Advertisement
Published: June 12th 2006
Hi guys - lack of updates: have been travelling through rural southern villages where electricity, water and telephones are a luxury, let alone internet. For now, feast on this:
"Sawadee". "Sawadee". We responded to the huge friendly smile characteristic of this region. It turns out that he is Laotian, and an epitomy of everything that is rumoured about Laotian people. Warm, friendly, highly-loveable and so laid back he'd almost fall over. Traversing and experiencing such beautiful people, one is a far cry from the familiarity of fear and unrest of the West, that it is difficult to believe the world is in certain parts, in turmoil. Ironically, the Democratic Republic of Laos is considered to be one of those countries. And for sure, it has its share of political instability, under-development and economic struggles, but, a certain flame of happiness dances in the eyes of the locals with whom I have interacted - a flame whose light is often missed in the West.
...A rural, undeveloped landscape quietly ended another day in the setting sun over the Mekong. In a world that is so timeless, so tranquil, the aches and pains of our long journey are soothed into insignificance....
First stop
smooth chocolately comfort of world renowned laotian coffee...Our first day in Laos, we breakfasted at Delta Coffee House. 3pm. We were on Laos time now. We watched freshly harvested coffee beans being ground as we sipped our mochas... Then with a fruit juice of orange, lemon, cantaloupe and basil seed we made our way to the market place, slowing momentum with each step as we acclimatised to the Laotian way of living. Walking through the stalls of food laid on the floor, we heard a soft sweet "bonjour" rise up from somewhere amongst the produce. A remarkably beautiful young girl with huge sparkly eyes looked up at us inquisitively. For the next fifteen minutes, she conversed with Rachel and I as she confidently manipulated her linguistic capabilities to quell her curiosity about these 'farangs'. At ten years old she was sharp, intelligent and charming. With a fluency in Frecnh she told us about her dream to become a doctor someday and her working life at the market to pay for college in order to fulfil that dream...
...We later mingled with more local children in the park. They adorably displayed their agility as they climed the rails and competitvely raced each other. They cutely posed
for us as we snapped our cameras and then took off in search of the sunset. It was glorious. Once dark fell, we stopped at a south Indian restaurant eating well and cheaply. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed the world's best cuisine until we were served dishfuls of the stuff! the evening was completed with a fruit shake, some emailing and me falling over grazing my knee, creating a nice whole in my new black trousers. Nice. At the hostel, I squirmed and squeezed as Rachel applied antiseptic and a plaster...
...Insomnia: "Chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time". I cannot recall the last time that I slept for more than an hour. My sleep is intermittent, sporadic, disturbed and sometimes non-existent. Overwhelmed with frustration, I got up at 4am to read a few chapters of John Grisham. Morning came and we wished Umisha a happy 19th birthday. After a late and lengthy breakfast at our favourite coffee house, we made it in the sweltering heat, on a rickety tuk-tuk to the marketplace. Assaulted by the smells of rotting produce and swarms of flies, we didn't stay long. Before leaving
Umisha managed to persuade the three of us take a ride, or rather a brutal bashing on the bumper cars. Enough for the day, I went back to the hostel and rested my head, falling asleep for an hour. I wish I hadn't. Felt nauseas and groggy upon waking. Fortunately all was not bad: Rach's friend Eve had arrived from Canada, bearing a box of swiss Lindt chocolates that she'd purchased at the stop-over in Paris. Only by this time, the several layers of carefully packed chocolates were now one big heap of melted hot chocolate fondue. Four spoons. One open box of oral pleasure. Dig in girls! The world was good and wonderful again!! Dinner was at Delta's with the power out, it was candlelit. Then, we walked the dark unlit streets to the local temple to watch young buddhist novices light candles in the courtyard. Feeling contemplative, I sat a while in the dark, pensive.... Stopped for ice cream and then back to Delta's a third time for cake and a candle and a birthday song. At home, we packed..to music! Praise the lord for the wonders of the i-pod! I hadn't brought my own mp3 player on
travels and was grateful for Umisha's musical contribution. Midnight and lights were out. Surely after two sleepless nights in a row, I'd sleep tonight. It was not to be. Light, broken spells of unsconsciousness was all my body would allow. An early morning dream of freeing tigers from their cages woke me vividly as we rushed out just in time for the bus...
