Hotel; Vienkeo Hotel, Luang Praban
Room Type: Large double room at 12,000 Kip ($5)
Verdict: Clean, outside toilet and cold shower,which I still cannot get used to
Days since we were last on a plane; 30
Our mission for the day was to arrive safely in Luang Praban 450km north of Vientienne. We were not going to take the easy way out and fly to as the Lonely Planet and every thing else advises cos we are hardened travellers -yeah - no middle aged tourist outings for us hardy dirty trekkers.
The long journey is trecherous both in terms of road covering, mountainous regions and geurilla guns. Cold shower to wake me up - bad start. Cold eggs or hard baguettes for breakfast- keep the pace. Pigeon French and hand signals led us to believe that there was a bus coming from Vientienne between 10am and 11am which we could stop at the junction 1 km. out of town. We arrived at same junction at 9.30 and sat comfortably on our rucksaks by the roadside poised and ready to pounce in front of the passing bus. Many local vehicles stopped to offer us a ride to Kasy (a quarter of the way to Luang Praban) but we heard that Kasy was the problem area so passed up on the offer. The problem being that anti-government geurillas had decided to take foreigners off the bus and shoot them in the head on numerous occassions in the last year. The number of occassions depended on to whom you spoke to and how many people you met. Two weeks ago 3 locals were shot on the same Route 13. We did not know whether to take this change in target as a good or a bad sign. The bus eventually came at 11.15am but passed by without stopping, full to the brim and overflowing with people perched against baggage on the roof. A discussion ensued. Some wanted to go to the bus station and reask the hotel owners about a possible direct bus at 12 midday. Others wanted to stay at the junction and await the next bus coming form Vientienne The girls headed off for the bus station and found out that the 12 o'clock bus only went as far as Kasy and from there one must get a bus the rest of the way. So we waited while in the meantime the other half of the 'discussion' strolled back from the junction announcing with smirks that an empty bus had passed which they could not get on because of us twits who obviously had losì¥Á
Saturday 17th Janauary 1998
Hotel; Santisouk Hotel, Vientiane
Room Type: 3 bedded room at 12 US$
Verdict: Superb, clean crisp whie sheets, ensuie bathroom with shower, bath and Hot Water,chairs, bedside lights, wardrobe and table.Fantastic and the cheapest around this ity.
Laos is a tremendous country. It is a beautifully scenic landscape and homeland to smiling friendly faces. Best of all this quaint and peaceful land has not yet being too tarnished by tourism, high rise buildings, extensive infrastructure and pollution. Let's hope it will remain innocent for another few years at least though there is a tourism campaign by the Government at the moment similiar to Visit Nepal 98 and Amazing Thailand, campaigns. Similiar to Ireland the country population is only 4.8 million for the 200,000 sq km (compared with Thailands' 58 million which is 2.5 times the size). The population is well dispersed around the country so rush hour in the captial (480,00 people only!) is a doddle to jay-walk through. We crossed over the Friendship Bridge from Nong Khai in North-east Thailand and took a tuk tuk - now called a jumbo if they are the larger version of the samlor (a 3 wheeled motorbicycle) to Vietienne without much bother. Arriving in the capital city one immediately notices the French influence with houses romanitcally nestled behind bursts of flowers, serene shuttered windows, and of course french translations on signposts. Laos was a colony of France from 1893 (or rather was uder the protection of France) until the Franco-Laotian Treaty of 1953 granted full Independance to Laos and thereafter internal tensions between royalist, neutralist and communist factions ensued.
During our walking tour of Viantienne we sat by Buddha in many Wats, strolled along sandy main roads, greeted locals and received warm smiles in return. Chldren ran up to us asking 'What is youor name?", Buddhist students bade us "Good Morning ' and conversed in english with us. Spie was a 15 year old chap dressed in is bright orange robe and holding a London black umbrella above his shaved smiling head to shade out the sun. After snapping his image with his permission, at the Sacred Stuppa he waited for us to chat as we walked down the 3 km stretch towards the Victory Memorial - Arc de Triomphe. He would finish studying in his monastery next year and would go to New York where he lived when he was younger and where his father still resides. His aim was to study drama in New York, although it was quite difficult imagine how this placid looking buddhist student would fit in waiving his arms to Shakespeare unashamedly on the big stage. We all love Laos and plan to stay longer than our original few days depending on which areas are accessible and not in too much danger from rebel geurillas which tend to cause disurbances on the aptly chosen Route 13.
