It really is the little things in life

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Much time has passed and joyously little has happened in the last few days.

One last night in Luang Prabang meant a Lao style BBQ, which is a little like a meat and vegetable fondue arrangement over hotcoals with my trusty australian posse. The BBQ is a metal dish with raised centre, which is surrounded by a trough, all of which perches (precariously at times) over the top of a bucket of hot coals in the centre of the table. Thin slices of meat are placed on the raised centre, while broth, vegetables, egg and what ever else you fancy it would seem, are loaded up in the trough around the centre. As the meat and soup are cooked, you help yourself and each of the ingredients is topped up; the broth was from a rather dinky old teapot. Like most cook- our-own meals this was more show than fine cuisine, but it was good fun, and I even managed half a glass of Beerlao, which, as far as beer goes for me, is quite drinkable (but only half a glass worth, after that it starts to taste all funny again...).

This was all done and dusted by a fairly respectable hour, so it was back to the night market, but by then my lingering cold had turned into a doozy of a sinus headache, so I went in search of a steam bath.

This one was again in someone's house, but thankfully they had a changing room and a light in the steam room too, rather sophisticated compared to my Phonsovan experience. Half an hour later, I could almost breath again, so back to my 10 person dorm for nightynights; I had a big day ahead of me.

It was an early start, primarily because my goldfish brain had forgotten what time the boat left, so out to get my ticket at the crack of dawn (ok, maybe an hour after it, but it's so cold and misty at this time of the day, you can't really be sure). Back again to annoy the remaining sleeping roommates as I rustled plastic bags and packed in the gloomy dim light of the bunker room (leaving behind the only towel I brought with me too, I'll add!), then down to the river for the slow boat to Nong Khiaw.

The trip involved travelling 2 hours up the Mekong to the Nam Ou (which means Ou River; look at me, I'm sooo multilingual). The Mekong is such an icon, but the reality is it's pretty dirty; an international highway where people live, wash, travel and many nations also pollute. The contrast of the Nam Ou was remarkable; the water was a beautiful emerald green and alternated between mirror flat, rumbling rapids and a slightly too shallow patch where the driver and his trusty sidekick (all means of transport here have a driver and an assistant, even when they are so overcrowded that people are sitting in the aisles on plastic stools) got undressed to their jockeys (from the many times I've seen this happen, they all seem to wear good solid Laos Blue. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable admitting to noticing this point...) and leapt in to the knee deep water to pull us along through the strong current. The scenery was wonderful: sheer karst cliffs, mountains, bamboo forests, water buffalo just being water buffalo, children playing and other small boats plying up and down the river. People really do live on these rivers, and if the property developers hear about it, it'll be all over.

But the highlight of the trip was the loo. No really. Even at home, I will go a long with my my teeth clenched if a toilet is too distasteful, so coming across this little gem was a real pleasure.

When we got onboard a few other travellers were complaining that didn't see how they could possible get in to the bathroom, as it seemed to be a small box, about 3ftx3ftx3ft. That was until our trusty driver man came and rearranged the baggage, jumped inside the box and flipped open the roof! It was the sunniest spot on the whole boat, and the really was a loo with a view. Privacy assured as it was still of the asian squat variety, but the sun and the manual flushing system (a bucket of water) meant that it was pristine!

I loved this trip, but lets not forget the tiny little boat, the cold that never warmed up and the bloody noisy motor. Once again, I'm grateful for earplugs. And I'll confess to wanting the last 3 hours of the 7 hour trip to be over!

Anyway, happily arrived, six of us traipsed up the steep steps to the dusty village then up and over the chinese built bridge (ie concrete), all like rats following Ricky, the South African Pied Piper who had been travelling to far off places (I believe he really enjoyed Angola...) almost all of his life (he had to be at least 65) and preferred to do as much as possible of it stoned. Ricky had been here before, in fact he had returned to Luang Prabang only the day before but decided he didn't like it so would turn around and come back! A fine recommendation I think...

I checked in to my $3 a night bamboo room, then ventured out to the terrace that overlooked the river. This would be a bit of a theme for the next few days. It was just such a relaxing place and I didn't really feel like moving. Which is just as well, as it was at this point that I started to feel a little unwell, turning to painful stomach cramps during the night and you can probably guess the rest. The worst of it was over by the the middle of the next morning, but I did feel a bit rocky for the next couple of days. But let me tell you, one small thing I really appreciate in life besides a warm bed, good food and good conversation: being able to fart with confidence! Ah! Luxury!

