On the tourist trail

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Ah, the joys of travelling on the buses that never come on time. Make sure to pack your patience and a good book when you come to Cambodia and Laos. Hanging around the bus station, the only foreigners in sight, the bus finally arrived over an hour late to take us away from our little slice of heaven better known as Kratie north to Laos and full on tourism. While the bus coming from Phnom Penh was half full of tourists, after a few stops north and just before the border, it emptied of locals and left only the backpackers bound for the 4000 islands of Si Phan Don in the Mekong in southern Laos. At the scruffy, but efficient border crossing, we paid a commission to the border guards on both sides who picked up a pretty handy supplementary income from all of the tourists who were at their mercy if you wanted to exit and enter from Cambodia to Laos and vice-versa!

We walked across the border, got our stamps to another new country and were on our way north. By now, given the late hour, despite promises that we would arrive no later than 5pm, the sunlight was quickly fading as 6pm came and went. Arrived at the ferry landing at the last light of 6:30pm where we were quickly introduced to the lows of mass tourism that have reached this before remote area of Laos. Arguments ensued with the boat captains as some of the tourists had been promised that their tickets covered them to the islands and the captains wanted another fee. Somehow in this melee, everyone had seemed to appoint Kurt and I as their leaders as they seemed less experienced and also weren't even sure where they were going. We felt like we had entered into the movie, "travelling for dummies!"

Unfortunately for us, given the late hour, the captains refused to take us to our destination of Don Khon saying that it was too dark. Never ones to give up that easily, we followed the masses to the party island of Don Det. The crossing in the pitch black was lovely as the sultry air caressed our skin and it was wonderful to be on the water. Landing on the beach, we pulled out our waist straps on our pack, hoisted them up and started walking, intent on making the cross island trek that night. With only our headlamps to guide us, we stayed on the one main trail, the internet cafes, bars, bakery and guest houses finally thinning out to complete darkness only broken up by the occasional set of beady eyes of animals that mercifully ran into the bush when they heard our footsteps! After an hour of walking we finally saw the French bridge across to Don Khon and made it to our final destination. Soaked in sweat with the humidity and with sore backs, we checked out our preferred option of guest house, after having first walked the wrong way! Unfortunately it was full. By this time we were tired, hot and not up for much more searching in the dark so decided to splurge and stay in the floating cabins for $50/night. With a proper bathroom, balcony, wood, high ceilings, mattress on the floor with the mandatory mosquito net, we were happy to call this home for our stay.

The next day we were up early after having little sleep as the heat was fierce so we rented bikes and covered the entire island in a few hours. The highlight was the waterfalls and dune like beach cut into the rocks which was gorgeous, but where, because of the high current, swimming was not allowed. Unfortunately at the falls, you had to bike through stands and stands of vendors selling trinkets and drinks which gave this natural wonder a very touristy feeling. We stopped in a lovely wat and sat in the shade of an old tree watching a monk touching up the bright yellow paint on the facade in the hot sun. Riding through the dried up rice paddies and through the little villages, we saw the fishing traps and little gardens where the locals grew their own food. Quite different than Koh Trong in Cambodia, the people here, having been inundated with tourists, were completely disinterested and didn't even say hello to us.

After turning in our bikes and sitting in a little guest house restaurant for lunch, we swore we were in Thailand since the bamboo bungalows, internet places, travel agencies and laundry services were copy cat to those across the border. It is obviously working well for the Laos since the place is absolutely crawling with tourists who flock to the islands en masse. Wiling away the hours on our swanky deck in our lawn chairs we felt truly relaxed, but ready to keep going. Not even the amazing lemon honey juice could keep us tied down and the next morning we headed off for another trek north.

The boat trip to get out of the island was an experience given the extremely low water levels and jagged rocks everywhere. Only the sheer skill of our boatman kept us from going in the drink and we quickly understood why a night crossing would have been sheer folly. Arriving in the rathole of a little village on the mainland, we were dumped at a waiting area with hoards of other tourists and they just kept coming. Chaos reigned as there didn't seem to be any method to the madness of transporting us all north. An hour later, we were stuffed on the bus, but there was no room for our bags, so they piled them in the aisle, some 6 bags deep! Given the sheer volume of tourists in this area, the lack of organization was surprising and hadn't been experienced anywhere else in our trip.

Knowing that we were getting off before everyone else, I grabbed my pack just before it got buried under the others and had it between my legs such that I felt like I was riding a horse for the duration of the trip! And since the seat in front of me was broken, I also felt that I was sitting with an Israeli guy in my lap as he couldn't help but fall backwards into me! As I kept saying to Kurt, "I'm so glad that it's a short trip!" And after 2 hours of a permanent groin stretch, the bus stopped and six of us had to find a way out with our bags! Imagine if you will, walking down the aisle, stepping on bags the entire way while dragging your pack behind you. I kept apologising hoping that noone had anything breakable in their bags while I gingerly hopped along. Outside, off the bus, we began to relax as the bus receded into the distance and we were treated with the gorgeous scenery of the Mekong again.