Tuesday 21th and Wednesday 22nd Janauary 1998
Friday 23nd Janauary 1998
SPELL CHECK
Saturday 23th Janauary 1998
That night we ate at the elegant French bar and restaurant Duan Champa on the Nam TKhan river. Joined by Les to make it six we dined on chunks of pate, scrumptious salads and succulent gnarlng steaks, wonderful french cuisine - for about $3 each.
Sunday 25th January 1998
Monday 25th January 198
Up at 5.30am. to catch the first bus back to Vientienne. Phil, a well travelled english man and Eduardo, a Brazilian born Italian blooded guy (what a treat) joined us to make it 7 foreigners.
Got out at 7am but alas the bus brorke down 2 hours into the journey when thankfully the driver discovered that the steering had gone. "La direction", a dit le homme a cote de moi, "Il doive que nous chercherions une piece.". Great, glad they discovered that tiny fault on those windy, steep bends. We all got off at a small village and met the locals whilst wiating for the spare part thatawould save ourselves. The first few minutes were spent enthusiastically taking photos from various angles of the misty vales. Soon after Jo got out a wovn ball and started throwing it to the shy kids. Contact was slowly made which ended up in herself and I teaching them Donkey in the middle. Two young fellas were great at rushing after the ball, helped by the fact that we purposely missed on several occassions seeing that we were at least 3 heads higher than they were. The poor younger uncoordinated kids did not stand a chance though we tried to include them. Ditto for the girls who were shy and did not try very hard to include themselves. We rested for a while and finished the cosswords (a group sport) and then we taught Brandonn and Eduardo how to play GIP. Hours passed as did other buses with snide westerners laughing and waiving at us but no room on the trucks. I toured the village and found the rice machine that automatically sifted the grains of rice from the rubbish - modern technology what? The garlic truck stopped selling its' wears to the locals. I got one bulb for free for looking at them and a french speaking Loa man told me that he part would be coming very soon. Six hours later th part came and they fixed it within two miutes - scarey. We climbed aboard and raced to Vian Vieng stopping off for our first meal of the day at 9 pm - basic rice dish. Got into Vientienne at 12 midnight and tried to find accommodation racing against people from the other bus in rickshaws, maps in hand doing our orienteering competition cum WANTED impressions. We ended up four of us sharing a room in an expensive hotel $15 (down from $20) for one night. Three of us in the double bed and a chatty Eduardo in the single. In the morning I sauntered around in a mellow mood, visited the bank, a Wat to sit and contemplate and then had breakfast in a lovely Scadinavian bakery. We went for a natural sauna that day at a Wat convent a few kilometers outside the centre. The house on stilts had a fire on the ground over which was placed a barrel of water and herbs.The steam and smoke sifted upwards to the shack-room where the sauna was located and we puffed in and out in between talking to the great lady and Perrah, an inquisative monk. He asked us to explain many difficult english words while we sleepily tried to explain; bargaining, tipping, parallel market rates.... He also picked up a few Irish sayings
Tuesday 28th January 1988
Got on the private company bus for 10,000 kip (same as the public one) and headed south to Savannakhet. The journey was unintesting. We arrived in the small sleepy town at 4pm and lodged in very basic and not great Savanbahao hotel for 4,500 kip (so cheap). We must be up at 4am tomorrow. The joys of travel!
That night we ate at the Four saesons not very french at all. Eduardo joined us and we had a few beers and swapped stories.
