The 19th Hour

This story begins at the ninteenth hour of an epic twenty-hour public bus journey. Originating in the early morning mists of Luang Namtha, Laos, after an emotional breakfast, this bus carried Adrienne of Canada and me through the twisty mountain roads, past familiar Oudamxai, past the comforts of old Luang Prabang, down to Vangvien. It's horn blared through each little village, giving us the chance to look up at stilted, thatched roof huts and swaths of packed dirt teeming with children, chickens, dogs, pigs, and the odd cow. We had been fortunate to occupy the last two available proper seats on the archaic machine as the aisles--stacked three deep with 50-kilo bags of rice--served as seating for those less timely. Our fortune came with a price however, as we were sat next to a young man who looked two days from death. An old man who appeared to be his father gave us the impression that the poor chap was suffering from all-over body aches. Adrienne and I could only offer Motrin, sympathy, and the little snack food we'd packed.

As if sitting beside this man with a mysterious and miserable illness wasn't bad enough, he was occupying 2.2 seats. One of those seats was his father's, who sat in the aisle, but the remainder was mine (or Adrienne's when we swapped). Enduring 450 to 500 kilometers of Laos public transport is challenging. Doing so with 80% of your seat and a sick soul's head nearly on your lap is something else entirely. We couldn't be upset with him, though, as he was clearly miserable and enduring this horror only out of desperation. We were happy to share our stock with both him and his father.

Added to this were the five breakdowns, with a collective two-hour delay, the large machine gun that was tucked along the aisle (probably just in case the rebels were acting up that night), and the dinner with five shots of lao lao rice whiskey with the bus crew...one of whom passed out an hour later on the bags of rice. Fortunately, following dinner the ride went without incident. Except, of course, for that 19th hour. That's when I had had just about enough. My patience is strong and I am often able to endure more than I intially expect. I was at the end of my wit. I was mildly nauseus, I was hot, dirty, tired, and contracting bhudda-knows-what from my sad, sick 20% seatmate. Then I saw a sign for Vangvien and, oh, how the heavens sang out! It was just shy of breaking dawn when we arrived. As we walked into the quiet little city, massive karst limestone hills were unveiled from the night's darkness. What a scene! It would have been a beautiful time for silent reflection, had the drive to shower and sleep not been so strong. It took two showers with shampoo and soap suds turned black to feel clean on the inside. Blowing our noses continually throughout the day was only an attempt to clear the dust and exhaust from our sinuses. A full day of rest settled our nerves. But something had gotten ahold our guts and would not yield so readily. The sickness hit me on the second day of Vangvien, Adrienne on the first. For those of you who have had severe traveler's diarrhea, you can sympathize. For those who haven't, I pray you never do. I was in a city renowned for its party scene and all I could be concerned with was my proximity to a toilet. It should be noted as well that the majority of toilets in this part of the world are no more than a porceline hole in the ground. On the up side, I now have very strong quads AND I've become quite skilled at grabbing mosquitos out of the air.

So how did this all come to pass? In the little time I have left in Vientiane, I will attempt to give the play-by-play that included mountain tops, rat attacks, romance, cooking lessons, bowling, sunrises, and various other highlights.

I left off in Chiang Rei. After a funny night involving pool with prostitutes and expats, I set out for the Thai-Lao border. On my bus I met Matt and Nilu, who, I would learn later, sold their house and possessions in Hawaii, quit high-paying, painstaking jobs they'd acquired to make quick cash, bought really nice backpacks and stuff and decided to travel the world for a year. Together we passed under the so-called "gateway to indo-china" and skimmed across the Mekong River into Lao. It was in the quiet border city of Huay Xai that the three of us discovered the Lao Red Cross sauna. Apparently this is a common theme in the sizable cities of Lao...the Red Cross raises money by offering an herbal sauna (complete with tea and fruit!) and hour massage for about four bucks! And all this set to the backdrop of a sunset over the Mekong. Rested, massaged, and fed, we went for a wander. Picking up on a distant drum beat, we were led to the top of a hill temple where a fire festival was just about to take flame. We watched in awe as dozens of little children helped monks set fire to a giant bamboo tower that was soon engulfed in flames. Great first night.

