Lao PDR Adventures Part 1
Day 1- Michael Jackson & Malls
The trip didn’t actually start in Laos— it started in Bangkok. Although sad to be missing out on the water festival boat races and celebrations taking place in Cambodia, my roommate Katie and I were excited to leave the country for roughly a little over week. Walking through BKK airport and riding a pink taxi down a four-lane highways into the city, I was hit by sights of tall buildings, modern billboards, and car traffic of the South East Asian “first world”. As we were only spending one night in BKK before our mid-afternoon flight to Laos, Katie and I wandered through one of the city’s luxurious malls (gasping & pointing at my first Asian sighting of ZARA- and not being able to afford anything) and ended up at the top floor of Central Mall, where since it was Oct. 28th, we watched the opening of “This Is It.” Yep. I thoroughly enjoyed the comfy seats, high air conditioning, and watching Michael Jackson’s ripped backup dancers join the man with the glittery glove (or in this case, inexplicable orange pants) on my only night in Bangkok.
Day 2- Luang Prabang
After a healthful breakfast of Dunkin Donuts coffee & banana-nut muffin we were off again to BKK’s airport. One duty-free stop (for mascara) and 2 short hours later, Katie & I had landed on the tarmac of Luang Prabang’s tiny airport, paid a nice entry visa of $40 USD and traded in our dollars for some Kip, Laos’s currency, trading at roughly 8,300 Kip per $1 greenback. On our way into town with our new Australian backpacker friend Kieran, I took in the fresh air, the mountainous terrain, and the coffee shops that began to emerge as we headed into town. This was going to be one lovely relaxing trip, or so I thought…
Having checked in at the Moon River Inn, the rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the city or more accurately put, provincial town, and sipping some trademark cold Lao Beer by the Mekong River.
To provide you with some reference, here is a quick history provided by Wikipedia:
Laos (pronounced /ˈlɑː.oʊs/, /ˈlaʊ/, or /ˈleɪ.ɒs/), officially the Lao People's Democratic Republic, is the only landlocked country in Southeast Asia, bordered by Burma and People's Republic of China to the northwest, Vietnam to the east, Cambodia to the south and Thailand to the west. Laos traces its history to the Kingdom of Lan Xang or Land of a Million Elephants, which existed from the 13th to the 18th century. After a period as a French protectorate, it gained independence in 1949. A long civil war ended officially when the Communist Pathet Lao movement came to power in 1975, but the protesting between factions continued for several years. 44% of the population live below the international poverty line of US$1.25 a day.[4]
Laos was dragged into the Vietnam War and the eastern parts of the country were invaded and occupied by the North Vietnamese Army (NVA), which used Laotian territory as a staging ground and supply route for its war against the South. In response, the United States initiated a bombing campaign against the North Vietnamese, supported regular and irregular anticommunist forces in Laos and supported a South Vietnamese invasion of Laos. The result of these actions were a series of coups d'état and, ultimately, the Laotian Civil War between the Royal Laotian government and the communist Pathet Lao. In 1968… Massive aerial bombardment was carried out by the United States. The Guardian reported that Laos was hit by an average of one B-52 bombload every eight minutes, 24 hours a day, between 1964 and 1973. US bombers dropped more ordnance on Laos in this period than was dropped during the whole of the Second World War. Of the 260 million bombs that rained down, particularly on Xieng Khouang province, 80 million failed to explode, leaving a deadly legacy.[5] It holds the dubious distinction of being the most bombed country in the world.
For David S. and Those confused with pronounciation:
The French, who made the country part of French Indochina in 1893, spelled it with a final silent "s," i.e., "Laos" (the Lao language itself has no final "s" sound, so Lao people pronounce it as in their native tongue though some, especially those living abroad, use the pronunciation ending in "s"). The usual adjectival form is "Lao," e.g., "the Lao economy," not the "Laotian" economy—although "Laotian" is used to describe the people of Laos to avoid confusion with the Lao ethnic group.
Thank you Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laos), moving on…
Our plan to relax and read lots of books didn’t last for long. By nightfall we had booked “adventure trips” with Tiger Trails, for mountain biking, rock climbing, and what the heck—kayaking, as well.
