Ooh, I see that after it’d for all the World looked like they’d got to settle for a share of the Pac-10 crown, the Huskies have slipped in the back entrance for their second outright title in four years…and their third in sixty years! Now let’s see if they can lasso themselves a third consecutive Conference Tourney title. Bow down to Romar, yo!
Yesterday, Sunday, arose fairly early and took a stroll all the way down to the other end of the River Walk, and then all the way back again via the town’s main drag. Turned out to be much longer than I’d expected from eyeballing it on the map. But I left early enough that it wasn’t too hot; and so an enjoyable time was had by all.
The main – really only – activity engaging the townsfolk was the cleaning up of the debris left over from the previous night’s storm. There was such a huge quantity of leaves and branches being piled up that I briefly considered that this was actually a pre-festival beautification project. I hadn’t thought the winds had been all that strong for a sustained period of time. But then I saw some uprooted trees, and changed my mind back again.
The people in town are quite friendly; and somewhat surprisingly, given its remote location, rather adept in the ways of the English language. It’s a pretty nice town, until that old Thai bugaboo rears its head: too much traffic. You know, if they’d just outfit the Tuk-Tuks and the motorcycles with mufflers, it’d be so much the better.
Heard some drumming and chanting, and thought that this might be some kind of festival activity; but it turned out to be (I assume) a wedding ceremony.
As far as the temple scene is concerned, there are quite a lot of them. They’re – again, given the relative tininess of the town, as well as its far-flung location – exceedingly well maintained. Most of them boast very beautiful exteriors – seeing ‘em all a-glitter in the noonday sun; boy it’s a treat. But the camera (or at any rate its operator) is unable to capture the effect.
The town’s main temple, Wat Pho Chai is not only beautiful, but also kind of gives the Bangkok mega-domes a run for their money in the grandiosity department.
That is, until you get a look at the Buddha (the town’s most sacred), which is just this stubby little thing.
The temple’s Naga have got, like, elephant trunks.
And the murals are quite good.
This temple will be the site, in two days’ time, of a ceremony honouring Maka Bucha day – on which, according to Wikipedia, “The spiritual aims of the day are: not to commit any kind of sins; do only good; purify one’s mind.”
If it’s Enormo-Buddhas you’d be wantin’, there’s one absolutely gigantic one overlooking the river.
Uh, it looks pretty puny here – must be foreshortening or some shit, ‘cause this thing is gigantic.
Also some big Naga down at the river.
At one of the temples, a novice was possibly shirking his duties, instead playing with his toy helicopter.
At another was – okay, you know you’re back in Thailand when the temple grounds double as a shopping bazaar for trinkets, clothing, and food. This was a new one on me, though: dude selling karaoke vids.
Mercy, that’s awesome! If it’d had the vocals in it, I’d have been all over that like shit on stink (even though I’ve not an optical drive in my computer).
Another temple had a number of quite beautiful murals depicting scenes from traditional Thai life – reminiscent of the awesome cultural museum in Chiang Mai.
Now then, if ever you’ve wondered what it’s like to be walking along down by the Mekong river out in the middle of Nowhereseville, Thailand overburdened with fresh produce from the Market, and be passing between two open-air restaurants, one of which blasting the Creedence Clearwater for all its worth, the other with a sign on the wall reading…
…if you’ve ever wondered what that’d be like: I can’t tell you. It happened to me, but the feeling was too strange to attempt to describe.
The River Walk here sure is lovely. It’s especially fine at sundown, with the beautiful colours in the sky, and the slight breeze making it just the perfect temperature to be out and about of an evening.
I’ve come up with a good name for a band: “Mekong Sunset”. Maybe even “The Mekong Sunsets” would be a fun variation. Feel free to use it.
No mosquitoes at this time, either. Odd. But lest you think that this means no mosquitoes at any time, needs must think again: they come out later, and seem to stay out longer. But it’s kind of an okay trade-off, as the dusk hour is such a fabulous time to be outside and not have to worry about them.
Was hoping for a redux of Saturday night’s weather histrionics; but it was not to be.
Monday, then, was Day 1 of the festival, “a wild street party, packed with stalls, shows, contests and sales,” “The Anou Savari Festival is a special event held only in Nong Khai.”
