same same but different

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Sabaai-dii!! (Hello in Lao) 😊

As I mentioned before.. minibus, bus, minibus, bus, tuk tuk, boat and I made it to Laos successfully! The first instant you’re in a new place has always been weird to me. I was just in Thailand and all of a sudden, now I’m in Laos. Even going from state to state, or county to county, etc. it’s weird. My family used to have “races” to see who could be the first one into the next “place” (ie- jamming your hand in the bottom of the windshield or cramming your foot as far as possible beneath your seat towards the front, all the while screaming that only you made it first!) Never failed, one would try to distract the others and at the last second you’d all be in pain from trying to get to “the next place” first. (and they wonder why I’m so competitive, ha)

Ok, yikes, straight out the gates with the family stories! (just bc I’m far doesn’t mean you aren’t with me every step!) 😊 Back to the blov. (side note: I’ve spent the past 2 nights with 2 girls who shorten every word, so just keep readin K, hun?)

Go, Mana, and I were happy as larks just sitting, baking in the sun with a baby square of shade, waiting for the next bus. The MAX 12 hour bus. We were prepared and ready to go. VIP here we come. VIP Thailand and VIP Laos = Same Same but Different. Same Same being VIP, everything else falls under Different. You can still actually see Thailand from where we are sitting, yet somehow the VIP bus down grades by about 86%. We have assigned seats, which is disastrous. I am assigned seat 34 out of some system that has 6-42 on one side and 3-57 on the other side, with several of the numbers crossed out then rewritten by a number or two. Needless to say, I’m not sure there really was a system, more or less just a scramble of numbers that were written above seats in no specific order. Either way, I sat, then I had to stand back up, jam my small bookbag into the space intended for my legs, sit again, with my legs out into the aisle. I was sitting straight up at 90 degrees. 12 hours was not looking feasible. Maybe I was right when I told ole Dan and Danny I “couldn’t handle” that long of a ride. Karma!

I would like to continue this little story/excerpt with the title: iThe Little Big Bus that Barely Could/i. We never went over 20 miles an hour, 15 rarely. The “road” was more like a dusty, curvy, trail of potholes. By curvy I mean, curving around almost into itself. I don’t know how we weren’t going in circles. I literally could not force my hand into my backpack the space “for my legs” was so small. I had a 6’2” German guy behind me, who refused to sprawl out into the aisle, like the rest of us. “I pay - for - dis seat” aghhh! I had to remind him that we all paid for these seats, hello! No one was happy, and it was obvious. I apologized to him, then told him I was going to HAVE to lean my seat back. Sure, I need better posture, but this 90 degrees was torture. I looked at him, apologized again, grabbed the handle, eased the seat back maybe, on a good day, an inch. He wasn’t going to budge and I strongly disliked him for it. In front of me was yet another Californian, who I despised on the spot as he came to his seat proudly displaying his awful plastic hanging "suit" bag from Thailand. He was trying desperately to “get to know” the cute little English girl across the aisle. “so, what do you like to do at home” “oh, I don‘t know.. I like to go to the gym” “yeah, I can tell” giggle giggle. It continued and only got worse throughout the night. It was the only time I‘ve ever not wanted to understand English. Mana was next to me and every once in a while she’d doze off and her head would bounce up and down on my shoulder.

It was getting late and almost everyone, somehow, was starting to fall asleep. I was so jealous. I couldn’t wait for the tall German to start snoring so I could lean my seat back jamming it into his boney knees. It didn’t happen. I sat, frustrated, sweating, and unable to get some shut eye. I blew up my travel pillow, smushed it between the back and the arm rest to create a higher place to rest my head. I had given up on the comfort factor and tried to put my head down. A good 4 seconds later, I almost gave myself a black eye. We hit, another, massive hole and as my head went up, it came down even faster. Bam! Eye right into the tip of the arm rest. I was thrilled, and could only picture Dan and Danny dancing like little devils on my shoulders.

We were still going anywhere from 12 - 15 mph and it’s only been 3 hours. I have 9 to go. I put in my iPod, to find that only the left side of my headphones now works. I thought I was going to lose it. Every now and then I’d check on the German, but he was just awake as I. Sooner or later, I woke up, which meant I had been to sleep! I was delighted, until I realized it had only been 25 minutes and now I'm sweating even more because the bus has been turned off.