Filling up on some chocolate crepes for dessert, we wandered back through the Night Market. Red & Blue tents had popped everywhere by 6pm, and merchants neatly
placed their goods ready for foreigners to survey and hopefully, purchase. Everywhere I looked, colorful crafts and quality artistry beckoned tourist wallets: Asian paper umbrellas in all colors and sizes, ginourmous elephant slippers, hand sewn children’s books, snakes in jars, and Buddhist monk paintings on recycled paper. Being a girl, and one that occasionally likes to indulge in the sport of um, shopping, especially when it comes to supporting indigenous communities, I was delighted to find that my X-Mass gift list could easily be ticked off at the night market. I didn’t by the snake in a jar though, for fear I might shatter the glass and the thing would slider out still alive (never-mind customs inspections).
Day 3- Mountain Biking
I’m on vacation and I’m up at 7am. I like to shower before going off to do sweaty activities. It’s a curly-hair thing. An hour later Katie, Kieran & I have made our way over to the Tiger Trail office and are checking out our mountain bikes. The plan is to cross over the Mekong by ferry with the bikes and then hit the dirt roads, stopping at some villages along the way for lunch before making a loop back to the ferry by sunset. The road is bumpy, full of grooves and curves— nothing that biking in Mondulkiri, Cambodia hasn’t taught me, but the hills (or I guess, mountains) come up one after the other, making this a pretty grueling workout. The sun is out and we begin to sweat bullets as we pass villagers carrying wood and kids screaming “Xaibaidee!” (Hello!) along the way. We stop at a village where an old woman burning bamboo sticks is filling them with sweet sticky rice. She kindly gives us a little taste and our energy climbs back up. Back on the bike we happen upon water buffalo and a black scorpion. Over all, I’m struck by the cleanliness of our surroundings. Cambodia is well… Really dirty, despite the haphazard garbage collection system in Phnom Penh. Plastic bags, bottles, and scraps of paper are littered everywhere on the streets and even in the countryside. By contrast, Laos is surprisingly clean. Villagers seem to have a lot less, yet they have what they need and throw it away in twine wastebaskets, as I find out at our next village lunch stop.
Our guide, the most charismatic tiny, muscular Laotian man (of the Mon people), “Mon” pulls out sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves, some beef & morning glory, and we settle down to eat underneath the shade of a villager’s house. To pass the high-noon sun, we are invited to rest at another woman’s house. Katie and Kieran nap for awhile, but I’m unable to fall asleep, so I wonder into the kitchen and find Mon sitting on a straw mat eating some freshly made hot papaya salad. He offers me a taste (it’s strong!) and we sit and chat for a while as a baby sleeps next to me and Laotian or Thai Karaoke sounds stream from a T.V. An hour or so later we are back on the bikes, gearing up for our long ride back.
Up and down, over steeper hills we go. The initial scariness of plunging down a steep, curving dirt path diminishes and I revel in the exhilaration. Unfortunately, I reveled a little too much… The vision of me flipping over handle bars comes to reality as my front wheel hits a rock—which I totally saw (stupid)—and I’m propelled forward. Luckily I somehow have the instinct to stick out my forearms first and my face is spared. Thigh, elbow, and back of the right leg weren’t so lucky. There is a neat trail of blood in the form of a bicycle chain trickling down my leg, and I can sense severe bruising formulating on my upper left thigh. I’m fine though. Mon freaks out, but then pulls out a first aid kit and gets to work immediately after Katie and Kieran detangle my body from the bike. He cleanses my battle wounds and puts on something that stings terribly, and then moves on to heal the bike. I’m thoroughly impressed, and to get over the shock, I get back on the bike. It’s the best thing to do really, because if I didn’t do it then, it would probably be a long time before I was back on the bike seat again.
That night, I received a much-needed foot & shoulder massage at one of the town’s many homegrown spas.
