Laos - Land of Lychees, Lergies and Pink-bellied Buffalo

 

The 20-hour ride from Hanoi to Vientiane - which has earned the name-badge "the bus from hell" on travellers' fora - was pretty comfy, apart from the border wait where the bus toilet next to me started to brim with, let's say, morning business (I have seen worse at music festivals). Clearly Virak Buntham bus has made me strong!

After Vietnam, it was a pleasure to cycle on roads where the traffic seemed to be following some rules (e.g. red light means stop). But Vientiane had little of interest apart from a fierce dust-storm which whipped its way up into town from the vast, dry Mekong riverbed and ferocious heat that caused my cigarette lighter to explode.

So, onwards to Vang Vieng, a bizarre place: a whole town of backpacker cafes, playing episodes of Friends or South Park. Backpackers float on tubes (inner tubes of tractor tyres) down the river, stopping at bars along the way to drink promotional (free) rice-whisky bucket-cocktails and then return to town, to recover in the cafes before hitting the vomit-pit night spots on "party island" in the middle of the river. "Happy" cuisine is openly advertised: menus kept in the back of these cafes list shakes and meals with various concoctions of opium, ganja, mushrooms etc as well as listing the joint/gram price. And with roughly 2 twits meeting their maker in VV annually, popular tshirt slogans include "I survived Vang Vieng" with suitably tasteless (and admittedly quite funny) pictures.







It's well known that this is what VV is about, and many avoid it. But it was strangely compelling to watch all the shenanigans, even if it made me cringe and sigh a little internally at what Laos people have let in and now have to put up with. No wonder they seemed a bit tourist-fatigued. The sign (above) outside the ATM sums up polite official exasperation towards the saturated hordes. I think the bank must have gone to the same sign-writers as these guys (right):

I went for the scenery of course...seriously. Absolutely stunning lime karst scenery, which makes the place worth stopping in. Armed with a kilo of lychees in case I starved on the way (no, not really - they cost $1 and I was being monumentally greedy), I cycled out to a place called the Organic Farm, hoping for some good food and a tour, to learn about the work on the farm and its community projects. Unfortunately for it, the farm is right next to the tubing drop off. At midday, the music was ok, but by 2pm, the volume had been cranked up and there were 3 river bars playing clashing soundtracks in a cacaphony which is unlikely to do much good for the Organic Farm's accommodation/restaurant business. Which is a pity because they made the best fresh spring rolls I've eaten so far. In a brave attempt to "join 'em", the farm has set up a mojito bar near the tubing drop off point, selling the usual cocktails alongside mulberry mojitos and mulberry wine, wine with signs advertising their volunteer teaching programme. Admirable optimism.

Then on to Luang Prabang, a laid-back place on the confluence of the Mekong and Khan rivers, where my first night was pretty dramatic. Lightening hit a pylon down the road and it burst into an electric firework display in the heavy rain, filling the street with smoke. I went down with the guesthouse owner and a group of pyjama-ed locals to check it out and was pretty impressed when the electricty board dudes zooted around the corner in a new yellow jeep 5mins later. This is not to say that such a car means a speedier fix-it rate than ZESA. Oh but I'm just being mean. They were still working hard - abseiling amongst a frightening tangle of wires - the next afternoon and in the end, it only took about a day to fix.

Next morning, I kitted myself out with a lovely purple bike to zip around temples (LP has dozens with active monasteries). But alas, my stomach proved not to be cast iron after all and a few days were spent prone and cursing the all-you-can-eat-for-about-$1 vegetarian buffet. Proof that 2 chopstick-loads of cold greens and noodles (all I could eat in the end -perhaps the sign was a wicked joke and not a generous dinner offer?) can poison you if they've been sitting around long enough. Although the laap - a deliciously addictive Laos dish of minced chicken or pork or whatever-you-want mixed with fresh herbs (coriander, mint) - was not kind to me either. I met a couple living in Thailand who said they get sick every time they go to Laos, so maybe it's just the bugs living there. When I got around to seeing some temples, I was heartened and tickled to see that the monks struggle with street food too (temple sign, right).

Any trip to LP has to include a visit to the Kuang Si Waterfall - where the waterpools are an acquamarine colour which I just wasn't able to capture in photos. The expressions on the faces of the monk novices (below) may be a better reflection of how lovely it is. Equipped with cameras, phones and an iPad, they were ooohing at and snapping the main waterfall. This has a pool below it signposted "Not for swimming area". I asked myself, "what would my friend HH do?" and that settled it for me - in such a beautiful spot, this sign is a taunt, not a deterrent. It was chilly, but definitely the best place along the river to take the plunge.



My favourite part of Laos was the trip out, and not just because I was escaping the food bugs. I had an alarming reflection-flash as I was leaving that I may just love the moving-on part of travelling a little too much for a settled life (eeek! Nicky, maybe you were right about the impossibility of curing itchy feet). Anyway, I caught a couple of slow boats up the Mekong river, overnighting in Pakbeng. From afar - and just at the point in the journey when you can't feel your backside and are beginning to notice how loud the boat engine is - Pakbeng appears as a welcoming hill-tumble of buildings on a picturesque bend in the river, and to its credit, a glimpse of the morning alms ceremony here felt like less of a photo-circus than in Luang Prabang.

But bottom line? Dire place when you actually climb that hill to those buildings. Surely the armpit of the world? There's a funny traveller account here which captures the feel of the place. I managed to avoid the traveller hordes (by travelling upstream) and the rats.

Anyway, back to the river. What a wonderful way to travel, catching glimpses of the way people live in remote areas and interact with the river - which is so big it has its own beaches and makes the Thames look like a spit dribble. It was low water, so there were a few rapids to negotiate, which our captain did skilfully, guided by plastic bottles bobbing in the water to indicate where the jaggedy underwater rocks were. We stopped to drop people off at villages along the way - at least once attracting a crowd of excited, kamikaze kids who sped down the sand dunes (pausing halfway to whip off their clothes) and then somersaulted into the shallows. We passed fisherman; gold panners; pink-bellied buffalo; monks on temple laundry rota with orange buckets and robes scattered along the shoreline; kids playing on tractor tyres; teenage girls having their evening river-shower; a long boat crammed with people, one guy precariously strumming a guitar; and, as we neared Huay Xai (possibly the other armpit of the world), a riot of wealthier weekenders with barbeques, cars blaring music, and large bright inflatable floatables. There was so much to see I hardly touched my book.



It was a magical way to spend 2 days, and I'd go back to do just that trip again - even with Pakbeng and its 50min cold fried rice included in the deal. It made me think that this is one country where I really should have travelled a long way off the beaten track. Maybe later.

Posted: 1 June 2012