Laos, a country of beautiful forested mountains, lush river valleys, I would say slightly grumpy people and temperamental weather. I crossed the Thai border to board a longboat to meander slowly down the Mekong River river for two days. Yep, it’s brown, like I thought it was going to be. Yep, kids were swimming around in it naked, women washing their clothes. It’s not hard to imagine the cause of the murky waters though. It starts up in China along large swaths of farmland. Just like with any place that has a lot of farming, there is going to be tons of run off. China doesn’t have the pesticide and herbicide restrictions that the States does though so going for a dip didn’t even cross my mind.
The longboat wasn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be. Sure enough, the boat was long. But I imagined dangling my feet over the side, moving from one side of the boat to the other to see all the beautiful scenery. Instead, they had filled it full of car seats and benches so full that leg room wasn’t an issue. It was nonexistent. To be honest, I kind of felt like an idiot for being among all the tourists and travelers wanting that romantic drift down the famous Mekong, to find out that these boat owners didn’t care about the experience of their live cargo. We could have been cows for all they cared. And if they could squeeze a couple more cows into the back corner, assuming the cows were paying money for the trip, sure enough they would squish them in.
It took me a bit to get that thought out of my head and appreciate it for what it was. There were locals riding with us as well. They were in the very back of the boat in the engine room. They actually had more room to even lie down and take a nap. Their only downfall was the thundering roar of the massive engine, in fact I don’t think they were allowed to sit up front with the white people. I don’t think any of them were wanting to pull a Rosa Parks though, they had their families and their water bottles filled with laolao, the homemade rice whiskey of Laos and playing cards. They were doing just fine.
I thought the coolest part about the trip for me was the boat would stop at villages along the way and the locals with load the nose of the boat full of bags of goods and then we’d stop again at the next village and drop them off. They had developed a trading business with these boat operators to exchange produce they grow or whatever else was in those burlap sacks. Every few hundred meters you’d see a bamboo rod with some fishing line protruding from the rocks, some were straight and others were sagging, waiting for the villagers to come collect the days catch.
I arrived in Luang Prabang on the second day (10 km from town so we were forced to hire the tuktuk drivers waiting for us to actually get us to town… bastards). I found a nice guesthouse with a dorm room that I shared with and English woman named Rachel. She had been there for coming up on a month. I could see why. Luang Prabang is a happening place. They have night markets every night. There are good restaurants. Street food everywhere. Monks walk every morning at 5:30 for Alms where villagers offer food to them to feed the monks for the day. They have this tradition so the monks stay connected and dependent on the community which, in turn, keeps the community connected to Buddhism.
After a few days, a long bus ride took me to a small village on the Ou River called Nong Khiaw. This is one of the most gorgeous, insanely gorgeous, places I have ever been to. The town is divided by a long bridge over the river and there are crazy sunsets in the evening and low lying, misty clouds hiding the cliffs and mountains all around the town in the morning.
Besides the views, three great things really sealed the deal for me. I was reunited with my friend Josie, who I’d traveled with in Thailand for a week. There was an Indian restaurant that I ate at 7 times in 4 days. And Josie surprised me by buying us a day trek up river to visit Muang Ngoy, a village only accessible by the river. We walked around the village and interacted with the locals, the kids were a blast. We hiked up to an ice cold waterfall. I think I was one out of 4 people that just had to jump in the pool below the falls. The rest of the twelve or so just watched, thinking we were crazy. Worth it. It’s worth it every time. I remember my first time jumping into water that takes your breathe away. It was up at the lake with the uncles. Dick, Tom, Fred, thanks for starting this tradition of mine. Every alpine lake I come to… It’s just got to be done. Afterwords, Josie and I kayaked in a two man boat for a few hours back to Nong Khiaw to get some more Indian food. Correction, I kayaked for a few hours… Josie just kind of flopped around in back making us zig zag all the way home. Josie, if you’re reading this, I will give you shit forever about this :)
After a couple uneventful nights I am in Muang Sing. About 10 km from China and 50 km from Burma. The reason why I came here is because there are dozens of tribal villages up here around the town and a great way to explore them and meet the people is to rent a mountain bike and just kind of wander around, making damn well sure you don’t accidentally cross an unmanned border. I don’t think I would enjoy a Chinese or a Burmese prison very much. Alas, its f*#king arctic up here. Right now I’m wearing four pairs of pants, the only two pairs of socks I’ve got, four shirts, two scarves, two headbands and my only two jackets… and I’m under the covers in bed. It’s barely getting above 40 degrees with the windchill and non stop rain. Now, I know that doesn’t sound terrible for people actually getting a winter but my body was possibly, slightly, just maybe adjusting to the death heat/humidity of SE Asia and now my world has been flipped upside down.
So, me being as stubborn as I am, I want to see these tribal villages that supposedly haven’t changed their way of life for the last 100 years or so. I’m pent up in my frigid room. I do have a tv! But I can stand listening to Laos television for about five minutes before I want to smash the thing. So, I have a bamboo shoot of sticky rice and three oranges I bought from the morning market earlier day, half a beer I was too cold to drink last night and a water bottle full of laolao and 12 oz of water. I figure I can make it a couple days of rationing to wait for the skies to clear and the temps to rise back up to the 60s or hopefully the 70s. That’s how cold I am, normally the 70s are my comfort limit back in the states but I would even take 80 degrees at this point. I swear I’m meant to live in Seattle or something. At least if I was there I would have the boatload of North Face gear I’ve collected over the years to sit outside and drink a cappuccino during their “winters”.
In the end, I’m laughing at myself because I’ve been missing the mountain winters so much while I’m over here sweating my ass off. And then I’m exposed to just above freezing weather and I realize that to be in those cold conditions, you gotta be prepared. Irony, you son of a bitch…
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