There wasn't a great deal to see in the village, and feeling iffy, I decided not to go on the two trek to stay in a hill tribe village. Instead, I stayed put with Esther, a fantastic lass from Switzerland, with whom I had a lot of fun. She was mighty gracious and let me speak german with her a lot, which was great for me, as I haven't practised it for ages. It's a strange phenomenon, but when I try to speak with german friends or in front of kiwi friends, I get all nervous and the pressure gets to me. But with complete strangers, I don't feel this pressure, and my german is pretty bloody good, if I do say so myself!

We wandered off to see a nearby cave that villagers had lived in during the American War (you know, that secret one that never really happened); it was pretty spectacular. We walked through terraced rice paddies to reach it, then climbed at least 20ft up a very steep flight of stairs, which replaced the bamboo ladder that would have been used by the more nimble Laos villagers. It meanders through for quite a way, and there is still some evidence of the mini township that was set up inside, including a bullet resistant sand buffered chamber for the Chairman of the Provisional Government of Laos and his table and chair.

When we left the cave, we walked further in search of another cave, but instead came across a small village where everyone was out cooking, children playing on the road, chickens and pigs snuffling and digging around in the dust, dogs were running around, old ladies sat and watched us past, boys were playing Kataw (a bit like volleyball, but with a bamboo ball and only feet and head allowed), someone was chopping bamboo and everyone waved and said Sabai dee! It really was so idyllic, that it was difficult to remember that this was subsistence living. It's easy to idealise everything as a rich falang, but the smiles and curious looks were genuine, as were the tough teenage boys pretending not to notice us! Sadly, we had to turn back as it was getting dark, and we were anxious about walking back in the dark.

The following day, Esther and I decided we'd better check out how we were going to get away if we could force ourselves, so we mosied (really, it was very languid) back across the bridge, found out the times, then carried on moseying through this village. We were just kicking up some dust when we heard a call to come and drink some lao lao.

Sitting in his front courtyard was our new friend, with a few of his friends, sitting at a low table with some bits of chicken, a bowl of raw fish and chilli and a big decanter of lao lao with what was "herbal medicine"; it looked a hell of a lot like hunks of wood to me. With his elderly mother watching on, we were offered a small tumbler of laolao. This is a local whiskey distilled from stickey rice, and can be a particularly lethal brew. This one tasted fine, but I only had three half tumblers and was definitely feeling the effects. Esther was braver and had full glasses; and thus we learnt the word for drunk in Lao: Mao. Kind of appropriate that it rhymes with laolao me thinks.

We never traded names, so let's call him Jim for the sake of personification. His friends had to leave us, possibly because their english wasn't up to it and our Lao really can't cope beyond hello, thankyou and now, drunk, although Jim was doing a great job of playing translator and we were all having a great laugh. Jim told us about his life, how he had been born in one of the caves during the war and lived there for the first 5 years of his life, he was a local school teacher and vice-principal, and was uncharacteristically ambitious for a laotian, expanding his building empire by building a second house, so that his current house could be opened as a guest house and he could take falang trekking to the cave where he was born. He had a beautiful wife, the educated daughter of a high up official who he married later than most, but he refused to tell her that we thought she was beautiful as this would cost him too much money!!! We stayed about an hour, with the divine Mrs Jim bringing us fresh papaya to eat (having laid off the laolao!), before we ambled off again.

This was about as active as we got in three days, but it was wonderful, especially after the tourist throng of Luang Prabang, where I returned to again by slow boat the following day. I decided to opt for a touch of luxury, and splashed out on a $10 room. So spoilt!

I'm actually writing this over a week later, from a place called Luang Nam Tha, but so much has happened in between, that I may to catch up with everything after I get home!!

For now, I spent 2 more nights in LP, going strong at the market and visiting a spectular waterfall about 45 mins out of town by mad tuktuk ride; fortunately I was able to share the cost of this with a swiss couple, as one of downfalls of travelling solo is the cost of paying for everything alone. The waterfall itself was no big deal, very tall, but I've seen lots of waterfalls at home, so I don't really get that excited about them. What made this one so special was the series of milky turquoise blue pools the dropped down below. With the sun dropping in, they glowed they something from Cocoon, and made excellent swimming holes, and for me the first swim since I've been here. I couldn't find out what made the water this colour, but I guess it is limestone, and would also account for why my hair and skin felt so soft afterwards. Sadly, this was all undone again by the dusty, breezy ride back to town!

I met up with Rolf and Andrea later at one of the upmarket restaurants for what I thought was food that was once prepared by the kitchen of Luang Prabang's Royal Palace in days of Yore. Whether it was or not, I'll never be certain, and to be honest, most of it didn't really do much for me, except the Laap, which you can get at any restaurant or market stall (watch out for tripe) in Laos. Having said that, we had linen napkins and fine service for less than USD15 each, so who can complain!!

