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Published: April 8th 2009
Hello again! You’ll find us now in Vietnam, but let’s catch you up on how we got here. Go get a glass of wine if you’re home, lock the office door if you’re at work, put your feet up and relax...we're going to be here a while. Better yet, print it out and take it to bed, I'll have you asleep in ten minutes 😊
After getting back from the Philippines we had a few days to kill in Bangkok before heading up to Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand for some trekking, relaxing, a little bit of culture and hopefully a lot less of the cancerous debauchery that has invaded southern Thailand and seems to have metastasized in its otherwise spectacular islands. We got our bus tickets, headed over to the bus, sat down and mentally settled into that state of mind you learn to adapt when embarking on an overnight journey along roads whose state of disrepair can only be compared to that of the buses that travel their lengths and challenge their potholes. I think at this point after a year of such "overnighters," if we chose to learn the art of meditation, we could do so with
an ease that would impress Buddha. As a funny side note, they actually say "Oh my Buddha!" in these parts.
Anyways, this particular bus trip has had some interesting considerations. I once had the pleasure of watching Deepak Chopra speak in New York with a good mate of mine (Hey Jan, what's up dude?), and the theme of his talk was that nothing in life is a coincidence. To use his words, as you live your life keep your eyes open for "the conspiracies of coincidence" that can serve as signs for you to follow on the road of life if you pay attention to them. Now that may be mumbo jumbo or he may be more in tune with the universe than I, but the concept certainly sprang to mind when the two people sitting next to us on a random bus headed to northern Thailand turned out to be two people we shared a hostel with nine months prior in pretty much the middle of nowhere in Brazil. Think about it! We did the whole "holy sh*t...were you in Parity nine months ago?" thing, and confirmed the coincidence when they reminded me that I had opened a
Lovely Ladies
big and small in harmonycan of tuna for them in a crappy little kitchen, so many miles ago. I mention this not only because of the pretty bizarre coincidence, but because on a larger scale they were merely the first two of a slew of people we have subsequently ended up either randomly spending time or traveling with for the last seven weeks, all of whom can be traced back to that same exact bus trip. I should point out that it's a very common and frequent bus trip making all this even less likely. Mr. Chopra, as I'm sure you’re an avid reader of this blog...what does it all mean? Is the universe really trying to tell us the English love their pints, the Irish love their rugby and the Cannucks love their nature...I think we knew that already, there must be more to it than that...if I ever see a racehorse called "bus to Chiang Mai" I'll be betting the farm on it...well, at least the apartment...what am I talking about, we don't have one of those either . I'll be betting a double bed and a dinner table on it...let’s hope it’s a long shot!
Chiang Mai is a cool
Gentle Giants
"be the elephant!" little town with more charm and authenticity than most of the Thailand we had encountered and serves as a home to many temples each having a rich history and worthy of a spot in most photo albums of the region. We found a good spot to stay, which we shared with a quality bunch of people...all coincidentally from "the bus" (this will become a theme) and I'd say we generally had a blast just enjoying some of the local sights, flavors, and more particularly, each others company. An extra treat, and a further coincidence (at this point I was beginning to think we were somehow trapped in the TV show Lost) we happened to find out that Eric And Eliza, two friends we made in Borneo, (for those following along), were also in Chiang Mai, and we went out and had a great night with them culminating at an American style burger stand we found, surely descended from heaven itself to offer our poor souls temporary relief from white rice and noodles. At one in the morning, after many meatless months, and a good reunion amount of frosties, that scrawny little patty of grade f meat on a stale bun
Ronald McBuddah
I must confess, despite all the amazing street food, solice was to be found in McDonald's (and Burger King)...its been a long trip. with old onions was the single greatest hamburger I've ever had in my life, but that’s beside the point.
