Farewell to Laos
It has been an eventfull week in Laos. I have met some wicked people and some idiots too. I have successfully broken my camera, lost my umbrella, one shoe of my new leather sandals that I went all the way to Udon to buy, broken the lid on my contact lens solution so it all leaked out, lost a padlock for my bag, been soaked to high heaven and scorched to death. I have travelled hundreds of kilometres of winding mountain roads to get just get across the country, which is not far as the crow flies, and spent two days sailing up the fast flowing rivers.
On Wednesday I met Amnon, a crazy Israeli guy, who sort of latched on to me. Couldn't shake him off even when I broke my camera, tried to find a fixer man (couldn't) and said I had a headache. To which he replied, "but everyone I meet travelling says they have a headache" ha!
Luckily that night after an expensive but distinctly rubbish curry, we headed to a bar where they promised two for one Lao Lao (rice whisky) cocktails.
I spotted a likely looking guy on his own and quickly invited him to join us. Matt is a northerner in his early 30s who has escaped England for a life in Chiang Mai. He was very amused by my budget travelling and pirate style clothes (doncha just love the travelling look!) and agreed to come to the waterfalls the following day - a blessing not to leave me with Amnon all day.
We had a good laugh and rather a lot of drinks (well I did) and I stumbled home to bed.
The next day, after ambling the streets for a while and having breakfast, the three of us met up to hire a van to take us to the falls.
It was quite a long and bumpy trip of about an hour into the mountains. Through simple villages of wooden homes, where women worked in the fields and walked the streets in their long, dark sarong skirts with bags over their shoulders, pointed hats on their heads to keep off rain or sun.
We got to the waterfalls, saw some bear cubs which had been rescued by a poacher and a young female tiger (ditto) and could get right up close to them. I saw some friends from the minibus and chatted to them and then we went up the mountain.
We trouped through rainforest-type woodland where massive leaves scattered the ground and wandered over wooden bridges past pools of water and small streams around the lower parts of the Krung-sae fall.
There were several places to swim but we had our picnic and then walked to the bottom of the biggest part of the waterfall - a huge drop with water tumbling off it in great waves. We bodly continued up the steps to about two thirds of the way up the drop. Here you could edge along a path, under tree trunks, through pools of water to walk through part of the fall. To the right were steep rocks with water cascading into a shallow pool at your feet. On your left was a rickety fence at the edge where the water tumbled off to the pools below.
We got rather wet but enjoyed the Indiana Jones style of adventure. We sheltered from the daily 3pm shower with some American girls and then all, except Matt, went for a dip in the cold and slightly muddy water.
Waiting for Amnon in the tuk tuk, Matt and I made a pact to run away from him and find some dinner later on. Luckily the Israeli was too tired to care or suggest we all met up later on anyway.
So after showering and buying my ticket for the slow boat, Matt and I met up and went to a Chinese Buffet he had seen.
We were one of only two couple in there and were sat right at the front of this enormous hall tryig to figure out what was going on. On stage infront of us were Lao traditional dance performances, with musicians sat at the side playing odd-looking instruments shaped like boats.
After an initial confusing exchange with the waiter, we realised we got everything on the menu but could choose a few select things such as the way the fish was cooked.
Out came a mountain of food enought for 8 people - Seaweed and pork soup, tofu in hot sauce, chinese-style fish, duck, pork, vegetables, rice.... fruit afterwards....
We felt so guilty about all the food and the poverty around us that we ate way too much and then decided we had better go for a few drinks to ease the pain of fullness. We found a ncie bar and sat outside and then discovered Luang Prabang's most happening bar - Hive - a dark, unusual bar populated by the young and trying to be backpackery trendy.
The next day I was up early to go on the first stage of the boat trip to Pak Beng. I had been warned against doing this trip because of the length and low level of comfort. I can see their point. Going downstream to Luang Prabang, the boats are packed full with around 200 people and their luggage. You sit on hard, straight-backed wooden benches with a thin cushion and can hardly move.
Going upstream, however, is a less popular option. It takes two hours longer because of the tide but you get at least one bench all to yourself.
I put two benches together and lay down and slept for the first three hours, missing the most stunning part of the scenery - allegedly.
When it rained, they brought plastic sheets down the sides of the boat so you were all cosy inside but couldn't see much.
The boat was wooden and low to the water level but fairly quick. The boat left half an hour later - at 9am, and we reached Pak Beng at 6.30pm after unloading and loading cargo at various points and switching boats to a far more comfotable one half way through.
This change was annoying though. someone grabbed my rucksack to put on the second boat and I noticed the zip was open when I walked past (I couldn't find the padlock that morning). I checked inside and all looked rosy except maybe I was missing one of my Birkenstocks - but no matter because they were cheap fakes and so uncomfortable I had been going to check them anyway.
Unfortunately, I later found out I had both bloody Birkenstocks but had lost oe of my lovely lovely leather thongs (flip flop that is). So gutted.
Found a very cheap but pretty horrid guesthouse quickly. Too tired and too far to look anywhere else. Bed was clean with mosquito net. Bathroom was fine when arrived but when I returned from a beer later, it was smelling of both ends of human mess.
