One week in Laos has come and gone. It happened rather quickly, except when we were sitting on a slow boat, with plank boards for seats, and gaps between the siding so water seeped through onto your shorts, or when your bladder was quietly nudging your brain that the time had come. There were many other unforgettable but more positive moments from our three days traveling via the river. I’ll discuss them and provide visual reinforcement.
From Huay Xai, we arrived at the boat dock 2 hours before departure time to purchase our ticket that included a seat assignment. We feared that if we were last in line to buy our tickets, our seats may end up sharing space with the engine in a loud, dark room. Our seat assignment was near the front of the boat but not right next to each other, so we picked up the small scraps of paper with scribbled numbers, rearranged where our numbers belonged, and got comfortable. The rumors were dispelled that the seats were wooden planks and you should purchase a cushion for $1USD in town. All boats we saw had taken car bucket seats from vehicles and half heartedly bolted them into 2x4s on the floor. A couple from the U.K. sat across from us, and we swapped travel stories for the two hours before the boat became fully packed, making conversation across the aisle more difficult. They were biking from England to New Zealand, riding 8,000 miles in 10 months thus far.
Day 1 on the Mekong River was enjoyable. We passed our time listening to Podcasts, eating bags of chips and granola bars, and Micah sipped on the local homemade Laos whiskey we purchased in a plastic bottle for $0.70. The better parts of the day were spent observing the local life along the river. There were kids, the older ones generally wearing normal clothes and the younger ones sporting their birthday suits, swimming in the river. They’d often stop splashing when the boat went by to turn towards us and wave. We saw soccer games on rocky beaches, long wooden boats with fishermen and nets, water buffalo submerged in the river, and small villages. The captain killed the boat’s engine a few times to drift towards a shore, the boat helpers guiding the boat at the best angle with big sticks against the land. Sometimes there was a dock, most of the time there wasn’t. A few locals would hop off the boat, some may join us, sometimes it was only to deliver bags of goods. The weather was ideal, especially with the breeze. It was much better than 6.5 hours spent in a bus.
We docked in Pakbeng, the overnight resting point. Swarmed by locals with poster boards of the accommodations they had to offer, we jumped in the back of a truck of one who said we could just catch a short ride to town. We checked his hotel and decided it would work for the night. After preordering our breakfast, telling him multiple times that we didn’t need a packed lunch for the boat tomorrow, and no we didn’t want to go to his friend’s bar with everyone at 7:30 for dinner and drinks, we found a dinner spot all to ourselves. I wonder how many of the others partook in the evening activities. We’re not big fans of organized socializing, and are too independent and stubborn to have someone else choose where we eat and what it’ll cost. Plus, when I filled out the mandatory hotel intake form, I noted that the others who signed in were born in the 90s or early 2000s! That made me feel old.
Day 2 on the Mekong was fine. The boat had less leg room than the previous day, and we had 8 hours to make the most of it. Views became more mountainous as we traveled further east into central Laos. When we were straight north of Luang Prabang, we saw more signs of Chinese infrastructure encroachment, with the building of a tall bridge as part of the Trans-Asian Railway Network. Although the nostalgia of being on a boat wore off around hour 11, the slow boat was scenic, full of fresh air, and a memorable way to see the real Laos.
Luang Prabang was the polished town that most foreigners head to in Northern Laos. It boasted some authenticity, with a cheap night food market and groupings of saffron-clad monks ambling the streets. But for every monk we saw, there were 10 boutique hotels. They were tasteful and charming without towering over you, so it didn’t feel like tourist central; adequately prepared for tourists may be a more appropriate description.
We had prebooked our accommodations in a central location, at a small boutique hotel. For $13.50 per night, we had a basic but clean room with AC, complimentary breakfast, and since we were staying three nights, our lodging included free transportation to Kuang Si Wateralls. Wednesday evening we found our way to the night market and re supplied our bodies with vegetables at a vegan one-trip buffet, which meant we got one large bowl to fill as we desired for 15,000 kip ($1.74). We capped our meal with two smoothies, a stroll through the souvenir street market, and walked along the river to make our way home.
Our first full day in Luang Prabang, we followed the city walking tour outlined in our Lonely Planet guide book. Despite the intense heat, we explored the perimeter of Phu Si for city views, found where the Mekong River meets the Nam Khan River, strolled the famous monastery Wat Xieng Thong, and finished our tour at the Royal Palace. Dinner was another visit to the night market, but we went the complete opposite direction with our meal choice, indulging in fried pork belly and chicken dumplings. Our cycling friends from the boat met us there, and we enjoyed the cooler temperature as we walked and socialized.