After a few days we headed off for a three day trek into the far north of the country to get a feel for village life and to experience some of the hill tribes who have lived up there since before people started taking notes on the matter. Besides Lee and Myself, we were joined by five English fellow trekkers (from Hull, Leeds, and London), who also coincidentally happened to be on our bus, and a local tour guide who had an unusual penchant for screaming "F*cking Liverpool" with a rather Tourette's Syndrome like fashion between sentences or just whenever he needed our attention. I don't know if he was a lover or a hater of Liverpool’s soccer team...or perhaps just had Tourette's, but he was nice enough and got us home in one piece, cooking some pretty good grub along the way.
The trek itself was fantastic. We stayed in the typical communal huts of the Pai region, got a pretty decent feel for local life, and ended it with five mates I hope we'll have for life.
Fruit vendor
No reason to fear scurvy. The fruit is cheap, plentiful, and delicious I guess the pictures will paint a clearer picture and will hopefully convey a sense of just how differently so many people in the world get by. People with virtually nothing but the skills they have adapted over time, relying on nature and family bonds to get by and yet so seemingly content with it all. It really makes you do a bit of thinking. As part of the trek we did some elephant riding, a fair amount of walking, navigated spiders the size of dinner plates (poetic license) and more than a few venomous snakes, and did some river rafting on local bamboo canoes. Evenings were spent chatting with the locals, whose elders had a penchant for the old opium pipe, apparently a way of life from time immortal, and what I'm sure is a temporary escape from the hardships of life combined with a lack of access to Nancy Reagan’s "Just Say No!,” program...or TV, Radio, electricity and plumbing for that matter. All in all it was a very worthwhile and educational experience, some decent exercise, and a hell of a lot of laughs. We struck gold with our trekkie mates, they were some funny bastards indeed. We
Pad Thai
Why don't we have these in New York? There is so much more to street food than hot dogs and falafel knew we were in for some giggles when one of them decided to break the ice on the way out of town with his recounting of an experience he had had at the "four floors of whores" establishment in Singapore. It's not that he's a filthy bastard, he's just a really funny one!
Once back in Chiang Mai, our group of trekkers went back to the same hostel where we reunited with others who had done other treks or had just been hanging out in the city for a while and once again we had a solid pack of folks to experience the place with, which was done with enthusiasm and a great deal of fun. At this point we were all supposed to exchange emails, facebooks, etc, etc, and go our separate ways, which in hindsight would have been a stupid thing to do and the decision to keep on trucking together through to Laos proved to be a great one. What a blast, and after nearly a year on the go it was great just to let go and have some unbridled fun without worrying about what temples we were missing or culture we weren’t experiencing for
Our breakfast spot
To be honest the 86th street diner has it beat, but our Bankok breakfast spot served us well. Fresh fruit, Muesli and yogurt for under a buck. a while...there is only so much culture the mental sponge can absorb before it needs a reinvigorating squeeze.
So off we went doing all the usual bus, tuk tuk, bus, tuk tuk, nonsense to the border where I was greeted with a sign stating that under new regulations anyone holding a passport from any country in Africa would have to return to Bangkok to get special permission to enter Laos. After about a day of hard traveling, having to turn around and do another days travel to get back to Bangkok, just to turn around and do another days travel back to the border pretty much threw me into a minor state of shock. Do algebra, wrestle an alligator, sit through a Brittany Spears concert...anything but get on another bus...anything... ANYTHING!!! We collectively decided the best course of action was to just ignore the sign, pretend everything was in order, hand in the paperwork and hope for the best. An hour later I was eating a dried buffalo floss sandwich amongst the citizens of Laos...even a blind dog finds a bone once in a while.
Our first stop in Laos was its capital, Vientiane, which is surely the
Singha
met more than a few of this guy's buddies. better than Chang which is apparently loaded with formaldehyde to get the alcohol content higher...now they tell me!!! most laid back capital city in the world. With a French historical influence and only 300,000 people nestled up along the mighty Mekong river it was a great place to just throw the bags down and catch our breath for a day or two. Most of the sights could be seen in a morning’s walk, with the afternoon reserved for a stroll up the Mekong, culminating in one of the world’s legendary sunsets. Our morning went according to plan but our sunset was cut a few degrees short of the horizon by the haze created by the slash and burn farming that happens in Laos at this time of year. All that wonderful teak furniture we buy at home, built in Chinese factories, is grown in Laos on land destroyed by slash and burning. The money is irresistible to one of the poorest countries in the world, but hey, as long as we have nice coffee tables...( I'd best make sure my soap box isn't teak!!)