So I braved the heat to go check it out. What I found was…what one always finds in Thailand. Namely, endless rows and columns of stalls selling endless quantities of trinkets, clothing, and food. Wake me when it’s over.
This stall’s wares, at least, were colourful.
As I stopped to take a picture, the stall’s proprietor chuckled and made to me a declaration in Thai, eliciting a blank stare. He then asked me if I speak English – first time anybody’s asked me that before now! When I assured him that yes, I do, he continued, “What I said was that my business is going to go International.”
I laughed and said that, well, then I ought to be taking a picture of him. “I am very shy,” he playfully complained before granting a nice smile. A fun guy!
One new delicacy I had not yet seen…
Of course, I’ve heard tell of Asians’ penchant for insect; but ‘til now, I’d not witnessed it in the flesh. (Well, I’ve still not witnessed the actual act…)
Returned at night-time to find a huge crowd of people, sampling the vendors’ stalls. Also there were some tame Midway rides, carnival games, and BINGO; plus a half-dozen or so live music venues (none of the music I witnessed was in the least bit compelling, more’s the pity).
In other words, your basic small-town summer festival. Only, this one goes on for ten days.
I gather that there’s supposed to be a big tournament of the rattan volleyball game I loved so much from Chiang Mai – turns out, it’s called “Takraw”. I kept circling around again to check out the court; but every time, it was just teams warming up – never actually competing. I guess Monday must just’ve been warm-up day, and they begin playing for keeps on Tuesday?
The main attraction, at the City Hall, a re-enactment of the events commemorated by the Festival.
My interest not being held, I went and walked around for an hour or so; only to find, upon returning, that it was still going on. Damn, I guess they re-enacted it in real time! It was, in fact, right near the end – the grand finale was a pretty nice, if brief, fireworks display.
After that, people were departing in droves; and I did too. Returning to the Guest House, I seent an albino gecko. Later, heard some loud music emanating, so I guess the party raged on after all. This music actually sounded quite good; but I didn’t feel like getting out of bed to go check it out; presuming that other opportunities to do so will present themselves.
Got my lazy ass up at 6:00 in the AM, for the half-hour walk up to the bus station. The worst part was having to put on shoes and walk around in them, which of course aggravated my toe. I figured it would be an issue, and it was.
I read somewhere that one should look “presentable” when passing through customs, just in case the officials might want to give a second- or third-degree pranging. In practice, entering Thailand is the very definition of “rubber stamp”. But I nonetheless shaved and showered, put on long pants and clean shirt. And, ugh, laced up the shoes which sit at the bottom of my pack waiting, patiently waiting, for the one day per month when I try to look “presentable”.
Actually arrived just early enough to head up the line at the ticket counter. That was somewhat cool. As such, I was assigned to seat A1, right behind the driver.
The exit point is about a half-hour’s ride south of Vientiane. Get off, get stamped out of Laos, get back on, cross the bridge, get back off, get stamped into Thailand, get back on, ride five or ten minutes to the bus station, and you’re there. Lines weren’t too bad at all — although added to the bus fare was a 2,000 Kip “overtime” fee for its being on a weekend; as well as a 9,000 Kip “overtime” fee for the right to cross the bridge.
Had e-mailed ahead to reserve a room at Mut Mee, a quite famous guest house here in Nong Khai, with rates ranging from 150 Baht all the way up to 1200 Baht. The response was that they’d received a number of requests for Saturday, and that I should show up and they’d see what they could do. (Depends upon the number of people who’d be checking out on the given day.)
I figured that with my secret weapon – arriving to town by 9:30 in the AM, I’d be in, no problemo. But, it turns out, I’ve landed here right on the cusp of the town’s most important festival, which begins on Monday and runs for ten days. It has to do with the anniversary of the repelling of a Chinese invasion. Great luck!
But also, good luck trying to find a place to stay! The town fills up, mostly with Thais. The helpful gentleman at reception explained that once all the check-outs had been determined, by 11:00 in the AM, they begin filling the rooms in the order they’d received booking requests – some people had booked up to a year in advance!