My first thought was “toilet break”. Every hour or so we would pull onto the “shoulder” (just stop really) and if you needed the toilet, off you went. Guys just hopped out and let it flow. It was gross and even though I think it was a mental thing, it always smelled like pee when they got back on. However, we were still there after 5 minutes. We sat, almost in the middle of the road, without AC, in the dark, for the next 4 HOURS. Our driver was trying to help fix another broken down bus. It was absolutely miserable!! I’m still not sure if they ever fixed it, but we eventually left and curve after curve, hour after hour, pothole after pothole, we FINALLY made it to Laung Prabang, Loas. 12 MAX bus = 16:30 hours. The Little Big Bus that Almost Killed Me should be the title, but I thought that might frighten a select few. The End.

We were all so miserable and gross. The last thing anyone wanted to do was be scammed by the next group of “them” waiting outside the bus. Backpacks start flying onto the truck tuk tuks and before we know it, we are being carted into “town” by a guy who wreaks of vodka with a “Same Same but Different” tshirt on. Isn’t life ironic. He takes us to “his” hotel and tries to dump us out, but we know this game, and we are good! We win and "same same but different" drives us to the center of town, where we find the best guesthouse I’ve stayed in yet. I desperately wanted to shower and sleep, but if you know me at all, you know food comes first. Ha. We went to eat at probably the most expensive place in Laung Prabang, without realizing until we paid for our next meal. We sat, delirious, looking out over the Mekong River.

The Mekong River really can’t be appreciated until you see it in real life. It’s strong and dangerous and yet peaceful and reassuring. How does it do that? I grew up with doo doo brown rivers all around me. Mighty Mississippi anyone?? 😊 They are all beautiful in their own right. They may not be clear or clean, but they are beautiful. I can’t explain the sight of the boats, or the fisherman catching dinner, or even the trees raging downstream surely causing destruction somewhere down the way, or the constant swirling breeze that tingles each of your senses. It’s dumbfounding. I would take a picture, then find myself just staring, not even at anything, but the constant course of the thick, rolling, murky water.

I parted ways with Go and Mana, I had to shower and go to bed, I didn’t care that it was only lunchtime. Days without showering or sleeping makes for a not so cheerful MK. I went back to the guesthouse, but was flooded with thoughts of what to do next. I wanted to go North, then into Vietnam, but I had to wait 3 working days for a Vietnam visa. (I would arrive on a Saturday!) 😊 I went back to the room, showered, and had a long “nap”. Next up, a little stroll through the town. Laung Prabang has the best night market! They all sell similar stuff, but it actually is stuff you’d want to buy. It absolutely made me homesick though because they set up all their “goods” in tents, and from above it looks like you’re in The Grove. I just stood there staring at the tops of the tents and taking pictures, I’m sure people thought I was a freak. They have beautiful silver jewelry, artwork, clothes, the cutest little slippers you’ve ever seen, but the problem with traveling is that I live out of a backpack. Sorry mom, but I’m not going home next week either, so it makes it hard to buy things you otherwise would buy 3 of. I don't want to carry around anything I can't fit in my already oversized backpack.

After a market stroll, always comes the need to browse the food aisle. They seriously have an “aisle” of food vendors. Some smell amazing, some don’t. They each have their own way of keeping the flies away, but my personal favorite are the little ladies who tie a small plastic bag to the end of a stick and constantly wave it over the food. It cracked me up. It looked like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were cruising the barbeques and over the bubbling broths. I settled on a delectable little stall serving whole barbequed fish. Also, a buffet where you pay 1 USD for a plate and fill it as much as you can with whatever you think you recognize. It was incredible. The people in this town did not try to sell you any and everything and it was sooo nice to get away from. I loved just walking around, seeing what you wanted to see, going where you wanted to go, with only the occasional “tuk tuk” or at night when it changed to “disco disco”. haha. I highly, highly recommend Luang Prabang, Laos. I would have stayed another week, if I were smarter. It's my favorite "city" so far.

