To Luang Namtha - a trek sandwich - part i) and iii) - the fresh bread

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Day 59 - I had to double check this! It's gone very quick, though I also feel I've done and seen so much, grateful that I've had the chance to be in these places so far.



Part i) -->

It was time to move into a new country. My first visa entry was up and though I felt so settled and happy in Thailand - I could easily have had another month up in the north and to especially get to Chiang Rai, Mae Hong Son, and let alone Chiang Mai - I would get to these places later on and now felt excited to step into places and cultures a new. I guessed that I'd have to learn the new subtleties, the new 'obviouses' and all the little daily things which I probably hadn't quite realised I'd taken in and gotten used to in Thailand. Of course, my tic of a thumbs up still gets thrown around wherever I am *thumbs up to that?

On coming into Laos, I knew I wanted to head north to Luang Namtha. For nature spots, trekking and to see a quiet, slightly less visited city to start.

I joined a bus trip from Pai to Chiang Khong, by the 4th friendship bridge crossing, for a night, and over to Houxayi of Laos the next morning. The whole trip through was pretty easy, we stopped for dinner, had shared rooms waiting, intermediary transport.. though you would not have guessed it by the talk of others who were on the same set of transport crossings over! I seemed here to bump into a fair few travellers who were too ready to moan or joke at what they perceived as weird or sub-par ways of doing things. Situations arose where I'd feel embarrassed to be part of the same group, walking away or trying to catch friendlier eye contact with the person on the other end. Whilst I also kept to myself! and read up on the Laos areas ahead; glad that when I do do the 2-day slow boat down to Luang Prabang (that most here were going straight to), I could share it with like minded friends, a very nice thought.



I got to the Laos side of the beautiful, muddy Mekhong river, and the local bus station of Houxayi. Booked onto the next bus to the north, I went and had my first Laos food - a meatball noodle soup with side salad of long beans and cabbage. It was less spicy then I'd been used to, but really refreshing. The bus up was full indeed, and just when I thought 'oh no that person won't be getting on this one, bless 'em', a little plastic seat would emerge and another passenger in the tiny aisle was ready to go. One suited guy with a loud mobile would insist on sitting up by the drivers gear stick and arm rest area, business class? It was a four hour and often bumpy trip (not sufficient to keep me from napping of course!), and nearer the end it was crazy to think that at some turning or another a city would start, these parts seemed so rural and untouched either side of the road.

I stayed at the family run Taidam guesthouse, wooden huts on stilts and beautiful outlookings to small rice paddies and the mountains beyond, it was such a comfortable yet chilly first night. I of course got a little waylaid on the way over, finding it hard to follow my map screenshot (I was at least organised to get lost from something!). But 5 helpful locals later and I arrived ready for sleep!

I was a little poorly the first day and recuperated around the guesthouse. But the next day, my first morning seen here, I went for a wandering walk. I was often unsure of my position from the main roads, though I was getting used to the sights - of blue umbrellas popping out from the roadsides, where simple shops and restaurants hid back from the dusty roads; of jumpered, laughing children playing about the street nooks; of the black and red chickens that outnumbered the dogs on the streets here, or maybe that was just because they napped less and cuckooed much more! The streets at first glance seem so quiet, but when you walk down you see what's sheltered behind; then there's the ubiquitous yellow sign used for guest-houses and food&drink spots, adorned with 2 of 3 of Laos, English and Chinese. There were middle class detached houses, as neighbours to simpler wooden bungalows, and some of the town's grander looking buildings were for the state utility companies and banks.

A next few steps and there could be dusty tracks leading up to the hills, or to small plots of farm land or another wide dusty street of yellow signs. The town also has dedicated BeerLao distributors (the houses stacked up high by yellow beer crates out front) and a raft of trekking agencies lined up along part of the main road. As evening comes the lottery sellers and fruit stalls set out on the road side, with often gingham covered plastic table sets.. the lottery is the only legal gambling here and on the electronic devices the locals pick their numbers for the televised thai lottery. However, I found the choosing of the trek for the next day a fun little gamble in itself - the routes and lengths varied, whilst the more people on the tour, the cheaper it is - where the blackboard signs were updated through the evening til the 9pm deadlines - Stick or twist?!



What radiates out is the calm pace of the town; no rushing, no horn beeping other than the cute tweet used to tell scooter riders that they are being passed. I can't recall hearing shouting between people. The only bustle and noise seemed to come after the curfew hours (11.30pm, to allow people to get up for the 5am alm offering ritual for the monks) where the town and hills' animals would ramble and argue and josh etc. I wondered if it was instead an animal soap opera being played on huge screens all around the town, the curfew allowing animals to turn the volume up and enjoy their nightly entertainment; or, maybe a whole animal town of open air theatres, mass attended rival football matches and open auction houses with the finest objects to bid on. Quite a night racket!