So I went walking down along the river to see what else might be available. Inexpensive rooms were slim pickings indeed. The best lead was that a lady might have a room, again at 11:00 in the AM, for 300 Baht (that’s then bucks). Otherwise, it was looking like it might run up to 400 Baht or more for the night.
But on the way back to Mut Mee to take my chances there, I noticed a non-descript little place right across from the river. Had somehow missed it when walking this road in the other direction. A little sign said that their Singles were 160 Baht, Doubles 240. I figured no way in Hell would there be vacancies. But I asked, and there were.
And the place is awesome! It’s got a frickin’ payphone out the front.
The room is small, but’s got everything you need: comfortable bed, table and chair, fan, a comfy-chair, even some artwork on the walls. Shared bathrooms, of course. And the Internet connection is the best I’ve yet encountered – better even that the hostel in Bangkok.
There’s a wonderful little courtyard in which to relax (no smoking allowed in the courtyard!!), and the River Walk is right across the street. Incroyable! Still wanna see what Mut Mee is all about; but, who knows, may just end up staying right here throughout the festival.
The place wasn’t even listed in Wikitravel’s Nong Khai entry. So I took it upon myself to create a listing for it; my first Wikitravel contribution to-date.
And if you’d like a travel tip, I’ve got one. If you’ve no reservation, arrive in the town early to get the best selection in lodgings. Simple, yet effective. It means arising early to catch the day’s first bus. But it’s worth it.
The River Walk is quite nice, though I did not traverse its entire length, as I had to head inland to find some grub. While doing, visited a temple or three. Found some Naga that are really playing for keeps. They look like Satan’s own, don’t they?
Inside…a white Buddha? I give up.
It was hotter than Hell…but then it began clouding up, and even seemed it might rain down. After having had lunch by the river, and back on the River Walk. The Walk has shelters along its way, presumably they receive much use during the rainy season. I guess you can see ‘em there, on the left. (That’s the “Friendship Bridge” in the background.)
Felt some drops along the way, but ended up back at the guest house just in time for a lovely thunderstorm, taken both in the courtyard and also in a shelter right across the street. Some terrifically loud thundercracks, I can tell you!
Here’s a shot across the courtyard (much of which is covered, for good reason!).
The storm lasted an hour or so, after which it began drying out. But as evening fell, the afternoon drencher turned out to’ve been only midday snack; for now, the real enchilada got underway. Torrential rain, gusting winds, flashes I’ve lightning killing up the sky. I didn’t see any bolts; but I did see one green flash. That was pretty interesting. Seemed like the thunder wasn’t quite keeping up with the lightning – but it nevertheless put in a very good show.
That ended. Now it was dark, and I went out to assess the damage. The River Walk was pretty deserted, although the restaurants were open. I did see one Caucasian jogging by.
This was fun, walking around, the lightning still going mad in the distance, a slight breeze up, but the perfect temperature. The Laos side of the river had lost power, so the only lights from over there were the cars driving along the river.
But then, without warning, another wave began. And for the second day running, I did scurry. Gimpy toe even yet, but got no choice! The next few hours saw the storm wax and wane – the waxings often bone-shakingly violent.
Admin note: on the weekend, the site is scheduled to be transferred to a new server. Site host says the operation’ll be seamless, but…you know how that goes. So if there’re any access difficulties over the next days, not to worry: I’m paid up ’til 2015.
[Written Thursday, March The 1st, Night]
Toe felt much better this morning that I had guessed it would – although, still not good enough to support very much walking. Gives me hope for tomorrow, however. I did manage to get up to the market to get some eats.
Next to it is the bus station, and I thought I should like to purchase my ticket for Nong Khai on Saturday right then and there. Was told to purchase the ticket on the day. Ha! Where have I heard that one before?
Turning around to leave, was hailed by the Belgian from last week’s Plain Of Jars tour. He too is off to Nong Khai for a few days; then flies out of Bangkok on the 15th headed back to Belgium. Later, I again bumped into Martin, the German. It’s quite an incestuous little group, this circuit of Laos travellers.
Sitting in the park to eat my lunch, was joined by four very fine young gentleman hoping to practice their English on me.