-- Pakse to Tad Lo --
...We boarded what looked like a tin box, with wheels and several broken windows, known in Laos as a bus. Any hopes of sleep catch-up were immediately disregarded. Instead I made it through several more chapters of Grisham. In the book, Nate O'Reily was stuck deep in the heart of the Brazilian jungles, encountering local communities, their straw huts and daily rural life. Looking out the window, I almost felt like a character in the story. There was a backdrop of cloud topped mountains, and the surrounding land showed bushland and rainforest. The only signs of life were the interspersed straw huts set on deep red earth. It was at one of these small communities that we descended: Tad Lo; a small sleepy village with a few guesthouses
and local inhabitants. We rented two basic straw huts for the equivalent of 75p per night. They were cute, and adequate... Out here, I feel far from any sense of reality. There could be a war happening and I would not know...
...We dropped our bags and were hungry for lunch. I went to the outdoor bathroom to wash my hands. Turned on the tap and murky brown water spurted out. Hm, nice. Time for the antiseptic wipes! The guesthouse owner told us that the rain had washed the contamination downhill and we were advised not to use the water for brushing teeth, nor to eat any fresh fruit and vegetables. We began to walk off lunch but barely made it 15mins before the heat and fatigue, not to mention sheer idleness kicked in. Back to the huts for reading, dozing and lazing around. Every movement here is a demanding exercise of labour. Even the locals speak with such soft slow tones that within minutes I find my head dropping in slumber. That said, they are of a wonderful, kindly nature. Upon discovering that the nearest international telephone was 10kms away, Tim offered to drive us 7kms to a
phone shop... Green papaya sald for dinner whilst simultaneously fighting off rthe innumerable array of crawling, flying and biting creatures of the night that chose to keep us company. Ugh. Hot, sweaty and sticky, the next decision was whether to sleep in my own filth, or, shower in the brown murky water. I opted for the latter, sharing the brick shower room with yet more fanciful creatures. Not all of them flying. There were frogs. Hoping at least one would transform into a charming young prince..alas, they did not. Maybe the magic kiss would've done the trick. That shower had to have been the shortest in Asha shower taking history. Those of you who have had the good fortune of living with me will understand that a five minute shower once a day is unheard of. Then, another night under a mosquito net, awaiting to see whether sleep invites me to her sweet escape or not...
-- Tad Lo to Don Khong --
...She did not. All but for a few hours of disturbed rest, in penstivity, fantasy and despair. I eventually emerged from under my mosquito net at 11am, yoga'd as teh winds swept through the
windows of our hut, warning of the swollen dark clouds above, ready to realease their load. Breaksfast was sweet grilled bananas in coconut milk. Who says desserts can't be consumed at breakfast?! That, with a strong Laotian coffee from the Bolaven Plataeu, served with sweet condensed milk gave me the kick start to the morning I needed. We walked a little to the waterfalls where we sat on the hot rocks, dipping our feet in the cool rushing water. Day was spent doing nothing very much. Call it, a cultural experience! Still, by the evening I was tired. Time to face the shower again. And the bed. Each with equal reluctance...
...Caught a morning bus to Pakse. No sooner had we descended than our bags had been unloaded and hauled onto a sawngatheaw bound for Si Phan Don. Sure, travel through Asia may be simple, but by no means easy or stress free. Searing, unmerciful midday heat. Parched red earth, dusting my white trousers an orange brown. Laotian music blaring from neaarby market stalls. Local glares as the unusual indian farangs walked through the chaos perturbed and unwilling. Actaully, I ought to speak for myself. Umi apearred to be
enjoying the whole ordeal. Worse was to come. A sawngatheaw is an open air vehicle, resembling an elongated rickshaw with two planks either side, and one running along the middle. Common to many if not all Asian countries is teh ability to squeeze onto any one vehicle as many passengers as possible. And then some. So, sat with locals on all sides, we rode he three hour ride to the river, hot, sweaty and with any notion of personal space being nothing more than a hopeful vision. We arrived at the river and a boatman began to take us across to the island of Don Khong, though running out of fuel halfway, we had to return to shore and refuel. Checked into a decent hostel, and in low season, there wasn't a tourist in sight. With no internet or telephone, we resolved to food. What else?! Sat by the riverside, watching the sun set, children splashing, fishermen working...
...Awoke at 6am. Since my ankle injury in March I hadn't been running. I thirsted to do so. A nice air-conditioned gym would've been nice but I guess the humidity of dry season and a dirt road. At 7am, the sun
hadn't yet shone in full ardour but the humidity was no more conducive to running than a reduced oxygen room. It was nonetheless a beautiful sunrise over the Mekhong as I ran along the riverfront as locals looked on inquisitively as I puffed and panted in the heat. Having ran what I imagined to be a reasonable time, I looked ashamedly at my watch showing the entire ten minutes of my efforts. Well, at least I tried. Went back to the room, where Umisha lay undisturbed in her sleep. Lucky thing. I lay down myself and managed to doze before realising we had to collect Rach and Eve from the river. A banana shake and a plateful of belly bloating fruit had us sit by the Mekhong until our friends arrived. On an island this sedate, the task was not a difficult one. The first sign of life had to've been them! Took a walk, watching children play, locals snooze, chickens, cats and dogs run around. This place is unbelieveably chilled. Whilst there may have been escpae from noise, the heat was unrelenting. It didn't help that I spent the night writhing like a fish in my mosquito net...
