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Slowwww Boat
There she be. Ain't it prrty! BAM! My head hits the wood railing separating me from the mighty Mekong. I snap up, blurry-eyed and delirious. John muses at my mishap. Thankfully my sunglasses saved a blackeye. John shows me a photo of myself bent against the side of the boat, beer drifting out of fist, mouth ajar and ready to drool.
We still have two hours to go. It's been a long while since I last slept. We still have two hours to go. Plus nine hours tomorrow. This is quite the inefficient, uncomfortable experience. And to think I thought it rough when it all started twenty hours ago!
THE LONG SLOW TRIP:
Tuesday, 900pm. Aya overbooks the VIP van from Pai to Chiang Khong--an eight hour ride through the night. Seven falangs (local lingo for 'foreigner') from England want to roll together so the magic disappearing number is three. The Texas trio trade their seats for a two hour truck ride (after which they will rendezvous with another van and redeem their valued seats).
After some interrogating and negotiating, we're off to slalom the mountains. Wind whips over our knees and through our hair. Stars swim laps through a black and bottomles
Falangs!
A bunch of dirty, sweaty foreigners on a long wooden boat. sky. We speed past the trees, pointing and cheering for their favorite stars. Two hours screech by as the temperature and my eyelids begin to drop.
1130pm. We arrive at the drop spot. The truck ride was a bit bothersome but also beautiful. I'd never seen a more expansive diamond-studded sky before. It looked like a jewler tossed all his crystals into an ocean of black. So despite some miscues, hours one and two weren't such a hastle.
The next six hours sucked! We tossed and turned like hysterical heroine addicts fighting withdrawls. Our van tumbled through the trees, swanging and banging down the mountain, impossible to sleep.
We arrive at the Laotian border in Chiang Khong at around 530am. Sweaty and sleep-deprived, we sit around for two and a half hours until the border crossing opens. During our languish we meet Cat and Andy (a Scottish-Irish couple) and Dr. Rice (a Brit, but not a doctor at all). We eat breakfast and play cards until finally able to cross countries.
Now in Laos, we go through the most absurdly inefficient, convoluted process of checking passports and getting visas. Back home, such blatant disregard for efficiency
The Mighty Mekong
Our view from the boat. would make me flip out. Luckily I've been able to suppress my western standards of living and accept the slower, eastern processes. Instead of getting frustrated, I find it kind of funny.
Anyway, after finally getting our visas and exchanging some Thai bhat for the immensely inflated Laotian kip ($1 = 8,600kip), we board our long boat on the might Mekong and await departure for our two-day float to Luang Prabang. (The would-be simple process of loading passengers onto the boat was another display of Laotian ineptitude in efficiency).
The boat finally pushes away from shore at close to noon despite having a scheduled departure time of 1000am. So at this point, we've been traveling for 15 hours on minimal sleep and our two-day boat ride is just uner way. I felt surprisingly good for someone who'd not slept the night before, and slept on a floor the night before that.
We immediately make friends with our surrounding passengers, our fellow falangs. Two cool English couples and a crazy S. African guy. We all talk shit, play cards and drink plenty of Beerlao. This continues for hours, as there's absolutely nothing else to do on a 60-foot
wooden boat with 80 people and some tiny wooden benches.
As 3 o'clock rolls around, I plug my ears with my ipod and stare out over the Mekong at the gorgeous mountains trickling by. All of sudden, the Beerlaos in my blood make friends with my sleep deprivation and they decide to yank the covers over my consciousness.
BAM! My head hits the wood railing separating me from the mighty Mekong. John muses at my mishap.
That was the best stint of sleep I'd had in a long time. Two bad it was a measly 30 minutes. It's only 4 o'clock. We still have two hours to go. My mind is dumb. My body is numb. My back wants a massage. My nose wants a shower. My teeth want cleaning.
I rest my chin and elbows on the wood railing and gaze emptily at the passing scenery. As John and I sit there, drained of all energy, delirious and desperate for land, Mykal somehow gathers more strength and is in the middle of a heated game of Uno with the English chaps. I don't know how he does it.
Finally. 630pm. We get off the
Temple Ruins
Someone needs a carpenter. boat and find the "fat man", a large Laotian who will take us to our guesthouse. Check in. Nap. Eat dinner. Drink Beerlao. Sleep.
900am. Back on the boat. Thanks to the controlling stubbornness of some of our Israeli friends, this morning's boarding process is a bit more efficient. (The Laotians always tried to cram everyone on one boat when we obviously needed two. So the Isrealis--in their stubborn refusal to board the first boat--helped them realize this need). More cards. More backgammon. More Beerlao. We also make more friends--a couple from the Netherlands. Thanks to a decent night's sleep, this eight hour ride is much easier than the six hour journey the day before.
500pm, Thursday evening. Arrive in Luang Prbang. Oh sweet continental land! I've never appreciated dirt and concrete so much before.
A stinky situation ain't always gotta be shitty.
True, the slowboat ride was a physically and emotionally draining 44 hour process filled with nearly a hundred musky, sweaty falangs, but those falangs--my rambling brethren--help make such an ass-hatin' trip actually bearable.
I initially imagines the ride to be pretty painful, but in the end, the literal pain in my ass
Tat Kuang Si Waterfall
Just outside of Luang Prabang, Laos. subsided, and the joy of sharing such a unique experience with total strangers prevailed. We met some super-cool people, and thanks to that painful 44 hour excursion, our crew has multiplied and John now knows people to stay with when (if) he goes to Holland.
In the end, two days of sleep-deprived, spine-numbing slow-boating was a great trade for befriending more travelers. Not to put it on par with our stay in Fang, but traveling and living with other falangs is a nice culture shock in itself.
LOOKING AHEAD:
We just spent the last four days in Van Vieng where we floated the river and trekked through some sick caves. We're now in Vientiane waiting to get on a bus for 22 hours to Cambodia. Another long slow trip in the making.
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