We are discovering Laos to be much simpler and more rustic than westernized Thailand, providing a truer picture of a traditional Asian lifestyle. It's a bit like the wild west, with an "anything goes" attitude except for when entering a temple when a strict dress code (no shoulders, no knees) must be followed. Agriculture and mining are the two main industries. Laos is considered to be one of the world's poorest countries, and although this may be true economically, they seem to be rich in spirit and quite content with their simple, industrious lives.
Our first night in Houayxia gives us a taste of the rustic, simple lifestyle. Our small guest bungalow contains little more than two single hard and musty beds, a night stand with two drinking glasses and a bottle of water, mildly disturbing and out of date calendars sporting Laotian models who all appear to be half-white and a tiny bathroom that also doubles as the shower. There is running water, a flush toilet and a sketchy looking electrical system that powers one overhead flourescent with just enough juice left over to charge our iPad. I plug it in and wait for a circuit burning puff of smoke, but thankfully, we're all good.
The construction is screening and woven bamboo and the room smells damp from the day's heat and humidity. Jenn is very glad to have her homemade sleeping sheet and for the first time, I am appreciative of mine too!
Breakfast, served in the guesthouse sitting area and before our boat ride, consists of juices, ginger tea, fresh fruit, yogurt, an omelette and sticky rice. It's a quality breakfast and only costs us a mere $72,000 Kip ($12). Our innkeepers are a friendly and animated Laotian couple, former French teachers, who crack jokes and and giggle, teaching us to say thank you (kowp jai) and good luck (sok dii).
With breakfast complete, we load our gear into a waiting truck and then follow on foot down to the boat dock. Here we board our boat which will be home for the next two days of our river journey.
The boat looks a bit beat up from the front, but once our shoes are removed and we step on board, we find a spotless and cheery wooden craft. Reused auto and plane seats line each side of the boat and there is a charming galley at the back with a table, drinks, snacks and a small washroom. The boat is roughly 35 metres long, big enough to hold 40 passengers, but we have it all to our group of twelve. The floors are beautiful wide teak planks of a gorgeously rich colour. Spindles from staircases make up the ornate railings. Behind the pots of flowering plants at the front of the boats is a small plate of food and drink. This, we learn, is an offering that is made to the "Queen of the River" to show respect and request a safe passage.
It is cool in the morning and we have our sweaters and socks on. Our driver lives with his wife and family in the very back section of the boat. The husband and wife use bamboo poles to push us away from the dock and we are away. Motorized, the boat cruises at 20 km an hour. Our captain carefully navigates us along, guiding the boat in a zig zag formation from one bank to the other in order to avoid any rocks lying just below the surface. The river water level is low now in the dry season, but will rise 5 metres during the rainy season, swelling the banks and creating even more treacherous hidden rock shoals to avoid. Having navigated the river for most of his life, our captain knows the route by heart, where to go and where to avoid. Streamlined speedboats, which can do the whole river journey to Luang Prabang in an adrenaline filled day, whizz past. Sometimes the driver and passengers have helmets. Often, they do not. It is not unusual for a death to occur on the river by a speed boat striking a rock at top speed.
As we travel further into Laos, the landscape becomes hillier and more jungly. Bamboo sticks and rudimentary nets jut out from the rocks for catching fish.
It is a leisurely cruise with time to read, chat, doze, snap photos and take in all the scenery. There is a serenity to the simple life ongoing along the river banks. We see people fishing, doing laundry, gold panning and picking river weed which is dried and eaten. There are small plots of peanut plants growing in the sands. Water buffalo bathe lazily in the water.
After a couple of hours, we stop at a small village, a chance to see up close how the Hmong hill tribe people live. The moment our boat touches the beach, the children come running down to greet us, clutching hand made woven bracelets and purses intended for us to buy.
Now it is scorching hot under the sun. Our guide, Kao, advises us to avoid making purchases as the tour group already sponsors the village, helping to provide schooling and fresh water from the mountains. The children are sweet as they wave and say hello. They thrust out their colourful wares. It is difficult to say no. The group consists mostly of girls as the boys and men have all gone into the hills to hunt birds. Kao walks us through the village. It is quite primitive (except for the satellite dish). The homes and buildings are made with thatched bamboo and are very dark inside. We see a holy man performing a rite asking for the Buddha to heal a sick villager. Blindfolded, he chants and sings in front of a small shrine.