Friday morning we observed Almsgiving, a traditional and ancient Buddhist practice of making offerings to the monks. This is a way for the lay Buddhist to show respect and form a spiritual connection, and in turn, the monk will pray for the giver’s family. We’d heard other travelers discuss almsgiving in areas we have visited on this trip, but we hadn’t seen it yet. In Luang Prabang, it is practiced at dawn (which is probably why we hadn’t seen it!). The lay Buddhist is dressed appropriately (no exposed shoulders or knees for women), women kneel while men stand, and the monks walk barefoot through the streets with woven baskets in which those making the offerings place sticky rice. Luang Prabang’s peaceful atmosphere and extraordinary concentration of romantic temples has made this a desired location to observe almsgiving and unfortunately, a hot tourist attraction. Micah and I mostly observed, snapped a few pictures from across the street, and attempted to be as respectful as we knew how. We witnessed other foreigners who did not quite understand the practice as well, and chose to participate. It’s sensible that those participating in almsgiving, including tourists, should do so if it’s meaningful to them; not for the photo op of you handing a monk some rice. Sadly, locals realize that this is a money making opportunity for them, and are happy to sell tourists overpriced baskets of poor quality rice. Seeing the tourists engage in the practice made us cringe a little bit, especially when one woman ran after the monks to give them the remaining rice in her possession. Felt a bit like the end of Halloween and the mom not wanting any leftover candy in the house, so she turned the bowl upside down and emptied it into the last trick or treaters basket. Despite the tourist mishap, it was unique to observe and a good reminder as foreigners to continue being diligent about our research.
Following breakfast, we hopped into an empty van for our free shuttle to Kuang Si Waterfalls. We played musical minivan for the next 30 minutes, our driver pulling over two blocks after he picked us up and pointing to a van across the street for us to get in, then that van dropping off one passenger to pick up three more. You have to be ok knowing you’re at the mercy of the driver and his/her personal schedule and goals anytime you get into a vehicle in SE Asia. We bopped to Pitbull and Usher, since we’re also at their musical mercy, before arriving to the waterfalls.
After entering the park, we walked by the Kuang Si Rescue Centre, run by Free The Bears. This conservatory cares for Asiatic Wild Moon Bears that have been confiscated from poachers who were selling them to bile farms for Chinese traditional medicine purposes. Continuing on, we began to see the turquoise waters of the swimmable holes. Kuang Si is a many tiered-waterfall tumbling over limestone formations into decent sized pools. In hopes of finding a swimming pool to ourselves with a view, we hiked up and over the falls. No luck on the private dip, but at the top of the falls there was a swing luring us to play over the water. We spent some time swimming down below with fish that liked to nibble on feet and thighs, which took the relaxation out of it.
That evening, we splurged on dinner at a traditional Laotian restaurant. For 240,000 kip ($27.87), we split the Lao Flavours set meal for two. I’ll caption the photos with the names of the dishes below. With the exception of the ginger infused Lao Lao whiskey shot, nothing was disgusting. I also wouldn’t say anything was incredible. But we didn’t eat there with the intention of being blown away by delicious food; mediocre food was fine. We just wanted exposure to more local dishes, which we accomplished.
Saturday we hoisted our bags onto our backs and walked 2.5 km to the bus station. We spent the next 4 hours in the back seat of a crowded, warm minivan traversing bumpy roads to take us to Nong Khiaw. This was the first of four relatively long travel days we had planned to cross the border and eventually rest in Sapa, Vietnam. Nong Khiaw, with its small population of 3,500, is nestled between towering limestone crags and a common layover for those on our route.
Whether it was the rough ride, the 100 degree weather, or just feeling like a 35 year old attempting to be a spry backpacker, I felt worn down. As a result, there was no question that we needed to find a place with AC, because I likely was spending the afternoon reading my book in that room. The third guesthouse we walked in was quiet and possibly completely empty. Minus two women who looked to be sleeping on the tile floor of the reception area, with only their legs visible to us. We said “sabaidee” (hello) in increasingly louder voices, Micah stomped around the door entrance, and finally, they woke up. Obviously dazed, the women seemed unsure as she grabbed keys to show us a room. When we asked the price, she had no idea what we were saying. We pulled out the calculator and typed numbers for common room rates, rubbed our thumb and index finger together wondering if that was a universal sign for money, and even pulled out our wallet and showed her kip bills. Unsure which of those worked or if it was a combination of all, she was able to confirm it was 100,000 kip ($11.61). It did have AC, and the reviews I had read before we arrived indicated there may even be a complimentary breakfast, so we handed her money and walked upstairs. It took a few seconds to discover our room had no electricity, but we weren’t sure how to communicate this to her. I sat in the hallway where there was a breeze, book/kindle in hand and Micah went to speak with her. She tried lights in all the rooms and realized there was no electricity. Fifteen minutes later she returned with a local who told us in broken English that electricity should be on later. We appreciated her making the effort to communicate to us.
The afternoon went as I had hoped; a bite for lunch, and then relaxing in our now perfectly cooled room. Micah debated a hike with some views, but the 100 degree weather and thought of an uphill climb kept him in the room. We had dinner at an Indian restaurant and prepared for our next day.