Sleeping that night in the aircon was wonderful. Sleeping with “aircon” will never go unappreciated or unnoticed again for me. The next day, it rained and rained and rained. A rain jacket is, of course, a handy thing, but an umbrella. Wow. I can’t say I’ve ever actually used an umbrella. It was a consistent flow of wet, imagine that, rain, all day long. I tried my rain jacket, but soon purchased a $2 umbrella, and after the fact, I probably would have paid upwards of $20 bucks for it. I walked around in the rain all day and didn’t even care. I went up Mount Phousi, which is pretty cool with Buddhas all around and a gorgeous view of the city and Mekong. I got lost a few times, but ended up either running into the river or spotting Mount Phousi, to return myself home.

Before we knew it, it was time to part ways with Mana and Go. We said our goodbyes, then my fruit shake and I were picked up by the truck tuk tuk. In pile a few others, and we met the bus to take us 3 hours North. I was back on my own, but not for long. It could not have worked out more perfectly. I met Chrissy, an English girl traveling on her own as well. Our little group took a bus to Nong Kiaw, talking all the while getting to know one another. Once we got there, we decided we’d go further and take a shaky little boat to Maung Ngoi. Maung Noi is a tiny, tiny village along the Nam Ou River. As we were on the boat, I met 2 Israeli guys, Asaf and Elad, which made me happy because I hadn’t met any Israelis since Noam or “ooooorange world”. Chrissy and I were “happily greeted” by a woman insisting we come to her “viva vew boonglow”. We decided we’d share a room, making it a cool $1.25 a night. Asaf and Elad weren’t too far behind us, so we waved them on and soon we were all checked in to “Viva Vew Boonglow” aka “River View Bungalows”. It was incredible. We were on our balcony, swinging in the hammocks, overlooking the water, with pineapple/mango fruit shakes in our hands before we even put our bags in the room.

Sooner rather than later, the others found us and ended up moving bungalows because ours were so much better. We were a group of 8. 2 Israeli, 2 Australian, 1 Scottish, 1 Swiss, 1 English, and moi. We were lovely. We all had dinner/drinks on our balcony, with the ever appearing shot of rice wine by our “house mother”. They only have electricity from 7PM-10PM, but we made the most of it with a family dinner and card games. The next day, I looked at the menu and was sooo excited because they had peanut butter and banana baguettes! Oh how I hate the lack of peanut butter in SE Asia. It came out and as I inspected it, it looked a little odd. What did I order? Riiiight a peanut butter, banana baguette. They forgot the comma between peanut and butter, because what I got was literally, crushed peanuts, butter, and sliced banana, on a baguette. Of course I ate it, and loved it, but as I should know… “same same but different”.

After "breaky" we made our way to a cave about 30 minutes outside the village. I had a blow out in my left flop and made it the rest of the way shoeless, tromping through the mud like a buffalo. We checked out the cave and talked about all of the people that once had to hide in there. It used to be a bomb shelter for people during the Vietnam War era. I cannot wrap my mind around it, I try, but I simply can’t.

Back to meet for a little fishing excursion, boat trip, cave exploration, and village visit. We sat single file in the skinny boat and made our way to the “island” for fishing. The Australians and myself were the only ones who had ever fished before. It blew my mind. Almost everytime, someone would get stuck on a tree or something under the water and a little boy would dive right in and unhook it. It was great. Besides regular rods and reels we also had nets, which none of us had ever used. Our guide, naturally, was the only one to catch one with the net, but it was fun nonetheless and actually quite hard and heavy to heave over into the water. Next, we set off on the most stunning boat ride. It was extrememly similar to Milford Sound in NZ, which is saying a lot! Except instead of snow and waterfalls, the monstrous cliffs were covered in thriving, bright green overgrowth. It reminded me of kudzu, but on a massive scale. I honestly can't say which one I liked more. It was so intimate being there on the boat, barely scraping the water, staring neck breakingly up at the life around. Milford Sound was hard rock, but here it's all alive and breathing. Pictures do not compare to the sight in real life.

