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The plan for our last week or so in Laos, had been to head into the far north for some trekking. Although now I'm confident that my foot isn't broken, it still really hurts and is so swollen that I couldn't squeeze it into my hiking boot if I wanted to. But we still want to head north as this remote region is home to a rich diversity of ethnic hill tribes who still (try to) live independently of country's borders. Our first stop is Nong Khiaw, a bumpy five hours (including breakdowns) from Luang Prabang. It's a dramatic location of towering limestone karsts cut through by the Nam Ou river. A huge stone bridge, just crying out for a bungee jump, links the village with a smaller village of tourist bungalows with fantastic views from the hammock and the comfiest bed I've had in a long time. I finally get to rest my foot properly whilst Ritch goes off exploring the hiking trails. That evening we eat another fantastic Laos dinner and find a great little cinema, where you can hire a DVD to watch in one of 5 private lounges.
Nong Khiaw is a lovely location, but we
feel a bit separated from village life on the other side of the river (maybe that's the way they want it!) and Ritch has pretty much covered the limited walking trails in one afternoon. Plus the banks are way too steep to actually get down to the river on one leg, so we decide to move further on to remote Muang Ngoi Neua. The longtail boat which takes us the few hours upriver through patches of white water is steered by a small boy being taught his vocation by his father, who looks like a heavily tattooed Laos Willem Dafoe...I'm actually glad the kid is driving. Accessible only by boat, Muang Ngoi Neua is a tiny one lane village set on a peaceful stretch of the river surrounded by mountains. Like our favorite rural places in Southern Laos, it feels otherworldly.
Our gorgeous wooden bungalow, set on stilts on the riverbank, has huge shutters all round which open wide to create a kind of pavilion in the daytime...it's the perfect place to put my foot up and get in some serious healing time. Despite our remote location we eat one of our best meals so far in Laos when
we order the local speciality, fish laap. A delicious salad made with chillis, herbs and glass noodles topped with fish cured in lime juice and lemongrass...it is lip tinglingly good.
The tradition of being called to drink with the village chief is continued when, on Sunday morning, we are hailed by a porchful of 'mature' men who look like they've been on the Lao Lao for some time already. In these circumstances, it really is considered rude not to, so we join them for an unplanned breakfast of shots. Clearly showing off for our benefit, they mime to us how, unlike the dreaded beer, Lao Lao has the opposite effect of brewers droop. Their complete lack of English means they repeat their game of charades until they absolutely, positively can be sure that we get it. The fact that they each seem to have at least 8 kids means they could be on to something. Lao Lao, the cure all! You can drink it, run your boat on it and squire a small town whilst unconcious! For us it's more like headache in a bottle, but we eventually manage to dizzily escape under the promise that we're off to
test their theory.
Whilst clearly still drunk, Ritch goes off for an afternoon hike armed with only his iPod and a thimble full of water. Meanwhile I get back to the serious business of resting my foot which is beginning to feel the benefit...or that could be the Lao Lao talking.
The next day we go fishing with a couple of young guys from our huts, one of whom speaks perfect English as he was a monk for 12 years. He manages to feed the 5,000 (well, 4 of us) on the riverbank, with a bbq lunch of our meager but tasty catch, plus sticky rice and chilli sauce. He produces a litre of Lao Lao and we talk of his lapsed Buddhism; I begin to understand better what it's about when he explains how in Buddhism there is no God-given forgiveness, only the quest for peace and truth within yourself without ego. After lunch we launch ourselves off in a couple of tubes and float downriver amongst this amazing, dramatic scenery. Later the guys pick up our tubes, but we choose to walk back upriver along the bank, singing as loud and true as the villagers (though
possibly not as beautifully!)
Two days of afternoon Lao Lao sessions make for early nights around here, and with the generators going off by 10pm, you haven't much choice anyway. We've found that many of our favorite places have been villages with only limited generator power, and have been struck time and again by how content these small communities are with limited material, but huge natural gifts. Or maybe it's all just down to the Lao Lao!
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