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Published: January 31st 2007
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I caught a flight from Siem Reap to Vientiane via Pakse. I'd made my flight reservations on the internet fearing it would be booked in the high season. NEVER book tickets online for any airlines that your friends back home have never heard of! Trust me, what a hassle! It took me several attempts to find a seat on the plane with an operable safety belt. The overweight American in front of me did nothing to calm my nerves. She was carrying a 2L bottle of coke and 2L of water and a bunch of food in case, in case, I dunno, war should be declared on McDonalds. Seated at the back and unaware of the short stop over, I scrambled out of my seat when i saw the other passengers hiking up the aisle towards the rear exit of the little propellor plane. I entered the customs building where a single officer took my ticket, looked at me, and said, "Pakse?" Yeah, just the one backpack, I said. "no, Pakse," he repeated. The pilot had also entered the airport and glanced at my ticket, "Your ticket is for Vientiane." Yup, i said. "This is Pakse, not Vientiane." Ooh.
VIENTIANE
was a little less than I expected. If I ever have the chance though I'd like to return and give it further exploring. It is a very small capital with some laid back eateries along the river, a few ex-pat bakeries in the town centre where a number of Swedish families seem to congregate, a few temples worth an afternoon's tour. One evening, I dined on strange snack foods from some vendors set up on a neighbourhood street. Take away in hand, I happened upon a cheering crowd and jostled my way into the bleachers of the national stadium where i enjoyed a free soccer match. I didn't see much else of town before falling ill. It hit me quick. After a dizzy spell at one of the temples I could hardly walk back to the pension. I took a super-duper pill fearing I'd caught malaria and slept the next 24hrs sweating profusely. But what a wonderful place to fall ill, so calm and exotic.
The next day I made use of one of the many massage parlours scattered around town before catching a flight north. I think one of the domestic airlines went bankrupt shortly before I arrived
and consequently few flights headed to Luang Prabang. Instead I flew to Oudemxay and caught a truck the rest of the way. I found the flight quite safe in the end after all the horror stories, and really enjoyed the trucks, bundled into the back between local travellers and their packs, their children, their wee wives, the tape player pumping traditional Laotian tunes serenading us along the windy forested roads. A great memory! I hoped to join a hike in LUANG NAMTHA and explore the surrounding hill-tribe villages. I checked things out with a few touring offices but unfortunately there were few tourists in town and the one group had left that day. Instead I found a map of the surrounding area and rented a bicycle. Everywhere students were letting out from school. One teenage boy invited me back to his house to meet his friends and neighbours and to share lunch. Unfortunately there was no food at his home and I was a little nervous to drink the tap water. That evening I ventured to a restaurant located in a brand new two storey wood house a couple hundred metres walk north of the bus station and scattering of
sunset on the Mekong
Thailand lies across the river hotels. The menu included many dishes, each page displaying 2 accompanying dishes and their picture. I was also served the house wine, a strong banana liqueur. Delicious and not sweet like you'd expect.
Getting to MUANG SING was half the fun. Eventually, I bought my own CDs of the crazy orchestral music I heard playing while travelling by sawngthaews. My friends back home cannot stand the off-key clang. It takes a more worldly soul to appreciate. MUANG SING, the town, isn't much, a market or two, a few hotels and fewer restaurants. I did manage to find a day hike, nobody else was interested in a three day hike. This is probably the biggest draw-back of travelling alone in South East Asia, when the tour operators will only disembark with a minimum number of travellers or charge a single/ couple an increased rate. The day hike was fantastic though and we wandered through a few different hill-tribes villages, Akha, Mien and Tai Leu. The villages were in varying degree of development. One had a concrete school house with two big classrooms and several school supplies. In another village, the school house was built of palm and bamboo with very simple
wood benches and tables. We encountered few villagers, most were out planting or cutting trees, of whom we met a few in the trails. The young children who remained behind in the village seemed mostly unimpressed with us and not keen to communicate, even less so the elderly women who did not even poke their heads out of their thatched stilt homes. White folk just ain't that interesting anymore!?
LUANG PHABANG & VAN VIANG were my last stops. I had a ball shopping in Luang Phabang's night market. I can fill a room with all the hand woven silk and cotton tapestries I brought back. And the nearby food alley is so user friendly, cozy and a great place to meet other travellers. I toured the temples in and around town, took a boat ride up to Pak Ou caves via a few tourist villages, dreadful Walmart reincarnations of what must have been until recently authentic villages but are now wall to wall handicrafts. Good for them, I suppose, that they maintain their crafts and earn a livelihood to support their villages but it has completely altered the townscape. For a more realistic vision, catch the little motorboats across the
river from Luang Phabang, head up the bank and keep continuing to your left along the dirt road. There is a hut renting bikes too. Fewer tourists venture these roads. The bus ride south to VanViang is unforgettable. Try to grab a seat near the front. Early morning, our coach wove through little hamlets before reaching a sea of endless clouds stretching from the roadside to the south and west soaring over the Mekong Valley. I had no idea we were at such high elevation. There are several villages between Luang Phabang and VanViang not mentioned in western guide books with hotel signs along the road. Had I time, I would've stopped. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. VAN VIANG, as the guide book forewarned is full of pseudo hippies watching reruns of Friends. I kept to the west bank and a wonderful one night/ two days. VAN VIANG is among my top ten places for whiling away an afternoon sipping cool drinks and reading a good novel. I did some sketches of the limestone cliffs and took an early morning hike to their base in search of a good lookout for the sunrise. I followed chanting sounds, thinking I'd found a temple
market food, Muan Sing
easily the tastiest supper in town but the trail only followed a dry river bed to some cliffs in the rocks. The pension owner said it was probably ghosts, I'd heard. late morning, after banana pancakes eaten on the terrace, I jumped my last sangthaeuw for the ride south to Vientiane. For much of the ride I had almost the whole back of the cab to myself. I stood on the bumper, watching over the pick-up, letting my gaze wander into the mountains, the hot air blowing in my hair, covering it in exhaust, and waving to the happy smiles of people I zipped past as though i were Indiana Jones and Princess Diana's love child.
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