Nong Khiaw

bus

Bridge over the Ou River

Slipping into madness: she named the sandwich "Mort"

Uh oh

Nong Khiaw is a sleepy, scenic town on the Ou River, known for the great limestone karsts that stand over it.  We rented a bungalow on the riverbank for two nights to take a breath before beginning the long journey east to Vieng Xai and the Vietnamese border.  We had no idea!

There is no direct bus from Nong Khiaw to the border town of Sam Neua, but there is a bus that makes the nonstop 24 hour journey from Vientiane eastward.  We learned we could hail this bus when it crossed the bridge over the Ou, but because Laos buses are infamous for breaking down, the best estimate put the bus in Nong Khiaw in the window between 6pm and 1am or between noon and 4pm (?).  We settled in in an accomodating cafe.  The next 27 hours of waiting (truly sitting staring at the road for the bus to arrive at any moment) was a colorful affair: the Nong Khiaw power generator blew out early on night one, and so we watched the road by candelight; we took approximately eight dozen anticipatory final trips to the bathroom; we twice ate the sandwiches we bought for the bus ride in a sad admission that we weren't going anywhere soon; deep into the wait Christina shattered minutes of peace yelling madly: "LET'S NOT TURN ON EACH OTHER!"; a deck of nudey cards saved our sanity and possibly our relationship; we were mercilessly laughed at by German tourists; and only when we caved in and ordered noodle soups, plates of springrolls and fried vegetables, beers, and something called "Fish Three" from our cafe did the bus finally arrive at 8pm on night two, and we had to pay and leave before the food arrived!

The 16 hour bus ride to Sam Neua was easy by comparison.  Our drivers were three charming young Laotian boys who took turns driving, singing, telling stories, and slamming energy drinks.  We did break down once during the night, but the engine was quickly rebuilt with chewing gum or something.  We woke up just before dawn, though, stopped behind a long line of military trucks.  The vehicles were powered down and many drivers had started bonfires by the side of the road or had built cardboard beds under their trucks.  Ominous.  We investigated and saw that a truck had taken a turn too sharply and had spilled the contruction equipment it was carrying into a canal, blocking any vehicle from passing in either direction (the truck could not move without damaging the equipment).  In a remote mountainous region, this one lane highway was the only passage east.  And what equipment could lift the truck out, and where would it be arriving from?  Vientiane, 22 hours away?  Who knows.  Our drivers sang us back to sleep, and four hours later we were moving.

Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat

Jungle

Bamboo forest

Above the clouds

Sandles lost to the underworld

Nam Ha was Laos's first national park, an enormous chunk of jungle and mountain in the northern province of Luang Nam Tha.  We set off for a three day trek with five peers, three Australian boys, and two Americans we met on the chaotic minivan ride to the area.  These in addition to our four guides, one from the trekking company, and three from a nearby village in Nam Ha.  Opportunities to work as a guide are shared amongst the villagers to direct a portion of incoming tourist money to the people who live in the park.  Some companies seem more concerned about this than others.  The guide from the company, Gong, spoke fluent English, while the villagers spoke very little.  Though the necessary vocabulary always seemed to appear, for example: "bite... poison...," calmly pointing to the mammoth spider perched above our sleeping mat.  We also enjoyed practicing the few Laotian phrases we knew.  Christina is now proficient at asking "Where is the vegetarian toilet?"

So we nine set off from Rivende... Luang Nam Tha and into the wild.  Crossing a dozen rivers on the first day, repeatedly removing and replacing our boots, was unpleasantly disruptive.  I had believed that I would be protected from leeches if I stayed out of still water and I covered up my limbs.  Not so.  The worms are plentiful on the jungle floor, even in the dry season.  With ten sets of eyes and a fine sense for vibrations in the ground, they stand eerily erect when you approach.  When I stopped to look I could spot dozens on the ground inching my way (much faster than I'd prefer), waiting near by to latch on, and some climbing up my boots and already working their way through my laces.  The total effect was of being under attack by the ground you walked on.  Checking for the boogers when we removed our boots at the river crossings, I think we all took increasing pleasure in removing the leeches (difficult) and then slicing them in half.  Leeches prevent the blood from coagulating, so the bites don't stop bleeding easily.  And the flowing blood down my ankles attracted flies and other insects who swarmed the wound to have a drink.  It was probably as sanitary as it sounds.  This would have been bad enough, but the largest leech of the day ate a nickel-sized hole through my merino sock.  Unforgivable.  And so it passed that Christina and I spent our fifth anniversary checking for leeches on each other's asses (the jungle BM is a dangerous thing).