Wednesday 28th January 1998
Up at the goreous hour of 4.00am. when it is still dark outside and inside and in the dreary cobwebbed shower. Becauss of this I did not have the luxury of a cold shower cos I would not see what animal and insect life would be sharing the cold sprays with me.
A truck would be taking us on wht the Lonely Planet describes as a harsh 2 hour journey over 100km to the border help us! I settled beside a Lao lady with 8 trays of eggs resting dodgily at the side of the chair Under the sat were sks of produce, boxes of plastic drinking saws and othr goodies that the famiy had purchased in the big shmoke and would take back to the village and be he envy of the nieighbours. So whe the third person joined the squashed seat bench I was literally stuck in the same crowching position feet level with knees and brely able to breaathe. A truck is wore than a bus because it is open where the windows should be. Granted it has a roof and plank benches but the wind and sand blows through from the front and slaps youinthe face, hard. It was absolutely freexzing so the huddles that ws enforced on me was not as bad as it could havebeen if it had ben hot Oh howIlonged for heat, that hot hower the simple things in life. I was pretending to be a chick in an egg. My fllece covered every part of my body. My hed was tucked into my chest with the neck nozzle over it andmy knees to my hest with the body ovrit. Olymy booted feeet protuded and they ended up icey, th toes became sand bags. Ais and myslelf bought a skinnyleg of chicken that the kids in the vllages run up to the bus with. they re cold and servd on sticks but are welcomed on a long cold bus journey. Suprsingly the truck was ging quitee fast and the roads were vey good (the only dowside beng the trnger the wn in you face). I loked on the map nd itseemeed to be 200km to the border which at this speed would take usbout 6 hours, not too bad, good to pretend it was 12 hous and then e would feel great about the 6 hours. The ffact that we were nearly in tears last night thinking about it was not discussed..
Reached the border at 12 miday, a one horse dusty town with nothing much but the opportunitytohave a 7UP in it. We trudged up theone sandy dirt road, the only way out of town. Met two germns in a cloud of dust, backpack n shoulders comingour way. We stopped in a pff of dust and sid howdy, xchanged information dirctions, tips, and money and wentour way. Around the next bend a white washd building in the middle of nowhere was the exit point for Laos. Young couple were blemmin past on motorboikes screaminghello Went across the 10metres of nomans land into Vietnma where we ahd to wakeup th soldiers to tae us to th locked office and let usin. No-ne crosses from Laos to Vietnam over land I can see why. here were 0 crossings that day , all from the bus we were on- the only option for land crossing anywhere. Weonly got a 3 week visa originally ais got 4 but then the grumpy shit took hers back and changed it. We didn' wnat to spend any longer anwyway and we had heard abutthis. e 2 german guys behind us got weeks???? Walked another km asking locals who shouted hello, what isyour name, were we on the right road to the bus station ( the fact that there was only one road helpedour orienteering). Everything was shut andeveryone was pissed cos itisChinese andVietnamese new yeaar. Eventually got to the place where lone bues were parke and were tld $20 to Hue. Ouch no way, that is too steep tourist price. Tough takeitor laveit. Wetoughtabout itpeteded not totake it buttere were no open peaeses to go tothink or discussr to fake the fact that we would g another ay. We had to taake it. A wierd woman i menopause sat beside us at the back and proceedied in rearranging th bags and sacks which people weredumpig on. She huddled beside me eaving here skinny imprint my arm, ven thought therew plenty of room t the time. The bus was the biggest crankpot I haveeverseen let alone be in. Thebackwindow was not there, the woodenfloor filty, no supportin the benches which were to narrowto rt on so you had to balanc with your flegs and toescleched to the floor We fouf out retty soon that there wasno suspension. Minus suspesion. Actualy if there is a way th springs and wheels canexaggerate the movements over pebbled sany oads then thi bus had thatntrtion. The sleeping bag was over Asand mysef on the back and the tiny woan had grabbed a good bit for herself still huddledtome. Our heads were knockng off the roof ith thebumps. I could taste my spleen cos it was in my mouth, it was worse thanthe top of a rolleroaster. I rememebr reding omewhere thatone can actually cause daamage by ths type of friction but th fear of going through theroof orbreaing my ccyx cused me to oveinto te dot ofspace avaialbe by another lady who ikedot huddle. Atne stage weat the abck heard the sound of breaking galss on the road, minutes later there it ws agaain hought it might be from the roof or something else Thebus was literallyfalling apart later th germn guy told uit was his windw falling out. Lots of pissed yougdsgot on the us in between drinks and tried to chatto u hovering ugly brethly over us. Threepele endedup getting ick at the back of the bus and Ais was trying to kep them away fromher ruck ack and endeavourng to kepp the sleeping bag ean cos thay all seemed to cudle into it.
