Eating Frogs Plus the Fun of Bus Trips in Laos

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When my story last left off, I was exploring the caves where the Pathet Lao hid during the bombings of the Vietnam/Laos War and describing a massive outdoor food market in neighboring Sam Nuea.

From Sam Nua, we journeyed by bus six hours to a small town called Vieng Thong. The bus journey, which was typical of those in Laos, may be a bit interesting to those not familiar. After asking many people around town the bus departure times, one takes a general average to ascertain at what time busses may actually leave for the destination. Either there are no posted bus times or the posted bus times are wrong. When it is time for the bus to depart, if the bus is not full, and by full I mean packed to the hinges, piled high with goods on top, the bus will go trolling through town, looking for passengers and cargo. Our bus drove slowly back through town, the wrong way towards our destination, until a woman in a passing car flagged us down. We stopped right there, in the road, and the woman proceed to load boxes in to the bus through a rear window. She then paid the driver a negotiated fee to transport these goods for her. Driving on, we journeyed down a steep hill to what you might call a boat terminal, where a man loaded on a few boxes of live ducks and some large boxes of packaged food. We looked around town a bit more, but there were no additional takers, so we left town, passing the bus station on our way out.

As we ascended the mountains surrounding town, the most mystical, magical fog coated the mountaintops, making every moment of our trip thus far worth it. Later in the day, the fog would rise up, leaving a clear view of the mountains, but early in the morning, at that time, the rising fog, midway up the valley, was heavenly. Really, just to see a sight like that once in my life seemed enough to be happy forever.

In Vieng Thong, a tiny, tiny town boasting one main dirt street, one restaurant and two guesthouses abutting rice fields, we visited the headquarters of the Nam Phouey Wildlife Preserve. The preserve has created a 900 km mass of land where hunting is either illegal or limited to protect the many animals who are endangered in Laos. The country used to be known as the Land of a Million Elephants, but now there are very few remaining. The same with tigers, deer, bears and guars, a massive 3000 lb buffalo-like creature. The organization works to give the villagers within the preserve, coming from 91 villages, alternatives to hunting these endangered animals. (Although the villagers know it’s illegal to hunt many of these animals, they still do it, as they can sell the meat in towns and to traders from Vietnam, and they do not have a good alternative income.) The organization has created little huts in many of the villages where tourists will be able to come to stay, and have a chance to glimpse some of this rarely seen wildlife. The villagers will be able to make money providing services to the tourists, such as cooking and guiding. At the headquarters, we saw photos of all of these endangered animals, taken by cameras strapped to trees deep in the jungle for a one week period. It was amazing to see these animals, still existing, and in their natural habitats. The camera captured about ten types of tigers, not to mention bears, guars, deer, monkeys and poachers!

In Vieng Thong, we also visited a magical to look at, though not to actually be in, as it was fly-infested and smelly, hot springs rising up through a healthy, green field. Imagine looking out in to a field, grassy, with streams running through it, and seeing that indeed, steam is naturally rising up at various points throughout. A dam had been built at the bottom of the field, and pipes stuck out from the dam. Villagers could come and bathe from these pipes but the water was really very, very hot, too hot to bathe with.

Looking out on to the rice and vegetable fields just behind the main street at dusk, one could imagine the Communist dream was a success. People worked throughout the field, peacefully watering and tending shared plots of land, a vision of successful, communal work.

The following day, we heard the loud ascent of a helicopter arriving in town, and watched hundreds of uniformed officers drive by. Apparently, the President was arriving, but we later learned it was not “the” President, but just “a” President. Flags were hung all along the main dirt street and a line of officers and locals dressed in their best awaited the President along the roadside. But apparently they’d been waiting a while, because by the time I came down to watch, everybody was crouched down on their haunches, settled in for a long wait, and tired of standing. A motorcade came by and everyone half stood as they thought it was the President, but it wasn’t him, and so the crouching began again. I got bored waiting for this exciting arrival and went off with a gang of kids to play in the rice field.