I had dinner with some French people who had been on the boat but their speaking was too fast for me so I ventured to find some coffee, beer, a book or decent company in the main part of town. Hadn't realised the walk would be so dark but I perserved and came upon a motley bunch of people - Will, the Norwich chap who now lives in Hong Kong and knows far too much about drugs, Jose, a Spaniard from Malaga who was escaping a cheating Scottish girlfriend, a Danish guy who I thought was Dutch and kept asking where he lived in Holland (was confused by his answer of Copenhagen and thought he must have emigrated), and Leon, a surf bum from Melbourne with a big heart.
We drank some beers and chatted away - all very pleasant but this is the middle of nowhere and generators are shut down overnight which means no electricity.
I slept well until about 2am when I heard banging noises against the wooden wall of my room and was unsure if it was animal or human. It went on every now and again, all night and I think I shouted out at one point that there was someone in the room - I thought they were trying to break in. In the morning, I realised it was a balcony next to my room where some people were sleeping. In fact, I realised this at 5am when a baby started crying.
Saturday, another boat trip along the river. It was even more rainy and much colder. I put my fleece on as we powered upstream, past villages so remote that boat is their main mode of transport. They must live so simple, eating the rice they grow, killing their chickens, living simply and bathing in the muddy river.
Halfway upsteam, they unloaded bags of colourful materials which we had assumed were for the markets of Chiang Mai. We discovered they were, but they were to go overland to Thailand and avoid taxes.
We arrived at Huay Xai (way say it is pronounced) at 6.30pm, just after the border shut. It was pouring. I walked with a dutch guy and his Thai friend to a find a guesthouse - much nicer this time. And then he treated the two of us to dinner by the Mekong, overlooking Thailand and then we went for an Ovaltine (me) and ice cream (him) and chatted away, Turns out he's spent a lot of time studying Buddhism and lived in a monastry for four months. Very interesting guy.
Saw him again this morning as I tried to figure out how to get to Pai. An agency on Laos side of river said I could get a minibus from Thai side. Thai side said not til 7am next day. Decided to go to bus station and see what they proposed. They told me to go to Chiang Rai (two hours) and then go to Pai. Happily I set off for Chiang Rai, smug that I hadn't got on a minibus to Chiang Mai and paid a fortune.
But when I got to Chiang Rai (where I am now), they told me to go to Chaing Mai (four and half hours away) and then go to Pai (four hours). The next bus with seats is not until 5.30pm. I arrived at 12. So I am rather annoyed, very tired and faintly amused. It is typically Thai and I should have just stayed in wet, grey and dull Chiang Khong and got the minibus at 7am for five hours. But that would have been no fun eh?! What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger...
On Wednesday I met Amnon, a crazy Israeli guy, who sort of latched on to me. Couldn't shake him off even when I broke my camera, tried to find a fixer man (couldn't) and said I had a headache. To which he replied, "but everyone I meet travelling says they have a headache" ha!
Luckily that night after an expensive but distinctly rubbish curry, we headed to a bar where they promised two for one Lao Lao (rice whisky) cocktails.
I spotted a likely looking guy on his own and quickly invited him to join us. Matt is a northerner in his early 30s who has escaped England for a life in Chiang Mai. He was very amused by my budget travelling and pirate style clothes (doncha just love the travelling look!) and agreed to come to the waterfalls the following day - a blessing not to leave me with Amnon all day.
We had a good laugh and rather a lot of drinks (well I did) and I stumbled home to bed.
The next day, after ambling the streets for a while and having breakfast, the three of us met up to hire a van to take us to the falls.
It was quite a long and bumpy trip of about an hour into the mountains. Through simple villages of wooden homes, where women worked in the fields and walked the streets in their long, dark sarong skirts with bags over their shoulders, pointed hats on their heads to keep off rain or sun.
We got to the waterfalls, saw some bear cubs which had been rescued by a poacher and a young female tiger (ditto) and could get right up close to them. I saw some friends from the minibus and chatted to them and then we went up the mountain.
We trouped through rainforest-type woodland where massive leaves scattered the ground and wandered over wooden bridges past pools of water and small streams around the lower parts of the Krung-sae fall.
There were several places to swim but we had our picnic and then walked to the bottom of the biggest part of the waterfall - a huge drop with water tumbling off it in great waves. We bodly continued up the steps to about two thirds of the way up the drop. Here you could edge along a path, under tree trunks, through pools of water to walk through part of the fall. To the right were steep rocks with water cascading into a shallow pool at your feet. On your left was a rickety fence at the edge where the water tumbled off to the pools below.
We got rather wet but enjoyed the Indiana Jones style of adventure. We sheltered from the daily 3pm shower with some American girls and then all, except Matt, went for a dip in the cold and slightly muddy water.
Waiting for Amnon in the tuk tuk, Matt and I made a pact to run away from him and find some dinner later on. Luckily the Israeli was too tired to care or suggest we all met up later on anyway.