...We attempted another short stroll in the morning (didn't make it for the 4am morning market), every single bodily movement paramount to an over-exertion. As opposed to another lazy day we decided renting motorbikes was the way to go. the woman didn't appear too confident to lend us her newest bikes as she worriedly urged us to coinsider taking bicycles instead. Nope. Motors it was. I re-fuelled as was soon on the road....
....Rice paddies. Farmland. Swamps. Straw huts. Farmers. Dirt roads. Heat waves. Sparkling eyes. Smiling faces. Although this time, the picture is not one I'm staring longlingly into at the glossy pages of travel magazines from the confines of my English home. No, this time, the picture is real. Disbelieving I am actually here, in Laos. I whizz through the countryside on my motorbike, hot, sticky air blowing into my face, rural smells wafting up my nose and my skin prickling in the heat as my flesh roasts in the heat of the dry season. Some water and Beer Lao provide temporary relief as we stopped for ten minutes. The roads were deserted but for a few hay stacked trucks, local farmers and the odd oblivious cow
crossing over. The highlight for me though were the Laotian children who gleefully waved "sabaidee" as we whizzed by, and for whom I always slowed down and smiled. We returned, the bikes and ourselves, unscathed and exhausted. Rach and Eve ordered their fish and watched their supper being caught out in the river. No matter how delicios the food, I found myself unable to enjoy anything once the sun had set and the pestering, irritable, relentless swarms of flying pests came out to play. Constantly waving them out of my face, hair, ear, mouth and food, I was hot and bothered. To add, got the back of my thigh punctured in a nice paw shape by a local scrawny cat. Mannn.....
-- Don Khong to Pakse to Vientiane --
...In the morning we bid farewell to our travelling companions as they headed to Don Det and e to Vientiane. Another crammed sawngthaew took us to the water and across. I sat and watched in amazement as this wafer thin seemingly unstable raft loaded up an inestimable number of vehicles and floated to the other side. More than one sigh of relief as we reached he bank after
the long wait (patience really is a virtue if not a necessity in Asia). The next three hour stretch I actually enjoyed as I considered the impossibility of such travel in the West. Open air vehicle, loaded with people, chickens, rice bags, fish, sugar sacks, boxes, bags, babies and other things dangling off the sides, passengers included. Every now and again, we'd stop for supplies as local food sellers threw themselves upon us, shouting for us to buy their produce. On this journey, all the youth purchased the sticks of huge shiny black beetles, sharing and munching them like a bag of potato chips! Oh My God. The very sight made my skin crawl. We finally arrived at some other unknown destination and as usual with no-one speaking English, just followed the smiles and pointing fingers. Although Pakse is nothing to be marvelled at, it was good to be back on familiar territory. Headed straight for our favourite joint: Delta Coffee House. The smell of strong, arabica coffee hit us as the staff ground the freshly harvested beans. One banana and coffee shake followed another, and I was still too hot to move. Any hotter and I'd soon be a
victim of human combustion. An air-conditioned internet cafe would've been heaven. We were in Laos. No such luck. Instead I sweltered over the emails in my inbox that'd accumulated during my absence from civilisation. An hour of that and I could take no more. We went for dinner then a cold shower at Sabaidy II. No sooner had I stepped out of the shower than I was drenched in sweat once more. Sigh. Tuk-tuk to the bus terminal where we boarded the Nemo express. Well, not exactly, but the bright Disney decorations were amusing. The interior was even cheesier with blue and white frills and plastic flowers.. Still I was not complaining as I luxuriated in the first air conditioning my skin had felt in a week. We sank into our seats in giggles. Overnight travel is never pleasant by any means and if a bed does ot provide me with sufficient comfort, then a bus certainly wasn't going to. We departed at 8:30pm and arrived into Vientiane at 6am, woken by a "cockadoodledoo" screeching through the bus. Only, it wasn't through the loudspeakers as we had first thought. No, on this VIP express bus there was a real, live,
cockerel. Was I surprised? Not really. My exhaustion by this point was overwhelming. We made way to the guesthouses and found one. The owner was a little creepy but we were only to spend one night there. And, we had errands to run all day. First stop: the police station. That was certainly interesting as Umi tried to explain her missing funds to the staff. I sat and waited in the cool air of the tourism office, a little worse for wear. Nausea, dehydration, overheated, fatigued and plagued by the temperaments of my tummy. With my passion for good, wholesome foods, I soon sought out the good eateries and we went to a great cafe for lunch. Everything on the menu was enticing. My stomach wanted some steamed jasmine rice loaded with butter, to start with. Then, a veggie version of Lao laap - a tofu salad with mint leaves, beans, mushrooms and the essential asian ingredient: chili. We returned to the hostel but could not stand to sit in the crummy hole for longer than necessary, so, I headed straight back to the cade, equipped with books to have a hot masala chai and chocolate cake. Two hours passed.