From Vientiane, myself and Lee and the British Invasion, as we named the rest our the posse, headed upcountry to the town of Vang Vieng to do what we'd been hearing about pretty
Tom Yum Goong
This will be the first dish i master when we get home. Lee and I are addicted to it. much all the way around the world..."tubing in Vang Vieng." It's pretty hard to describe the place. At the very least it's a complete anomaly, at worst it's a bastardization of a noble and proud people's culture, and at best it’s a hell of a lot of fun. We remain conflicted and I think 50 people would give you fifty different opinions, I guess it is what it is.
The town itself is a little strip along a river. The setting is gorgeous, there is no debating that. The strip itself is a collection of bars and eateries where you would struggle to find food not designed for the western diet. Most of the bars either have Friends, Family Guy, or Southpark pretty much continually running on their TV’s as they try attract their share of the hordes that show up to tube down the river. The bars all have cheap beer and many have their "happy menus" where things such as opium, opium tea, marijuana, marijuana tea, mushrooms, mushroom tea, can be ordered and consumed openly and freely. Keep in mind Laos is a country where the penalty for drug use is death!!! Someone, somewhere is on the
Good bush, Bad Bush
Poor old Goerge takes a hammering in the Thailand T-shirt bazaars take big time. I still don't understand how it all happens in a country that was not opened to the west until 1988 and where it’s impolite to show your shoulders or to hold hands in public. It's quite a bizarre and surreal place, but if you head out to see the world, you may as well see it as it is not as you wish it to be...not that I'm complaining, if you're not hurting anyone else, do what you want! Is it hurting Laos? I don't know, most of South East Asia seems to be selling it's soul to the west, why should they miss out on the tourist dollars, but that’s a debate better left to someone who knows what they're talking about.
The actual "tubing," we found out does not necessitate tubes, which the lady at our guest house thankfully told us before we went and dropped 50,000 kip on renting them. We all hopped in our tuk tuk for the trip upriver to the starting point. How do I describe this...basically it's a makeshift bar on the side of a beautiful river with about 50 to 100 odd tourists hanging out listening to tunes
Me
prepping for some grub. (lee is in charge of selecting pictures for the record) and prepping for the trip downriver. Preparation is done at the makeshift bar which sells buckets of booze, mostly Laos Laos (Laos whisky) and coke, and large bottles of beer (it just oozes culture). Aside the bar is a giant swing set up, which basically involves climbing a tree, grabbing a trapeze apparatus, praying to whichever God you believe in, and hurling yourself through the air until you feel like letting go, at which point you plunge into the river below, hopefully hitting the deeper part of the channel. I should mention that this is not a little swing by any stretch of the imagination, and you'd have to go back to the 1700's before any such thing would be allowed back in the States.
Our posse arrived and found a spot to sit and grab a quick bucket (it's what you do...if you can't beat 'em join ‘em...everyone else was doing it...we like buckets of booze in the sun...take your pick) and watched the show as the locals did their triple flips and the tourists did their "OOOHHHH” belly flops. There I was thinking these people are nuts...that’s freaking high! where's the safety harness? What if you let
Lee
a siamese fighting fish in Siam go too soon? What if you let go too late? The water looks pretty shallow…where’s the nearest hospital? "Where's Lee? Ummm seriously, where’s Lee guys? Guys?" By now I should have known the response... "Uh, she’s up the tree, mate!" Sure enough, before could I yell "get down" (as if that would do anything) or "I promised your parents I'd keep you safe" (sometimes the guilt works a bit), there she goes, flying and hurtling herself through the air. Most people have a swing and let go, not Lee. Back and forth she goes like a pro, perfect form, sticks the landing. "I took a trapeze lesson with Ali once" she tells me!!
