Chiang Khan - Urban Idyll in Isan

by Tom Cockrem

I've taken precious little notice of the town; it's another of so many we have passed through in Isan. John, my companion, sees it way before me. “I like this place,” he says not long after we arrive. “It's like Thailand thirty years ago. I could easily live here.” But we have just spent two days in pristine Phu Hin Rong Kla forest park, making camp fire barbecues and trekking with our friends. Who needs a town?

It takes me twenty four good hours, and an early morning stroll down to the internet café, to catch on to what John means. And then it hits me. Chiang Khan is a haven – an urban idyll if you will – that just like a forest park will serve to keep those big town blues away.

Relaxing with Granny - a slower pace of life

What strikes me that morning are all the splendid absentees: fumes, traffic, noise, concrete, garishness and crowds. I have the long main street - Thanon Chai Khong - all but to myself, lined as it is with old bare timber warehouses, guesthouses, shop-houses and buildings that are used for God knows what. Friendly greetings emanate from those big houses as I pass, or are they shops, it's hard to tell. They are all open to the street; and there's the cutest little dog I've ever seen, who would never dream to bite. A lady with a big wide smile and big wide farmer's hat comes cycling by. She is doing her rounds - taking orders, I'd imagine, for some local gourmet treat. And finally – finally – there is something of a crowd. These are temple devotees, who have ensconced themselves on seats across the road. Well, at least there are no cars for them to block.

In gaps between the buildings I get tantalizing glimpses of the river – the huge marauding Mekong. It's all that water, surely, that keeps the road subdued. Any bustle there may once have been has up and gone elsewhere - a whole world and a big wide block away. Back there is where the coastal traffic passes through the town, and there are ugly shops of new cement and glass. That's really not Chiang Khan.

The town, you'd imagine, could never accommodate a serious hotel. If it did, it would be way out on its own, and yes, there is one moderately up-scale place – the Chiang Khan Hill Resort – and it is out on its own. We have more properly settled for a comfy little wooden place on wonderful Chai Khong – the “Chiang Khan Guest House” - that backs onto the river. It is run by friendly Dutchman, Huub, and his ever cheerful Thai wife, Pim. It's the kind of place where the staff and kin would most times outnumber the guests; where you sit around the table, and wait for the next amazing local character to drop in: a French ex-pat bar owner (raconteur for those who might catch on to what he says); an ex British public servant on his path-beaten trail through north and northeast Thailand; a local painter of renown, and that lady now delivering the food. It's like that here. Pim shows you the menu, you order, and a bike arrives some twenty minutes later with your nosh.

“They cook very well,” Pim explains with a twinkle, “better than me!”

The Author and Britni

A dog jumps on your lap and gets shoed off. Another round of Heineken arrives. A fellow guest – friendly Michigan Britni – joins us at the table. She's been here for a week. “It's my family now,” she croons with real sentiment and pride. “I love them.” John's got hold of his guitar, and we're doing Gordon Lightfoot, Ralph McTell and Grateful Dead. Who would want to leave Chiang Khan?

Uncle John

Next day is set aside for explorations. Huub has given us the low-down. There's a Tai Dam village not too far away, and a cave. We rent a motor bike. The Tai Dam are a tribe from Vietnam that migrated here some 90 years ago. This village is called Nah Panakh, and as with many of Thailand 's tribal folk, their traditional attire is nowadays reserved for special days. But ancient customs are stringently maintained. They are amply on display at the visitors' centre, where you get to see the weavers at their craft, and buy some of their work.

A Thai Dam Woman

Nah Panakh itself is great fun to explore. The welcomes that you get are plentiful and real. I stop to photograph a lady steaming corn cobs, and leave with half a dozen. She refuses to let me pay. Other ladies sit on porches at the loom; a farm house roof is getting thatched, and a new shed has its frame being tied with rattan twine. It's all so organic and unspoiled.

A cave! Hmm… I am not so keen - all those bats and nasty smells. I brace myself. But no - Tam Pabeng proves visitor-friendly and pristine (for a cave), with light enough to see its pretty limestone decorations; and not one nasty critter nor a pong. The great cavernous interior has been made into a temple, with the altars placed strategically to catch the shafts of light. John kneels down to make a prayer. The monks have their residence outside. The one we meet informs us that the cave goes all the way down to the Mekong – some 10 kilometers away. “You can walk there if you like,” he laughs. “Ah, you go first,” says I.

Fai and Bo

Our agenda now turns up a Mekong River cruise. Britni joins us, as do two little Thai girls – Fai and Bo - that Huub and Pim are helping to bring up. They both came from broken homes. So for us it's now a family day out. A quaint wooden village looms on the river's northern bank “What's its name?” Britni asks little Bo through Thai speaking John. “I don't know,” she replies. “But people say it's the village on the Lao side of the river.” And so these gorgeous little kids make all the fun, and gee everyone up nicely for another merry night back with the “crew”. And you hope for little Fai and Bo – seemingly so happy in their brand new family home - their precious little lives will turn out well.

Thumbs up for Chiang Khan

Next morning and it's time to leave. “Tom, you ready?” “Yep!” Then forty minutes pass. “OK, Johnny-boy, we'd better move.” Then there's another cup of tea. “Yeah lets go, or else we'll never leave.” “Not such a bad idea…”