Next, we pull up to this hole in a rock and he tells us to get out and "go insiii cave". We all look at each other, then follow another non English speaking guide, into the cave. We can't see anything, but thankfully I have my handy headlamp. The guide is walking around, shining his light everywhere and yelling in Lao back to the other main guide. We had no idea what was going on. The part where you can stand ends, and in he jumps to the knee deep water. I am one of the few with a light, so I have to follow first. Soon the knee deep turns into too deep and we are all screaming and freaking each other out. So, as we are swimming, doggy paddling pretty much, we can only see in these tiny spots of lights shooting around the cave. The guide is yelling his head off and no one knows what he's saying. We kept trying to say "where are we going? have you been in here before? should we turn around? are there animals in here?" anything for some reassurance, but no. We swam behind, screaming, laughing, and wondering what in the world we were doing. It was scary, all the while exhilerating!

We made it out alive and up river some more to a tribal village. A village with children laughing, playing, running around, not knowing what lie out in our world that could/will potentially one day ruin what they have. They had a schoolhouse that was "donated" by some Canadian group and it looked as if it hadn't been used since the first month it was built and the day the Canadians left. It made me sad, but at the same time, you can't give someone something who doesn't know how to use it and then be sad when they don't. Does that make sense? Anyway, the "villagers" (because I don't know what else to call them) were great. I always feel a bit odd going into villages or small towns here. At home, anyone could walk in a room and I would automatically assume there were American. Here, when I walk anywhere, I stick out like a sore thumb. It's interesting, but I hate that it works against me. Back to the boat, much quicker going downstream to "Viva Vew". We had a family dinner with fresh fish of the day, some nasty bamboo soup, and an assortment of side dishes. We played a hysterical game of charades that continued on until the lights slowly dwindled out. We chatted around candlelight before calling it a night. I loved our group, absolutely perfect. We paid our bill of about 7 dollars, including 2 nights stay, food, drinks, tour, the whole shebang.

Back to Luang Prabang and back on my own. I said goodbyes to Asaf and Elad, who down right cracked me up, and then to Chrissy, who was a great roomie for 2 days. I decided I would splurge on myself and not bother looking for another, cheaper room. My last night in Laos was spent in aircon, double bed, own bathroom (with hot shower), and TV. I blew a whole $12 that night. In the morning, I woke up to rain, but I walked up and down the main strip anyway, chomping on a yummy baguette and sipping one last mixed fruit shake. I had about 45 min before I needed to be at the airport, so I thought I'd treat myself to a pedicure. What a dream! I haven't had one since I left home.. sick, yes, I know, who am I? Then, I thought what if it takes too long and I'm late for the airport. Then, I decided surely they would have some sort of massage place there, so it would work out. $2 transfer to the airport and in I walk, through security before even realizing it was security and into a room. One room. I thought the Jackson airport was small. This was one room. All international flights, one room, not even a hallway, one room. A lady would come over the loudspeaker in Lao and then a little lady at the, one, door would hold up a sign in English. Bangkok, ok not me. Hanoi, Vietnam, yes that's me! Out the one door and into the single file line headed towards the one Vietnam Airways baby plane. A one hour flight or another "12 hour MAX" bus ride. There was no question.

It was worth the extra money just for the views. It was incredible. I was up, then I was down, in a different country. I was prepared for "them" and as you walk through the gates there they are in full force. A raging sea of "them". I ignored them all, but it didn't help. I knew the airport was fairly out of town, so I wanted to make sure to get a taxi to take me right where I wanted, however, I didn't know where that was. One of "them" roped me in and agreed to take me to a hostel for $10. I did not have a single Dong (Vietnamese currency) on me and I showed him this. All I had was a $20 dollar bill I've had since home, and we agreed he had change. "yes, yes, I give you change" We shook and I gave him the death stare all the while knowing I was going to get ripped off. But let's be honest, I didn't really care if I had to give him the $20, I was ready and willing, I just wanted to get to a place where I could meet people and figure out what to do next. All is swell and good, a driver, "him", and I were headed towards the city center. I was content in the back until we suddenly pulled over, on the side of the main highway. They start yelling at each other in Vietnamese, and I sit like a deer in headlights in the back. They move the yelling match outside the car, ever escalating my nerves. I begin to freak and start tapping the window saying, loudly "me, go (pointing to the city), now!" I repeated it louder, as a mix of fury and panic started to sweep over me. "He" came to the door, opened it and said "you pay driver now" "NO! I pay at hostel" I got out my phone, did the exchange rate, showed it to him "I pay you (pointing to phone), OK?" "OK" "OK" A motorbike appears out of nowhere, "he" jumps on it, and the non English speaking driver gets back in and I gave up. I had been screwed. I showed him where I wanted to go, saying "you know? you know this?" He nodded his head, but I wasn't so sure. A good 45 minutes later, while we somehow managed to avoid 23948374 collisions, and I finally saw a Westerner. It is sad, but I was so happy. I knew we were getting close to somewhere "touristy". I knew I had made it, haha. We stopped and I ended up having to bring the driver into a hotel for a "translator". He wanted 40 dollars, but we finally agreed on $30. I didn't care, I was safe and it was a long drive, so $30 was worth it to me. I was there and alive. How could I not pay him, for something he didn't do. It was one of "them" that did it. It wasn't his fault. After the random hotel man translated this whole bargaining process, the driver kept shaking my hands with the most pitiful puppy dog eyes you've ever seen. He meant no harm, he just wanted his money to pay his boss. Without any words, we agreed to let it go.