When the girl goes first it means only one thing, all the boys HAVE to go next!! We did it 4 weeks ago, I landed pretty clean and still have black and blue butt cheeks. To be honest, bar one as we'll call it, was a lot of fun and after a second round of buckets there was talk of upside down swinging, doubles, back flips...it was time to move on! The crowd then slowly moved downriver to bar two. Those with tubes have a float,
Temple
temples galore...i won't bore you with more... you should have seen all the temples we saw....pure poetry those without simply drift. At bar two you grab a rope that’s been thrown to you and get pulled into a different version of bar one. Same people, same antics just one bucket of booze more festive; different ride however. At bar two you climb up to a zip line where you either have a nice little ride and fall into the river, or succumb to peer pressure and hold on all the way to the stopper at which point you go from 60mph to 0mph, instantly proving Newton was right about the laws of conservation of energy as your forward momentum down the zip line is transferred into your unsuspecting body resulting in contortions of the body and somersaults the envy of any world class gymnast. The real men do it backwards...call me Andrea.
Moving downriver, you go from one bar to the next, more buckets, more rides, more tubing, more mud pits, more mayhem, until finally culminating at "the slide." At the end of the second world war, the Germans were working on a giant cannon that could reach London from Berlin, I believe "the slide" was inspired by such crazy dreams. Once you climb to the
Reunion
We found Eric and Eliza. Lets see who's been paying attenion...where did we meet them? it's a few blogs back top, you check for clearance from the six year old running the safety check. In my case, you check twice more with him and then, basically, you go for a ride! At a guess I'd say it’s about a 35 degree angle for about 50 to 75 meters before you hit the ramp, at which point, if you go head first, you're as close to being superman as you're ever going to get. We'll let the pictures do the talking, but I felt I was airborne long enough to at least be offered an in flight meal.
That’s about Vang Vieng for you. As I said it’s an anomaly. The tourist dollar, verses the assault on a culture. The locals look on with a sort of amazed curiosity. Some of them seem amused at these antics, some seem bewildered that people could act like this. I would think to the elders, girls in bikinis, swinging on trapezes and dancing to club music aside a river is offensive to them, but to the younger generation, many of whom join in the activities, it seems like the greatest thing in the world. I suppose that’s the way it's always been...rock and
Having a laugh
The girls having a giggle at a late night burger standin Chian Mai. The burgers were delicious. roll is evil isn’t it, and jazz was before that?
Ok, so we decided to hang around for a few more days to go “tubing” again. It was also the end of the posse, who had been so much fun to hang around with but would now have to split up and go our separate ways, probably to the great relief of everyone's livers, bones, and budgets. Lee, myself and Dave (of four floors of whores fame), caught a bus further on up the river to Luang Prabang, leaving the boys to a little more tubing and their trip back home It was sad to say our goodbyes to the “lads" Steve, Wayne, Shaun, and "ladesse" Chantelle, we had an amazing time with you guys and we'll be looking forward to the inevitable hysterics we'll have at some point in time over a few pints remembering the times we had. However, FOR GODS SAKE, DON’T JUMP IN THE POOL!!!!, and if you have to, somebody at least keep your clothes on!
Luang Prabang, a Unesco World Heritage Site, brought back sanity, serenity, and culture. It's an amazing place, also nestled along side the Mekong River and home to
Buddah and Lee
(Lee is the one up front) about 100,000 people. Up until 1975 when the communists took over it was the capital of the kingdom of Laos and the seat of government. It is the home of many incredible and important temples, and a place where you're as likely to see an orange clad monk strolling down the street as you are a tourist or vendor peddling fresh fruit or recently butchered meat. The French left such legacies as wine and baguettes (we'll leave the bombs and diatribe for later), which were welcome additions to our diets that had been fairly filled with rice, noodles and Beer Laos for the past few weeks.