Vientiane
get me outta here... I moved on to another cafe for dinner: two pieces of honey and ginger chocolate ganache, and one truffle with one scoop of rosemary ice-cream. Then, reluctant to return to the hostel I sat in an internet cafe for three hours uploading the photos I know you all love to see! Though with a passion for writing, updating my blog is hardly a torturous event. Returned to a sad-faced Umisha who sat outside our red-ant infested room. We could not wait for morning to arrive...
-- Vientiane to Vang Vieng --
...Breakfast was at the French cafe: fruit, farmers yoghurt and a dark Champasaak honey with two sugared milk bread rolls. Then a three hour bus ride to Vang Vieng...
... Breakfast was omlette filled with mulberry leaves. Three hours later, I'm still sat here. So, while I wait for my organic mulberry mulberry pancake and mulberry shake to arrive I'll update on Vang Vieng: you can always tell whe I love a place, as my writing is infrequent, irregular and often brief, for I am having too much fun to be sat in an internet cafe. Anyhow, today is faaaaaaar to hot, so I'll take
Vang Vieng
Mm, that's more like it the opportunity for a brief update of the highlights since arrival:
a real feel good factor such that a week later we're still here; surrounded by mountains and local villages. The first time we came to this organic farm cafe (now the only place we eat), my eyes fell upon a noitce for volunteering at the organic farm that supplies the cafe. Knowing immediately that I would find myself working there, my mind of course still insisted on going through its usual decision making rituals. Ate fried tofu with sweet basil leaves and shredded beans. Roamed around before getting caught in the rain. Rain. One of my all time favourite things in the whole world. And when it pours like this: heaven. As soon as the clouds let loose their load, there was no sense in running for shelter as we were drenched to the skin in seconds, the pair of us looking like we'd been dipped in the dea (or.. stepped out of an indian movie song scene). Anyhow, we were loving every second. Within minutes, the dirt roads had become rivers of flowing mud, and in the dark, we squelched our way home, finding a youthful joy in
the sticky mess...
...Wednesday was tubing day. Well, it was on Umisha's schedule, certainly not on mine. I could think of nothing worse than floating downstream on a dirty water for four hours. Did I do it? Of course. After a breakfast of poached eggs, fresh ginger tea and papaya shake we headed to the start of the tubing track, which was coincidentally by the organic farm cafe, and my sole motivation for going. Spoke to Mr Thi, who welcomed my enthusiasm and encouraged us to look around the farm. As I walked around seeing the locals farming the land, labouring over the construction of mud huts and organic teas I gre increasingly excited. We ate crispy fried mulberry leaves and fruit shakes before heading to the river. Time for tubing. What on earth possesed me to disobey my intuition and take part in this popular activity I don't know but as soon as I sunk into my tube, I spent the following two hours complaining about all manner of things from being wet (Jesus Christ Ash, you're in a river)! to being uncomfortable, bored, and tired. When a passing Irish dude overheard this, he amusingly threatened to chuck
his flip flops at me as I was obviously delusional, I mean, how could I possibly not be enjoying this? Meandering down the Mekhong, laying back in my tube, watching the world go by. Whatever. By 5pm, I could take no more. I pulled myself in to the bank of the river and that;s where my fun began. I asked a local for a lift back to Vang Vieng and she pulled out a motorbike. I was soaking wet, in my swimwear, carrying one humungous tube and other valuables. "no problem" she said. Well, okay. So I balanced myself on the back of the bike, huge tube in one hand, and valuables in other. I had a great time amusing the onlookers as we sped through town. The evening was a good dose of Friends' episodes as we lay on the cushions in one of the many restaurants realising the fantastic marketing ploy of having back to back Friends episodes all evening - for Western tourists will sit there, glued to the screens for many hours whilst ordering food and drink...
