Woody Laos

STATS: Day count=245; theft count=0; rip-off count=1; tourist screw-up count=5.5; Chris’ photo count=2080; Emma’s photo count=110; touch-typing char/min=247(improving!); Poi skills mastered since last post: None

The journey from Dien Bien Phu into Laos was similar to the previous one – bad roads and slow progress. The difference was that we had to get up at 4am for the privilege. Initially buoyant with the expectation of a vaguely comfortable ride, there only being 4 other people on the ‘stretched minibus’ (maybe 30 seats), we lounged around and stretched out and relaxed. Then, at 5:30am we set off. First stop was to load two 100+kg bags of…something…onto the top of the bus, for which all (or rather both) of the males on the bus were roped in to help. Then we progressed very slowly through the next few towns, picking up more people and more goods of all descriptions – from bundles of dried noodles to parts from an industrial water pump. All of the goods were crammed into the back of the bus, floor to ceiling, when the roof was full and the people were crammed into any remaining space – which was minimal. Once they had managed to fit 25 people into the 17 seats left, and the bus was dangerously low at the back from the weight of the numerous and ubiquitous 50kg rice sacks, we headed out on the 10hr journey to cross the border. Aside from being pretty uncomfortable, the journey was actually fun and interesting and the scenery beautiful., especially once we crossed the border into Laos (at a border crossing that only sees one bus in each direction each day – the guards were unsurprisingly very bored!).

 

Laos is a gorgeous country. Covered in lush green forest as far as the eye can see, blanketing an impressive mountain range with not only trees, but a variety of emerald green creepers and bamboo shoots that seem to have been sprayed over the trees. Appreciation of the scenery was a little difficult, when you have your knees up to your chest, someone’s armpit in your face and a combination of ‘road’ surface and bus suspension that would be perfect for mixing cocktails, imperfect for drinking them.

The road ended at a river. Literally. The bus could go no further without nautical help. (Is it still nautical, if it is a river, rather than the sea?) We offloaded and caught a ‘ferry’ (narrow boat, one person wide) across the river to the town on the other side – Muang Khoua – where we were to stay at least one night. We needn’t have been concerned about the safety of the narrow, rickety boat – at least the guy who (somehow) loaded his scooter on it and sat on the scooter to keep it upright for the journey wasn’t worried, so I figured we shouldn’t be either.

The town was small, friendly and basic. Electricity was provided only between the hours of 6 and 9 in the evening. The guest house had a great view over the river, but not much else going for it. I’d have been more accommodating towards it if it had not been for the small animal – raccoon-like – kept in a tiny cage outside the few rooms. Unfortunately we had already taken the room before we saw it, but it was one of the reasons we only stayed a single night there. A very precarious, narrow suspension bridge over another nearby river provided a nerve-testing excursion and our first experience of the Lao people was positive. Smiles and greetings were frequent, and the general atmosphere was laid-back. Very laid-back.

Laos only has a population of around 7-8 million people. That’s about the same as London. The land area is 2/3 that of Vietnam (which has a population of around 85 million). This makes much of the country empty, and they have so far managed, and I believe are actively trying, to keep it relatively unspoilt – hence the thick forests covering much of the Northern area. It is a very poor country, and technology was slow to arrive, but is progressing quickly. There are few roads, and most of those that do exist are dirt tracks. There are no railways, only a few airports, and not a Seven-11 in sight. However, most people have a mobile phone, Wi-fi is prevalent in the major towns and in the last couple of years ATMs have sprouted up. The people here seem to be happy, and who can blame them – a laid-back lifestyle in a gorgeous setting.

The next leg of our journey was down river – so we took a boat. In true Lao fashion, the boat was scheduled to leave at 9am. Maybe. If the boat owner was awake, and fancied making the trip. And if enough people wanted to go to make it worth his while. Initially there were just me & Emma wanting to go. Eventually, by around 10am, enough others had expressed a vague interest in travelling downriver and we set off on the 4 hour trip. For once we were the only westerners on board and the journey was fantastic – the river flowed between some high, tree-covered hills, and the boat acted as a ferry service between the numerous tiny villages that inhabited the clearings and valleys between the hills – stopping to drop off or pick up people or goods along the way. Another mode of transport for this trip ticked off!

Our destination was a tiny village, a “travellers’ haven”, called Muong Ngoi. It is nestled between two mountains, right on the river, and is only accessible by boat. Once again electricity only appeared in the evening for a few hours, and the place was very relaxing. Emma was worried when, upon our arrival on the first day, we wandered down the single road in the village and encountered only loud music and drunken locals singing karaoke. The concern that everyone in Laos was constantly drunk was unfounded, however – it appeared that we had arrived during a ‘festival’ (read: day off to drink) and by the following day people seemed sober enough to trust themselves with power saws and machetes.

