Markets markets everywhere

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It's a girl's perogative to shop, and I've been trying very very hard to live up to this stereotype, even if I have been thwarted along the way at times.

Two days ago I made like a snail again and hoisted my backpack back on to my wearying shoulders and gallumphed (less like a snail, more like a donkey with gumboots) off to the bus station, (or dusty pile of rocks and rubbish with an assortment of ragged looking buses and jumbos and people hoicking and spitting). Refreshingly, there is not a stream of tuktuks and jumbos offering their services every two feet on the 5 minute walk, although there are times when that is not such a good thing...

I bought my ticket (a hefty $2) and was pointed in the direction of a filling jumbo. I spied a few falang and, amongst the locals, a woman wearing a beautiful headdress with ornate brightly coloured embroidery and silver coins, this was an Akha tribeswoman, numerous in the north of Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. The wide black band came low on her forehead and a large round disc at the back of her head was also covered in silver coins. It was beautiful, and a great example of someone carrying their tradition and culture with them. I thought her noble and elegant.

Until she started spitting and hoicking. Then I just started to find her kind of revolting. Nor did I change my opinion of Akha people much after arriving in Muang Sing, as women would come to the table at the guesthouse and try to sell purses, bracelets and belts, made with seeds and rounds of aluminium cut from coke cans as decoration. Unlike elsewhere in Laos, they were quite pushy and would get shirty when you said no. I decided that I wanted some souvenir bracelets at one point, and while making my selection, would get mobbed by 7 or 8 women all insisting I chose their bracelets, or that I buy theirs as well!

Other passengers included a rather rank old bloke in a tattered military green outfit, carrying a plastic bag of Laolao and by the smell of him, wasn't one to refrain from it too often. Further on we were joined by more people, including a lovely old woman, little and gummy, who nimbly climbed aboard, stowed her backpack basket, itself a work of art, then sat next to me and grabbed my hand. She had the most beautiful hands; small in mine, her grip was strong and the skin tough, clearly she had worked hard all her life, and no doubt, if she was thinking what my hands told about me, as I was about her, she was thinking what a lazy lilly arsed white girl is this!

Her smile was warm too, even without many teeth, and she chattered away to me as we snuggled up against the morning chill as the jumbo picked up speed. Before long, she dragged over her basket, pulled out a bag, and started to delve into it. I was nervously thinking she was going to bring out some betelnut, a seed chewed by mostly elderly people in Asia, with a slightly narcotic effect and a tendency to stain the teeth and gums a rather tasteful red colour. Instead, she pulled out a large square of black fabric with a large applique motive in red, the design reminiscent of dancing people, the needle and cotton still pinned to the edge.

By this time, I had also been chatting with an english bloke, Carl, who it turns out is mighty knowledgeable about Northern SE Asian culture, having spent much of the last two years living and staying with hill tribes. Very helpful! I asked him if I was being offered this for sale, as I would have loved it, but still not sure of the etiquette. He wasn't sure, so I made polite noises and passed it back; I'm fairly certain she was, but there is nothing worse than tourists always trying to buy up everything!

We rumbled on for about 2 hours up into the hills to Muang Sing, less than 15km from the Chinese border. The old bloke dropped his Laolao, which gave off toxic fumes, even in the open air truck, and earned him a hearty, good natured whack on the head from my old lady.

There were about 5 european falang and a few japanese on board, so the 5 english speakers all wandered off to the same guesthouse: Thailu Guesthouse on the main street. I would recommend it; the rooms were cheap and again, I had a brilliant shower. What a measure of a room! Water pressure and more importantly, temperature!

The only downside, was the rattan walls, so that you could hear conversations clearly from next door, and for neighbours, I had the young trio who had their own DVD player and large speaker. They liked to play it at Lao-proportion volumes, although did talk to me earlier in the evening to find out what time I would be going to bed so that they could put their headphones on, so weren't without consideration.

The object of the visit to Muang Sing was the famous market, as numerous local tribes gather to sell their produce and some handicrafts. With this in mind, I set off to find it, stopping en route at a very good Tribal Museum, with information and costumes of local tribes. I figured this would help me in my tribe-spotting! However, once I found the market, there was very little there! A few women selling produce, but no great colourful extravaganza. I was being to wonder if it had all been in vain, although realised that it was late in the day for a market, so an early morning visit might be more successful.

