Wanting to experience a genuine traditional hill tribe community in Northern Thailand, we decided to board the bumpy local bus to Soppong and the nearby village of Nong Tong. It wasn't until we arrived at this rough little agricultural village in the mountains, that we realised the authenticity of the 'Lisu Hill Tribe Homestay' which we had booked into. This place really was a living, breathing home for a Lisu family, and we were simply guests, like anybody crashing at a convenient friend-of-a-friend's place. The only difference was that we were paying generously for our stay.

The Lisu people originated from China, migrating through Myanmar and arriving in the northern mountains of Thailand only a couple of hundred years ago. They are one of ten or more hill tribes in Northern Thailand who have their own distinct written and spoken language, and commonly dress in traditional clothing. Their dress is what makes the Lisu so interesting to tourists, and includes a lot of purple, black and green velvet, woven silver chains and intricate head dresses. They live very simply, growing their own vegetables and livestock, sheltering under wooden and grass-thatched roofs and respectfully gathering natural medicines from the forest.

Like most of the hill tribes in Northern Thailand, the Lisu were once nomadic and have never had much of a concept of nations or borders. For centuries, they have freely migrated between the largely uninhabited mountains covering this region of the world. Partly for this reason, it is difficult for Lisu to gain Thai citizenship, or travel between provinces and the Thai government is trying their hardest to prevent further migration by hilltribe people into their country. We witnessed these travel restrictions when our bus came to a forced stop at two different check points between Chiang Mai and Soppong. At least five locals, mainly Lisu, were marched off the bus by armed soldiers for not having appropriate ID cards!

Susanon, a Lisu woman, was looking after the homestay in Nong Tong, where we spent two nights. About six years ago, she married an American man, Albert, who was so fascinated by the unique Lisu way of life, that he helped her open up their home to other curious travelers from around the world. Albert has been living in Nepal for the last few months, and was absent during our stay. From what we gathered, he seemed to have been more often away working on various other projects in the region over the last couple of years.

Managing the business on her own, Susanon was really hospitable and friendly. It was a great way to experience a completely unique and exotic culture and some healthy, sustainable rural living.

Despite the adventure, and perhaps because we felt a bit like we'd seen it all before in Cambodia, there seemed to be something missing. Susanon only half-heartedly offered us the advertised traditional cooking, music, dance, craft and massage classes, and being the only guests there, we felt a little bit of an inconvenience. Unfortunately, we felt like the home-stay was mainly Albert's idea and although Susanon may have at first enjoyed showing her culture to curious tourists, the novelty seemed to have worn off and we felt like she was merely continuing the business because the income was good.

Although we enjoyed the fresh, homegrown vegetables and spicy pork dishes, which were a typical Lisu diet, we felt like this was part of a charade. While we filled up on homely nutrients, we watched in surprise as Susanon's grandson filled up on fried chicken, ovaltines and packets of chips. He was also one of the most overweight, spoilt and brutal six year olds we have ever met! As Susanon's family, and the rest of her village for that matter, seemed relatively well-off financially, we figured they didn't really need our money and cut our stay short to only two nights.

Despite all this, the homestay was a nice escape from the heavily trodden tourist trail, and it was great to spend some time in the picturesque little mountain village. The view from our wooden verandah was testimony to the hard but beautiful natural environment that these people live. It was a great place to enjoy a cup of tea and breathe in the fresh mountain air.

Susanon and the village Shaman, or 'Medicine Man,' took us for a good walk around the surrounding hills and pointed out plants that were good for fixing stomach aches, cold sores and even bladder infections. It was tough walking up and down the steep hills and valleys, and impressive to think that many of the villagers walk it every day just to reach their rice and corn crops.

When we got back to the village we watched a few of the men slaughter a pig, while the rest of the village gathered around waiting to buy a couple of kilos of fresh pork. It was a simple and emotionless process, and interesting to see a community living so self-sufficiently. If we hadn't watched the whole process, we might have thought twice about the raw pork we were served for dinner that evening. The dish is a Lisu specialty, and consists of raw pork chopped and minced together with herbs, chillies and lemon, then eaten with raw cabbage.

To compliment this local cuisine, we went around to the Shaman's house after dinner to enjoy a tea infused with some of the roots he had collected during the day's walk. The roots were barely washed, so the tea tasted like mild Ginger with a strong hint of dirt, although it was apparently the best medicine for a good strong stomach. We happily sipped our tea in a mud-floored living room, watching a dramatic Thai soap with the family.

The day we were leaving happened to be a national Buddhist holiday, and half of the village used it as an excuse to eat pork and drink Lisu whisky. We joined in and helped by chopping up another freshly slaughtered pig, then enjoyed a few more drinks and our last fresh, simple wholesome Lisu meal. Meanwhile, we watched on as the men whipped up a bamboo house for Buddha, intended as a resting point after he climbs the hill into their village.

After lunch we rolled down the hill to the bus station in nearby Soppong. Our destination; the once sleepy, now hippie-fueled little mountain river town of Pai.