We move about with a throng of locals following us, still thrusting forward their items for sale. They smile at us shyly. Women (girls) and men (boys) will marry as young as 14 and being having babies of their own. They will marry others in neighbouring villages or, if no one is available there, even within their own village and families. We see more than a few villagers that are mentally and/or physically handicapped and suspect it is the result of inbreeding.
We spot lazy pigs and dogs basking in the sun. Our throng continues to move slowly from building to building. Being Sunday, no one is in school. We see where they cook over the fire (the high ceiling blackened above) and the well built by the Red Cross that brings clean water from the mountains.
It is an eye opener to say the least - fascinating, mildly disturbing and a privilege. We make our way back to our boat. The children are relentless, following us and even running ahead to get in front. A few in our group buy some of the small bracelets, but we opt not too as both Kao and Bouna have expressed that it is not helpful to the village. From the shore, they wave as we pull away and resume waiting for the next passing boat.
Back on board, a real Laotian lunch is waiting — a lemongrass and coconut milk vegetable and fish soup, sautéed vegetables, sticky rice, chicken, fried eggplant, and hot sauce (which makes Jenn happy!). It is an excellent and flavourful feast.
Meanwhile, our journey continues. I feel as though I am Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now, venturing up the Mekong in search of Kurtz played by a bald Brando waiting at the end.
Around 5 p.m., we arrive at Pakbang, a small village located at the halfway point between Houayxia and Luang Prabang. After our first night in Laos, we have little expectations for Pakbang, which is little more than an overnight stop for tourists located in the Laotian jungle. However, we are pleasantly surprised to find a bustling village in the midst of a growth spurt with shops, restaurants with river views, and tidy little guest houses.
Our guesthouse is a short uphill walk from the dock where we encounter a colonial style home and ten charming but basic rooms with twin beds, hot water, showers and more battery charging electrical sockets. We clean up and head out for a walk about the village. The public boat from Houzyxia is arriving, filled with 150 passengers, some who have stood for the entire 7 hour ride. The guest house owners come out to their front entrances and try to entice the disembarking passengers to stay with them. Porters attempt to grab bags and carry them for a fee.
It is a quaint town. Rustic and relaxed. Walking along the main street gives us a good look at life here, as we can see into the homes and shops. Meat is being BBQ'd on the street and there are many trinkets for sale. Kao leads us to the temple at the top of the town. We have missed hearing the monk's evening chant, but we get to look around the grounds and take in the river sunset.
Kao then guides us to a traditional Laotian restaurant and urges us to try buffalo meat, which some of us do. Jenn and I split a Lao curry and a pumpkin coconut soup. We ask for it spicy hot but it is still "white man". The spicy heat seems to elude us, although the fresh coriander, much to my chagrin, does not.
Regardless, the meal is excellent. Fresh watercress, mint, dill and chives scent the dishes. I am interested in the lao-lao, the local rice whiskey, which is produced by the government, but also made by the locals in every community in their own stills and sold in a variety of odd bottles — whatever can be procured. Bouna kindly brings some from the kitchen for us all to try. It is wickedly strong, almost 50% pure alcohol says Kao (can this be?) and yet surprisingly tasty with a subtle sweetness of juice/coconut. It also has one heck of a burn going down!
Dinner costs us a whopping $100,000 Kip ($12). Most of our group goes back to the guesthouse after the meal, but a few of us (Jenna, Brett, Keir, Bouna and Jenn) opt to walk up to the Hive Bar (advertised as the ONLY bar in town!) for a few more drinks. We sit outside basking in the candlelight, pestering Bouna about life in Asia and Cambodia and laughing a great deal as we share some of our travel stories. The Lao beer is easy to drink. Jenna and Brett have been touring through Tokyo, Malaysia and Bali before coming here and they have more than a few amusing tales.
Inside The Hive bar, a group of Germans are making a ruckus playing drinking games. We pay our bill to our adorable (but perhaps a tad young) bartender and make our way back to the guesthouse.
Scooters whizz past us in the dark and some shops and restaurants are still open. We amble back with few concerns and try not to wake our fellow travellers as we tiptoe through the guest house.
No comments:
Post a Comment