So after showering and buying my ticket for the slow boat, Matt and I met up and went to a Chinese Buffet he had seen.
We were one of only two couple in there and were sat right at the front of this enormous hall tryig to figure out what was going on. On stage infront of us were Lao traditional dance performances, with musicians sat at the side playing odd-looking instruments shaped like boats.
After an initial confusing exchange with the waiter, we realised we got everything on the menu but could choose a few select things such as the way the fish was cooked.
Out came a mountain of food enought for 8 people - Seaweed and pork soup, tofu in hot sauce, chinese-style fish, duck, pork, vegetables, rice.... fruit afterwards....
We felt so guilty about all the food and the poverty around us that we ate way too much and then decided we had better go for a few drinks to ease the pain of fullness. We found a ncie bar and sat outside and then discovered Luang Prabang's most happening bar - Hive - a dark, unusual bar populated by the young and trying to be backpackery trendy.
The next day I was up early to go on the first stage of the boat trip to Pak Beng. I had been warned against doing this trip because of the length and low level of comfort. I can see their point. Going downstream to Luang Prabang, the boats are packed full with around 200 people and their luggage. You sit on hard, straight-backed wooden benches with a thin cushion and can hardly move.
Going upstream, however, is a less popular option. It takes two hours longer because of the tide but you get at least one bench all to yourself.
I put two benches together and lay down and slept for the first three hours, missing the most stunning part of the scenery - allegedly.
When it rained, they brought plastic sheets down the sides of the boat so you were all cosy inside but couldn't see much.
The boat was wooden and low to the water level but fairly quick. The boat left half an hour later - at 9am, and we reached Pak Beng at 6.30pm after unloading and loading cargo at various points and switching boats to a far more comfotable one half way through.
This change was annoying though. someone grabbed my rucksack to put on the second boat and I noticed the zip was open when I walked past (I couldn't find the padlock that morning). I checked inside and all looked rosy except maybe I was missing one of my Birkenstocks - but no matter because they were cheap fakes and so uncomfortable I had been going to check them anyway.
Unfortunately, I later found out I had both bloody Birkenstocks but had lost oe of my lovely lovely leather thongs (flip flop that is). So gutted.
Found a very cheap but pretty horrid guesthouse quickly. Too tired and too far to look anywhere else. Bed was clean with mosquito net. Bathroom was fine when arrived but when I returned from a beer later, it was smelling of both ends of human mess.
I had dinner with some French people who had been on the boat but their speaking was too fast for me so I ventured to find some coffee, beer, a book or decent company in the main part of town. Hadn't realised the walk would be so dark but I perserved and came upon a motley bunch of people - Will, the Norwich chap who now lives in Hong Kong and knows far too much about drugs, Jose, a Spaniard from Malaga who was escaping a cheating Scottish girlfriend, a Danish guy who I thought was Dutch and kept asking where he lived in Holland (was confused by his answer of Copenhagen and thought he must have emigrated), and Leon, a surf bum from Melbourne with a big heart.
We drank some beers and chatted away - all very pleasant but this is the middle of nowhere and generators are shut down overnight which means no electricity.
I slept well until about 2am when I heard banging noises against the wooden wall of my room and was unsure if it was animal or human. It went on every now and again, all night and I think I shouted out at one point that there was someone in the room - I thought they were trying to break in. In the morning, I realised it was a balcony next to my room where some people were sleeping. In fact, I realised this at 5am when a baby started crying.
Saturday, another boat trip along the river. It was even more rainy and much colder. I put my fleece on as we powered upstream, past villages so remote that boat is their main mode of transport. They must live so simple, eating the rice they grow, killing their chickens, living simply and bathing in the muddy river.
Halfway upsteam, they unloaded bags of colourful materials which we had assumed were for the markets of Chiang Mai. We discovered they were, but they were to go overland to Thailand and avoid taxes.
We arrived at Huay Xai (way say it is pronounced) at 6.30pm, just after the border shut. It was pouring. I walked with a dutch guy and his Thai friend to a find a guesthouse - much nicer this time. And then he treated the two of us to dinner by the Mekong, overlooking Thailand and then we went for an Ovaltine (me) and ice cream (him) and chatted away, Turns out he's spent a lot of time studying Buddhism and lived in a monastry for four months. Very interesting guy.
Saw him again this morning as I tried to figure out how to get to Pai. An agency on Laos side of river said I could get a minibus from Thai side. Thai side said not til 7am next day. Decided to go to bus station and see what they proposed. They told me to go to Chiang Rai (two hours) and then go to Pai. Happily I set off for Chiang Rai, smug that I hadn't got on a minibus to Chiang Mai and paid a fortune.
But when I got to Chiang Rai (where I am now), they told me to go to Chaing Mai (four and half hours away) and then go to Pai (four hours). The next bus with seats is not until 5.30pm. I arrived at 12. So I am rather annoyed, very tired and faintly amused. It is typically Thai and I should have just stayed in wet, grey and dull Chiang Khong and got the minibus at 7am for five hours. But that would have been no fun eh?! What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger...
posted by charlie at 5:17 pm
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