I was also excited about the prospect of another market in a town nearby called Xieng Kok, where vendors from China, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos and nearby Myanmar would gather twice a month to sell their goods. According to Lonely Planet, we'd arrived in time: it was held on the 14th and 28th of the month! The 14th was tomorrow, so much organising of falang and negotiations with locals, employing the assistance of (mostly by Carl; thanks Carl, you're a star), and we had chartered a minibus to take 7 of us the two hour drive, leaving at 6am, which is before all the birds (apart from bloody roosters it would seem) start to sing.

The next morning, we all piled out of our rooms into another chilly morning, still an hour from daylight and set off. The road was rough and I struggled to stay in my seat as we bounced along. We broke the journey half way in a village at Meung Long, quick gawp at the market, and things looked promising as we saw more Akha and Thai Dam women, and one or two others, that I had read about but now can't find the information again to identify them. Xieng kok was going to be amazing!!

An hour later we arrived at Xieng Kok, I was excited. Where was the market?

We were sitting beside it; a big desolate pile of rubbish. The market had been the previous two days, and had only finished yesterday.....

After a quick pick me up cup of Nescafe (I had a green tea; they seemed not to hear my request for noodle soup), we wandered slowly around the village then got back in the van. It wasn't even 10am....

Bounce bounce back to Meung Long, and this time we stayed longer, and there was a lot to see. Coming into the town, we'd seen what appeared to be a gathering of Akha people for a special event, as so many people were in traditional dress, including the men. It looked like a wedding, so a few of us walked off in that direction.

Then a truckload passed us! We turned round again. We'd also passed an official looking Laos government building, with some people standing outside dressed in stylish, trimming khaki. One of the blokes looked jittery, a bit like a groom in fact.

Half way between the jittery bloke, and where we were turning on our heels, the truck turned into a driveway. I've heard so many stories in Laos from other falang about being invited in to join the festivities, that I was hoping we might get called in, but sadly, this wasn't the case, and I certainly wasn't going to impose, so back to the market for some more tribe spotting. I also joined a table for a delicious local version of noodle soup called Khao sawy, which means something along the lines of rice cut with scissors, so called because they are made by making big sheets of rice paste, that are then rolled and noodles made by cutting the ends into lengths of noodles.

The soup comes in a meat stock and the meat was beef, a meat I have been a little nervous about since the tripe incident in Vientiane when I first arrived. But I could see nothing nothing sinister about this, and I happily added some lettuce, peashoots and fennel, along with lemon juice and fish sauce. Although it seems a little strange to be eating noodles so early, this is actually standard breakfast fare in South East Asia, and it's really growing on me.

Back in Muang Sing, I'd decided that all that bouncing on the dirt roads was call for a massage, but as I wanted a steam sauna too, it would have to wait until later in the evening. I had read about a Women's Handicraft Co-Operative in a Yao village on the outskirts of town, and I talked a few people into coming with me. I had initially intended on riding a bike, but it was a lot further than I thought and we did get a little lost, so I was very pleased that we had decided to hire a jumbo.

At first we were dropped off next to a village, which had a few similarities to the description in the book. However, thankfully, a local asked where we were going and we showed them the drawing of a the beautifully dressed Yao woman in my book and they told us it was still 2 km's away! So we ambled back to the road to keep walking, gladly flagging down another passing jumbo, which first drive to an Akha Village, where children called Sabai Dee and women were washing at the communal tap. The other passengers got out, and we carried on back to the road. I was still convinced that we weren't going to make it, when suddenly, as we bounced over more rutted roads, I saw a woman dressed in the costume I was looking for.

It is characterised by a large black or indigo turban, and a stunning dark coloured jacket, with a long tail and a collar in bright red pompom. It looks so elegant, and seems to be worn by older women, as I have not seen anyone young wearing it. I was hoping that I might be able to purchase one if we could find this co-operative. The jumbo stopped, and it didn't take long for us to be besieged by children, all trying to sell decorations and purses in ornate cross-stich. I bought a decoration, and was immediately asked to purchase more from other girls! But this wasn't the purpose of my epic journey; no, I wanted to find this Co-operative.

We wandered around a little, and I thought I saw something that might be what I was looking for. I glimpsed a woman in her jacket, sitting behind a doorway and peeking out at us, there seemed to be a lot of handicrafts, and I wondered if this was it. But there was no invitation to enter, although it was clear that this was a village to was keen to sell, so we continued on.