These kids were so sweet and free. Two times, in two different swimming holes in the field, I watched as they said, “Let’s swim!” and then ripped off their warm coats and pants, as it was a cold morning, and dove, carefree, in to the water. After a few minutes of frolicking, the kids would run out of the water, shivering, and pull on their coats and pants, with no concern for still being wet. And then we’d be off, running some other place in the field to look at rice growing, or frogs hopping. All of a sudden I realized, Keith and I needed to leave soon to catch our bus to Nong Khiaw, and so I waved goodbye and ran back to my guesthouse, a trail of children following. I kept looking out the window as I packed and the kids were sitting outside, just waiting and hoping I’d come back out.

An hour later, while waiting for our bus, we ate whole frogs, skewered and grilled, with sticky rice. Once the skin is peeled off, the meat is tender and tasty, more hearty than fish but with a rich fish flavor. Very good actually, although it’s easier to eat once you dismantle its small body and it no longer looks like a small frog staring at you.

Nong Khiaw was a stunning little village set on the banks of the sparkling, clear blue Nam Ou River. It was nothing more than a series of small shops and guesthouses catering to tourists, set high on the banks above the river, and local homes and rice fields. What really set this town apart was the 500-foot bridge spanning the river and connecting the town’s two sides. Standing upon the bridge, the views in either direction were awe-inspiring, big blue mountains, a thick blue river.

Keith would be heading north for more research, but as my visa was about to expire, I needed to return to Luang Prabang, where I could extend my visa. So we parted ways in Nong Khiaw and Keith continued north, while I spent a day in the most peaceful, quiet bungalow aside the Nam Ou. My bungalow, made entirely of thatched bamboo, containing nothing but a bed with a mosquito net and a small table. Set high above the river, spaced separately from the few other bungalows, I spent my time here relaxing and enjoying the peace and quiet and the luxury of having a tiny home right on the river bank. When the afternoon got hot, I walked down the bank to swim in the river, with tides of little local kids. Some kids swam nude, some swam in their underwear and many of the girls swam in their sinhs, the traditional long skirt. I swam, as always here, in my clothes, as bathing suits have unfortunately not yet become appropriate. But it was OK, as the water was clean and fresh, and afterwards my clothes were really cleaner than before.

As the alternative shower is a single pipe, running down from the mountainside and in to a roadside gutter, which forty families share, many people elect to bathe in the river. So it’s very common to see people with soap and shampoo and a rock scrubbing away in the water. (Exfoliation is very important here and is generally done with a rock. A bit painful to me, but I think if one is used to it, it‘s just fine.) Men bathe in their underwear, women in sarongs or sinhs, pulled up above their chests.

Not far from my bungalow was a small hut with a squat toilet and a “shower”, for my luxury. But really, the shower was a tub of stagnant water, so electing to bathe in the river was good for me.

When it was time to leave the next morning, I watched the bus driver, elderly, and seemingly too blind to drive, climb nimbly up and down the saeng-thow, (a big truck with benches installed in the bed for passengers), stowing luggage on top. I honestly watched another driver strap an entire cherry-blossom tree to the roof of his saeng-thow. You can put anything up there! I was chatting with a woman sitting next to me, holding a newborn baby. When this woman exited the bus, as her stop was along the way, she handed me a folded note and told me she loved me. (The note was in Lao but my friend later read it to me. It said that she loved me and wanted me to be her little sister and gave me her number to call.)

The journey back to Luang Prabang was about four hours, and we stopped frequently to pick up and drop off passengers. In Laos, there is no such thing as a full bus, so sometimes we were shoved in to that truck like sardines, while other times there was space to breathe. A woman with a toddler held him off the rear of the moving bus, his naked bum in the air, and whispered “Shhhh”, trying to coax him to pee. When he didn’t pee, probably from fright he would fall from the bus, she yelled at him, right in his little face. Another time, we passed a two-hundred year old monk, hobbling along the side of the road. We stopped to pick him up, and somehow he lifted his legs to climb in to the truck. When we arrived at the bus station, he just sat in the bus, seemingly in a state of shock or perhaps confusion because of his old age, until the also elderly driver yelled at him to get out of the truck.

I was delighted to be back in Luang Prabang after a ten-day absence, and the owner of the guesthouse where I stay had kicked another guest out of my room and prepared lunch in anticipation of my arrival.

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Comments

[Alissa]

Um, I can't believe you actually ate those frogs.