Hanoi is BUSY city. Motorbikes nonstop, drivers all wearing face masks to block themselves from breathing the pollution. I’m not sure why they even spent the time painting lines on the street, they’re useless. The have stoplights, but they also have to have policemen in the streets enforcing people to stop. I don’t know if there is anything in the world that couldn’t fit on a motorbike. You’d be astonished. You need 25 cans of paint, oh the big big size, not a problem. You want a bale of hay, oh two, you got it. You need you’re entire family to go at once, hop on. You think there isn’t any room, but somewhere, somehow, they find it. I know I stare at them, but I can’t help it. It’s truly unbelievable what can be going down the street in the middle of traffic. The face masks kind of make me nervous. Are you sick? Did you rob the bank? Are you smiling or frowning under there? Do you know something I don’t know? The best is that they are like designer face masks. By face mask, I mean the kind that doctors wear, but more heavy duty. Almost every shop sells them and you can get any kind or design you want. I want to buy one, just to buy one, but I won’t.. that would be dumb.. or would it?

Moving along, I was “dropped off” and had no where to go, but I was in a tourist mecca so I knew I’d be alright. I went in to about 4 places that were all fully booked, before I got lucky with the cheapest and most convenient one. It was basically a closet, that I’m pretty sure no one ever sleeps in, but what did I care. I slept like a baby before a big day of “touring Hanoi”. I sweated all day long, nothing new. I walked from here to there, over there, and back here again. I saw the lake, the museum, the jail, the markets, the parks, the water puppets, the random men walking around selling about 50 different kinds of balloons, it was great. Hanoi is too “city” for me. It’s busy, it’s loud, and it’s got about 323428739472 too many motorbikes. However, I have become a master of an art whilst in Hanoi. I am a master of crossing the street. You may laugh, but it is serious.

The key technique to crossing the street in Hanoi is to.. walk slowly. Do not move quickly and do not stop. They are moving quickly and will not stop. They will avoid you, as long as they think they know where you are going. Do not wait for the traffic lights, that would be silly. Act like you know what you’re doing and they’ll think you do. Once you commit, you’ve gotta go all the way. If they honk their horn, just disregard it, if it gets closer, turn and look without stopping, and either go faster or slower using your best judgment. It truly is like this, there are soooooo many motorbikes, horns, people, it’s mass chaos, but the bikes seem to be like big schools of fish. They just kind of part ways around you. I feel like frogger, except this is Hanoi ‘10 style.

