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Published: January 15th 2007
The packed bus from Luang Prabang stopped for lunch and everybody piled off into the small town. Last off the bus from the back, the three of us wandered drowsily in search of food. Arriving at what looked like a restaurant and pointing at the array of food on one group's table, we were met with a glazed expression from the proprietor. "Chicken? Rice?" we attempted (with actions). The woman opened a freezer and showed us the contents; a large array of lumps of meat. Mindful of the bus' imminent departure, we tried somewhere else, and realised that the rest of the passengers were already waiting for their orders in a simple noodle restaurant. However, by the time we got
our food, everyone was finished, and the next thing we knew, the bus was pulling away without us! We ran out, shouting "stop! stop!", and hurriedly paid for our half-eaten meals. "What about you?!", we asked a fellow Lao passenger lounging in the restaurant. As we boarded the bus we realised that the driver had been hurrying us along with a trick. The journey from hell continued.
We pulled into Udomxai to get our connecting bus to Luang Nam Tha,
only to realise that there was not one! Great. We had to gather enough people together for a mini-bus taxi. Louise busied herself, asking all the locals lounging in front of the gymnastics on TV in the bus station. We eventually agreed a price, and got on our way along the bumpy dirt road to our destination. We were lucky enough to share the company of Bridgit and Jean-Marc; two French people who were soon to become our travelling companions.
After several stoppages and a breakdown, the five of us finally checked into a convenient, but dubious, hotel, and made plans to discuss trekking over breakfast together.
We soon discovered that our plans were similar. The two of us and the French couple all wanted to stay in a traditional Lao house; to meet tribal villagers and to trek, and hopefully do white water rafting or kayaking. Alex would have liked to join us but was set on booking a place on the 'Gibbon experience', which he did, while
we looked at our trekking options.
Luang Nam Tha was an extremely sleepy town, with barely any tourists, and Akha townsfolk in traditional dress, making and selling needlework
on the streets. After a lengthy and frustrating morning of complex bank transactions, price changes, room changes and lost cameras, we hired bikes to explore the nearby village. We had rather an eventful afternoon. First, Alex got a puncture after leaving the bike shop well behind. Just as he thought he would have to turn back we stumbled upon a repair shop whose staff fixed it in pit-stop time. David used this as an opportunity to sit down and managed to get oil on the back of his shorts. Oh dear!
The next event on our bike ride was when we decided to stop at a Lao 'pub'. This was full of extremely merry men who immediately made us feel welcome and offered us copious amounts of beer-Lao and Lao Lao (the local monshine whiskey). We chatted to the English-speaking locals and enjoyed the ambience, accompanied by the distortingly loud oriental karaoke video in the background. Before the boys got too drunk to ride, we continued on our interesting journey, taking photos of the village scenery along the way. As we stopped, we were approached by an elderly Lao man who, Jean-Marc was thrilled to realise, spoke French. We
all practised our French as he invited us into his home for another drink. He showed us photos of other tourist friends and gave us some of
his home-brewed Lao-Lao, as well as a parting gift of friendship bracelets. We were delighted with this experience and didn't mind hearing about his trekking options and prices afterwards.
Another early start. We set off for our trek in the Nam Ha national park. This is a particularly appealing part of the world for this type of activity, largely due to its remoteness, but also due to its sheer variety of hill tribes. In addition, the hilly landscape is worthy of many a photograph.
The first day of our expedition involved a demandingly steep walk via a small village belonging to the Lanta tribe. The women in the tribe wore deep-blue traditional dress made from fabric which was woven and dyed naturally in the village. They bound their calves with white cloth to protect against insects when working in the forest. They had shaved eyebrows and wore ornaments in their hair, which was always arranged in the traditional way. We greeted some of the members of the village amid many a
stare, but also many a smile. Following our tough climb, we stopped for some well-earned lunch, which we sat and munched off banana leaves, picked there and then by our guide: sticky rice accompanying a number of traditional Lao dishes. Very tasty.
After a short French-imposed siesta we walked on towards another smaller village where we decided to travel the remainder of our day's journey by two-man kayak. This was a real hoot, and we grinned from ear to ear as we pulled our vehicles round large rocks and through mouth-watering rapids. After a couple of hours we pulled up to our evening's accomodation. The village, again belonging to the Lanta tribe, was the smallest we had seen so far, and we were eager to familarise ourselves with its tribal members. After a quick wash in the river, Lao style, we dried off and gingerly began to try and connect with our new hosts.
The village held a mere eleven families in total, plus a multitude of boar, chicken, goats, cats and dogs. Our guide, Ket, helped the villagers as they built a campfire and prepared a banquet for our dinner. The main constituent - chicken - was
killed by a process whereby a feather was plucked from the live bird and then skewered right through its brain. We sat down to the table eventually and devoured the feast put before us. As we ate, a small boy poured Lao-Lao for anybody who was willing. It is customary that the youngest member of the family takes care of this task.
After dinner we warmed ourselves by the campfire and drank Beer-Lao while watching a sky packed full of stars. We quizzed our guide about the politics and workings of the tribe and of the village. He told us that there is a male and female leader for each village of the Lanta tribe, and that they are elected by the members of the tribe in a secret ballot overseen by a central governing body. They must be able to demonstrate their skills of leadership, and most of all, provision and distribution of food and shelter. Tribal leaders can be approached by the villagers to settle any manner of dispute or issue. After several beers, and much discussion, we finally retired to our meticulously prepared beds for the night. A large wooden base was the bed for six
of us with matresses set out in a row, and mosquito nets hung above us.
We awoke to a breakfast of eggs and sticky rice and got ready for the next leg of our adventure. The mornings are rather chilly in northern Laos at this time of year, and so we decided to leave a little late. This gave us ample time to see the village properly, and also to visit the local school which had about twelve children, all of different ages. It was housed in a tiny, ramshackled hut, and we watched, agog, as the pupils practised their mathematics. Louise was itching to join in but held back so as not to disrupt the teacher.
Soon enough, we were back in our kayaks for a full day on the river. Jean-Marc and Bridgit were in one together, and we each went with one guide. What fun. We raced each other round one rapid after another, indulging in 'splash wars' as we battled for the lead. We stopped off for lunch on a tiny island before setting off on a long motorised boat towards our second night's accomodation. The boat crew consisted of the boatman, who operated
the motor, his wife, who bailed out the water, and another man at the front. As we approached difficult, shallow, rocky waters, the whole team got involed; guiding the long boat around the rocks, using wooden sticks: It looked like extremely hard work and required considerable expert knowledge. This leg of the journey became a little bit soured as nightfall came, and we started to shiver; wet and cold. The problem had been leaving so late in the morning. At long last, we pulled up to the second village we were to stay in, which was home to the boatman. We stayed in his house and met his family who were really welcoming. Sitting and playing with their cats, we were treated to another great Lao meal. (Yes - sticky rice again, along with pumpkin soup and duck). Settling down for a night on the floor over thin matresses we giggled together as we recalled the events of the day.
The final day of our trip involved an eight hour journey back in the boat, as we needed to get all the way back to the border to leave for Thailand the next day. We were not looking forward
to this after the previous day's boating. It was an extremely long day, but not unpleasant. The hot sun was a welcome friend, and we basked in it as we sped along watching the scenery and listening to music. Eventually, we arrived at the border town Huay Xai and booked our bus to Chiang Mai for the following morning, and went to get some much needed sleep in a nice comfortable hotel. Well, there is only so long you can rough it before you need some western-style comfort.
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June & Graham
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Faster, faster !!
We need one blog per day now to get up to date, you surely can manage that! Loving them all, nevertheless. xx