I woke up to a knock at the door, and after giving my tour guide copies of my passport (everybody needed one to go on the trek), I checked out and went to the trekking office. On the way, I returned my bike and realized I had not had breakfast.

After breakfast, I walked across the street and got into my “shuttle,” which was little more than a covered truck. Off I went. We slowly snaked our way through town, picking up people at every corner. Two by two, they jumped into the “shuttle.” Soon the truck was packed, with people squeezing in like sardines.

Once everybody was on board, we left the city and headed towards the countryside. After 45 minutes, we stopped at a small market, presumably so we could buy a few things and support the local economy. I didn’t mind. Once we arrived, several older women approached us to sell “handmade” water bottle holders. While they were interesting, I knew mine would sit in my room for a few months before I wrapped it up and gave it away as a gift. I respectfully declined and headed to the fruit section.

I bought some pineapple. The vendor cut it for me and put it in a bag with small skewers so I could eat it immediately. The total cost was about US$0.30. After buying more water, I jumped back on the truck and continued the journey. We eventually left the main road and wound our way up the mountainside. After an hour, we reached a few buildings beside the road and stopped for lunch. The menu consisted of rice, and more rice. When lunch ended, I picked up my hiking sticks and headed into the hills.

I consolidated my belongings into one bag and brought only what I needed. Everything fit into my relatively light backpack. For the next few hours, I hiked steadily uphill. Some people found the climb difficult, which, considering I sit in front of my computer almost all day, is not something I often get to say. Somehow, I felt like one of the fittest people there. Scary! Nothing too eventful happened along the way, but the scenery was beautiful. After roughly 10 kilometres uphill, I finally reached Lahu village. It was unlike any village I had seen before. Its location in the mountains made it genuinely secluded. There was no mains electricity, although some huts had solar panels. Everybody moved into one hut, and I was the first to take a shower.

Let me just say that the shower was very cold. I may even have startled the locals with my involuntary yelps. Few things are less enjoyable than a truly cold shower: put one leg in and it becomes numb, then put the other in and it does the same. You get the point.

After showering, I went back to the hut and talked to a few people. Eventually, as dinner was being prepared, I huddled around the fire in one hut and ate. An interesting aspect of Lahu was that much of the community had come from Burma, which had experienced considerable Chinese influence. As a result, some people could speak Chinese. Four or so men in the hut that night spoke Chinese, so I chatted with them, although I listened more than I spoke because my Chinese was limited. They were drinking white rice wine, which is somewhat like vodka and not a favourite of mine after having too much in Zhongshan. Of course, I drank it anyway and ate the accompanying vegetables dipped in pork fat. Eventually, bedtime called, and I soon fell asleep under my mosquito net with a warm, fuzzy feeling.