As my first day's afternoon settled in I bumped into an oncoming group of travellers (from Norway, Ireland and China) who were great - 'come along, we're wandering down to the river'. Off we went, and though we never made it to the river, we did walk up to a temple in construction with a great view of the town and hill range bordering; and we clambered our way down to a field full of football games. Did we want to join? Oh yes! A free for all at first - a chance to suss out that every single one of the Lao kids and teens was very skillful - then, a game of two teams. It was really fun, layers soon came off, and often footwear too, as our teams raced about in multi-coloured tops playing total football! The teams battled on for a 2v2 draw - before mutual acceptance of our knackeredness! Khop Jais all round, and a few laughs from the Lao players as the Norwegian guys and I all collapsed in the grass. For the night ahead we had Lao beers and a little of the local bushweed, offered up from the check-shirted elderly wanders of the town who sell fabric bags, as well as such little something mores; up on the roof of a bar with a top view and cooling breeze. The guys had been in China, Myanamar and Vietnam but not yet Thailand, so there were new places to hear of. Good fun. Plus, I had 'stuck' after a few goes and got a great sounding jungle trek booked up to start the next morning.





Part iii) -->

On returning from my trek I spent much time chilling.

The following day I followed the gold tip of the temple that you could see up in the trees above the town, sussing if this road or that was the next turn to follow. In seemingly Lao style the temple and surrounding area isn't made a fuss of, nor signposted (at least not in English) and it's left alone without the pop up of surrounding shops or restaurants you may see elsewhere. It's a simple, beautiful spot up high. The golden temple was an inviting shape, curved and rising to a point on top and today, as i'd often noticed here, it was overlooked with a range of stunning autocumulus and cirrocumulus cloud formations.. beautiful, a jar of cotton wool balls dropped across the sky and spray paint arm waves of the good white stuff.

After entering the temple and taking in the incense and cool of the pyramid room, I made a walk around to meet the various statues dotted around. Some were particularly keen, handshakes presented and smiles big in their porcelain white faces, bodies in traditional wear. This statue route also included a large golden reclining Buddha (again, no fuss made, it is just set out quietly behind the temple). Then I sat and chilled and read on one of the hill banks, noises sometimes peaking up to my ears from the streets below. Contrary to Buddhist teachings, I scoffed my bag of snacks quickly and attachedly (ah no that's them gone now) and indeed realised after how fleeting the pleasure was and unnecessary the scoffing was itself!

The moon appeared, the evening chill came in and I wandered back down to Zuela guesthouse. On the way down in the evening you can see the rising steam trails, from fires, cooking, land clearing.

On my other day here I ventured about the streets, walking from one end to the other, up this road and that. I found a sweet spot of a quiet wooden restaurant perched on a hill over looking the river and I was there for hours, writing and reading, and I felt a little bad as I left with only a small bill.

There was time that evening to also meet Ernie, a traveller of over 50 years. Quite a set of stories - I was lucky enough to hear the blurb and a few dog earred pages - across continents, landscapes and socio-political change, with much of the time in Asia. From a young student on a scholarship to an ever enthused, if more birthday-ed, worldly student. It is his story, but I was really taken in with Ernie's calm straightforwardness, seeming lack of ego related to his experiences and his answer to my question of whether he still gets shocked and awed on his travels. In his tote bag he carried a little library with coverage across philosophy, religion, history, science, sport.. he offered for the two of us to look through them, where he goes to read for a few hours at 7am every morning. It would have been very nice to have made that chance. After chatting a while on the sofas, the early riser was off to bed and we crossed fingers that no snorers had now arrived in his dorm room (snorers were a little, common nuisance he'd encountered on occasion, from 1960s Trans-Siberia rail journeys, through to the night before).

The subtext to this exit was that one of the guests was a little drunk and would come over to the sofas and annoy Ernie a little ('I just don't fancy drunken chat tonight you know') and so I promised to keep an eye on him coming over again. But greedily I focused my attention on our conversation and missed the return. Thus it was plan B and an improvised exit strategy. 'Travelling brings the most extreme lows and extreme highs', was one line served so genuinely and without any air of importance, whilst he said he still tries hard to grasp the new local languages he comes across, as 'travelling and meeting just works better that way'. Take it away Ernie.

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