Day 4- Rock Climbing
Katie is an expert rock climber. As for me, I love hopping over rocks and pretending to climb things… Jungle gyms, trees, small rocks in caves… That sort of thing. One cliff off the Mekong River near Luang Prabang however, was my big chance to change that, to do the real thing (or at least try). My left arm had been hurting all night, probably from my bike fall, so I was a bit disappointed that on my big day, I would probably only give 80%... Okay, maybe 85% with the Lao coffee I’d gulped down that morning. “La”, our Spiderman guide that could climb that cliff in record speed after only one year of rock climbing, showed me how to tie knots and get my harness ready. I squeezed my size 7 feet into what felt like a crooked pointy-toe climbing shoes size 5, dusted my hands with chalk, and clipped a bright orange helmet on my head. Moments later I was an inch off the ground, willing my left arm to muster some strength to pull my body up. And… It worked! After some initial struggles I got the hang of it, and turned into a slow Itsy-Bitsy Spider, except in Laos it was the sun coming down, heating the surface of the black rocks, not the rain. After two climbing two routes, we braked for lunch and La, as Mon had done the day before, pulled out of his backpack a complete meal wrapped in those slick green banana leaves: fish, sticky rice, bean sprout things, and bananas! We slept & read some, underneath the shade of trees while we waited for the heat to subside. Attempts were made at the third route, but by 3pm the black rocks were hot to the touch, so we gave up, packed up, and slipped into a fisherman’s boat making our way back to Luang Prabang.
Day 5- Kayaking
I guess our bodies felt they hadn’t been beaten up enough because Katie & I decided to Kayak the next day. To our delight, Mon was our guide once again, and we joined a group of Australians and Canadians ready to paddle down the Nam Khan River. We would be kayaking for several hours with a stop at a village and some waterfalls. It was discovered that Katie had more of an attention span for steering than me, so she climbed into the back and I to the front of the kayak after slathering on some SPF. Traveling downstream, our Kayak was dwarfed by the gorgeous mountains and clear sky. As on the bike, we passed villagers fishing, bathing, washing their clothes, and hopefully not defecating, by the river. Our calculated village stop took us into the homes, school, and near a racing boat, as Mon explained how people lived in Laos and transferred their goods to the market to be sold. He also talked about the importance of Buddhism and Animism in the culture, explaining that since this was a poor village, only two monks lived here and were looked after with alms by the villagers. Yet again, I was struck by the cleanliness of the dirt floors and garden plots. The Canadians brought up the lack of hundreds of NGOs (at least compared to Cambodia) and the operations of the World Food Programme and the UN in Laos. Educational posters depicting nutrition advice and breast-feeding techniques were posted up as usual so clearly the arm of development had reached these parts as well.
Climbing back into our plastic yellow Kayaks, we ventured forth to our next destination, the waterfalls! When we reached the area- a small recreational park by the river to be enjoyed by locals & foreigners alike- we dipped our bodies (I dipped up to my torso) into the freezing cascades and luncheoned (the typical Laotian goodies wrapped in the famous banana leaves). I did some photo exploring, climbing along up a tree house and following some wooden planks, before bypassing the elephants chilling waiting for foreigners to ride them, before heading back to the Kayak.
The second part of the trip was a little too long. Our fingers cramped and the sun continued to beam down. We hit some rough patches and the Canadians went for a little swim when they flipped over (everyone was fine). As the hours ticked by, I reminded myself that soreness was worth it—it’s not everyday that I get to kayak through such a calm, picturesque place, observing the Laotian life along the river.
Back in Luang Prabang we treated ourselves to some Oreo milkshakes (clearly they know what foreigners like), and Katie grabbed a P&J baguette sandwich from the Skippy Lady, a smiley-round lady who when Katie first asked for peanut butter, shouted in high-pitch glee, “SKIPPY!” We visited her everyday after that. Katie almost rolled her up and put her in her new multi-colored patched Laos market bag.
Day 6- And on the 6th Day, She Rested
Day six we slept in. We figured the real meaning of vacation had resting
somewhere in it’s definition so when we got up, we walked over to JOMA, a famous coffee house amongst travelers, akin with a Colorado mountains/ Starbucks feel and serving banana pancakes. I read and read, and played peek-a-boo with two Japanese kids while Katie diligently pulled out her GMAT study book. The rest of the day I walked around Luang Prabang,
exploring and photographing the tiny streets, shops, a much smaller and mostly French Monument bookstore, and generally just did nothing.
At sunset we joined crowds climbing up to the city’s tallest temple for a view of LP and a fiery orange ball descend beneath mountains and valleys.
It’s quite true when they say, that you can spend days in Luang Prabang…
There is something in the air in Laos.