Only 6 of us weren't on the same tourist track so we crossed with our own boatman who overcharged us and didn't want to give us our change as is quite common here in Laos in our experience. After a few false starts with horrible hotels, we found a new hotel not quite finished being built where we bunked into our sparkling fresh room for the night. First however, we tried to find lunch which turned out to be quite the experience. Despite having heard from many about the friendliness of the Lao people, in two restaurants the staff were completely disinterested in serving us. Finally did manage to procure something to eat in this absolutely filthy place where it was cooked veggies only to avoid getting sick! Later as we wandered the town, most people scowled at us or looked away which we found strange after the hospitality of Cambodia.

That aside, the little town of Champasak was beautifully situated, the Mekong on one side and on the other, the mountains in the distance and verdant rice fields with the green stalks blowing in the wind. Many old French colonial buildings stood, flanking the narrow road and in between older wooden buildings in various states of decay gave character to the town. The houses are well kept with gardens of flowers everywhere. A little boutique hotel newly opened and elegantly lit up at night, suggested that mass tourism is on the rise. And while there were some tourists, the locals outnumbered us and the chanting from the wat was the only sound except for the children running in the streets collecting money door to door to add to their money tree!

Unfortunately that evening, the least of our problems turned out to be our hard as a board bed, as we were up half the night as Kurt's dinner was revisited and revisited. From hot to cold, he had a miserable eve and in the morning took it easy as I found a way to grab a ride to Pakse thereby avoiding the slow and painful local buses. While he rested, I went with our newly hired driver out to the raison d'etre for our visit to that area, the highly evocative Wat Pu Champasak. Sources suggest that the temple has been worshipped since the 5th century and is reminiscent of the Angkor style. At the height of its power, this temple formed an important stronghold on the road to Angkor to which it is connected.

On this day the ruins were atmospheric in the mist of the mountains which shrouded the entire area in a pale fog. While a light, warm rain fell, I wandered up the long promenade to the first terraced area and the ruins that are currently being restored before ascending the steep, steep steps through the fragrant air of the frangipani trees that overgrew the path. Old, twisted and overgrown, the national tree of Lao, covered the path in branches, the air ripe with the scent and blossoms falling on you with every step as the pathway did not reveal the wonders at the top. Higher and steeper I climbed to finally reach the little temple on the top with its intricate carvings of Aspara dancers and other Indian symbols like Ganesh. In the inner sanctum, the large Buddha was flanked by offerings of paper flowers reminscent of the Burmese temples.

High up on the cliffside, but hidden from below, the view was a wonder to behold with the rice fields in the distance, the walkway and matching ponds on either side and the shiva lingas directing one home. With few tourists, and those who were there seemly also mesmerized by its charms, I rested at the top and soaked in its charm. It was a key temple in the road to Angkor and is still the site today of a huge pilgrimage and festival every year.

Climbing down, went back to collect my little sick one and head on to Pakse where there would be better tourist infrastructure and a lifeline to Thailand with the border just over the bridge, in the worst case scenario. Our driver brought his whole extended family along for the ride as he drove us on to this ricketty ferry that crossed the Mekong, the pads to drive on barely wide enough for a car tire which made for an exciting entry and exit! BC Ferries this was not! The sellers on the ferry were doing a brisk business from the tourists with their wide smiles.

Entering Pakse the city seemed huge and spread out after being in the tiny village of Champasak and finding our hotel turned out to be a challenge as no one seemed to know where it was including the Lonely Planet who had printed the address incorrectly! Ooops! Finally paid him for his trouble and started walking only to find it right away! And after a day here and walking the city's core, it doesn't seem so large to us, but full of character with its gorgeous colonial buildings, magnificent wat along the river, and excellent coffee shops full of character where you can easily sink into the chairs and watch the hours slip by. All in all, the perfect place for Kurt to rest up which he has been doing and me to get caught up on internet.

Tomorrow we continue on our epic journey north, breaking things up by only going as far as Savannaket. By now, we are significantly wiser, knowing that in order to arrive anywhere in the daylight that you must leave early in the day and also add at least 1-2 hours to travelling time to be realistic! Right now we are expecting our alleged local bus to take 5-6 hours which really means anywhere from 6-8 hours with a start time up to an hour after it is scheduled to depart! ; ) We will let you know how we get on in my next installment ...

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Photos

Near the waterfalls on Don Khon
Note how small the bike is!