The journey was the wost we'vebeen on India is a sinch tthi is terribl and we are being ripped off Gtto ong Tha at 5.30 and thy tried to ae us a more to get to Hue. No way sceams etc. OK get into the smaller van. Wuldnt strt, eventually didbut the quirk of no widow cotinnud as t ained for the 2 hour bupyjourney which was assisted by brakdwns nd an averagespeed of 2KM cos the vehicle couldn nae take aanymore. Eventually got oto the fantasttic Duy Tang fotell, recommendd byJo and brfon and relaxed after a meala in the umoungous 3 doubl bedded room with ensuite bath and shower $1. Thewaiter at the restaurant ws ilarious, they're al mad here speak enlgish witha rpuondd wierd accet and looklke they are going o lanch into a dramatic soliloquay.
Friday 30th January 1998
Slept, checked out bus prices, banks etc..
Hotel; Dokkhuon Hotel, Vang Vieng
Room Type: Large double room at 5,000 Kip ($2)
Verdict: Lovely, clean, ensuite bathroom with shower
Vang Vieng is wonderful. It is one of the most untouched unspoilt places we have been to thus far. Village life mirror what families all over the world do. Large families gather round theTV of a night, several black heads surmount obedient kneeling children while mum cooks the dinner, a bare-chested dad looks on and the older sister combs her freshlyt the argument. A packed bus left at 12.30pm stuffed with locals and foodsuffs and us. The journey itself was enjoyable, through remote countryside and villages with life momentarily interrupted by the kids bunching up beside the truck with bright eyes beaming though dirty faces sreaming "sa bai dji' at us and waiving frantically. I made faces at them and they returned the very same contortions with extra enthuiasm for the game until I had 20 cute little faces sticking their tongues out and awaiting a response. We arrived in the small one road town of Kasi at 2.30pm. and were told by the proprieters of the tiny restaurant at the dropping point that a bus to Luang Praban would be along very soon. Well at least that is what we thought they were trying to say. They recognised the words Luan Praban and pointed to the clock and grinned in affirmation when we shouted bus and pointed to the road. After soup and fun with the locals which consisted of us, ears pricked, jumping every time we heard an engine, and them sitting back and laughing and saying no not yet. At 4.30pm we boarded a truck that was bound for our destination. Aboard our truck-cum-bus was one local with large tinted glasses dressd from head to toe in black - a reverse Man from Delmonte and 2 soldiers with big guns whom we befriended by smiling stupidly at them in a don't shoot us we're really nice type of way. Other humans on the open truck with plank seats along the sides consisted of more local lads. Our journey continued up windy dirt roads which are due to be paved soon and passed numerous men carrying big guns. We tried our best to look innocent and blend in with the group which of course we didn't manage, 5 bright blondes in western clothes cowering guilty-like at the front of a truck full of olive-skinned brown-eyed Laotians. At one stage 6 trucks heading in the other direction were stationary while about 20 of their previous inhabitants looked down a ravine at something and it wasn't the view. My mind as racing images and scenarios tripping over each other for space. Around another bend were 4 new headstones marking roadside graves. Of course the thoughts going through my head consisted off returning home to Ireland not settling into the red torn leather alcoves of my local pub but accompanying or residing in a rough wooden casket to a chorus of tears from relatives and the entire Irish population having read the unfortunate aticle in the Irish Times. Who would turn up at the funeral, who would shed tears, what fabulous things would be said about me. I was nearly in tears for my funeral as the ball of red fire snuk down behind the huge limestone horizon and people wrapped themselves in scarves and bankets and fiery violins from 'the Piano' soundtrack from my headphones as I sat scrunched on the floor in between ruckacks, knees bent and looking like a refugeee trying aimlessly not to catch the eyes of that guy at the back with the gun. We got to Luang Praban at 11pm not a clue where we were when we were dumped outside the town. Luckily a taxi was probing the pavemets late at night looking for vulnerables to rip off and on we hopped to find our hotel around the corner. Rooms were available which was a double fortune as we had arrived against all odds in one piece and got the hotels rooms which we heard were limited. I guess most people did not dare Route 13.