Life around Luang Prabang is simple and its inhabitants live simple lives seemingly as dependant on the seasons, family bonds, hard work, and a Buddhist mentality as do most of their fellow countrymen. It is expected for each Laotian Male to spend seven years in a monastery, although not necessarily in a row. I'm guessing it's not quite as much fun as our four expected years at college, but in truth is it’s probably far more rewarding in the context of their lives. Life here along the Mekong has not changed much in
The trek
The start of the trek. 3 days into northen Thailand village life centuries, although becoming a Unesco Heritage Site has brought tourism, expensive hotels, driven prices up, and offers a source of income for the lucky few who can find the jobs. It seems that everyone has dropped the plough to pick up a tuk tuk and once again, as you see fifteen idle tuk tuk drivers for every one with a passenger, you find yourself wondering if tourism is a blessing or a curse. As devastating as a drought can be to a farming community, a drought in tourism, which the entire region is undergoing due to the world’s current problems, is just as severe.
One of Luang Prabang's highlights is the daily giving of the alms. Each morning at six ‘o clock the community members kneel down along the main street (it's improper to be above a monk) to await the hundreds of monks who walk by in a silent line to collect a small pinch of rice or a banana from each "giver" on which they subsist. It was a wonderful thing to watch, until the idiot tourists (and I mean IDIOT in the truest sense of the word) run up and start taking pictures from four feet
The group
we ended up staying together for a lot longer than 3 days, much to the detrement of our livers away like it is feeding time at the zoo. It is extremely disrespectful, especially in Laotian culture. Some of these morons then try give them food which is even more disrespectful, as they don't even bother to bend down or have the food prepared as it is supposed to be. This of course has led to a cottage industry of locals who show up to sell rice to these idiots to give the monks, and this whole beautiful process, born out of the truest sense of giving and community is in the process of becoming a circus. It was disgusting to witness and I can only imagine what goes through the minds of the monks. I think if they were inclined they would tell Unesco to take their World Heritage tag and shove it, but they wouldn’t be so inclined, so I will.
While at Luang Prabang we once again ran into our old buddies Eric and Eliza. They were both spending time volunteering at a place called The Elephant Village, which is a rehab center for elephants that used to work in the logging industry. It is a truly marvelous project and we got to head out there
Snake
the first on a few we came accros and spend a night with them. As their friends we got a little special treatment and not only got to meet and hang out with the local mahouts (elephant drivers/trainers) but other locals who work at the camp and live in the local village nearby. It was really fascinating. A mahout and an elephant usually have a relationship for life, and as we share a common lifespan with these great animals, many of the mahouts have bonds going back with their elephants for many, many years, sometimes all the way back to adolescence. In the hours between the tourist shifts we were able to hang out with the elephants and truth be told, were like kids in a candy shop. On our way out to the camp the four of us stopped at a roadside stall and picked up a big bag of watermelons, and once the tourists were gone for the afternoon we had the thrill of feeding them to the elephants who don't get such treats in one of the world’s poorest countries. We were reminded with a smile that "mahouts like watermelons too" so we made sure everyone got their share, and I think man and beast
alike appreciated the gesture. Watching the youngest elephant go from "what the hell is this you’re trying to feed me" to "damn, where’s the next one?" was comical, heart warming, and gratifying at the same time.
After a hard days work at camp, which ends around 2pm, we headed down to the local village to a "bar" owned by one of the camp workers for a few cold beer Laos and an education in the game of Petanque, which is a sort of Bocce. As friends of Eric and Eliza, we were welcomed with open arms, warm smiles, and customary shots of Laos Laos (over and over again). I suspect they would have been just as welcoming to anyone, as in our experience the people of Laos are remarkably friendly and hospitable. They don't have a lot but they will share what they have and they seemed to love having some new and foreign peoples in their midst .
