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Published: December 7th 2006
We survived a
semi-harrowing journey from Laos to Thailand, highlights including:
1) A speed boat ride against the current of the Me Kong. This consisted of six hours spent crouched in the fetal position, wearing a life jacket, helmet, ear plugs, and sunglasses (to keep bugs out of your eyes). Luckily, we had the company of three lovely men (a Swede, a Brazilian, and an Italian) to cheer us up at the food breaks, and stunning views of the rolling hills of Laos, so once the sun came out after the first hour, it became (uncomfortably) bearable and semi-enjoyable. Definitely a bumpy, memorable experience.
2) Realizing that we needed to pay $30 US to exit Laos because we had overstayed our visas by three days. Realizing this at the immigration office in a tiny border town with no ATMs, no open banks, and no travel agencies that could cash travelers checks. Luckily, our Italian friend Ricardo was a true gentleman and let us borrow 100 Euro. Without him, we would have had to pull a major tearfest in order to get out of Laos.
Looking back, we learned
two very important things in Laos:
1) We (America) bombed the poop out of this place. Sure, Kate and I knew Laos had been sucked into the Vietnam war like most other South East Asian countries, but we had no clue to what extent until we finally bothered to read the history of Laos. In nine years of bombing this country, we dropped the equivalent of one planeload of bombs every 8 minutes, making Laos the most heavily-bombed country in the history of warfare. I may have screwed up a word or two in that paraphrasing, but whoa. Watch the guilt grow.
2) Laos has the foxiest guys in SE Asia. MEGA-FOXY. Pan, our kayaking guide, was our first indication of this. Then we hopped on a bus bound for Luang Prabang and spotted McSteamy, our bus driver. I spent the next 6 hours staring at him in the rearview mirror from the second-to-last row of the bus. His chiseled jawline, his pronounced cheekbones, his glowing skin... he was a hunk of burning love. The only thing that blew it for him was his chewing during the lunch break. He was still nice to look at though. The third tasty Lao guy was Onh, our assistant trekking guide, and the fourth was American Flag, another guide we met on our trek. We'll cover those two in the next section.
Day 1 of the Trek
We signed up for the ethnic minority village and waterfall tour. It probably had a prettier name than that. Our guide, Sop, was an intense but sometimes-silly guy. He revealed early on that he became a novice monk to receive a high school education (like many of the young men here choose to do in order to learn), but he left after a few years because he loves women and whiskey too much. He also told us about the money required to throw a Lao wedding (6 million kip) and that Hmong women are the foxiest in all of Laos. He was full of fun facts.
On day one we visited the following villages in the order listed:
Khmer
The Khmer are considered the light-skinned people of Laos. The village seemed relatively small, but all of the villages we visited on our 2 days of trekking house between 15-20 families, totaling at least 200 people. The Khmer village contained an abundance of puppies (future feasts), kittens (rat killers), and small chickens (not chicks). Sop explained that chiefs are elected every three years by a village vote and can serve a lifetime of consecutive terms if popular.
Hmong
The Hmong's roots go back to China, and the ancestry is obvious in the faces of the people. We met a nice brother and sister duo from Australia at this point, putting Australia in the lead for Nicest Citizens on This Trip. Kate held a diaperless baby who loved to squeeze her nose. Sop fed us a yummy lunch of fried rice and fruit. Separate, of course. This Hmong village owned a million cows and pigs. Exiting the village, we waved goodbye to millions of little kids. Besides having the sexiest men, Laos also has the cutest kids. As you walk through the villages, you see packs of 5-7 kids roaming around, usually led by the tallest. They play jax with bamboo shoots and lemons, or toss-the-sandal, or wave-at-tourists-until-they're-completely-out-of-view, playing this game for unknown periods of time.
Khamu
This is Sop's tribe, so he was psyched for us to visit. This is also the village where we slept after climbing uphill for six hours. While waiting for Sop to prepare dinner, I played with a diaperless baby boy but was too afraid to hold him. Kate and I went upstairs to our room where I performed some musical theater for her. Sop announced it was time to eat, and we dined on a purely vegetarian meal (my dream... probably very boring for Kate) while a puppy loudly sucked on its mother's nipples next to us. Kate was in heaven. During dinner, we asked Sop to tell us the truth about the American/Vietnam War, but he feigned ignorance. Kate tried the "Can you tell us now?.... how about NOW?" game on him, but her persistence did not pay off. He'd simply smile and laugh. We tried begging Onh, our assistant guide, for details, but because he only understood 30%!o(MISSING)f what we said, and because the few American phrases he knows are "bye bye" and "ooh la la," he was of little help as well.
A little side note on Onh: Because all Asian men seem to look younger than they actually are, we assumed the baby-faced Onh was 20 or so. He had a beautiful smile with shiny white teeth. He reminded me of a Munchee Chee, oh-so-soft and cuddly. I loved him. After dinner, Kate and I taught the boys some card games, and Kate claims I stared at Onh longingly for the duration of our play.