Exploration of this lovely city began when we decided to take a route up steps that looked interesting. The ascent lasted longer than expected but we were rewarded with a fantiastic view over the city and the meeting point of the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers together with old Wats, stuppas and Buddha images amongst hedgegrows and caves. Descending to the north we visited the Royal Palace (Haw Kham) built in 1904, which has been a museum since Kind Savang Vattana and his family were exiled to the north after the 1975 revoloution. Along the banks of the river we observed life in this french-influenced beauty. Long boats and larger colourful cargo boats laze by the shores of the Mekong while their weighty cargo is painfully carried on bended back up the sands to the markets. Roadside stalls sell fresh fruit, fish, meat including bats and rats. I only got as adventurous as an orange which was tasteless, maybe the speciality of cooked moss is tastier but I did not give it try. Niether did I try the other breakfast treat, the old jam made from local herbs and dried buffalo skin which we all know and love. We settled in a cafe to watch the sunset and soon recognized Damien and Brendan whom we had left in Cang Mai after our trek. They had joined up with Steve at the nothern border crossing from Thailand, at the Duty Free. Apparently they met a lot of people during their two day stint sitting at the Duty Free cafe on the border watching everyone coming over to Laos The excuse was Damiens birthday, the cheap booze, the country research they gathered from travellers leaving Laos and the fact that Brendan would be going home to work at the end of the month - pick any of the above. Les and Charlie joined the increasing gang as we sank a few beers as the sun sank behind us unnoticed. They told us about the great slowboat trip they had taken from Huay Xai down the Mekong to Luang Praban. The trip lasted 2 days and chugged past remote village life. A Kiwi guy had the unfortunate mishap of his money belt falling off the boat with all his belongigs in it and floating away in the muddy waters. The two brothers loaned the sucker $20 to hold him over till he got his credit card sent over. They had not seen him in the days since getting to Luang Praban and they wondered did he get money and were bit annoyed that he did not try to find them to thank them or return the $20. "He's probably getting pissed on our $20 right now!