The two in white didn’t speak very much – indeed, the chap on the far right didn’t speak in English at all. The one giving the peace sign is some manner of geography wizzard. When I’d name off the towns in Laos to which I’d visited, the others would turn to him, and he’d call out the town’s associated province. Provinces, I’ve intuited, rather than towns or cities, are the locus of Laotian geographic identity.
They’re all third-year students in water resources. They rattled off their names; but it was difficult for me to get them learnt the first time around, let alone to remember them all.
They were just the nicest young lads! Grilled me with all the usual questions; but also asked me my thoughts about the Global Environment, as well as for advice in re learning English. Told them that I’d be back in Thailand in two days’ time, en route to Cambodia; and they invited me to return to Vientiane for the Lao New Year, which begins April 14th.
In fact, their invitation did kind of set the gears turning. I’d still like to see Southern Laos, of course (though there aren’t any mountains there). I could perhaps on the way back up pop back in to Luang Prabang (sorry, guys, probably not Vientiane) for the New Year – I loves those Asian festivals! – and then all the way back north for, if I can stomach the expense, the Gibbon Experience (about which I keep hearing extraordinary raves).
We shall see.
Visited a temple right near the hostel, which, it doubles as a school just happening to be in recess when I arrived. Got an enormous kick out of watching the kids run around and play. It’s the same in all cultures, I think: not much, if anything, can top kids at play.
When the bell rang, all the kids took it in turns to come over to this little faucet near which I happened to be sitting to wash up their feet and hands before returning inside. None of ‘em had noticed me ‘til then; but when they now did notice me, a few of them said Hello, and pointed at my bare feet, and whatnot.
Back to the park (also quite near the hostel) during the evening, noticed that what I’d thought was a little area of Naga statuary is in fact a Naga fountain! Holy crap!
And, yes, water shoots out of their mouths as well.
But, I never saw it running, dammit it all to Hell!
It’s now March, and officially Too Fucking Hot during the day. I guess I’m going to need, from here on out, to be rising at 6:00 in the AM, rather than my customary 8:00 or 9:00 in the AM, so that I may partake of many sights but then seek shelter during the midday. Otherwise, I’m gonna end up affixed to the sidewalk like a goddam iron-on patch.
But in the evening, it rapidly cools to Wonderfully Comfortable (and, also, Oddly Lacking Of Mosquitoes). The people come out in droves to watch the sun set over the river, and to exercise and aerobicise, and to generally hang out.
The River Walk area also hosts a kind of satellite Night Market (the main Night Market is located about ten blocks north of there), one of whose stalls is personed by what I suppose to be the inimitable…
The two Aussie dormmates are cool guys. They went, with yet another Aussie, from the next dorm over, to have pizza; and returned having had pizza and noodle soup – and complaining at the symptoms of having “over-indulged like pigs”.
I asked Brock, the one who’s stuck here for three weeks, whether he planned to stay at this same location for the entire time. He says that, depending on his money supply, he may end up taking his tent out to the beach and sleeping there.
Led to a quite interesting tale of having lived in a tent for eight months while working in an Iron-ore-mining boomtown in northwestern Australia. It’s (if I’m doing my celsius-to-fahrenheit conversion correctly) 112° during the daytime, and 104° during the night-time.
He was making a lot of money; but apparently it’s such a boomtown that the rents are the second-highest in the World. So, he lived in a family’s back yard in his tent, paying $200 per month for the honour.
The jobs there are, he says, kind of general labour – and anybody who’s not “an absolute fool” will be able to just show up and land one. And, in fact, that half the people there are absolute fools, and yet they’re still making $50 per hour.
[Written Friday, March The 2nd, Night]
Toe, though better, still not quite well enough for sustained walking. But, it being my last day in Vientiane, I done it anyway.
I think my verdict remains what it had been: Vientiane is not “shit”; but nor is it the real Laos. In fact, as I say, I don’t think it wants to be the “real Laos” – I think it wants to be a Thai city. In its aspiration it has lost the je ne sais quoi that makes Laos Laos. But yet, it has not gained the je ne sais quoi which makes Thailand Thailand. As a consequence (or so goes my off-the-cuff analysis) it is a city un-moored. Or, to quote The Minus 5, it’s a town that’s lost its Groove Supply.