First, we taught them War. I chose it simply because it required little explanation and little communication for its duration. While playing War, a beefcake entered the hut wearing nothing but an American flag towel. Kate confessed later that she had to repeat "Look him in the face, look him in the eyes" over and over again, so she wouldn't stare at his pretty chest and tummy. Surprisingly, American Flag spoke nearly perfect English, so I asked how he learned. When he said he was a guide, we were shocked to realize we'd spent a large portion of the day with him (he was the Australians' guide). It's amazing what a hat, sunglasses, and, according to Kate, Bone Thugs-n-Harmony attire can do to disguise a beefcake. Anyway, AF asked what game we were playing, and Kate and I were ashamed to realize the Americans were teaching the Lao men how to play War. Oops. Ironic. It was a good reminder for us to ask AF about the Vietnam War though. After making up a lie about being teachers and wanting to teach our students the truth, AF willingly confirmed for us that America dropped Agent Orange on Laos too. He insisted, however, that Lao people do not hate Americans, and we are welcome in the hood.
At some point during cards Sop whipped out lao lao, jar alcohol brewed only by the Khamu people. I loved it. It was fruity yumminess, and, according to Sop, only 2%!a(MISSING)lcohol. Kate didn't believe this percentage, but because I felt no effects, I did. We shared one bottle among the four of us, and Kate and I assumed we were finished. However, after a failed attempt to teach the boys Rummy (too much English required, and Sop was unwilling to translate much for Onh once he realized Kate and I adored him), Sop walked us into the kitchen to show us the large jar we needed to consume. LOTS of lao lao. Specifically, four bottles' worth. A few rounds of Crazy Eights later, we were finished, having enjoyed the company of loveable airhead Onh for hours and hours on end. Sigh.
Day 2 of the Trek
After a lovely breakfast prepared by our boys, we set out for another long walk, this one much easier because it was mostly downhill. Wandering through many more villages with adorable kids, passing rice paddies being harvested, stumbling upon amazing views that could not be captured in photos... it was a joy, especially once Sop started singing to us. Soon I decided to treat Sop to some American hits, including "If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands," "Head & Shoulders, Knees & Toes," and "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." Kate provided backup on a few of the songs, and Sop improvised backup on the rest. It made the time fly by.
At some point on the trek, Kate bothered to ask how old Onh was. Sop translated the question.
Onh: iksakewjhwae
Sop: He's 17.
Us: Haha. Right. How old is he really? 20?
Sop: lkjaljwelkajwle
Onh: iksakewjhwae
Sop: He's 17.
Me: Oh my God, I'm nearly guilty of child sex tourism. DON'T TURN ME IN, KATE.
Oops. 17 is old in his culture though. He should have been married two years ago. I'm innocent.
After a stop and dip at a chilly-but-pretty waterfalls, and a playdate with two possibly-rabid (but caged) monkeys, our trek was over. Sad to say goodbye to our guides, we made a plan to hit up the discos later that night.
Notice that I said we were sad to say goodbye to our guideS. Plural. I had a feeling something might go wrong in the planning since Sop was jealous of the attention paid to Lao men other than himself, but I decided to trust him. So of course Sop showed up at our guesthouse later that night alone. On our walk to the disco, Kate bravely asked if we were joining the other guides at the bar. No. No explanation, nothing. Just a no. Poop. Instead, we picked up Sop's cousin and headed to the disco for our surprise double date.
Being the kind friend I am, I made Kate sit next to Sop, and he happily rubbed knees with her. Wanting to appear as unattractive as possible and also wanting to take part in the evening's festivities, Kate and I asked for the karaoke songbook. Sop took us to a Lao bar, so we were the only Westerners there. Luckily, they had "I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet A Woman" (Britney Spears) available, so we rocked that one with Kate taking the lead. The Lao crowd even applauded us. When Kate got up to use the bathroom, Sop tried to hold my hand, so we promptly retaliated by singing "A Whole New World." Unfortunately, the lyrics for this one were in Lao, so Kate and I had to (poorly) fake it. No applause this time around.
Karaoke time ended after us, and the Lao "dance party" with a live band (wearing suits and ties) began. First, there was a slow song. Apparently, the only time men and women can dance together is when they're married, so the dance floor was packed with pairs of girls dancing cheek to cheek. Kate played the boy, and I played the girl, though Kate yelled at me for not letting her lead. We twirled and dipped, taking the slow dancing to the extreme, or at least according to Lao standards. Next, there was the hand dance. People shuffled around in a circle (no hip shaking) and twirled their hands around in small circles. It was the most subdued dance I've ever seen. Finally, there was the line dance. As far as I could tell, it was a grapevine in two directions, a grapevine backwards, and then a turn that went against every instinct in my body. After two straight songs with this line dance, I caught on, finally letting my hips go crazy in an attempt to spice it up.
Sop, having boycotted both karaoke and the dance floor, was yawning when we finally returned to him, and we took that as our cue to call it a night with the Lao boys. I made Kate accompany me on a search for a REAL dance party, but we did not meet success. All in all, the trek and bar provided an interesting exposure to Lao culture, and we were satisfied with our experience. I became depressed by my inability to say anything more than "hello" to people, but Kate insisted our smiles communicated enough.
We leave for another trek tomorrow and hope to meet more foxy guides. Our trek is to northern Thailand, which is close to Laos, so I have high hopes.
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wendison
non-member comment
A Laotian man
Please bring me one. I don't care if he speaks English. I just want him to hold me.