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LAOS continued
Tuesday 21th and Wednesday 22nd Janauary 1998 Vang Vieng is wonderful. It is one of the most untouched unspoilt places we have been to thus far. Village life mirrors 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 freshly 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. Friday 23nd Janauary 1998 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 Saturday 23th Janauary 1998 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. 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 gnarling steaks, wonderful french cuisine - for about $3 each. Sunday 25th January 1998 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 another wicked looking Aussie lady (as in witch). 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 opportunity! 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 last bit. Dinner that night was at La Saladarie another french treat. 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 waiting for the spare part that would save ourselves. The first few minutes were spent enthusiastically taking photos from various angles of the misty vales. Soon after Jo got out a woven ball and started throwing it to the shy kids. Contact was slowly made which ended up in herself and myself 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 Brandon 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 the 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
He wrote them down in his copy and said them out loud again and again 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.... bizzare.
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 gorgeous hour of 4.00am. when it is still dark outside and inside and in the dreary cobwebbed shower. Because 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. Got a jumbo easily - what a life waiting around the streets at 4 am in the morning to look for tourists who may want to go to the bus station. All the establishments close at 1.0 pm. so there is no opportunity for them to take up straglers at this hour, just the few people who are taking one of the 2 small buses departing at that ungodly hour. Hugged Jo, Brandon and Eduardo goodbye. 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 head was tucked into my chest with the neck nozzle over it and my knees to mychest with the body over it. Only my booted feeet protuded and they ended up icey, th toes became sand bags. Ais and myslelf bought a skinny leg of chicken that the kids in the villagers run up to the bus with. they re cold and served on sticks but are welcomed on a long cold bus journey. Suprisingly the truck was going quite fast and the roads were very good (the only downside being the stronger the wind in your face). I oloked on the mapa 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 we would feel great about the 6 hours. The fact 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 said howdy, exchanged information directions, tips, and money and went on our respective ways. Around the next bend a white washed building in the middle of nowhere was the exit point for Laos. Young couple were blemming past on motorbikes screaming hello went across the 10 metres of no-mans-land into Vietnam where we had to wakeup the soldiers to take us to the locked office and let us in. No-one crosses from Laos to Vietnam over land I can see why. There were 10 crossings that day , all from the bus we were on- the only option for land crossing anywhere. We only got a 3 week visa originally ais got 4 but then the grumpy shit took hers back and changed it. We didn't want to spend any longer anwyway and we had heard about this. The 2 german guys behind us got 4 weeks???? Walked another 3 km asking locals who shouted 'hello, what is your name,' were we on the right road to the bus station ( the fact that there was only one road helped our orienteering). Everything was shut and everyone was pissed cos it wasTET the Vietnamese new year. Eventually got to the place where a lone bus were parked and were told $20 to Hue. Ouch no way, that is too steep tourist price. Tough take-it-or- leave-it-situation. We thought about it, pretended not to take it but there were no open places to go for a coffe and to bluff or to discuss or to fake the fact that we would go another way. We had to take it. A wierd woman with menopause sat beside us at the back and proceeded in rearranging the bags and sacks which people were dumping on. She huddled beside me eaving here skinny imprint on my arm, even though there was plenty of room at the time. The bus was the biggest crankpot I have ever seen let alone been in. The back window was not there, the wooden floor filty, no suppor tin the benches which were to narrow to sit on so you had to balance with your legs and toes clenched to the floor. We found out pretty soon that there was no suspension. Minus suspesion. Actually if there is a way that springs and wheels can exaggerate the movements over pebbled sandy roads then this bus had that contraption. The sleeping bag was over Ais and myself on the back and the tiny woman had grabbed a good bit for herself still huddled up to me. Our heads were knocking off the roof with the bumps. I could taste my spleen cos it was in my mouth, it was worse than the top of a rollecoaster. I remember reading somewhere that one can actually cause damage by this type of friction. The fear of going through thereof overbearing my coccyx collapse or slamming up my backbone. At one stage we heard the sound of breaking glass on the road, minutes later there it was again. We thought it might be from the roof or something else The bus was literally falling apart later the german guy told us later that it was his window falling out. Lots of pissed youths got on the us in between drinks and tried to chat to us hovering ugly breaths over us. Three people ended up getting sick at the back of the bus and Ais was trying to keep them away from her ruck-sack and endeavouring to keep the sleeping bag lean cos they all seemed to cuddle into it. The journey was the worst we've been on. India was better and at least then we were not being ripped off Eventually we got to Thong Tha at 5.30 where they tried to charge us a more to get to Hue. No way screams etc. OK get into the smaller van, which wouldn't start. It eventually did but the quirk of another lack of widow continued as to freeze us for the 2 hour bumpy journey which was assisted by breakdowns and an average speed of 2KMPH cos the vehicle "couldn nae take anymore". Eventually we got to the fantastic Duy Tang hotel, (something went right for us) which was recommend by Jo and Brandon. We relaxed after a meal in the humoungous 3 double bedded room with ensuite bath and shower ($1 only - the joys of travel again). The waiter at the restaurant was hilarious, they're all mad here and they speak english with a rather weird accent and look like they are going to launch into a dramatic soliloquy. Friday 30th January 1998 Slept, checked out bus prices, banks etc..
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