These days I go old school and sit with a map or get Lonely Planet. Now the clickbait of ‘Best Things To Do’ or ‘Offbeat Things To Do’ lure me no more ‘cause they are filled with the same info and nothing new. With the fleeting shelf life of reels only contributing to reducing concentration levels and packing all information in a 90-sec video that doesn’t even scratch the surface, I would any day take a chance with an authentic travel blogger who would show both sides of the coin – no exaggeration, simple facts and a story that’s captivating enough to read. It was one of those map readings and subsequently intensive research that brought up this hidden Yuannanese village in the lap of the misty hills and 72 hours in Ban Rak Thai was conceived. It was an offbeat appendage to my Chiang Mai diary.

The possibility of staying in a tea estate, with the mist rolling over the mountains, the stillness of the lake reflecting the aura of the red lanterns and uncountable cups of oolong was good enough for me.  

It wasn’t easy to access. One need to traverse the Mae Hong Son Loop, that legendary 600-kilometer circuit of 1,864 curves through northwest Thailand. But it only takes you till Mae Hong Son. One more hour and many more steep turns later comes the tranquility hidden away from the clutter of the rest of Thailand. Surrounded by the mist and the mountains protecting its sanctity, Ban Rak Thai is a sanctuary to those seeking meditative slowness. The art of doing nothing screams volumes.

Sitting at 1,800 meters above sea level in Mae Hong Son Province, just a few kilometers from the Myanmar border, the story never started in Thailand but in China. After the Chinese Civil War in the 1940s, soldiers from the Kuomintang (KMT) 93rd Division fled across the border into Burma and eventually settled in northern Thailand. These were men who couldn’t go home, stateless fighters who carved out a new existence in the mountains. Their descendants still live here, preserving the language, architecture, and culinary traditions of Yunnan province.

The name “Ban Rak Thai” translates to “the Village that Loves Thailand”, a declaration of loyalty from a community that spent decades navigating statelessness. Today, most residents hold Thai citizenship, but their Chinese soul remains intact. Walking through the village, you hear Yunnanese dialect as often as Thai. The signs are in Chinese characters. The food is unlike anything else in Thailand.

The village setting includes a man-made reservoir ringed by traditional clay houses, with tea terraces climbing the hillsides behind them. The early November to February mornings call to the mists floating across the mountains and settling over the water, muting colors until the world looks like a gray canvas with a Chinese painting brought to life.

The journey was as much an adventure as the three days of nothingness that followed.

Boarding a bus to Mae Hong Son was the first leg of the journey. Having read of the winding roads I was armed with carom seeds, dried ginger and chewing gum (if I could, I would have carried lime too! Works wonders for motion sickness). The first two hours were on the plane and then came the turns. I kept nibbling the carom seeds while my beloved chewed gum to keep the sickness at bay. When the turns began so did the welcome shower! The raindrops drawing long asteroid trails on the glass, trying hard to get to the other side before another one collided its course. What felt like more than 1,864 turns later we reached the secluded bus terminal of Mae Hong Son. Unfortunately, the only bus from Mae Hong Son to Rak Thai (Ban Rak Thai is also known as this) had left at 12:00pm. Scrambling to see if there was anyone offering a solution, I met a kind lady who spoke to a local tuk-tuk driver who agreed to drop us off to Rak Thai. First he drove us in his tuk-tuk to his quaint home with cat boarders, ceramic sculptures adorning his adorable garden, then packed our luggage in the SUV, then cranked the gas and sped us to our long-awaited destination.

The closer we got to the village’s edge, the more we leaned out of the car – just a little, breathing in the rain as the clouds gathered themselves for the show. By the time we parked outside the Lee Wine Rak Thai Resort reception, the clouds had already worked overtime, soaking every inch of Rak Thai’s earth. And that was only the beginning. What followed was exactly what we needed: a slow, rain-soaked vacation of wandering, eating, tasting candies, hiking, and posing in front of flower bushes like nobody was watching.

I chose Lee Wine Ruk Thai Resort for its location. Clay cottages built into the tea hills overlooking the reservoir. The rooms are simple: a comfortable bed, private bathroom with hot shower (essential for chilly mountain evenings), and a balcony facing either the tea terraces or the lake.

But the real luxury isn’t inside. It’s stepping onto your balcony at dawn, wrapped in a jacket against the cold, watching mist rise from the lake as tea pickers move like shadows through the terraces above you.

What I loved was the tea plantation access. Guests can walk through the terraces for free, and the resort provides traditional Chinese hats for photos. The on-site restaurant, Lee Wine Yunnan Restaurant, serves excellent local food with a view.

P.S. – Book ahead. This is the most popular accommodation in the village, especially during the cool season (November–February).