Day 7- The Day Bus & the Sleeping Bus
It was time to say goodbye to Luang Prabang, but not before rising early to catch the locals (and a growing number of enterprising villagers selling alms to foreigners) give offerings to young Buddhist monks. Apparently monks only receive meals twice a day, for breakfast and lunch, so they welcome any sort of provisions at this time. On that cool morning I handed over bananas & rice to the red and orange-garbed spiritual leaders walking in a line towards their temple. We then packed ourselves into a colorful cage-like tuk tuk (much different from those in Phnom Penh) and then took a day-bus headed towards the country’s capital, Vientiane.
It was literally the most AWFUL ride of my life. (Actually, a few days later I would take this back).
While not generally a person that gets car sick, I had to concentrate so hard on trying to fall asleep to keep from vomiting along the mountain curves. The highlight of the trip was the two old ladies that hopped aboard mid-way. They smelled of firewood and spoke loudly to each other, completely ignoring those around them. They reminded me of two best friends, eagerly sharing the latest village gossip except these quirky ladies had bare feet the size of footballs, clearly used to walking through forests sans shoes, flowery shirts and scarves, and continued their chatter before falling asleep. When the bus failed to stop at their destination (essentially, the middle of nowhere) they shouted at the driver and every Laotian cracked up. It’s crazy local characters like these that add some local flavor (and smells) to traveling abroad.
Vientiane itself is just a city, like many cities, but without many tall buildings. It too was not spared from the Laotian calmness and cleanliness I had witnessed before, though seemingly the city itself providing not much to do. Upon arriving we enlisted the services of another tuk tuk and headed over to another bus station. Our goal was to grab a ticket aboard a night bus, or as the white lettering on the buses displayed, a “SLEEPING BUS” to a town in the South of Laos, Pakxe. With ticket in hand, we made our way to a noodle stand for dinner.
A sleeping bus is indeed, a “sleeping bus.” Picture seats taken out in sections and replaced by bunk-bed like spaces, complete with pillows & blankets. A midnight snack of rice and veggies as well as a plastic (throw up/garbage) bag and water bottle are provided. For roughly ten hours you don’t sit- you sleep- ignoring the fact that your body is being hurtled into the night at high speed as it makes it way to your destination. That is the Sleeping Bus. In the end, quite comfy & practical.
Day 8- Ralph (Melissa) and His (Her) Motorcycle
The Indian-run Royal Inn provided us with pretty disgusting ant-filled accommodations in Pakxe. We only meant to spend one night here, so we quickly drowned the ants, showered and found a place to eat some breakfast.
Side Note for Bread Lovers: It seems the French failed to teach Cambodian’s how to bake a baguette, while they succeed immensely in Laos. I’m pretty sure they forgot to tell Cambodian’s that a baguette should be soft & fluffy. And taste good.
Katie had her heart set on renting motorbikes and riding around the Bolaven Plateau, so after breakfast we found a shop that rented them and I traded my passport in for a black & blue Honda-model with gears (as opposed to an automatic?). Once I got the hang of it (i.e. start SLOWLY in first gear and ONLY use your foot break, not the handle break), we rode out of Pakse in search of waterfalls! While at first I was petrified of crashing into an incoming vehicle, I soon got over it and was doing wheelies. Just Kidding. No seriously, actually driving a moto as opposed to being a backseat passenger does not compare at all. Balance, steadiness and the thrill of reaching 60kmph (I had a helmet on) in lovely Laos made this one of the most exciting experiences of my life. Check that off my “things to do in life” list.
Of course the real test came when we diverged off the main road into the bumpy dirt grooved one, passing by coffee plantations, houses, and forests to reach each of the four waterfalls we found that day. Again, it’s all about steadiness and forgetting that you are in control of a heavy vehicle in order to bounce accordingly up & down each bump, following moto tracks set before you. Naturally, once we reached the falls each one had its own unique beauty and made the bumpiness worth it (Waterfalls we visited included Tad Lo, Tad Fane, and Taat Fang).
Before turning back around Katie discovered a fair-trade coffee plantation where a young woman made us some quick, pick-me up brew. Afterwards we rode down a hill and over a bridge and discovered literally, the most gorgeous view ever. This fairylike place, right when the sun was beginning to go down made the day bus, sleeping bus, and ant-filled guesthouse worth it. It also reminded me of Fern gully (movie w/ fairies I watched as a kid).
