival at Ood’s house is designed to throw me further into a coma.
“Would you like to rest?” asks Ood. “We can eat good food after rest.” I am powerless to resist. I make for the bedroom – it’s comfortably basic with a thin, futon-style mattress, clothes rack, electric fan and none of the generic trappings of a 5 star hotel that we all know and love: cable TV, over-priced minibar, room service, fixed grins, fake furnishings – and get back into my drift.
My long, lazy snooze slowly turns back into a warm, bright afternoon. “We go in one hour to Khun Miaow for food,” says Ood, as I arrive downstairs. I decide to take a quick stroll around the village, discovering a bakery, some noodle stalls and a couple of small shops. The throng of Shan houses are built almost entirely from dark wood, propped up on stilts with long sloping roofs. Chickens, children and the occasional scrawny mutt mingle with rows of bright flowers and dusty, paved back streets. The whole village is imbued with soporific charm.
Back at Khun Miaow’s, dinner is a giant river fish steamed in ginger and chilli, with bamboo-roasted, coconut-flavoured, sweet, sticky rice on the side. Needless to say, it is delicious. “Do you like your homestay?” asks Khun Miaow, as I devour my meal. I nod emphatically, and ask how long the programme has been set up. “We start one year ago. Many people come. Now we have 6 houses and room for 40 people. All money stays in the village.” As we eat, several more villagers arrive and our simple meal soon turns into a large, relaxed gathering.
With the thick, black blanket of night rolling in and a large meal to walk off I want to explore Maung Pon’s evening delights. “Why you walk in dark? The dogs very noisy,” says Khun Miaow with a smile.
She’s right. Within seconds, a cacophony of howls and yelps fills the village. I ignore them and focus my attention on the stars, the thick Milky Way pouring through the heavens like froth. Maung Pon doesn’t offer much else in the way of nightlife, so I return to Ood’s house and sleep like a baby.
The next few days are spent touring waterfalls, flower-filled valleys and noble temples. I’m introduced to the captivating rhythms of village life and the generosity, kindness and humour of Ood, her family and Khun Miaow. On my final day everyone gathers as I board the mini-bus to Chiang Mai. Ood’s ancient mother approaches, begins chanting and ties a piece of white-string on each of my wrists. “It’s for good luck,” says Ood.
I have another 7-hour hard drive back to Chiang Mai but I’m not bothered by the prospect of this journey. Muang Pon is certainly hard to reach but it is, without doubt, an authentic slice of northern Thailand, far removed from the generic experience of both backpacker and luxury traveller.
The Muang Pon Homestay programme is certified by the Thai Ministry of Tourism. To book – call +66 (0) 53 684644.
Andrew Spooner is the co-author of Footprint’s guide to Chiang Mai and Northern Thailand.
