World comes to Thai hills

The rental car, I hoped, would allow me to find the tribal folk as they really are, in places where a traveller is not expected to go.

The route would take me north-west from Chiangmai to the small town of Pal and beyond, then south, shadowing the Burmese border through Mae Hong Son and Mae Sariang. I would then complete the circuit by returning to Chiangmai.

Flexibility came with the side trips and alternative routes suggested by the itinerary. Other options, I was told, might present themselves along the way.

You do need to improvise on a trip such as this. Many hill tribe villages that a year or two ago were considered traditional have quickly modernised. It can come as quite a disappointment to drive some 20km up an unmade road to arrive at what is more like a town than a village, with everyone in T-shirts and jeans.

Happily, traditional villages do still exist. You just have to hunt them down.

The most numerous tribes in north-west Thailand are the Karen, Lisu, Lahu and Hmong. My first "authentic" tribal encounter came at the Lisu village of Pan Back a little west of Pal. I was so struck by the beauty of the old wooden village, its verdant mountain setting, the friendly nature of its people, and also by the harlequin costumes that the ladies mostly wore, I stayed the best part of an afternoon.

Hill tribesmen are still colourfully garbed at the Lisu craft market.

As unexpected as my visit was, I was still shown handicraft for sale (at bargain prices, and lots of fun bargaining) and asked to tip for photographs. Loose change in your pocket is a must.

Four days' driving means three nights spent in the towns. Most of these are set on riverbanks in lush rustic valleys. At least five offer accommodation in lodges, chalets or hotels.

Aside from Mae Hong Son, which is the district's "capital," there are sleepy little enclaves that exhibit a fair amount of Thai exotica.

A highlight are the Shan temples. Burmese in origin, they feature copious metal filigree dripping from their multi-tiered pagodas. Reflected in a lake or crowning a hill, they can have a stunning visual impact, especially when chanced upon in villages or towns.

Between the towns the road climbs at time almost dizzily through switch-backs and steep gradients, offering spectacular mountain views along the way. The challenge is to stop your eyes from straying off the road.

I was travelling in November, the ideal time to visit Mae Surin National Park. It was then that the sunflowers were in bloom. But I could never have expected the proliferation that I saw. The hills were litterally yellow with the flowers, and Hmong villagers in traditional attire posed willingly for photos amongst the blooms. Touristy, I know, but...

This Lisu village called Pan Baek lies in a verdant mountain setting.

Also touristy, but a must for those who would otherwise never get to visit these folks is the refugee camp of the Paduang, or Longnecked Karen. It's best to go early, before the cavalcade of tourist vans arrive.

The ladies run small souvenir stalls. I found them to be chatty and amicable folk, their multicoloured costumes almost as wondrous as their elongated necks. The 250 baht entry fee means they willingly oblige for the camera, though you do feel a little squirmish getting shots in such a way.

More spontaneous encounters with the hilltribes come from the discoveries you make by simply driving off the beaten track. Bunches of signboards written in Thai generally indicate that a side road's destination is a village.

It was by taking such a track that I came upon the jungle-shrouded Karen village of Nong Lum. Here old ladies, mouths stained with betelnut juice, wore lavishly embroidered costumes embellished with beads or silver coins. Most smoked merrily away on their pipes. Unmarried girls sported the traditional white smock tastefully edged with red job's tear seeds.

Metal filigree line a multi-tiered roof of a Shan Buddhist temple near Mae Hong Son, north-west Thailand.

It seemed I was as much a curiosity to these people as they were to me. As such, I was invited indoors and saw the ever burning hearth in which the house-spirits dwell. Young married ladies sat on upstairs verandahs weaving at the loom. Others could be seen pounding rice or feeding the pigs.

The men, I was told, smoke a lot of opium and do the heavy work -precious little of which is ever needed to be done.

By now I was within an hour of Chiangmai. With this most fantastic of my hilltribe encounters behind me, I re-entered the "old city" - across its torpid moat and through its old adobe gates, feeling as triumphant as any conqueror of old, say, from Burma or Khmer.

Chiangmai, though, I now saw in a very different light. It has always been touted as the gateway to Thailand's exotic north; "exotic," surely referring to the tribes. Expanding at the heady pace it is, the northern capital would now seem to have the future of these once isolated peoples firmly in its hands.

As I discovered on my travels, precious pockets of their culture still remain intact -- for how long it's hard to know.

It would be nice to think that the Karen, Lisu, Lahu and Hmong were being encouraged in their quest to retain their ancient ways. Those who have met these people, experienced their hospitality and seen their gorgeous art, would be eternally grateful if they were.