Nevertheless, I set out to see some sights. This stupa, neglected though right there in the middle of the city, didn’t come with any signage to note its undoubtedly interesting history.
The Victory Gate…
…as the sign notes, is somehow more interesting from afar.
(Note well: no passing grass on the grounds.)
At the Market to fetch some lunch, the ladies were just loading me down with produce. I had some quite good bananas and some super-delicious lettuce and cucumbers yesterday, so thought to return to those same two vendors and repeat the previous day’s trick.
I assume, having seen me now two days running (after all, just how many barefoot farang visit that Market in any given lifetime?), the both of them kept filling my bag up, even after the money had already changed hands. The lettuce/cucumber lady even had a friend stop by with a watermelon she’d just purchased and began cutting up, and they insisted upon my having a wedge of it. ‘twas quite good, too!
As is true everywhere else in Laos, Vientiane’s got some knockout beautiful trees.
As far as the temples are concerned, there aren’t very many of them. And about half that there are charge admission. Of those that don’t, in most of ‘em it’s the old story of the grounds being open, but the buildings being closed.
So I only got to see two Big Buddhas. And do you know? Neither of them were in gold!
The temple architecture here is pretty neat, I must say.
You can see, in this photograph of a Drum Haus, the two metal stairways allowing one to walk up to the third floor. You know what: one could do a helluva lot worse than to be able to walk up to the third floor of a temple’s Drum Haus.
One of the temples has this weird imp thing. Don’t really know what that’s all about.
Lunching in the park, couldn’t believe my eyes when I noticed…fucking Sleepy Grass! We had it in spades during Hawaii The Big Island. It’s actually really cool, because…here, I made some footage to show how it’s really cool (and also how it got its name).
But apart from being very cool, it is in addition very, very fucking evil. Nasty little flesh-ripping thorns on there, like you would not believe. Which is fine if you know it’s there: just put on some gloves. But Sleepy Grass, it’s so good at hiding in amongst the harmless weeds you’re pulling; so after a bit, you toss the gloves aside, you let your guard down, you’re whistling a gay little tune, and…BLAMMO!, you grab right onto a Sleepy Grass! Ouch, that smarts like fuck.
And they lay their roots so deep into the ground, it’s almost like defusing the nuclear kill-bomb to get each one out of the ground, root and all, without either breaking it off or slicing your hand up: it can be done; but…delicately does it!
Anyhow, returning to the dorm to refill my water bottle and check on my basketball wagers, I learnt that the German girl who’d stayed here the previous two nights had left, to be replaced by a stone-cold crazy Russian name of “Leo”.
I think he may be OCD. When I arrived, he was busy taking measurements all up and down the front door; and testing out the handle’s mechanisms, and so forth. I wondered, maybe is he planning a heist?
When he wouldn’t stop fucking with the Air Conditioning, I wondered, maybe is he off ‘is rocker?
When I saw that he’d brought with him a tea set – I’m talking infuser, fine china, the works — I wondered, is he The Buddha?
Fuckin’ great guy, though. Tonight, when I returned to the dorm, he set to work grilling me with endless numbers of questions concerning travel in Laos: which cities to visit, which buses to take, which boats to take, which sights to see, which guest houses to say. I had opinions regarding most of his subjects!
When I was telling about Nong Khiaw (you didn’t think I’d fail to tell him about Nong Khiaw, surely?), he asked if it had a vegetable market? Zing! I let slip that, being a raw foodist, the reason I’d had to leave after only two nights was the absence of a Fresh Market.
He filed it away, and later on, returned to the diet question. Upon confirming that I sup only of raw fruits and vegetables, he, smiling widely, burst into applause. He’s not a raw foodist, but is a vegetarian.
He proceeded to give me detailed trips in re travel in Cambodia; including at one point grabbing a receipt that Brock (the tent-sleeping Aussie) had left laying atop my night-stand, turning it over, and drawing up a map of Sihanoukville; explaining the best place to stay, walking distance to the beach, where the loud and quiet beaches were, where the Fresh Market is, the whole lot.
That’s the Guest House he recommends, there in the lower right. He couldn’t recall is it called “999” or “666”? I hoped the latter!, but he found the business card, and it turned out to be the former. Might give it a look anyways.