This hospitality can be a double edged sword. After kicking our butts at petanque (the bet was two large beers a game, which were shared equally and happily amongst the losers), we were invited to sit with them as
Trekking
Lee..ding the way some food had been prepared for us. This sounded fantastic and was indeed called for after all that Laos Laos that would have been too rude to turn down (like that was going to happen anyways), and beer Laos in the hot sun. Do you remember the scene in Indiana Jones when he sat down to an unrefusable meal of eyeball soup and what not? It wasn't quite that bad but one inch cubes of pure water buffalo fat with skin you could chew for a year did not go down easy. There we sat, trying to be polite. There they sat being truly polite, mouths watering, wondering why we weren’t tucking in to such a treat. Eric and I managed a piece or so each, mine taken in pill form with a giant sip of beer or snuck under the table to a very grateful dog. We could then invite them to join us which they thanked us for (they thanked us for inviting them to share the food they especially prepared for us, such is the culture). Thankfully, the buffalo fat disappeared shortly thereafter...but we weren’t out the woods yet. One of the head mahouts who we had
Flowers
these don't grow in soil, but rather on the side of trees and have lots of different colors and styles been at the table with had sent his wife home to butcher a chicken and had invited us to dinner with him and his family. It was a wonderful, humbling, and eye opening experience. Pan and his family share a one cinderblock room (I counted one great grandma, two grandmas, a wife, sister or sister in law, a couple of kids and a baby or two). The room had a fridge, a television and some sleeping mats. I would bet the chicken his wife butchered was a considerable sacrifice for the family, made more obvious by the fact that when the fridge was opened it only contained a single bottle of water, which of course was summarily shared amongst us. The chicken stew we were served gave credence to the saying that "no protein is wasted in Asia." I politely ate my claw and dorsal aorta, thankfully with enough sticky rice to disguise it mentally for long enough to get it down. Smiles all around...I must have liked it if I finished it...here have some entrails, how about an eyeball?
I think we agreed that the whole experience was one of the greatest of the trip, buffalo fat, eyeballs
Flowers
some more of them and all. The people of Laos are wonderful, willing to give so much of what little they have. We were treated like royalty, I'm sure in part because of the respect they obviously have for Eric and Eliza, two crazy westerners who came to volunteer, live in a tent, and help their beloved elephants at a place that otherwise has no volunteer program to speak of. Elephants, Laotians, Eric and Eliza, all pretty cool indeed! Eric and Eliza, thanks again for a great experience, and congrats on the engagement (and inviting us to splurge on pizza and wine to celebrate with you)!
Once back in Luang Prabang we had some decisions to make. Logistically we had lost Dave, who had moved on to Vietnam with time constraints, but had met back up with our Irish mate Brian, whom we are still traveling with...and believe it or not...was on that same bus to Chiang Mai. Getting to Hanoi from Laos is a real hassle from where we were. We could either take a 27 hour bus to the middle of the country and then head a further 10 hours upcountry into Hanoi, which quite frankly would have been akin to
Trekking
at this point I think we were looking for a tuk tuk. Who said there was so much walking involved in trekking sticking a red hot poker into both my eyeballs while you dipped me in an acid bath (WE'RE GETTING A LITTLE TIRED OF BUSES). There was a rumor that there was a border post that had opened to foreigners recently, located about two days up a river, which apparently intersects with a road, on which a bus may or may not be found, going towards the border that of course may or may not be open. If all this would work out we had to hope that we could get a boat to another boat to another boat to eventually get to the road...but for goodness sake...anything but the bus. So off we went.
With risk comes reward. The next two days going up river into the far northern reaches of Laos was incredible. The scenery was stunning. Witnessing life and wildlife on the river was amazing. The fact that the little flat bottomed boat could actually navigate up rapids like some crazed salmon was a miracle, in some places the river was less than a foot deep. What was probably the most amazing thing about the trip was that we were traveling through some of the most heavily
Strike up the band
we were entertained in camp by the local musician bombed real estate in history. In fact, as a country, Laos does hold the distinction of being the most heavily bombed nation in the history of the world. During the Vietnam war, over the course of nine years, half-a-million bombing missions dropped more than 5 million tons of ordnance on Laos, most of it anti-personnel cluster bombs. An estimated 30% of these munitions did not detonate and ten of the eighteen Laotian provinces have been described as "severely contaminated" with artillery and mortar shells, mines, rockets, and grenades. As we traveled upriver, one elder local on the boat/taxi who spoke no English would proudly point out openings in the cliff walls that served as entrances to caves the comprised parts the Ho Chi Minh trail during the war/conflict whatever you want to call it. For nine years hundreds of thousands of these villagers lived in these caves, gave birth in them, formed hospitals in them, schooled their kids in them, coming out only at night to farm and do whatever necessities could not be done during the day. It's incredible to imagine. At the time General Curtis Le May suggested they be "bombed back to the stone age," probably from
Ablutions
Shower on the left, Toilet on the right behind a desk at the Pentagon and probably without having spent a minute in cave in his life. I'm happy to report that he not only failed in his mission to do so, but failed equally to break the spirit of such fine people, or to dent their humanity or reduce their compassion. These were not generals, or soldiers, they were peasants and farmers, they were human beings like the rest of us, and unfortunately over a million of them had to die to acheieve absolutely nothing.
