Paradise Amongst the Trees

This place is my idea of paradise. I'm in a steamy jungle in the mountains and I am living in a teak treehouse over a waterfall. Everything is green and lush, vines and orchids are flowering all purple and yellow, there are birds and butterflies flittering everywhere and it smells like lilacs and jasmine. Puppies are running around being silly goofballs. Teensy little lizards are darting every which way.

I stayed in this treehouse resort 12 years ago and have dreamed of it ever since. Sadly, the sweet man who built it died almost 2 years ago but it is still being run by his daughter and widow. There are more treehouses and more amenities, but it is the same relaxing place it was when last I visited. Mum is adorable and has limited English that is way better than my non-existent Thai, so I was a bit confused when she told me not to put letters into their wooden mailbox because “the snails will eat them.” Uh, okay. Later K and I were talking about posting our postcards from there and we remembered the odd snails comment. We had the same thought at the same instant - did her daughter refer to it as snail mail and she misunderstood? Makes more sense than postcard eating snails. 

Our treehouse is called Rimtarn and it’s on stilts rather than in a tree. We picked it because it’s over a creek with a waterfall and has a walkway with a little suspension bridge. In the front we have a fire pit, and under the house there’s a swing. It’s truly delightful. The sound of the water is relaxing, that is in the moments between when the cicadas stop and the frogs start. These frogs are seriously loud! So loud that they even provide earplugs to sleep through their “singing.”

The first thing you notice when you walk in our house, if you aren’t knocked unconscious by them first, is that there is a spiral staircase with sharp edged triangular steps, basically in front of the door. The living room must be moved around mindfully to not catch something or other on those death stairs. My bed is upstairs in the loft so I traverse that rail-less tight spiral in the night in the dark to not wake up K. whose bed is in an alcove on the main floor. We have a little living room area with a couch and some stools and lots of thoughtful little details. Our bathroom is through a door to an outside area. The toilet and sink are covered by a roof, but our shower is open air. I love showering outdoors, but sitting on the throne at dusk within range of the mosquitos is not my favourite. Last night our toilet bowl filled up with tiny black bugs, and I mean filled up. K wasn’t sure what to do with them, but I took the bum gun and hosed them all away. It makes you determined to look before you sit.

This is one place I feel I can really relax and let go of everything, although there is a sense of poignancy. It’s clear they have struggled to keep up with the place since the daughter’s husband left and the father died. The food gardens were a point of pride the last time I was here and now they are overgrown and neglected. She is struggling to find help who want to live so far away from any town or city and the staff who were loyal to her father are getting along in years. Honestly, I am tempted to stay and just live in the jungle here and help out.

She said her dad told her it would all revert to nature within 10 years. It’s clear the family have some tough decisions to make. Letting it go would be such a shame. I really could stay here forever.