Ode to Isaan

Far from the chaos of the capital or the party islands of the south, the overlooked yet hugely charming northeast region of Isaan offers visitors a taste of the real Thailand

The only light on the road is coming from our car.

Having gone from a tarmac highway to a double lane dirt road, we're now crawling down a potholed lane barely wide enough for our black sedan. On either side of us, sporadic clumps of bamboo emerge out of the gloom as we bump our way down the ever shrinking track. In the last hour, after we had been picked up at the provincial Udon Thani airport, the driver had said only a handful of words. His silence, and the unnerving sense of being driven into the unknown, had us increasingly spooked.

Only an hour's flight from Bangkok, Udon Thani is one of the four major cities in Isaan, the vast agrarian plateau that encompasses most of northeast Thailand, and borders Cambodia and Laos. While they learn Thai at school, most locals around these parts speak Isaan, a close relation to Lao, as their first language – the Laotian capital Vientiane is only an hour away by car. Unlike more developed parts of the kingdom, farming is still central to the Isaan way of life, with rice the most common crop in the fields, although sugar cane is increasingly popular due to the higher price at market.

With little infrastructure to cater for them, only adventurous tourists looking to get off the beaten track venture here. Jolted back to the present by another pothole, it seems we've entered some kind of driveway, as we catch a glimpse of a house through the woods. The car stops, and we've arrived at Gecko Villa. As the sun rises the next day, we get a better look at our surroundings. Our home for the next few nights is a three bedroom lodge in the heart of the Isaan countryside, owned and operated by couple Ten and Euang with the help of their four children – incredibly, two sets of twin boys.

“When I was 12 I entered the monkhood. My parents couldn't afford to send me to school, and it was the only way I could get an education,” says Ten, our driver from the night before. His quietness now comes across as more of a reservedness common to those who live in the countryside. “At the age of 15 I caught a bus to Bangkok with friends to try and find work, it was either that or stay here and try to make a living on the farm,” explains Ten quietly. “When I arrived in the capital I only had 25 baht in my pocket, but back then Bangkok was a different place, much smaller than it is now.”

He managed to find work at an international hotel helping out in the kitchens, and stayed for the next decade. After he met his wife, and had his first set of twins, they decided to move back to her home, and – with the help of an investor friend – built Gecko Villa. For the last 15 or so years, they've welcomed guests “Looking for the real Thailand,” as they put it – tourists and resident expats who have already been to and are bored of the main tourist destinations of Bangkok, Phuket, Samui and Chiang Mai.

This morning we're on our way to the ‘Red Lotus Sea’, the remarkable Nong Han lake, which every year between December and March becomes covered in red lotus flowers. Up until just a few years ago, as we're later told by family friend Charles Coleman – a longterm British expat – no-one outside of the area knew about this amazing display. “I was up here visiting and one day Ten said he wanted to show me something,” says Charles. “So we hopped in the car and drove to the lake. When we arrived my jaw dropped, as the view was simply amazing. We went out in a small wooden boat and had the entire lake to ourselves.” Unfortunately, word seems to have gotten out.

When we arrive early in the morning, the car park is already rapidly filling up, and approaching the water we see a small fleet of motorboats unloading and picking up passengers. Ten buys our boat ticket and I ask him what number we are in the queue – “208”, he answers with a wry smile. Soon we're off in what amounts to a small flotilla, one boat following in the wake of the next. Still, while one wonders what the lake would have been like before its “discovery”, the flower covered waters are undoubtedly impressive. As we sit in the boat, engine off, surrounded by lotuses as far as the eye can see, the morning sun emerging from the clouds, the feeling is one of serenity – albeit with the intrusion of giggling teenage girls snapping selfies in nearby boats.

Later that afternoon, Ten takes us on a drive to nearby Kumphawapi, where thankfully we seem to be the only tourists around. The town has two main attractions. The first is the sprawling open-air fresh market, a cornucopia of the produce and spices essential for making the searing hot local cuisine. Once little known outside of the region, Isaan food is now found throughout Thailand, spread by the migrant workers who flocked to the nation's cities and took their fiery hot dishes with them – today it's difficult to walk past a street corner in Bangkok without at least one stall selling an Isaan dish.

Here in the heartland, the must-trys are som tam (papaya salad), larb moo (minced pork salad), pla pao (grilled fish), and sai krok isaan (isaan sausages), accompanied by sticky rice and washed down with plenty of chilled beers (make like a local and fill your glass with ice). “We have a few French chefs who regularly fly up from Bangkok to stay with us, and when we bring them here they are always wowed by everything available in the market,” says Ten, adding that for foodies, Gecko Villa can arrange cooking lessons. After picking up a huge freshwater fish for dinner, we move on to Kumphawapi's other major attraction – Monkey Park. To be honest, it's less an official park than a rough-looking square block of foliage that has been commandeered by a troupe of macaques.