...Thursday over breakfast a girl turned around, recognising my London accent. Turns out her and boyfriend are also
Vang Vieng
room with a view planning to volunteer at the farm. She joined us that afternoon for a motorbike ride and ...drama. It was an eventful day, full of story. So, here goes: with unstable bikes and dodgy roads we thought perhaps it'd be wiser to leave the bikes behind, but, no refund was negotiable. So, we set off in search of the caves, but not before Umi's bike conked out. It was out of fuel. So, mission was to find a fuelling station. First stop was dry. He pointed to a place opposite the old airstrip. We arrived. No petrol there either. Hm. Whilst Umi and I continued to push the bike along, Finola sped ahead in search of fuel. We eventually found a roadside stall stacking tins and cans and carparts. They didn't speak a word of English but we opened the fuel tank and pointed in. He smiled, went inside and emerged, with a clear wine bottle filled with a pink transluscent fluid, with a water like consistency. As he poured the contents into the tank, we wondered whether they were laughing at us or at the liquid that wasn't actually fuel. Anyhow, it seemed to work. For now. We made our
Vang Vieng
I couldn't help but get off my bike to capture this one... way to the caves, both of which were closed so we just rode around, exploring the countryside and admiring the scenery. We stopped at a mountainside cafe before it got too dark. The day wasn't over yet. Before dark, we managed to fall off the bike, damage the gears and bend the footrest... right in front of Mr Thi for whom we'll be working next week. Nice...
...Friday we hired bicycles. A few errands, lots of food and a little cycling had us exhausted. Friends episodes again from 9pm - midnight. Jeez this is becoming habitual...
..Today is rocket festival. Sounds of celebration boom through the streets, parades, music and laughter as the locals pop open their beers. Myself I've just spentfour hours updating blog. Appreciate it! You won't hear from me in a while, since I'm off to work at the farm tomorrow. Await updates...
-- Phouandeng Organic Farm --
Day One: wading waist deep, fully clothed through a fast the fast flowing Nam Song, pushing a tractor led cart from one bank to the other as we loaded and unloaded it with rocks. Reckon I can put this on my CV?? Best part:
the young children labouring with us. Worst part: Cold, very wet, muddy and oh, my trousers ripped! Cringe.
Day Two: woke at 06:30 for 'self-work', yoga etc. Breakfast with Belgian landscape architect; organic lao coffee and a mulberry omlette. Spoke to Julian about his plans for the farm garden. I agreed to help. That was before I'd seen it. I walked through the gates and gaped, open mouthed at the jungle-like mess that lay before me. Wearing white trousers, a flimsy pair of flip flops and thin gardening gloves, I picked up the shovel and got to work. Laboured til 5pm to grab a quick shower before heading off into the village in search of the local community centre where I was to teach Englsih classes. Locals busied themselves with daily open air activities such as farming, cleaning, cooking, and even showering. I learned some time ago that the conception of personal space bears no meaning in Asia. The brown jersey cows stared at me as inquistively as did the children; though once realising my purposeful visit, their laughter rang through the village and they freely came, holding my hands and running beside me, tagging my shirt. They had
had various Western teachers in the past, but never a brown-faced one, and so they tested inquistively, my character. As soon as the community centre door was open for class, thirty enthusiastic, jumping Laotian children ran inside screaming and leaping for joy. Wow. A reaction to extra curricular schooling such as that one provides enough energy for any teacher to keep going. Particularly when one is accustomed to the negative approach of Western students. I was joined by some other travellers, and together, we arranged games and lesson plans. An hour passed swiftly and as they walked out into the village they waved goodbye, their eyes filled with joy, and hope. I for one, would certainly be back tomorrow. My next student Houa - was extremely bright and fluent as we conversed for the next hour in English. She was lacking in confidence rather than ability and I hoped to have remedied that I my short time with her. That evening, exhausted as I was, I had not the heart to leave and so I stayed, and stayed, until the students themselves tired of the teaching. That brought my working day to a total of twelve hours. As we fought
the flying ants and locked up the building, we found ourselves in pitch blackness. I didn't have my flashlight with me. Surrounded by mountainside and rocky village roads, we stepped, slowly, foot by foot through the village attempting to navigate out way home. Eventually found our way back to the farm ate dinner. Thoroughly exhausted, I lay in bed that night, eyes heavy and unable to sleep. Moreover, with half a wall missing on the side of my hut I had wind and light flooding in to keep me awake.