By the time we reached it was 3:30 pm. A steady drizzle left the day dark, grey and the surrounding around a brilliant green. After checking in, all I could think of was relaxing in the traditionally built Chinese cottages. I freshened, sat on the Zen bed and took out my modest, dated Nikkon lens, I was creating visual memories – my lived experiences. Slanted raindrops lashing against the muddy walls, colourful arched roofs, the tiny green leaves of the stunted tea bushes and also the Sakura plants – the shower was turning everything blurry.

I was finally breathing, breathing the air of catharsis.

While I stared outside, my brain empty with no thoughts crowding it (for once) my beloved went scouring for some good street snacks. Once back we ate stomachful, we headed for a stroll through the alleys and then around the lake.

Armed with an umbrella and covered in a rain poncho, sploshing through puddles on our way, opting for an ice-cream from a cute, soft yellow-toned stall – I had no recollection of ever being so carefree. I was back being a little girl who loved to get drenched in the rain.

Knowing fully well that eateries in remote areas of villages close down early, we opted for an early dinner at A La Carte Hotpot (the quantity was too much for two). Round about ten, the crowd thinning away, it was a hint for us to make our exit.

After dinner, we walked the lake loop one more time. The village was quiet, just a few other travelers, the occasional local heading home, and the soft glow of lanterns reflecting in the water, despite the drizzle.

This, I thought, is what people come here for. Not to do something. To be somewhere.

I was awake before my spouse and decided to take a walk around the terraces. Barefoot, I stepped on the stones leading down. Everything was wet from the rain throughout the night. Perhaps it was taking a break but it sure left its mark from last night.

The terraces were steep but manageable, with narrow paths winding between rows of Camellia sinensis (Oolong variety). At the top, a viewing platform (pagoda) offered one of the best photo spots in the village, with a full view over the lake and village rooftops. But I gave it a pass – I would be back with my pair.

I watched local women in wide-brimmed hats pluck the youngest leaves with practiced fingers. Oolong tea is the specialty here, fragrant, slightly floral, and grown at an elevation that gives it a distinctive character. It’s unmistakable fragrance wafting through all the local eateries (they serve it with every meal). And also checking the fermentation of the wine in the big jars neatly organized on the top of a ledge.

After breakfast (rice porridge, fresh fruit, and hot soy milk at the resort), we freshened and made our way to the Myanmar border.

Lately, my spouse’s obsession with walking borders has started rubbing off on me. This time, the map promised a neat 20‑minute stroll. Somewhere along the way, we lost the thread. The path dissolved into something undocumented – a stretch of border with no fence, no barbed wire, no visible line at all. Just earth, pebbles, and the quiet weight of being somewhere we probably shouldn’t be. Refusing to act on a whim and cross an invisible boundary, we turned back and headed into town for fuel – tea, to be precise and something to eat.

But sauntering along that deserted, pebbled, unpaved path, admiring flowering shrubs tracing the edge of residential compounds, watching locals move through their daily rhythms with the unhurried grace of people who have never needed a map to find their way home, was an adventure in itself. Beyond a certain point, there was no one. Not even a dog. And as any seasoned traveller will tell you, a path without a dog is not to be trusted. Although on the way back one cute Beagle kept following my spouse and we had to keep directing him back to the compound he exited from.

After tea and snacks restored our resolve, we tried again This time, it felt right. Steady, sure, uphill. Twenty minutes of steady climbing delivered us exactly where we wanted to be: the Thai-Myanmar border.

From the Myanmar side, locals on bikes crossed over to pick up their children from schools on the Thai side. No hostility. No conflict. Just familiar faces, smiling at the security forces as if the border were little more than a suggestion.

Mustering courage, we asked the personnel at the post for a photograph. They agreed. After a good ten minutes of posing, we began our descent. Slowly, unhurriedly. We stopped by schools, watching children run into their parents’ arms – happy that the day was over. Everything about this place felt suspended in a gentler clock. It was a lovely thing.

This is what travel writers chase: a lived experience in a corner so remote that most tourists never even think to venture here.

On the way back, I stopped at three different tea shops. Each offering free tastings – no strings, just hospitality. I sampled Oolong, jasmine, green, and the locally famous “Qing Qing” tea.

Sometimes, the best borders are the ones you don’t cross. You walk alongside them. You share a meal near them. You watch children run across them for no reason other than love. And you leave with nothing but photographs, tea samples.

Rest of the afternoon was spent wandering the village lanes aimlessly discovering Traditional Chinese herbal shops selling dried mushrooms, medicinal roots, and jars of homemade remedies, small bakeries where grandmothers sold tea eggs and steamed buns and souvenir stalls offering hand-packed tea leaves, dried mushrooms, and woven bags. Even passed a small temple tucked between houses, with incense burning and offerings of fruit and flowers.

Late afternoon was lunch at a at a small lakeside restaurant with a view. No English sign, just a few plastic tables and chairs overlooking the water. My spouse pointed at a photo of noodles on the menu and hoped for the best.