Sunday was day 3 and final day of Laos river transportation. This boat was a bit rougher than our previous two. There were six bucket style seats directly behind the captain, and two planks, roughly 15 ft long, along each side in the back of the boat. The second we were given approval to start boarding, I was ready to try to snag the bucket seats. We managed to get the two at the front, but the boat was so overcrowded that two people sat just behind the captain on a small deck, knees touching ours. Somehow, 6-8 people fit on each of those planks in the back. The gentleman facing Micah was from Seattle and had just come from Vietnam, so we got some travel tips from him. In two different spots on my side of the boat, water seeped in. I could peer down and see the Nam Ou River flowing below us. Within seconds, my shorts and right hip were drenched, and the French girl in front of me helped to rearrange a few items on the floor so they didn’t get soaked. Quickly, the rest of me desired to be cooled down like my right hip, and I appreciated the comfort of the old, falling apart boat.
All but 8 of the original passengers disembarked an hour into the ride, and we gained a few monks. The boat continued on for two hours total before a dam became visible in our future, and we docked. We carried luggage up to the side of the road and waited 20 minutes for a truck that was to pile us all in and take us to the other side of the dam. On this side, another boat awaited us. But this one had no bucket seats, only planks. Very thin planks. That were a foot off the ground. Luckily, it wasn’t too crowded so there was room to stretch your legs and as we lost more passengers, I even had space to lay on my back.
The second half of the journey on the Nam Ou River was entertaining. I noticed the first time that the captain started the boat, he and his helper seemed to look relieved. The next time he turned the key, there was no roar of the engine. A few times during the remaining 4 hour ride, the helper would take a wrench back to the engine, prime it, and then it would start. We passed a beach with a fisherman, his boat, and his catch for the day. Our driver pulled over to the beach and started talking with the fisherman. He sized up the fish, a weight scale was placed in the sand, money exchanged, and our captain reentered the boat with a net of 5 kg of fish. The most memorable moment was when we were 4 km from our final destination. The engine turned off, which happened periodically as he’d pull over to a beach or a small village. This time though, he turned around to the 6 of us passengers and said “petrol.” Then pointed upriver in the direction we were moving, said “5 minutes”, and laughed a bit. He made a phone call, docked us at a beach, and said “toilet” with a smile, which made me laugh. I could only appreciate the fact that if we were to be without gas, I’d much rather be stranded on a beach with the potential for a quick swim, than on the side of a busy highway. After 20 minutes, two young kids walked out of the bushes with a large canister of gas, were handed some money, and we were on our way.
We entered Moung Khiaw with 237,000 kip in our pockets. This would be our last night in Laos, and we needed 120,000 for our bus tickets tomorrow. Lodging was chosen for 70,000, which left us with 47,000, the equivalent of $5.46, to eat dinner, breakfast, and any other purchases that would need to be made before crossing the border. Micah was more confident than I was that this was possible, but we had ATMs and money exchange businesses (we always carry some USD with us) as back-up. Or so we thought. As we were walking out of our guesthouse, a German girl that had been on the boat with us asked if she could buy some kip from us, as she had zero and had to pay for her hotel plus the bus ticket tomorrow. We told her our predicament and that we may need to get more cash, and she informed us that the ATMs didn’t work for her. Long story made short, we learned that the ATMs often run out of money on the weekends and the banks don’t refill until Monday. It was Sunday night. She was able to exchange Thai baht with a pharmacy, relieving our need to help her and accepting our challenge to eat two meals for 47,000 kip. We looked at a menu, ensured there were dishes for 15,000, and walked away with full bellies and 17,000 remaining. Before boarding the bus, Micah stayed with our packs and I searched for food to call breakfast. I chose three deep fried dough items that we discovered had cheese in them, and cold green tea. Total cost 9,000. We had other items, including chips and cookies, in our packs that could complete our meal. Two hours later, we crossed into Vietnam and pocketed the leftover 8,000 kip to add to our foreign money collection.
The bus ride to Dien Bien was typical; crowded, warm, entertaining. A local gal sat behind the driver and chatted away for over an hour, barely stopping for a breath. He was engaging her and she must have been funny, as there were a few giggles. At border patrol; leaving Laos was smooth, entering Vietnam was slow. With us in the bus were three Germans and the rest were Laotian or Vietnamese. The Vietnamese officer was checking and stamping passports for entry in the order he received them, except for ours. As US citizens, we are required to get a Vietnam visa. Apparently, on-arrival visas are not possible to get at land crossings, so we did it electronically through their E-visa service ($25 each for 30 days). This was an extra step for him, writing our visa information that we had printed out into a booklet, so he would start a step of ours and then move on to someone else. We were the last to get through, which meant our seats in the bus were now occupied and Micah had to stand behind the door for the last 45 minutes of our ride. But, we were in Vietnam, ready to ascend into the mountains of Sapa, pull out our long sleeve shirts and hiking boots, and drink $0.60 beer!
Navigating the streets of Vietnam will be a whole new experience
D= 228
h3j2wander 