Day Three: woke at 06:30 for more self work and a slow breakfast. It wasn't enough to compensate for the lack of sleep. Replanted and restabilized the hibiscus, watered and mulshed the plants with rice pods. Every minute of work seemed like an hour. I laboured til I could stand no longer. During lunch break I lay on my bed and... fell asleep. Three hours later I woke to go work some more on the asparagus patch before showering and preparing for class. Like the Pied Piper, I walked through the village, a growing group of enthusiastic young followers accumulating behind me as I walked. Each of them competing
to hold onto my hands or my clothes, they sang out my name in different tones as they jubilantly skipped or ran along behind me. It was overwhelming. As we unlocked the community centre door, once more there were screams of delight at the prospect of class. Contrast this to the groans of disappointment that often accompany Western classrooms, and it is easy to see why teaching can be such a pleasure here, for the students unreservedly display respect and gratitude towards their teachers. Of course, teachers always try not to have favourties but human nature is such that this is sometimes inevitable. Mine was Iya; a bright, gorgeous young girl whose eyes shone with intelligence and eagerness. She was reserved and I was keen to pull her out of her shell. Once comfortable enough, she flew through all the classroom exercises with ease. It was astonishing and impressive to see. After class one had ended, I took the group of intermediates and worked with eight of them; eight teenage boys who, whilst keen to learn, had an adolescent reservedness that inhibited them from participating in all the game plans I had arranged. Thinking quickly, I thought of some other
things to engage their interest and they seemed to be happy for the next hour. Then came the final hour of thirty patient students, all waiting to be taught. I had insisted that I wouldn't be teaching til 8pm tonight, though no other teachers had arrived. Hm. I hadn't the heart to send them all home for lack of a teacher and I knew it. So, without a clue as to what I would do, I jumped into the moment and let Life play out the rest. Fortunately within ten minutes, another couple had arrived and I gratefully let them take over. I excused myself and departed, much to the dismay of some students who have grown accustomed to my distinctive brown skin and Asian mannerisms that often match their own.
Day Four: Awoke...feeling weak. And with a sore throat. I had pushed my body too hard and it was telling me so. The message was clear: slow down Asha before you make yourself ill. A day-off was definitely called for and the weather made an exceptional performance just for the occasion: it was raining heavily. Went into town with Marianna, Rich and Finola to seek supplies and some
Phouandeng Village
en route to English class food. Checked some emails (wishing I hadn't), made a quick phonecall home to mom, watched the ending of Harry Potter whilst eating hot sweet porridge and banana. By now it was afternoon and hot. Marianna wanted to walk the 3kms back to the farm and so I joined. The options were; lounge about in self sympathy, or, direct attention away from self and go teach English. Within an hour I found myself back in the village. I was too drained to work with the young uns so I took the intermediate class again, this time with Eileen, and her two years of teaching English in Korea experience. As the sun set, I made an early departure and went to have dinner: tofu satay and purple sticky rice.
Day Five: Another lethargic start to the day as I tried to summon the energy to work. Fruit salad and organic coffee with copious amounts of sweet condensed milk. Back to the asparagus patch. The overcast skies did help though the humidity never lets up. I tried to concentrate on the task at hand, with difficulty. I ended up doing all the muddy work with great pleasure. I resolved to getting mucky
and dug my hands into the soft brown earth, feeling its clay-like texture squidge between my fingers. Awesome. During lunchtime, went into the river to cool off. I decided to take a day off from teaching today, knowing that the students were in the capable hands of Eileen and Jenni. Instead, I walked into town with the other volunteers. Dined then watched Kill Bill whilst David and Noura drank happy shakes. The 3km walk back was dark, quiet and blissfull.
Day Six: Breakfasted on a baguette and mulberry jam with a kiwi journalist. Then back to work. Pruning mulberry trees. Had a mulberry shake for lunch, then back to work. Agreed to walk the Dutch girls to the village, only to show them the way. Three hours later I was still there. The heartfelt cries of my name as the children caught sight of me was too much. I couldn't leave.
Day Seven: After breakfast, I basked in the morning run as I stood in the river, the cold clear water rushing over my feet and legs. Seemed almost dreamlike as I stood admiring the lush organic greens, the mountainside, the farmland, and listened to only the sound
of the running water. Joined the Americans for dinner in town again - papaya salad.
Day Eight: A week already. I watched the others return from their sunrise trek up the mountainside whilst I sat and enjoyed a warm baguette with eggs for breakfast. There was a growing sense of community amongst us volunteers and we did most things together. Except hiking. And I felt no guilt whatsoever in declining the invitation. Finola and Rich announced that they'd be leaving the farm today. I decided to stay at least another day. Or so I thought. After a morning of pruning trees, in coversation with Julian I suddenly realised that my visa was due to expire and I had to leave the country in a few days. Crap. I quickly packed up my belongings and checked out. My Thi thanked me for all my help and bid me goodbye. As I walked away, he arranged for a motorbike to have me dropped off into town. All well n good except I had a huge travellers backpack on my back. "no problem" he said. Well, okayyy.... I sat, teeth clenched and knuckes white as we sped down the road towards town,
my backpack swinging off the back of the bike, inching towards the road. Booked a morning bus to Luang Prabang and went for lunch at the Organic Cafe in town - where else?! Tofu laap and an iced mulberry tea.