Then I went to the internet cafe where I learnt that the excursion that I had been planning on doing for the last 6 months was in actual fact booked for the dates that I wanted, as they kind of ignored my first email, bastards!!! I was furious, as I'd already booked a flight from Houe Saiy back to Vientiane, but had no other reason to go there!!

In a bit of a tither, I decided to carry on as per my plan to travel up river towards Houe Saiy, possibly stopping half way hope at a town called Pak Beng and travelling north by road. Decisions decisions...

The river trip to Houe Saiy is a two day epic by slow boat; there are speedboats (really just small wooden boats with faster propellers on them, not fancy jet boats) on offer that cut the time in half, but they are painfully noisy, uncomfortable, and have a poor safety record: the crash helmets and life vests should be a enough of a warning sign, and the river is low at this time of year, so the risk of hitting something is even higher. Not an option for me. So I decided I would try to break it up even more, and stopped off at a small dusty milling spot about 2 hours down river from the first stop. From here, it was a dusty bouncy ride by jumbo (a flat bed truck with a bench down each side and metal roof with decorative filagree metal sides), with about 15 other people, a lot of bags, a bicycle and a poor chicken that was perched in a bamboo cage on the dustiest spot on the back step. It took about an hour to climb up and over the steep, windy road, with stunning views down the valleys, the roads heavily rutted by large lumber trucks, although most of the time, the roads were more like sanddunes. This was hellish, and I loved it!!!

My fellow falang were a french couple who had been to south of Laos 3 years before, so were back for 2 weeks in the north, and a 3 man troupe of Austrian lads. I made the mistake of trying to speak german to them, and their thick accent, even when they weren't speaking their own dialect, was far too much for me to cope with. My linguistic delusions of grandeur were getting the better of me; to be fair most germans can't understand them either, so I feel a little better knowing that!

We finally arrived in the flat, strangely spaced out town of Hongsa and were greeted by a slightly cheesy guesthouse proprietor, who grossly overcharged us for our dirty rooms, but with little else around, this was the main option. At least the shower was mostly warm.... Straight away the negotiations started for the purpose of the trip: an elephant ride! The main reason (nay, possibly only reason) for people come to Hongsa is the nearby conservation and vet centre for elephants. A price was struck and a time set, so we (the french couple Stephanie and Louric) were walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner (it was dark outside, and we had no idea where we going, so it was really appreciated!).

Our guide was a local schoolboy who used the opportunity to practise his english and treat us to his lovely singing voice, as he serenaded us all the way back to the guesthouse. He had dropped us off and returned about 45 mins later to take us back again! What a service!

The next morning, the elephants arrived early, but one short for all 6 of us to go, so the austrians opted to leave it out altogether, although there was room on my elephant for one (sadly this meant I had to pay it in full as well!). We climbed on using the platform in the front garden and plodded off through the village in the direction of the town.

My wee girl was a delight. Not very large, so I'm going to guess that asian elephants are much smaller than african, but please don't quote me, she might have just been a little on the small side. On the one or two occasions when she was being slightly disobedient, my mahout would give her a stern word and a bit of a push behind the ears from his position on her head. Once or twice she let out the most incredible grumble that I felt all the way through me!

The walk took about 2 hours, which really is long enough as the sitting platforms are not that comfortable! Sadly, we arrived back and we were whisked straight on to a waiting jumbo back to the river so that the others might make the boat back to Luang Prabang. I was a little disappointed as I would have liked to actually spend some time with the elephants, but was told this wasn't possible anyway, as they were required in the forest to work with the other elephants. So that will have to go on my list of things to do one day (it's still a bloody long list).

Repeat journey back over the wild and dusty road, except it was a lot less fun this time as I'd missed out on a loo stop in the rush to get away. We arrived only to find that they had missed the boat by a very long time anyway! So we settled in for a four hour wait at basic little stand in the sand waiting for my boat, and some other arrangement, which turned out to be a chartered speedboat for the others.

I taught Louric and Stephanie how to play the card game I'd been taught and the woman running the stand was giving me lots of advice (all in laos, but still very helpful!), while she worked away rapidly at a traditional cross stitch and made us two minute noodles in a wok over an open fire! Then they were away, and I was the only falang, to be watched at curiously by local men and children while I tried to remember any single card games other than Patience!

Then my boat arrived, and I loaded up my backpacks and was directed up the narrow gangway to the deck of the logging ship being filled with logs, over the deck, precariously stumbled over the corner of the hold as the direct route was blocked by a log, then along another narrow little gangplank, always thinking I would over balance and end up in the murky waters of the Mekong! Then, I was aboard the massive speedboat. The seats had been removed from this one, and apart from a woman and a pig in a sack, I was the only passenger, the falang service still behind us.