What arrived was a bowl of handmade noodles,, topped with braised pork and fresh herbs. The noodles a perfect chewy texture, clearly made fresh that morning, it was pure meaty decadence.

Around evening we took a stroll on the tea terraces. The misty rain when we left our cottage swiftly turned into a drizzle by the time we reached the top. Being barefoot never felt better. Crossed the boardwalk and stood on the platform overlooking the entire Yunnanese village of Ban Rak Thai. In the mellifluous of the pattering raindrops on leaves, on the wooden boardwalk, on the dry-leaf covered Chinese-style roofs of the cottages, water gathering in the eaves and flowing down through an ingenious system, the billowing mist veiling the tops of mountains and everything that came in its way – it was cathartic.

As the drizzle eased, we stepped on the stones, making our way back to the cottage, where we spent our time sipping the fragrant Oolong, relaxing.

Dinner was a takeout from a nameless roadside stall that cooked a delish pot of noodles tossed in mushrooms, leafy greens, tofu and meat of choice along with an assortment of satays. While we stood waiting for our order we even opened a dialogue with a Dutch traveller who mentioned coming to Ban Rak Thai for three months that turned into three years!

That’s how hypnotic Rak Thai is.

I woke early on the last day. To board the only songthaew that plied between Rak Thai and Mae Hong Son. Wanting to hang on to the hum of nowhere to be, I slowed my pace of folding my things into place. After a while I took one last walk along the slopes of the blooming tea terraces of Lee Wine Rak Thai Resort. The mist was there again, thick and soft.

Before leaving, I stopped at a tea shop near the entrance to the village and bought one more bag of Oolong, a gift for a friend back home. The shopkeeper wrapped it carefully in paper and tied it with twine.

P.S. – Locals speak Thai, Yunnanese dialect, and some Mandarin. Very little English is spoken. But smiles and pointing go a long way, and I never felt anything but welcomed.

The nearest airport is Chiang Mai Airport (CNX). From there it is 6-7 hours via the Mae Hong Son Loop. Most travelers break the journey in Pai or Mae Hong Son town before continuing to Ban Rak Thai.

There is no direct bus from Pai to Ban Rak Thai. Take a bus from Pai to Mae Hong Son. From Mae Hong Son only one songthaew plies to Ban Rak Thai at noon. You can either take that or in case you miss that you can bargain with a local to take you there.

It is a 1.5 hours’ drive uphill through hairpin bends

This only runs once a day at noon (but check the time at the bus stop). Ensure you reach the pick-up point on time.

You can eRent from Mae Hong Son town. International Driving Permit is required. Parking is available in the village. Drive uphill!

Arrange through your Mae Hong Son accommodation. More expensive but hassle-free. For those who don’t prefer driving.

The best time to visit Ban Rak Thai is from November to February. Weather is cool and comfortable with the misty mornings and the famous fog drifting over the lake. And it was raining. Stopped in between as a breather, then picked the pace again.

Relatively busier than other seasons, we didn’t feel overwhelmed with the handful that we came across.

Internet suggests carrying a few layers for early mornings and evenings but we were good with a basic thin layer

The hot season is from March to May when the temperatures rise. Many may prefer going during those times but do keep in mind the heat can make exploration uncomfortable even though it’ll be a sight to stroll through the green tea plantations.

I won’t be lying if I say I like Northern Thailand during its wet season which is from June to October. The landscape is at its lushest during these months. The tea plantations are brilliantly green, and the reservoir is full. However, August is the wettest month. The roads can be slippery, and afternoon downpours are common. Clouds can also obscure mountain views. The only upside is this is shoulder season, which is why fewer crowd and tower prices.

Ban Rak Thai isn’t known for pad thai or green curry. This is Yunnan territory, and the food reflects a culinary tradition you won’t find elsewhere in Thailand.

• Braised Pork Knuckle with Steamed Mantou Buns – The signature dish of Ban Rak Thai. Pork braised until fall-off-the-bone tender, served with fluffy Chinese steamed buns for soaking up the rich sauce.
• Yunnan Hot Pot – A bubbling pot of broth served with plates of mushrooms, greens, pork, tofu, and noodles. Perfect for sharing on a cool evening.
• Tea Leaf Salad – A local specialty, young tea leaves mixed with tomatoes, chili, and herbs. Unique and flavorful.
• Homemade Noodles in Spicy Broth – Hand-pulled noodles with a perfect chewy texture. Look for small, family-run shops with no English signs, those are the best ones.
• Stir-fried Mushrooms – Local mushrooms, sometimes fried until crispy, sometimes simmered. Simple, fresh, and delicious.
• Yunnan Fried Tofu Crispy on the outside, silky soft on the inside, served with local chili sauce.
• Tea Eggs – Hard-boiled eggs steeped in tea, soy sauce, and spices until the shells crack into beautiful marble patterns. The perfect snack. 
• Steamed Buns (Mantou) – Fluffy, slightly sweet. Great on their own with condensed milk or as a vehicle for braised pork.