Cannot believe I have been in Laos an entire month already. The longer I stay, the greater my disinclination to leave.
-- Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang --
...The asended to join me on this seven hour journey. As the roads wound scenically around the northen mountains of Laos, so did the clouds. The photo opportunities were astounding but with the rain pelting down upon us my camera wasn't happy getting wet...
...Checked into Hoxieng Guesthouse. Had a twin ensuite room to myself as they had no other rooms available. I certainly wasn't going to complain. Spread the soaking wet contents of my backpack to dry before stepping outside to walk off the queasy feeling of nausea that had settled during the bus ride. As synchronicity would have it, I bumped into Jenni and Eileen. We went for dinner at the marketplace, a vegetarian buffet for 5000. Not bad. Not bad at all. Fruit salad and
a movie at the famous L'Etranger bookshop. The evening ended with a walk through the night market, marvelling at all the local handicrafts whilst sipping hot masala chai from a bag... Holding this hot plastic bag of chai was probably a good thing as it occupied my hands and they were unable to delve into my pockets to find my wallet. Once I'd finished the chai and discarded the bag though, my wallet soon emptied itself of its contents and by the time I'd reached home I had myself three silk scarves and two beer lao tee shirts as well as a dispensing of the remainder of my budget for Laos. Fortunately I have a best friend known as the bank...
...Back in the awful company of insomnia, I was already alive and awake for the 5am rendez-vous in the rain. The girls however, locked into their guesthouse, didn't show up so I went ahead in search of the monks. I was sleepy, wet and sliding around in the grime of the city, contemplating heading back. Then, out of nowhere, stepped a bright orange robe. And another. And another. Before too long, there was a stream of buddhist
monks, out on their morning walk to collect food. They traversed gracefully, barefoot through the wet roads and the rain, food container swung over one shoulder and umbrella balanced on the other. It truly was a magnificent sight and a photographers' heaven. Walked back to the guesthouse at 6am and caught a few winks of sleep before going out again. Fortunately bumped into the girls who explained their story of being locked in. We went for breakfast at L'Etranger; muesli, yoghurt, honey and fruit. Three hours passed easily in the quaint comfy cushion laden bookshop. Soft french music played in the background. The tables and chairs lay low, and the walls were high - covered ceiling to floor in copies of the National Geographic, an intellectual haven of information. I pulled a few off the shelves and read once I bored of writing postcards. The rain stopped and we went for a stroll around the neighbourhood, coming across Wat Xieng Thong. For lunch we grabbed banana leaf parcels from a market stall, and for dinner another vegetarian buffet at the night market with David and Noura. Sounds great, but to be unashamedly honest; I really don't know what the rave
Mountain roads
From Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang is about south east asian market food - sure its always a good feed for less money than would buy you a bar of chocolate back home, but, I was becoming severly sick of what I perceived to be relatively bland, and limited tastes. That last comment will no doubt spark a reaction in many who wildly disagree! Hehe.
Finally slept well that night and even managed yoga in the morning. I really will miss the cold tiled floors of SEA. Yoga on a carpeted surface isn't quite the same as tile or marble. Joma cafe bakery for breakfast: cinnamon bagel and a bowl of fruit. Just as I'd finished eating and made plans for the day, in entered Eileen, with an arm-twisting invitation to the waterfalls. Five of us, in a rickety tuk-tuk, as it clanked slowly over the bumpy hillsides, had me escape to a world within; a world of fantasy and fairytale. That was until the vehicle broke down, and we had to push it up the hill to re-start. Nice. The falls were unexpectedly impressive, for as travellers fatigue kicks in, I am growing increasingly unreactive and dispassionate about new sights and scenes. We climbed
Retail therapy
Jenni, Eileen and I urm, supporting the Laotion economy with our purchases.... to the top, and gladly, made it down again without incident. No, the drama began once we'd reached the bottom when we found Sam's foot bleeding. It wouldn't have been a problem if it had been cut. But instead, he upturned his foot to find a huge, slimy black leech sucking his blood. Not quite the scene for the squeamish, Holly looked away as we figured out how to get this thing off. Pulling it would have things still stuck inside the skin, but without a lighter, that's the option we took. Or rather, he took. Once that part was done - next came the antiseptic cleaning as well as the tweezers to pull bits out of the wound. Whilst Sam was being particularly heroic about the whole episode, his girlfriend looked more than a little queasy, clearly disturbed by the whole ordeal.