Brandon and Jo came and so did the Michael Flattetly look-alike with the Yorkhire accent who nodded and went to a different table, afraid of us. He has not said more than hello since the night he joined us thinking that we were the liveliest table in Vang Vieng The retorts he received from his referral to us as chicks and the like obviously scared him off. Today however he was not wearing the usual vesty T-shirt exhibiting protuding hairy chest and chain. We got pissed and ended up in the local and only niteclub in the town. Music was delivered from the stage by a young band who sang all the old favourites live like Engelbert Humperdinks XXXXXX while local lads slow-danced wth slight giirls and some foreigners joined in towering over the vertically challenged locals. On the dance-floor we spotted a long-haired gent tosing a blonde bombshell around to the tunes. "That's the guy exclaimed Brendan - God he's here and pissed and hooked up with someone! So with a few looks in his direction we put our drunken heads together and tried to find a subtle way to approach the refund without being too obvious as Brendan and Damien who can tell any amount of dirty jokes and stories had suddenly gotten shy. They offered any one of us girls $10 to go up to him and his new beau and shout at him how he had geiven us an STD or something similiar. We all smiled yeah that would be great, You do it, no you do it, no, you're going out with someone, you do, no you'r nearer. We decided we'd all do it - safety in numbers and all that until the lads pointed out that 3 girls going up would somehow look a bit strange to the girl. Yes, yes, oops we agreed. Meanwhile Damien and Brendan and got Dutch courage to go and hover in his viciinty. We all stared bending over ourselves to see what was happening as all the locals looked in their direction too to see what we were all looking at. The Kiwi guy did not flinch. He kept smooching to his new girl nd totally ignored the guys who came back skulkily having made no contact after 15 minutes. As the crowd were leaving at closing time (a very late 11.30pm) we got brave and started shouting Oh Damien have you got the loan of $0 and the like - but we were out of ear shot. Shame
Kuang Si Falls are huge Limestone water cascades 29km south of Luang Praban and was our destination for this hungover day. Jo and Brandon joined us in the jumbo which cost 5,000 kip each. The driver's son accompanied us for this Sunday outing. En route we stopped in a small village at the drivers brothers house and his litte niece climbed on board to join us carrying a woven reed circular lunch box and flask and wearing a baby pink straw hat tied around her petite asian head. She cowered dumurey in the back for the journey smiling when we made eye contact with her. We strolled round another small village on the way watching children throwing marbles, mothers breast feeding newlyborn infants and young girls weaving reeds into roof canopies as they listened to the slow songs on the small transitor radio at their feet. In the rice paddies our driver explained the method of growing rice. Seeds are placed in extremely wet square fields until the saplings grow which are then planted by hand for 4 months growing when they are ready to be cut, cropped, dried and separated. The moist green fields and the bended locals with clonical straw hats planting the saplings in unbelievably straight rows was just like a scene out of one of Olivers' or Stephens' movies just at that second before the fighter jet come roaring from behind the limestone mountaain and opens fire.
Having reached the waterfall we climbed the left side with difficulty, absolutley wrecked and slipping in our sandals. We realised after nearly killing ourselves that we had been a little too enthusiastic and ended up past the top of the waterfall. Missed the sign post saying pool to swim in half way up, turn here. So back down we trudged looking for a possible turning point. We found a few potentials and each took turns exploring the way hooting in jungle noises to the rest of the possie waiting on the main trail. Andrea and myself slipped over a fallen tree and down a landsslide and eventually came across the secluded bathing point. The water was cascading from on high and the limestone formations had formed natural pools with ragged branches and undergrowth in the milky acqua water. You could not tell the depth so it was pretty scarey seeing as we had no gauge of how deep, slimey or dangerous these pools we. We opted to sit by the pools with the sprays on our bodies and to swim later at the bottom where all the other tourists were. Not in a very famus five mood today, too hung over. It was cold in the water and slimey and wierd fish swam so needless to say I did not last long in the unknown.
Wandering around the town once more and stopped off at a quiet riverside restaurant where we met Sean (of Irish origin living in Australia) and anothee wicked looking Aussie lady. Chatted for a while, Sean had spent a few months working on the Irish Ferry from Dublin to Hollyhead so swapped a few tales about Ireland. Found a delicious bakery with amazing brownies, had to eat two cos it was our last day and therefore last opporunity! Ais and myself went to the Wats and I got talking to a monk with great engllish who was studying there for 2 years, then would teach for a year and then return to his small village south of Luang Praban to teach. He was not very enthusiastic about the ast bit. Dinner that night was at La Saladarie another frnch treat.
Go raibh mile maith agat - thanakyou,
Dia dhuit - hello
Cad is anim do - what is your name.
Perrah is anim dom -Perrah is my name
Conas a ta tu - how are you.
He wrote them down in his copy and said them out loud again and aain in a perfect Dublin Irish accent pronouncing the t's as Te not The. All we could hear from inside the sauna was a Lao monk practicing irish sayings and we would shout from our steaming shack when he mispronounced.... bizare.
At dinner that night at Le Baylou Damien, Brendan and Charlie spotted us and joined us and we had a great chat and yet another laugh before heading to bed extremely tired.