Up until a century ago, this area was all mangrove forests and the monkeys had it all to themselves, but as the town grew up around them they were forced into this small patch of trees and grass. If you've never encountered macaques before, be warned they are intelligent, mischievous and opportune creatures – leave bags, food and water inside the car. Still, it's a fun place to snap a few candid shots – look out for the tiny babies – and the chance to add another animal to the 'seen' list. Another one to look out for are water buffalo. Driving around Isaan during the winter months, you'll see rice paddies on both sides of the road, filled with these strong but quiet creatures.

While it's romantic to picture them during wet season, which runs from the end of May to mid-October, pulling ploughs through rain-soaked paddies, the truth is that the animals are nowadays mostly status symbols, “We have a tractor for that,” laughs Ten, later showing us the bright orange Kubota he keeps in a shed around the back of the villa. As we discover the next morning on a pre-breakfast bush walk, much of the land that surrounds Gecko Villa – and a second villa owned by the family, Green Gecko – is still a working farm. Behind the villa is a herb garden, while just a few steps in front of the verandah is a lime grove, and to the right of that is a cassava plantation.

After discovering a free range chicken coop, we push our way through low, dense scrubland, emerge onto an embankment, and discover a small duck pond – thinking it must be time for food, they waddle out of the pool and follow us in single file. Just beyond that is a vast rice paddy filled with a dozen water buffalo. Later, after breakfast, we ask Ten about his free range-style farming choice. “This may seem like free range, organic farming to you, but here in Isaan this is just the way we have always farmed. It's quite easy and low maintenance”, he replies with more than a little amusement.

Today we're off to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ban Chiang, one of the most important prehistoric settlements in the world, dating as far back as 2000 B.C. The American discoverer of the oldest known Bronze Age site in Southeast Asia literally tripped over it. In the summer of 1966, Harvard student Steve Young – the son of a former US ambassador to Thailand – was going door-to-door in the area conducting interviews for his political thesis, when he tripped over the root of a kapok tree and found himself staring at exposed pottery jars. Though simply made, they had the most extravagant patterns. Taking one back to Bangkok, their true value was discovered.

Having been to many museums throughout Thailand and Southeast Asia, we have learned that they are often hit or miss affairs – usually built with good intentions, they usually suffer from a lack of upkeep and English-language signage. It is fair to say our expectations were low for the Ban Chiang National Museum, but as soon as we started walking through the exhibit it was clear this place was different. Despite its remote location in far northeastern Thailand, this is without doubt one of the most important and impressive museums in the country, with comprehensive, clear explanations and an amazing array of artifacts – even if archaeology is not your thing, it's worth visiting to appreciate the remarkable pottery designs, very contemporary looks by ancient man.

After an excellent lunch back at Gecko Villa, cooked personally by Ten's wife Euang, the afternoon was spent in the refreshing saltwater pool. The next day, before our afternoon flight to Bangkok, we had time for one last challenge – driving an Isaan tuk-tuk. The popular three-wheeled vehicle, essentially a motorbike with covered wagon-style seating attached on the back, is known locally as a ‘skylab’, as they first became popular in 1979, which was the same year the US space station of the same name broke up as it reentered Earth's atmosphere. Unlike its namesake, the skylab doesn't go very fast (“You never need to go higher than third gear”, Ten instructed, when giving us a quick driving lesson) but then again there's no need to rush here in the countryside.

After a few failed attempts at kickstarting the engine, it finally roared into life, and we set off on a midday jaunt around the neighborhood. Avoiding the potholes, we drove past the bamboo clumps from our first night, now more calming than creepy, then emerged onto the main road. As we cruised along at 30 km/h, we waved to farmers in the field, people swinging in hammocks under their houses, and kids playing in the yard. Motorbike drivers gave us encouraging beeps of their horns, and an ice-cream seller even stopped his sidecar to make sure we were okay when the engine stalled.

Viewing Isaan by skylab, rather than from the back of an aircon-cooled car, really brought home the sense of community that still exists in this corner of Thailand. “Up here you sleep with your door unlocked, because you know everyone,” family friend Charles had told us one night over a drink at his villa. “People also come here because they want to go where no-one else is going.” It may not have the craziness of the capital, the beaches of the southern islands, or the cultural cache of the north, but there's something remarkably appealing about the simple life of Isaan. Once things are stripped back to their essentials, you begin to wonder if you really need any more.