Things improved on the second day when we began our hike up the mountain, climbing above the riverside combat zone.  The trek should not have been too strenuous, but in reality the trail conditions made it very challenging.  Climbing up the mountain often meant scrambling up a muddy, worn, and slippery path, grabbing hold of roots and trees when we could, and falling and rolling down when we couldn't.  Our hearty guides must have wondered what the hold up was: they gracefully sped ahead in flip-flops, carrying three days worth of food for nine.

We slept in large, open-air bamboo huts, which after a full day of hiking, felt plenty comfortable.  Upon finishing our day we collapsed on our mats, meanwhile our guides went to work chopping wood, building a fire, and preparing dinner (which sometimes meant foraging the woods for greens).  With woks and steaming baskets left at the campsite, our guides prepared for us superb meals by any standard.  The food was placed on a floor of banana leaves on the ground and we ate squatting or sitting above the buffet.  We ate with our hands, forming small welled balls of sticky rice and dipping them into the eggs, tomatoes and onions, garlic morning glory, tofu, etc.  This novel style of eating was deeply enjoyable.

On the mountain, we briefly visited a small ethnic minority hill-tribe for lunch.  It was fascinating to see the 130 person village in action in such isolation, reliant completely on each other.

And who could forget our nocturnal wildlife-spotting hike.  Before departing, four of us heard considerable rustling in the trees to our right.  Nervous, Christina thought we had better return to the group.  Her scream pierced the jungle when she caught through the trees the silver reflection of the eyes of a leopard.  Without pausing she shoved me forward to defend her against what was the most vicious firefly I had ever seen.

Luang Prabang

laos

All for me

Two days on a boat and excited for a bed!

Just a rose I CARVED OUT OF A TOMATO

At the intersection of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, Luang Prabang's peninsula is an Unesco-protected district of centuries old wats, colonial French architecture, and streetside noodle soup and coffee vendors.  While the outer peninsula welcomes its upscale guests in style, the city retains much of its affordability, authenticity, and charm (the outdoor riverside cafes are the perfect way to burn an afternoon).

We celebrated New Year's Eve in Luang Prabang, and for this the LPDR relaxed its very real nightlife curfew of 11:30pm!  Like any New Year's Eve worth its hangover, we ended up at a bowling alley.  We arrived back at our guesthouse just before sunrise, only to hear a roaring percussion ensemble from the wat next door celebrating the holiday.  We rushed outside and were the sole spectators for this performance.  As our band concluded we heard similar ensembles performing in the distance, at the other wats scattered about the city.  And with the drums, of course, countless howling dogs!

We eventually hired bicycles to escape our bubble, and an easy five km ride lucked us into an attractive waterfall where we met a kind newly-wed couple from New Zealand, and I cooled off with a swim.  Neither of us had manned a bike in years, but we did well weaving through the afternoon traffic of motorbikes and construction trucks.  It was the closest I've felt to not being an oafish falang.  We got slightly lost, but that meant seeing an area of the city we would have never otherwise encountered.

Chiang Khong to Luang Prabang

goat boat

Docked at Pakbeng

 

View from the toilet

Making a sale

Fucking elbow...