Next, we saw a group of women sitting together and doing the cross stitch, but again, nothing more than this. So we smiled at the beautiful baby, wearing a traditional baby's hat, complete with large red pompoms, which are meant to make the baby resemble a flower, then continued. I saw a sign that said Handicraft Store. It was merely a small shed with some embroidery and bags, so I don't think this was it either, but I bought a small square of cross stitch which I hope to frame, and then an older women came to my side with more for me to look at in her plastic bag. I spotted some red... it was a hat much like the baby had worn. I pretended to haggle, but was more than happy with the asking price, and she very nicely posed for a photo with me and my new hat that does look slightly ridiculous on!

We left without ever finding out if the Co-Operative was still there, or in a different part of the village, but I was a happy shopped out girl, so that was all that mattered!

After a wonderful hot shower when I could wash the accumulated dirt from my feet and hair, Carl and I headed out for a sauna and massage. I've probably already mentioned how much I love the saunas, which involve getting in and out of a steam filled shed wearing little more than a sarong, followed by a cold bucket of water for a shower. I forgot that I would be having the shower, and forgot to bring a change of underwear, so, as great as the massage was, I was wearing wet underpants and managed to get quite cold lying in this bamboo hut!

Walking back for dinner, all pommelled and chilly, we were accosted by a rather tipsy young bloke who insisted that we drink Laolao with him. That stuff is toxic, and I was really not keen, but to refuse is rude, so one shot glass straight down, an instant feeling of wanting to be ill and a warm flush, followed by a hasty retreat.

Dinner was a great surprise. We had asked for the day's special, which is decided according to what is available at the market that day. It was a chicken soup with potatoes, fennel and an ingredient called spicey wood. Which, as the name suggests is a spicey flavoured wood. Interesting flavour... I actually enjoyed it, although the flavour of the fennel did become a little overwhelming and I needed the taste of something else.

Still determined to fulfil my purpose of coming to Muang Sing, I got up early in the morning (ok, about 7.15am, so not that early) and wandered over to the market.

Jackpot!! Amongst all the fruit and veg for sale by so many different colourful tribes people, there were the handicrafts I was looking for. And the women selling them were beautiful, great big toothy grins and a lot of laughs; I was trying a Thai Dam scarf on for size, as so many of the beautiful silks here are too short to wear the way I like them, when one of the old ladies removed my own woollen scarf and wrapped it around her own neck, and signed that I could have one of hers for mine, then vanished from view while I was negotiating for the one around my neck... We caught up again and much hilarity ensued when we hugged I got it back! The women in the market, including the Akha were much friendlier than the Akha we had met on the streets, and everything was very good natured.

I also found two beautiful Hmong applique pieces, much like the one the old lady on the jumbo had shown me. I pretended to haggle, but accepted their first (and to be honest, fair) price. Then we made an exit before I got carried away and so Carl could buy himself a machete for trekking. The handmade bamboo sheath was a thing of beauty!

Next, Khao Sawy for breakfast, delicious with a minced pork that reminded me a lot of bolognese sauce, with mint and greens added, before returning to pack and catch the bus back to Luang Nam Tha.

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Photos

A Lao Mobbing
Here, take my camera, I'm going in.. Look at me, I'm so tall!
Surrounding me are a number of Akha and Thai Dam women. The Akha women are selling bracelets, belts and the like, and you can see part of one of the beautiful headresses under the scarf. The Thai Dam women (mostly young girls) were selling beautiful colourful woven scarves, which I loved, but found them too short to use, so despite having looked at them with grand intentions of buying, I ended up disappointing them and not buying any.

My new friend
The lovely Hmong woman from the jumbo road to Muang Sing. She had such beautiful hands!

Market at Xieng Kok
Note the colour and vibrancy of this two day market, where vendors from all surrounding areas, including Myanmar, Thailand, and China come to trade.
Oh no, you can't. It finished yesterday.

Shopping in the Yao Village
Yeah, I know, her hat suits her so much more....

Muang Sing Market
This beautiful thai dam woman had just sold me a lovely woven cotton scarf in indigo, with a band of colour at either end. Part of her traditional costume is the scarf she is wearing on her head, that is black, with brightly coloured decorations at either end; when wore correctly, it is wrapped around the top knot of hair and the colourful end forms a flap over the top.

Muang Sing Market
This gorgeous women is Hmong; she had just sold me two wall hangings, one very similar to the one she is holding up and another much smaller one, like the black and white ones at the front.

Muang Sing Market
Doing the days vege shopping