This was a marvellous trip! No crowding, just sitting on the floor in the sun, writing in my journal and watching the scenery drift by all the way to Pak Beng.

What a shit hole.

On the surface it has some charm, with touts for restaurants and guesthouses coming to greet you, but given that I ended up in a room with dirty sheets and a cold shared shower for $4 I was not feeling chirpy. I wandered up and down looking at all the restaurants (this took about an hour or so, but I walked up and down about 20 times), before I finally acquiesced and dropped in to one. I had been looking for one with plenty of falang that I might be able to talk to to help me decide what to do next. Luckily, I chose the right one.

The service was slow, but it didn't matter as the owner brought round the laolao and gave everyone a shot, which got the conversation started between myself, a dutch couple at the next table and a tubby older englishman at another. They had all come from Thailand, so couldn't really give me advice about going north, but talked me into continuing on to Houe Saiy on the Thai Border to see if I could still get on the Gibbon Experience last minute. If that failed, then I should cross into Thailand for a few days. OK, seemed plausible. So that was my plan.

The trip the next day was another good one, I got there early enough to get a great seat, near the front, and sat next to someone I had met on a tour at the Plain of Jars, so time went quickly with someone to talk to. The previous trip I had gotten a seat at the back on a plastic seat, like the sort of cheap garden furniture you get at hardware stores. Right in front of a monk...

I spent much of the trip, earplugs in, trying to block out the noise of the motor and the squeals of a painful australian girl and her boyfriend who were playfighting and kissing and cuddling in front of the monk!! At the risk of sounding like a nana, but the Laos find loud demonstrative behaviour embarrassing, so I was mortified for this monk!!

I was relieved to leave them in Tha Soung, and thrilled I didn't see them again in Pak Beng. I did have a pleasant evening in the restaurant, but the Laos like to shut up early, and it turns out the generators go off at 10.30, so I was back in my horrible room at the guesthouse when the lights went out, and had to continue writing in my journal and reading by torchlight.

My torch came in handy later, when after less than two hours sleep I was woken by a bloody rooster! I couldn't get back to sleep, so was still awake when the rat came to check out what food I had put in the rubbish an hour or so later. Needless to say, I struggled to get back to sleep after this, and it was only after the monks had banged their drums and gongs at 4.30 to call to prayer that I managed to doze off again, only to be woken by motorbikes, generators and more bloody roosters at about 6.30.

I was feeling a little grumpy....

Quick brekkie, and a take away baguette, on to the boat and onwards to Houe Saiy. We arrived shortly before sunset, and a parade of us set off walking into the centre of town to look for the Gibbon Experience office, as a lot of people were booked for the next day. Sadly, there was no space for me.

That meant I got up early this morning to check out buses, banks and changing air tickets.

But I'm hungry now, so will tell you more about that epic later!!!

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Photos

Cliffs at Pak Ou,
Basically, to get to Nong Khiaw, you travel 2 hours upriver along the Mekong from Luang Prabang, at Pak Ou you take a right and keep going up the Nam Ou for about 5-6 hours....

Shallow bit, Nam Ou
Being the dry season, the river is a bit low, so there was a short stretch when our boat handlers had to leap out and pull the boat upstream, scraping over the pebbly bottom. Sadly, you can't see the standard issue royal blue undies. A real trip highlight...

Boat trip, Nam Ou
This seemed so familiar to me, and it took me only seconds to realise that this mountain looked almost identical to Mitre Peak looming over Milford Sound at home... Didn't feel homesick at all. Honest.

Boat trip, Nam Ou
The view from the front deck

Nong Khiaw
Yours truely looking glamorous again. The Sunset Guesthouse where I stayed and ate and basically relaxed is over my right shoulder. Down a steep flight of steps behind me is landing point for river boats, and surrounding me but out of the shot are a crowd of local men, standing, looking bemused, watching Esther take this photo about 4 times before my vanity allowed me to accept this one.

Pile of Rubbish, Nong Khiaw
You may note the bamboo fish trap, the rusty old drum and the US bomb casing...

Back in Luang Prabang
Temple at the top of Phusi (the H is silent, you figure the rest out and try not to giggle like a smutty school boy..)

Back in Luang Prabang
View of LP and Mekong from Phusi

The waterfall
Just because it's obligatory. Much better shots to come....

En route back to LP from the waterfall
I just took this cos it was pretty. No other reason.

One night, out shopping
Seduced by the Luang Prabang night market

The finest soft drink in the world
It's just a little impractical, as you need such a huge knife to take the cap off, and I don't think it would fit in many kids' lunchboxes....

Comments

[Mark T]

Aussie Posse
It sounds like you are still having fun. I am not sure I like the sound of an "Aussie Posse" it sounds like you where travelling with a thai boy band.