The lake was great, walking was great, all else was great, then I got to the jail AKA The Hanoi Hilton Hotel. This is where many of our military (including John McCain), and numerous others, were held captive during the war. There is only a tiny part of it left for visitors to see, which I presume is the best part, because in all the pictures and videos all the prisoners are smiley and playing games. I guess you get to put whatever you want in there when it’s in your country, but I don’t think it’s depicted quite to reality. Shackles, torture devices, a real live guillotine (weirded me out), dark chambers, eerie music, you get what I’m saying. It was awful and at one point I had huge tears well up in my eyes just looking at pictures of what they did not only to POWs, but their own people. The tour was fairly quick seeing as the rest of the original prison is now an obnoxious hotel. I walked out of there with a sick feeling in my gut.
As I wandered back to my place to stay, I found out I had to move because someone else had booked the closet. So, I went on another home search and found a dorm, which I thought would be nice because this was the first time since being in SE Asia I haven’t met someone right when I arrived somewhere. I was extremely content though. I was simply happy to have people around, I didn’t necessarily want to go talk to them, if that makes sense. I was taking the train the next night anyway, so I really couldn’t be bothered. Or was I taking the train? It was fully booked, so I had to push it to the next day, first “kink” in my “plans” too! It would be alright. I decided to have a little catch up on the ole facebook/emails over a quiet din. I had just ordered and was in the process of opening my little netbook as two girls I passed in the hostel early walked in and started chattin‘. There went that idea, but it was good to have some company. So, thus far, I have spent one night (the night before) without a “friend”, may it continue!

They were sisters from England and had planned to be on a trip as well, but it was canceled due to weather. It was also one of their birthdays and so we celebrated with a cake (fruitcake) her mom sent from home.. Hahah, how random is that? Fruitcake is what you want for your bday? (I’m giving you a look of confusion and head shake, if you can’t tell) They were lovely though and soon enough some guys came in they met the night before. So I went from frumpy little table for one, to a room full of “friends”. Smiles all around.

Same story for the next day, I wandered around looking at stuff.. until it was time to board the night train to Sapa. I board, am directed to my room, and find myself with 3 roomies. A French couple and their French speaking Vietnamese guide. Needless to say, there wasn’t much chattin’ goin’ on. I slept pretty soundly in such a rickety old train. “coffeeee, you take coffeeee, teeaaa, teaaa, verrrry hot” Ok, sure I’ll have some coffee. Wow. Vietnamese coffee is very interesting. It’s about 55% sugar and 20% milk. I like, but I no like. It’s one of those things were I don’t really enjoy it, but I want to enjoy it so bad, that I enjoy it. Surely you know what I mean. Anyway…….

I get off the train, looking for a little Vietnamese man holding a sign with my name on it. If you’ve followed me at all, then you know my name is always misspelled. I’m used to it, I look for it. I wouldn’t expect anything less, but this, this one takes the cake. So, I’m walking perusing the signs with jumbled letters making names, and I spot this sign out of the corner of my eye. I honestly don’t know how I saw it, but there it was, the beauty. After I did a repeat of my first double take, I knew it. It was me.

“MAGY SHARTE”

And I’m going to leave you with that.


(but if yourconfused to why this made me laugh all the way to the bus, go to urban dictionary.com and type in “shart”)


Cheers again for reading!

Peace,

You know my name

xx

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Photos

Hotty Toddy!
does this not look just like the grove?!? (except I'm in Laos and instead of food and bourbon, its crafts and trinkets!)

it's hammock time!
(yes, I'm hilarious)

goodnight sun
balcony view

pink buffalo
yes, it's true

thank you self timer
(cheese)

unbelievable!!!
MAGY friggin' SHARTE

viva vew boonglow
we have cold drinks! (my favorite)

Hanoi, Vietnam
duh

the guillotine
yikes

they use "cyclos" in Vietnam for people movers
same same but different

Comments

[haley]

THE GROVE!!!
I am so happy that amongst all the "same same but different" you found your home sweet home filled with red and blue tents!! Could not be more same same but sooo very different hahaha :) I really dig all these pics you are taking...I'm thinking you should take these blovels and pictures and make a guided tour book of all the amazing places you have been, and the not so amazing places you would have avioded. It would definitely help these travelers laugh while they are wandering from cities to villages in different countries. Keep truckin and please for the love of me (your favorite roomie ever) go pamper yourself...pedis were practically invented over there. hugs from cali, Hales

[anonymous]

SEES!!! I just love reading your blog, even though it takes me a day or two to sit down and read it. It makes me crack up hysterically and C-R-Y all at the same time!! I love you, please be safe and keep 'em comin'...you know I'm living vicariously through you and have enjoyed every minute of your weirdness and hilarious commentary! XOXOXO

[SHMORE]

I was crying from laughing so hard at the sign with your vietnamese name on it... keep doin what your doin!