Three months in SEA has me craving decent food. Indian food. I was eating at Nazim's tonight whether anyone was joining me or not. Eileen didn't need any convincing. We shared roti's, daal and aubergine curry with of course, masala chai. I cannot recall food ever having tasted so so good and to which my stomach
had no objection, in its otherwise temperamental reactions. The plan was to finish dinner and shop. Flying fuckwits that hatch in monsoon season had other plans. Walked, or rather, flapped our way through the well lit, and bug filled marketplace. So much for the shopping. We escaped to 'Le Cinema', to watch Walk the Line. It was late when we arrived home and, I was locked out. Crap, I'd breached the guesthouse curfew. A rattle of the front gates ensured the cute reception guy came to my rescue! Given the time, I should have slept well. Should have.
Thursday 25 May 2006. Joma Bakery Cafe. One freshly baked mulberry pie. One very stuffed Asha. That, was breakfast round one. In walk Jenni and Eileen. 'Fancy breakfast at the Scandinavian bakery?' 'Sure, why not'. A serving of eggs and bread. A splitting at the seams Asha. Breakfast round two. This in fact, is a perfect depiction of my time spent in the company of the two Canadian sisters: sheer indulgence. Whether it be food, shopping, culture or comfort - we didn't do things by half... The girls then proceeded to visit the museum, the very thought of which made me
yawn and so I ran around on an errand run. Got to the post office hoping to finally post those twenty odd cards that I'd taken several days to write. At $14, any such hopes flew out the window. I mean, I love my lot in the UK n all, but hey, not that much!! I did have to eat after all! After some banking and purchasing tickets, I re-met the girls to climb Phu Si. The 330 steps in the heat were arduous and seemingly un-ending though I did not regret a second of that labour once I'd reached the peak. The views were....more than I'd ever imagined I'd see. Ever. Climbed down the other side, and arrived conveniently at L'Etranger for papaya lassi to cool off. Joma sandwiches and chinese bean filled doughnuts. We picked up some lychees to snack on as we headed back to Le Cinema for a viewing of Wallace and Gromit. Unable to think of anything other procrasinating activities, it was time to go pack. Ugh. Ate a hot grilled sticky rice and egg stick whilst packing and, by some miracle, managed to successfully (okay maybe not successfully) shove every new purchase into my
already bursting backpack. We decided on a farewell dinner of LP salad and fried seaweed and fish laap at a riverside restaurant. Final walk through the market, and some purchases. Obviously. Bid farewell to the girls, went to my guesthouse and prepared for bed before.. realising that I didn't have enough money to get me across the border. In need of kip, baht and dollars, I knew the girls would be my only resolve. I pulled some trousers over my pj's, got the keys, slid open the iron gate and creeped over to the girls'. Sweetpies that they are, they gave me a the few dollars that I needed to get me by.
The two day boat traversing the mighty Mekhong River along the northern provinces of Laos, heading west, toward the Huay Xai border.
-- Pakbeng -- ( a middle of nowhere stopover point )
End of day one on the boat. I am convinced beyond all reasonable doubt that the nomadic lifestyle is not for me. 'Beyond all reasonable doubt' - sounds like a criminal conviction. Feels like one too. I know I'm being dramatic but this is really shitty and my homesickness has
hit an all time high. The smiles all around me as locals marvel and stare at my journal scribblings goes some way to comforting my solitude out here in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps in half an hour I'll be able to bore myself to sleep...
00:35 Monday 29th May. "...what a difference a day makes; 24 little hours...". Damn right. I feel dizzy and drunk with the lethal concoction of emotion that has been passed into, through and out of my body in the past day alone. Only to be swiftly replenished by whatever other cocktail of emotion the Mind conjures up and wishes to turmoil me with.
The boat ride was twelve hours of hot, humid, cramped, bum-numbing bliss. Twelve hours of being in the middle of nowhere, amidst astounding mountain ranges, on a creaking wooden long boat, doing nothing but reading, dozing, contemplating and gazing and the swirls of bubbling murky brown water below. I got a third of the way through 'Papillon' but unimpressed with the writing style, I slept much of the time on the wooden planks that were the chairs. Fortunately I did a bookswap and got happily engrossed in the literary
talent of Gregory David Roberts in his novel 'Shantaram'. We arrived at the Huay Xai border three hours after border crossings were closed. Great. Another night in Laos fortunately for which I had sufficient hard funds. Just. And, one final day before visa expiry. The guesthouse was in fact, of exceptional quality, and cheap. Costs were further reduced by sharing a room with Kat, a Canadian traveller on the boat. Funny how strangers can become companions in an instant - holding trust, compassion and friendship without basis nor justification. That day was the birth of our friendship, and whilst we did not know it then, we would travel the next two weeks together.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.222s; Tpl: 0.027s; cc: 6; qc: 46; dbt: 0.1018s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb
