The three of them lie side by side, beneath the dim light of a flickering bulb, somewhere in Bangkok. Each has journeyed hundreds of miles to be here, from distant provinces across the country.

A cool breeze rustles through the bamboo slats of the quaint coffee-house, as the mid-afternoon sun begins its slow descent into dusk. Outside, the sky is blue, and the coffee trees in the fields below sway gently in the light wind.

Sometimes the answers to difficult challenges can lie in our own backyards – and, for some, quite literally. This thought crossed my mind as I concurrently pondered the sorry state of the world - and the gluai hom banana in my hand.

We’re standing in a semi-circle in a red-dirt yard, sipping hot coffee blossom tea, and before us is a towering Akha tribal version of Thor, wielding a gigantic 4-foot wooden pestle. The enemy is a huge mound of thick, sticky white gooey-ness, sitting nonchalantly in a hollowed-out tree-trunk-turned-mortar.

The thin, brown paper sachet feels delicate in my hands - its refined, matte texture interrupted only by a smooth, salmon-pink pentagonal label. The artwork features a playful, yet cryptic, array of symbols: rays of pink light emitting from a green sun, and colourful beans tumbling from mountain-like shapes.

Depending on who you are, the word ‘bergamot’ is likely to elicit different associations. If you’re a tea-lover, maybe it’s the delicate aroma of Earl Grey tea. If you’re into perfume, perhaps it’s the warm citrus groves of Calabria. If you were around in mid-1980s Thailand - it’s probably the popular anti-hair-fall shampoo.