thomas m wilson

Lonely Planet talks up every country in the world, and if you read their guides every city and area seems to have a virtue worth singing. But the fact is that we can’t be everywhere and are forced to choose where to be as individuals on the face of this earth. And some places are just nicer than others.

I’m not talking about quality of medical care, schools and transport links – this kind of stuff is used by the Economist to rank cities around the world and Perth, where I live usually, is consistently in the top ten. I’m talking about my own unique perspective. Particularly if you’re not rich, some places are nicer and cheaper, and, as far as I can see, where I am is one of them. I’d rather walk down the streets of this little village Tham Lot through cool and quiet fresh air and look out on dramatic hills rising clothed in forest and wreathed by mist, than walk down the Champs Elyesses in Paris and look up at the Arc de Triomphe while feeling my wallet haemorrhaging money, sucking down icy cold, emission-laden air, and becoming inured to not knowing a thousand strange faces.

Waking up refreshed. Sitting on the wooden deck in front of my bungalow with quiet embroidered by birdsong, and green lush plants and trees enriching my view in all directions.

Quiet. No noise of cars. No people wizzing down tarmac streets. No brick walls.

All I need is this: a valley with a river running through it, lots of trees, not many people or houses, quiet, birdsong, deep greens, cool, fresh air, wooden structures, smiling neighbours, a communal area to go and eat $3 meals and chat with open minded-individuals.  John Donne wrote:  ‘Be thine own palace, or the world’s thy jail’.  This is true, but it helps if you’re in a place which encourages you to move your body and relax your spirit.  

All good dogs agree.

Made it to Cave Lodge in the small village of Tham Lot.  The last time I was here was seven years ago.

I’m sitting on a hammock above the softly flowing river and the green valley. A deeply relaxing place. I arrived here a few days ago. We came on our motorbike taxis from the main road along winding green boulder strewn terrain, with cool air rushing over my face, and I felt exhilarated and deeply pleased to be in this landscape. A sense of congruence with my surroundings that I haven’t felt in ages. Then sitting on the wooden deck above the valley I felt pleased to be here – as if I finally didn’t have to fend off the ugliness or noise or crude commercialism of my surroundings. The ship had docked.

It was as if I could open all pores and let everything in, guard down (except for the occasional mosquito to be struck). The bioacoustics of this place lull and sooth. Crickets, gently cooing birds, water running softly over pebbles in the river below. Silence for the most. Then the sound of food frying in the kitchen. The soft clink of glasses in the kitchen and sometimes voices commenting in Thai. More green silence. A voice calls down the river. Vague scooter noise from up at the road. A couple of people loll and read up on the wooden deck near where I sit. They too are quiet. I look out and various levels and shades of green leaves, and tree trunks, rise up from the steep slope below me to high above. This place is perfect for this particular traveller. I don’t want to leave. A place I can be in without reservation. 

The Nam Lang is a small river which runs through the valley below this village.  The river passes through an enormous river tunnel called Tham Lot. Its one of the bigger caves you’re likely to encounter. I kayaked down the river yesterday and through the long, cavernous river tunnel.  As you near the exit to the river tunnel light trickles along the walls, illuminating stone relief.  Then you round the final corner and a cathedral of daylight shocks you out of a reverie in stalactite heavy darkness.

Elsewhere I’ve done some caving, and the country up here in the mountains is riddled with caverns and chambers.

One of the best things about being up here in the hill country is that most of the time you can make friends with a cheerful canine companion, who will most of the time be quite happy to accompany you on a walk through the valley.  Maybe even two of them.

I swim in the river every day.  Dogs and rivers, forest walks through deep green stillness, good food and a Chang beer at the end of the day for a very low price… rural south-east Asia and north-west Thailand in particular, does life well.

The north-west corner of Thailand is the most sparsely populated corner of the country.  Mountains, forests and rivers, as far as the eye can see.  And sometimes a village.

This village is called Menora.  Its a Karen village, without electricity or running water.  Its very, very remote and not mapped on Google Maps.

Living out here is to live in a different world to the one most of us come from.

Animal sounds are a constant, with the low grunts of black pigs syncopating with each other and the twitter of tiny chicks in the background.  This little puppy welcomed me to the homestead.

In this village rice is hulled using human muscle power, not by a fossil fuel powered machine.

I spent some of the afternoon lying on my back on a wooden deck. The time pressures of life in the Thai highlands are unique.