We spent two nights heading onward to the border, the first stop was past Nong Khiew at an awesome little village on the river called Muang Noi. The town is only accessible by river but remains a vibrant little community whose houses are often decorated by the remnants of the bombs that rained down upon them in the 60's and 70's. Every town in the region was bombed in the war. We found a few fellow travelers and shared a good dinner overlooking the river and had a few cold beers watching the world go by, which in a river town is a lot more interesting than it sounds. The next day
Toilet
The little blue thing in the ground is the toilet. The bucket of water is for flushing, the bag is for any used paper. squat there was a wedding festival and we woke to the sounds of an entire village preparing for what looked like the beginnings of one hell of a celebration. We snuck off to have a quick bite before trying to catch another boat further upriver to Muang Khua. We sat and watched as the women of the village were preparing a feast that looked like it could feed 100's as the men gathered round to drink whisky. It was insisted we each do two shots of Laos Laos in honor of the celebration. Whisky and eggs, not the way to start the day. It was a pity we had to leave because the few other travelers had been invited to the wedding and I’m sure it would have been an interesting day to say the least.
We caught our boat, and with fingers crossed, headed further north to hopefully find the mythical spot where the road and river intercepted. As it turns out, quite comically in the end, they intercept quite literally, no bridge, just road running into river and out the other side. And there beside the road was a bus with a big welcoming VIETNAM sign on the
Our room
We all slept family style on mat on a raised platform. The whole in the floor made me think of the snakes we'd seen along the way. windshield...so far so good.
The next morning we rose early to ensure a spot on the bus which we managed, along with a host of other locals, tons of equipment, the usual state of decay. They must not get many westerners along the route as the two old ladies sitting next to me were quite fascinated by my body hair. The one stroked my arm while the other stroked my leg as they giggled to each other. I felt a bit like a sheep going off to get fleeced, and sadly, being petted by two 80 year old Laotian tribes women is as close to a threesome as I'm ever going to get. Lee says I can count on it, so at least I get to check that off the list.
After five hours, through the mountains and some of the most remote places I’ve ever seen, along the worst road I’ve ever been on (the bus had to cross three rivers-no bridges-just straight into the river with fingers crossed), we finally arrived in Tay Trang and then at the Vietnam border, where we got through with no hassles and were informed that Brian and I were the
Soccer
as it turns out, a barefoot, ten year old village kid can dribble circles around me first ever Irish and South African passport holders to ever cross here, which I guess was a bit of a cherry on top of what turned out to be an absolutely fascinating trip off the beaten path. If anyone reads this blog looking for info on whether the border is open, I can tell you it is, and the trip will be a highlight, just don't tell Lonely Planet or the hordes will arrive and they'll be tubing down the river, with buckets of whisky in five years!
That’s about it, we'll fill you in on Vietnam once we figure it out for ourselves. At this point it’s been a year on the road, hard to believe it's gone so fast, harder to believe it's going to end soon...but we still have a few arrows left in the quiver.
cheers for now,
Andy
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Mom
non-member comment
THERE WILL BE NO MEATBALLS FOR EITHER OF YOU IF YOU DON'T COME HOME SOON! Seriously, an interesting blog as usual. Please be careful, no more swinging from trees, please. Stay safe. Love and miss you both, Mom