Day 9 – Island Living
Before heading back into Cambodia, we had one final destination in Laos to reach. 4,000 Islands, right south of Pakse. This group of teeny-tiny islands floats on the Mekong River. There are at least three “big” islands one can choose to visit. We chose Don Khone, just because. On our ferry to the island we met another American living in South Korea, but traveling throughout Laos before heading back to the States. For those of you wishing to leave the United States, I recommend you go teach English in South Korea; I’m told they pay way better than the Japanese. Anyways.
Don Khone provided us with a lot of nothing to do. I was reminded of Rabbit Island and Lazy Beach, minus a beach(though LB is waaay prettier seeing as it’s in the ocean). I read The Economist in our tiny bungalow hammock because I’m a dork, and when I got bored I took myself on an island tour. I encountered school children on their way to a school that is next to an old burnt-out French colonial building, pigs, an old lady pushing a cart of green things to a Buddhist Monastery, a Buddhist Monastery, some people working in the fields, tourists cycling around, and some young men playing pool offering me beer (as men do). At night we had dinner at one of the few homemade restaurants and seeing as I was running low on dough (I needed a Cambodian ATM ASAP) I chose to forgo dinner for dessert. Nutella-Banana Crepes. Excellent choice in the end.
Laos PDR/Cambodian Adventures Part II
Day 10- Border Crossings & Flipper Sightings
As we waited at the ferry landing, waiting for the bus that would take us across the border into Cambodia, and eventually Kratie, Katie and I were soon joined by a crowd of backpackers that had stayed on the other islands. While most of them were in their late-twenties from France and Australia, it still amazes me how so many choose to take off months or in some cases a year, to travel abroad after they’ve quit their jobs, have taken leaves of absences, or nowadays, have been laid off. For some reason, not as many Americans seem to be doing this, clearly an observation that they work too hard or simply chose to travel domestically or closer to home. It’s a pity, really because such experiences can be life-changing.
When the bus dropped us off at the border for my first “walk through a border-crossing”, we all lined up like little ants, marching right on through health, visa, and passport checkpoints. At each of these we paid a $1 bribe, or “standard administration fee”. Once I crossed the border I felt a strange sensation—I felt that I was home, which is weird, because that is the first time I considered Cambodia “home”. For one, I was able to say a little bit more than hello to the vendor selling bananas by the side of the road. (I asked to purchase bananas and for the toilet)
As the bus made its way down to Kratie, where we planned to spend one night in hope of spotting the famous Irrawaddy Dolphin, the scenery changed quite a bit as we traded taller mountains for the bright green tropical forests of Cambodia. Once in Kratie we dropped off our bags at yet another luxurious (cough, cough) Chinese-run guesthouse complete with painted portraits of half-naked Asian ladies, the Hung-You guesthouse. I trekked over to ACLEDA to pull out some cash for our final days of the journey, and then we hopped on a moto-dup and rode through villages to get to Kampi, where we could take a boat along the Mekong and hope to catch a glimpse of the dolphin.
The Irrawaddy dolphin (an oceanic dolphin that sort of established sub-populations in rivers Asian rivers like the Mekong) while I’m sure flipper was making it more difficult to spot him than necessary, probably hiding out underneath our boat, waiting for the moment we looked away to do an above-river stunt, though we did catch a glimpse of fins, noses, and tails, just not the whole body. What I did catch if full view however, was the absolutely stunning sunset, as evidenced below. It is my personal opinion that one of the finest things about Cambodia (as it was in Toledo, Spain) is the sky.
Riding back to Kratie in the dark, I spotted villagers lighting small fires in their homes and the enjoyed as the light of our moto shone on the back pedals of school children’s bikes. In complete darkness, a whole Cambodian world far from major cities, was settling down for the night.
Day 11- A Dip in a Lake
The night before, debating whether to continue on to Phnom Penh or not, Katie and I made the final decision to return up to the north east of the country, to the town of Ban Lung in the Rattanakiri province of Cambodia. This particular area is difficult to get to, mostly because the roads and bridges aren’t exactly Japanese-certified and the mountainous hills make the journey even more arduous, but being so close to the area and weighing whether or not we would ever be in this part of the country again, we made the plunge and bought a ticket aboard a mini-bus headed to Rattanakiri.