We stayed 3 nights in Muong Ngoi. Lots of tourists – relative to the small population of the village – but it didn’t seem to detract from the place. The fact that it was a quiet village, with little to actually do there, and was not easily accessible, meant the people who made the effort to get there were not the package-tour crowd, or even the gap-year-kids, but more your chilled out traveller demographic, which suited us perfectly. And once again we had a great room overlooking the river in our own bamboo hut, complete with hammock, with a guest house owner who was really friendly even after we had taken the room (and after I had told her that Chris had totally broken her plastic chair (he sat on it) – EM), which is not always the case! And all for 30,000Kip (about £2.50). Not much to do around town, which suited us fine – walking into the countryside was good enough physical exercise for us, and sitting in a hammock watching the driving rain, a common afternoon occurrence now, reading a good book was enough mental exercise for a few days.

A shorter, but somewhat overloaded, boat trip downriver took us to Nong Khiaw, a busier town, as it had road links into it, where we decided to stop for a night before moving North. Pleasant enough, in a setting that would have impressed, being as it was between reddened limestone cliffs and forest, had we not spent time in an even prettier setting upriver.

We love the fact that the animals are free to roam here. Cats, dogs, pigs, cows, chickens, water buffalo – all wander around the roads and houses with abandon. Emma especially coos over the babies – puppies, kittens, piglets and little chicks are in abundance. This freedom has an occasional price to pay, however, as we had to watch from a distance as a large (but relatively rare here) 4x4 car drove along the dirt track, scattering chickens and chicks from its path. One little chick was too slow and didn’t make it. Not completely dead, but not many minutes away, it tried to move its crushed body away, once the car – its driver oblivious (but slightly callous in that he made no attempt to slow down when approaching the group of chicks and the mother hen) – had driven off. What was endearing was the way all the other chicks came over and surrounded the injured one in seeming concern. I believe a small price to pay (well, a rather large price to pay for the particular chick in question!) for the freedom they have.

In a country with no developed public transport system, and a relaxed attitude to schedules, we took a risk with the next leg of the journey – winging it on a bus going in roughly the right direction, in the hope we could get something that connected with it to take us to our hoped-for target of Luang Namtha in the Northwest. Our gamble paid off – after being dumped at a road junction after the first hour, we somehow managed to get picked up by a very plush taxi for the remaining 6 hour journey, for the same price as a much-less-plush bus would have cost. Result!

Luang Namtha is known for its eco-tours and treks. And God don’t you know it when you get here! Every single tour agency has the same ‘eco-‘ policy and promotion, so much so that the eco-friendliness of it all gets a bit lost.

Our guesthouse here was excellent, the town nothing special but nice enough, the tours expensive and only some of the countryside accessible – part of the ‘eco-tourism drive’ means you can’t go into the national park area without a registered (expensive) guide. So instead we hired bicycles one day, and a motorbike another day, and went off on our own to wherever we were allowed. Both were fun. The bike ride especially, cycling through tiny, friendly villages and swathes of flat, low paddy fields. The map we had indicated a lovely circular route around town. Unfortunately it failed to indicate that the path crossed a rather large river. With no bridge. Or ford. Or in fact any means possible of getting across other than to wade out. Having waded up to my thighs and not reached the centre of the fast-flowing river we were going to turn back when two short, Lao women arrived at the far side, hitched up their skirts and just waded across. Feeling ashamed at our wussy attempt to cross, I therefore picked up a bike and gingerly made my way across. Despite the pretty strong current, and the three separate trips I had to make, we made it with no mishaps and were rather proud of our ‘intrepid explorer’ spirit. For a while. Until two more women, carrying bags laden with shopping, took the crossing in their stride, once again putting us firmly back in our place.

Emma is pleased to have finally been offered drugs here. I seem to be offered them in almost every town we come to – including by three old women in a town near Luang Namtha who, having failed to entice me to buy any of their bracelets and necklaces, tried an alternative approach and quietly offered drugs instead. Emma rarely gets offered and this, despite the fact that we had no intention of buying them, was starting to annoy her. Opium smoking is big here, as it was in Vietnam, and we regularly pass guys having a puff from their not-exactly-discrete (it is supposedly illegal) opium pipe in their doorways.

A difference in the parental control and education of children became apparent whilst watching a 4-year old playing ‘chase’ with his friends and siblings, wielding an 18-inch machete. While we watched with some fear and trepidation, adults around us smiled and laughed and eventually went to encourage, rather than tell, the little chap to hand over the weapon rather than wave it around. Telling children off is rare here, and in most of SE Asia it seems. I can’t say that it doesn’t work, given the level of maturity and respect shown by kids and teenagers here, compared with back home!

Now heading to Louang Prabang, where we have arranged to help out in a sanctuary for rescued bears for two weeks. Should be interesting!