We entered Laos via a water taxi across the Mekong.  After falling victim to a minor cash exchange scam at the border crossing, we caught our slow boat in preparation for the two day journey down the river.  Day one was rough - we were in the back of the boat cramped next to the deafening engine, stuck behind a chain smoker.  We recovered and spent the night in the small town of Pakbeng, which seems to exist mainly to service travelers.  The next morning we boarded early enough to secure prime seating, a collection of baguette sandwiches in tow (thank you France, boo colonialism).  It was a much more pleasant nine hour cruise to Luang Prabang, the old capital of Laos.  The scenery was great, and we must have caught the local rather than the express, because we stopped at a number of interesting Mekong villages along the way, picking up and dropping off passengers, produce, chickens, and motorbikes.

Chiang Mai

soi

Ruins of Wat Chedi Luang in the background

Wat guardian

Fried chicken heads

Distracted by a cat

Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep

Flying between the jungle canopies

A long way across and a long way down

Christina loves to cook

Local spice-eratti return to see and be seen at this "hip and sumptuous northern Thai eatery," where American couple Christina and Peter churn out "rich Thai curries, sweet pad see-ew, and fiery stir fries by the longtail boatload."  While some opine that the "service can be non-existent," the "tamarind-rich tom yum soup can't be beat."

Puppy fight

Releasing our Christmas lantern

Kôw soy

Chiang Mai is Thailand's second largest city, tucked in the mountains of the far north.  In contrast to Bangkok, Chiang Mai has some real country sensibility, and its reputation as a city of craftspeople, students, and artists is deserved.  Chiang Mai was a jewel of the Lanna Kingdom, and the old city, where we stayed, is still isolated by a moat and crumbling brick wall (the moat especially brought us comfort at night).  With daily "monk chats," where visitors can converse with monks on any subject, Thai cooking and massage courses, and museums and cultural artifacts galore, it is a city that really encourages you to learn something.  Chiang Mai is also a popular launching point for many of the attractions outside the city: trekking to a nearby hill-tribe, visiting an elephant sanctuary, rock-climbing and abseiling, bamboo rafting, and so on.

Northern Thai cuisine is quite different from that of Bangkok and southern Thailand, absorbing many qualities of bordering Myanmar, Laos, and China.  The curries are not as spicy, feature less coconut milk, and might even be stewed with tomatoes.  One dish, the Chiang Mai street food (a revised Burmese import with Lanna roots, the story goes) kôw soy, is a game-changer.  A large bowl of turmeric and coconut milk broth, with egg noodles, pumpkin, potatoes, broccoli, and pickled cabbage, and fried wonton noodles and raw shallots on top.  Fabulous!

So what did we do?  We explored the wats of the old city, visited the famous artisan night markets (and bought more than we could possibly carry with us), and read in cafes serving local coffee.  One wat, Wat Prathat Doi Suthep, was particularly special.  The golden chedi is fixed atop the peak of Doi Suthep, a mountain 15km outside Chiang Mai city.  According to legend, a 14th century monk dreamt of a relic of Buddha, his shoulder bone, which glowed, could teleport, and could disappear.  He discovered the relic before it split into two, and he tied one half of it to the back of a white elephant which was released into the jungle.  The elephant climbed to the peak of the mountain, where it then died, marking the spot where the temple must be built.

We satisfied our soft adventure itch with a zip-line trip through the province's jungle-covered mountains.  Attached to the cable by a harness and rope, we flew from tree to gigantic tree at high speeds, the largest single leap over 300 yards long.  This combined my love of heights with my deep trust of wooden planks.  Our Thai guides were helpful and playful: "You know something Peter...  You are very heavy!" (pushes me off the ledge).

We also took a Thai cooking course on a farm just outside the city.  We visited a market, learned about the ingredients, and cooked four courses.  It was an idiot-proof set up, but still you can't help but feel proud to have cooked such tasty Thai food.

I was very sad to be away for Christmas, but it was special to both spend Christmas with Christina (our first together) and to be in such an exciting place.  On Christmas night we visitted a 24-hour flower market, watched Thais "ice" skate on a wax rink, explored the bustling Ratchadamnoen walking street market, and released flying paper lanterns into the sky in front of a giant metallic Christmas tree.  Not so bad.