The next day we set out for Luang Prabang (LPB). There are three options for the trip to LPB. Bus = no fun. Fast boat = six hours of extreme adventure and palatable risk of death at magnificant speeds. Slow boat = tried and true, two-day experience, scenic with only slight risk of capsizing. We took the slow boat (though I would have been down for the fast one had I not enjoyed the company of Matt and Nilu so much). It was a lovely tour of the Mekong, lined with grand rock (basalt?) formations, sandbars, jungled cliffs, and water buffalo. I take issue with water buffalo, by the way. I had a much different idea of what a water buffalo should look like. Mostly hairier. I've since renamed water buffalo "river cows."

We stopped for a night in a crapass little town called Pak Beng. I'm sure it was once a sleepy, pleasant village, keeping to the slow steady pace of the Mekong as it rolled gently by. Until some money grabber said, "hey, let's stop all the tourists here and make a killing selling overpriced oreos, sandwiches, and opium." Now the place is a sad little tourist trap crowded with touts and drug dealers. And a rat ate a hole into my backpack, ruining my food stuffs, moneybelt (not the docs, though!) and cover of my lonely planet. I caught him in the act and named him Nermal. He ran away, leaving only a trail of devastation inside my pack.

Luang Prabang: What a story...

My first night in LPB, I lost Matt and Nilu, found all guesthouses to be overrun by the 2000 some Thai people who'd been in town for whatever reason, I couldn't get an answer, and ended up chatting with four Lao guys around my age. After they'd shared some of their food and beer with me, one of them, Bobby, offered to put me up on an air mattress on his floor where he worked as a guesthouse's english speaking consierge. Brilliant! So I dumped my stuff at his place and took off to meet my slow boat crew. (I'd spent that whole day on the boat subtly building the idea that all the party people from the boat should meet at the Hive bar once we'd all settled in). Partied at the Hive bar till midnight curfew and headed back to my accomodation...only to find that it wasn't where I left it. The entire guesthouse got up and moved! Or perhaps I just didn't know where I was meant to be. Not skipping a beat, I walked to the one place that stayed open after hours, the bowling alley. I knew amidst a crowd of drunken travelers, with many of whom I'd already made acquaintance, I could sort out my situation. Sure enough, after a great night of bowling and laughs, a pack of Scottish guys offered me some floor space for the night. Problem solved.

The next day, I found my guesthouse to be 20 meters from where I'd been looking, laughed it off, and headed out to the waterfalls for a refreshing dip. That night, I watched the sunset over the Mekong from atop the city's big hill Phu Si, essentially repeated the activities of the night before (minus getting lost), and stayed up to watch the sun rise again atop Phu Si. I then had the great fortune to meet up with a lovely English woman I'd met in southern Thailand. Vicki and I carried on quite well together and it was great to have a familar face around. Another mutual travel friend, Yolly, and Vicki and I spent the next few days touring around the city deciding the it was too gentrified for our tastes. That's what a UNESCO World Heritage Site distinction does, I suppose.

Escape from LPB:

Vicki had met two incredible young women in northern Thailand and the four of us struck out to find "the less beaten path." That took Mandi, Adrienne, Vicki, and I took an open-air bus/truck along the Ou River to an odd, dirty little town called Nong Khiaw. Split by the river but joined by a massive, completely out-of-place concrete girder bridge, Nong Khiaw boasts some of the best surrounding scenery I've seen yet. After a mellow two nights of solidifying our new travel group, we ventured further up the river by boat to a village called Muang Ngoi Neua. This sleepy, one-lane village didn't have much more to offer than a quiet, easy pace, and beautiful surroundings. That's exactly what we wanted.

Our group expanded to included a German guy and a Canadian guy named Maarten. The German arranged for a guide to take our group to the top of the biggest peak overlooking Muang Ngoi...Mount Paboom (not sure how this one's spelled, but it sounds like that and it's fun to say paBOOM!) Contrary to my thought that a mountain ascent doesn't need a guide because you simply start at the lower end and proceed until you are at the top, Mount Paboom's nearly vertical jungle and rock face needed an expert. The view was breathtaking (but we didn't have much breath to give after the climb!). We were able to get a good look at our next destination, a valley to our east that housed several villages...one of which we hoped could accomodate us for the night.