As literally twenty people piled into the van, we found ourselves squeezed into the backseat with two other Eastern Europeans, sacks of rice, and our travel bags. Five hours or so later, we managed to climb out of the van, very much disoriented, wrinkled, and nauseous. The Cambodian-Vietnamese-Chinese owner of the Tree Tops Lodge in Ban Lung was already waiting for us by the bus station with his cool old black jeep that seemed to have popped out of the 1980s (at least there were seats).
Arriving at his lodge, we knew we had made the right decision to extend our trip. Our tree-hut like bungalows in the Rat provided us yet again with beautiful views of the Rattanakiri forests below. Once we settled in and had a banana shake to settle our stomachs, we put on our bathing suits and headed over to the Yeak Loam, a volcanic crater lake for a quick dip in the clean, clear waters.
Day 12- Exploring Rattanakiri by Moto-dup (Katie)
With not enough time to venture off on a 3-4 day trek into the jungle, we decided instead the following morning to rent one motorbike and ride around looking for waterfalls. Katie became my moto-dup for the day, and quite a good one at that! We found one of the bigger falls, only after riding about 7km in the wrong direction. Generally exhausted and surprised by how hot the northeast of the country still is, we returned to the lodge to read and hang out with Yumi, the owner’s super smart three year old daughter—a little Cambodian Diva that often climbed into our laps and demanded as much attention from us as if she were our own child. I almost took her home with me.
Day 13- The Return Trip from Hell or The Most AWFUL Ride of My Life
By Monday, November 9th, coincidently my mom’s 50th birthday, we had plans to return in some 10-12 hours back to Phnom Penh by bus, or so we thought.
As typical of most bus excursions in Cambodia, 45 minutes into the drive we paused at a diner for a bathroom break, on the side of the road (or for women, a few feet into the fields). Two hours later we stopped yet again, for what we thought would be a thirty minutes or so, while we waited for the other vans, trucks, cars, and buses in front of us to pass through a flooded stretch of road. Thirty minutes turned into 2 hours. I finished The Economist (a feat in itself), Katie’s other book, and 2 more hours later befriended the other Westerner on our bus, an Italian thirty-something who demanded to know why “Thzee Cambodian government iz zo ztupid they can’t even buildz ah-tiny-bridgez if they know the road floodz in thiz zpot every time?!” Yep. My question exactly. Guess they haven’t sent the Japanese (or Chinese, or Korean) friendship building society the memo.
Two more hours later we decided that banana chips weren’t going to get us through the rest of the day, so we ordered some bay-saw (cooked rice) at the little stand that was clearly banking in the big bucks that day, strategically located on the other side of the flooding. I befriended an older French tourist and practiced my high school French with lots of nods and three-word responses. By 6pm we had a critical decision to make. It had literally been 8 HOURS since we had stopped and the sun was quickly setting. No doubt the bus would be parked here all night while two ripped Cambodian workers and some kids worked tirelessly around the clock trying to dig out stuck vehicles. Making our way across a tiny wooden bridge built for people and motos to cross, we climbed back into our bus and retrieved our bags. The Frenchies had mentioned a bus was picking up their bus on the other side and driving through the night back to Phnom Penh. This was our only chance. By now the night had fallen, and I stumbled through potholes alongside Katie (Mental Note: Purchase Headlamp). Finding the bus, we climbed aboard and for two minutes pretended that we had always been on that company’s bus. We were soon found out however, and we asked if we could “purchase” new tickets to stay aboard… $8USD later in the driver’s pocket, we had secured air conditioned seats, and a ride back to the Penh.
At 2am the bus came to a complete stop. Phnom Penh? Nope. As the blinking bus headlights showed me, our bus had broken down outside the offices of the World Food Programme, in the middle of nowhere. Having caught almost no sleep, with a meal of banana chips, Pringles, and tasteless rice in my stomach, and reeking of wet-mud, I was pretty much fed up with bus travels.
At 4:30 am our bus dropped us off by Olympic Stadium, and a half-asleep Katie and Melissa trudged along the dark Phnom Penh Streets towards the apartment.
5:00am: The longest shower of my life.
5:30am: Fell asleep
11:00am: Discovered ants all over my bag, hunting down spilled Pringles crumbs for bfast.
2pm: Showed up at work & it was baaack to reality… Whatever that means in Cambodia…