• Oolong Tea – The signature drink of the region. Grown locally on the surrounding hills. Sample it fresh at tea shops throughout the village
• Jasmine Tea Lighter and floral, perfect for afternoons spent reading by the lake
• Qing Qing Tea – A local variety, ask for it by name
• Fruit Wines – Plum, lychee, mulberry, and pineapple wines made locally. Sweet, fruity, and dangerously easy to drink. Available at Lee Wine Yunnan Restaurant and Charlie Wine Farm
• Fresh Soy Milk – Warm, slightly sweet, and the perfect way to start chilly mornings, available at the resort breakfast and from street vendors

Lee Wine Yunnan Restaurant (at Lee Wine Ruk Thai Resort): The most famous restaurant in the village, with a 4.3-star rating from over 330 reviews. Try the braised pork leg, tea leaf salad, and fruit wines. The view from the restaurant at night is magnificent.

Lakeside restaurants: Several simple eateries line the reservoir, serving noodles, stir-fries, and hot pots. The setting is what makes them special, watching the water while you eat is worth it.

Small noodle shops: Explore the side streets for grandmother-run shops serving handmade noodles. No English menus but pointing and smiling works.

• Tea
• Candies
• Postcards

Most places in Ban Rak Thai do not accept credit cards. Bring enough cash from Mae Hong Son town or Chiang Mai to cover accommodation, meals, and purchases. ATMs are limited and sometimes run out of money.

The temperature can swing dramatically from morning to afternoon. Even during the cool season, midday can be warm enough for short sleeves. But once the sun sets, the temperature drops quickly.

• Light jacket or hoodie (essential for mornings and evenings)
• Layers (t-shirt + long-sleeve shirt + jacket)
• Comfortable walking shoes
• Insect repellent
• Sunscreen
• Power bank (phone signal is weak, but you’ll want your camera ready)
• Motion sickness medication (the roads are winding)
• Phone Signal and Internet

Expect weak or no service depending on your carrier. Download offline maps and any entertainment you might want before leaving Mae Hong Son town. Most guesthouses have WiFi, but it can be slow.

Locals speak Thai, Yunnanese dialect, and some Mandarin. Very little English is spoken. However, menus often have pictures and learning a few words of Thai (“Sawasdee” for hello, “Khob khun” for thank you) is appreciated

This is a small village with deep traditions. Dress modestly (especially if visiting any temples or shrines), ask permission before photographing locals, and be mindful of the quiet atmosphere. Loud parties or disruptive behavior would be out of place here.

Motion Sickness Warning

The road to Ban Rak Thai has over 1,864 curves from Chiang Mai. If you’re prone to motion sickness, bring medication. The winding roads are part of the adventure, but they can be challenging for sensitive stomachs.

Ban Rak Thai is extremely safe for solo travelers. The streets are quiet, locals are welcoming, and the guesthouses are well-run. I never felt uncomfortable, even walking alone after dark.

Driving Caution

The roads to Ban Rak Thai are paved but have sharp curves, steep grades, and occasional oncoming traffic. Drive slowly and stay on your side of the road. Police sometimes check for licenses along the route.

If you have extra time, these nearby attractions are worth exploring:

Often called the “Switzerland of Thailand,” this alpine lake is surrounded by pine forests and offers stunning morning mist. Pang Oung about an hour’s drive from Ban Rak Thai and makes an excellent sunrise destination.

A gorgeous waterfall hidden in the jungle, with a refreshing breeze that makes you want to stay forever, Namtok Pha Suea-Tham Pla National Park is located within driving distance of Ban Rak Thai.

Several villages in the Mae Hong Son area are home to the famous Long Neck Karen (Padaung) women. While some travelers find these villages touristy, others appreciate the opportunity to learn about a unique culture and support local artisans. Visit ethically and choose tours that directly benefit the community.

This place is not for everyone. If you need nightlife, shopping malls, or constant entertainment, you’ll be bored within an hour. Ban Rak Thai doesn’t offer “things to do” in the traditional sense. There’s no major temple, no waterfall, no adventure sports.

What it offers instead is atmosphere. The chance to slow down. To sit by a lake with a pot of tea and watch the mist burn off the hills. To eat food you can’t find anywhere else in Thailand. To stay in a clay cottage built into a tea plantation and wake up to birdsong instead of traffic.

I left Ban Rak Thai on my third morning, my backpack heavier with bags of tea and bottles of fruit wine, my camera roll full of misty lake shots, and my heart fuller still.

If that sounds like your kind of travel, Ban Rak Thai is waiting.