Returning to the town, we took off along the valley floor in the direction of Bana Village. In the failing light of the day we came across a lively village of about 150. Kim, our hostess at the OB Guesthouse hadn't seen a tourist in a few days and was sufficiently drunk on lao lao rice whiskey be an especially gracious host. We knew within thirty minutes that we would be spending another night here. The next morning, Vicki, Maarten, and I accompanied Kim and her puppy, Cosmic, to the garden to gather the day's greens. After which, we joined Kim in the kitchen as she taught us how to make Lao breakfast of sticky rice, bamboo shoots, canned mackeral in tomato sauce, and greens. Much to our dismay, we also learned the the Lao people add MSG to EVERYTHING. They don't seem to see it as the same slap in the face to fresh, delicious cooking that we do.

Adrienne and Mandi had hiked back to Muang Ngoi to pick up supplies for both us and Kim's kitchen. Upon their noon return, our group headed to the stream with Kim, her husband, Boonyang, and brother, Ken. While the men fished, Kim gathered young ferns, and Cosmic whimpered at the sight of every ripple in the stream, the rest of us blundered along behind carrying lunch supplies (or in my case the whimpering Cosmic). At one point I watched at Boonyang came tearing down the stream beating the water's surface with a big stick. We all watched in awe as a snake tried to make a break for the bank but was beaten lifeless by the skilled hunter. "Sep lie!" he said with a smile. And that's when we knew the "delicious" snake would be on the day's menu. Once enough finger sized fish had been netted and ferns overflowed our baskets, the three hosts set about making a kitchen and dining area with only a machete and what could be found in a 50 meter radius. I haven't had a more amazing lunch, nor do I expect to. And the snake was indeed the highlight of the meal!

The next day was a full 12 hours on the move to the northern city of Luang Namtha. After a night in a really nasty guesthouse, I found the what could easily be Luang Namtha's classiest hotel for about $8 a night. Two nights before our arrival, delegates to an international convention on narcotics prevention had stayed there. So Vicki and I spoiled ourselves on $4 each a night and got the one room with a bathtub. Once rested, Vicki, Mandi, Adrienne, Maarten, and I staged ourselves for a village trek into the Nam Ha national protected lands. For about $40 we had a guide, meals, and a village to stay in for a night. We went through one of the eco-tour organizations that gives a good portion of the money directly back to the village.

The hike was beautiful. I had never seen such dense jungle. Broad leaves, bamboo, huge mango trees...all that was missing was a dinosaur, but I kept my eyes open. Not much in the way of wildlife, or even birds for that matter. I've gathered the impression that China's made good work of ensuring the jungles aren't too busy with superfluous life. We arrived at the village only to be stared at and walked to the very edge where we would be staying in our own communal hut. While we understood the widely varied ethnic makeup of Laos, no one had informed us that our common pleasantries of "hello" and "how are you?" would be entirely lost on these Khmu tribespeople. So we pretty much just stayed in our little pen and ventured through the village once or twice. It was impressive to watch our guide, in nothing but a mask and undies, swim into a really cold river and nab six fish with a SPEAR gun! Again, he added MSG when he cooked them for us. That night we dined and drank copious amounts of lao lao with the chief. With our guide as an interpreter, we were able to ask the chief if we were really welcome by the tribe. "Yes, the money is of great assistance." We knew where we stood and were ready to leave.

The hike out was more grueling than the first day, but equally rewarding with scenery. That night back in Luang Namtha, Vicki and I hosted the rest of the group for a hotel party...an unfamiliar luxury on the travel trail. The next morning, the team disbanded after a breakfast of shared stories and laughs. Mandi was determined to enter China, Vicki had an appointment in New Zealand, Maarten wanted to see a mulberry farm in LPB, and Adrienne and I were both headed south toward Vang Vien. And that's when the journey began...

Whew...this post has been a long time coming. I have been stuck in the twighlight zone city of Vientiane for I think five nights now. I really need to get out and get back on the road but for whatever reason I'm finding it very difficult to pull myself away from the comforts of this city's food and reliable web connection. If I don't end this post soon, I fear I will be here another night.