He invited me to visit him in Russia. Says he’s seriously considering a trip this summer, hitchhiking from Moscow to Vladivostok, and then visiting these five lakes in the middle of Russia which, for all who choose to bathe in each one of them, give forth the knowledge of “consciousness and human evolution” (so they’ve got that going for them).
He may also want to come visit me in Seattle because, get this: his sister lives in, and his parents are currently visiting, the Tri-Cities! Wow! He’d spoken to them on the phone earlier to-day, as it’s his sister’s birthday tomorrow.
Then he strongly suggested that as I’m traveling rather lightly (no tea service, for example!) I go to Bangkok and buy a bicycle from this shop which sells them at a very good rate. I’m to then complete my travels by bicycle. Well…I’m not sayin’ I won’t.
Went to this art gallery with an astoundingly good exhibition of mostly black-and-white pics (yay!) depicting Lao culture and natural beauty. The kind of thing where you come out of it, and you just want to throw down your camera in disgust at the pretention in trying to make a photograph worth remembering. This is how the true photographers do it; and you ain’t never gonna be one, son.
Well, lucky for me, I didn’t act upon the impulse, because shortly thereafter, I came upon another temple-school recess, and proceeded to snap many handsful of photographs that…dammit all, they’re not what I seen in the exhibition; but, kinda like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, they’ve got a charm of their own.
This young lad held two or three different poses for the camera.
Many of the kids were engaged in this ballgame – kind of a variation on soak-‘em.
But the “ball” is this weird little web thing. (Note also the girl in the background stuffing her face. Too cool!)
Many of those not engaged in the ballgame had gone in for hurdling the rope-held-high.
This little girl playing hopscotch, so innocent so cute?
About two minutes before playing hopscotch, so innocent so cute, she’d walked up to me, pointed at my bare feet, pointed at her shod feet, and impatiently awaited my excuse. I’d hit her with a big grin and thumbs-up, “It’s good, eh?”
At which, she’d affected the most disdainful scoff ever a ten-year-old kid has done, turned around, walked five or six feet away, turned back around, and gaped at me like as if I was Alien Man From Mars What The Fuck Is That Thing Holy Shit Alien Man From Mars Fuck. And she’d held that gaze for a good two or three minutes before finally repairing to the hopscotch table.
Kids.
Some of them had recess chores, though. A group of girls was during the entire recess picking up trash throughout the grounds. And after, a group of boys were tasked with filling up buckets and watering plants. Funny, though, it being after. Look at these lucky bastards: you really think they look like they’d rather be inside reciting their alphabet (which with, from the sounds of it, their comrades were thence occupied)?
When it had cooled down some, I returned to the park and walked down the other side of the floodwall, onto the dry riverbed, and across to the river. This might be the best place in the whole city! It’s not unlike Vang Vieng, where with just five or ten minutes’ walking, one can wholly escape the hustle-bustle noise of the city into…like a desert wasteland, really. Eerily, freakily quiet. And with all the others making the trek, it felt like a pilgrimage of some sort. Very trippy.
Here’s the view back at the floodwall, from about fifty yards up the bank from water’s edge. Could you believe that in a few months’ time that’s gonna all be water?
Huhn, well, actually, in the picture, it looks like about thirty feet. But it’s not. It’s a good twenty-minute walk. Yesterday I had asked the four fine young gentleman of lunch-time-conversation fame how high up the floodwall does the water get to? They misinterpreted my question to mean, how often does the river overtop the floodwall, and answered that instead: 1983 and 2008.
After returning to the floodwall, was walking along, up toward the big huge statue of the Prince, and in the distance I did notice it! My eyes did see it! The Naga Fountain was in effect!! I scurried, my brothers and sisters (even in my gimpy state); how I did scurry to arrive! What a great and joyous day.
Oh, Vientiane Naga Fountain, be my betroth’d! Will you?
After communion, I went in for a spot of juggling. At one point, some ladies walking by began to chant, “Loup…loup…loup…loup…” to the rhythm of the throws. Natch, I eventually began corpsing, at which they began cackling, and finished off the chant with a boisterous “Whoo!” But through it all, I was able to keep the balls aloft.
Then I et some bananas. Must say, Vientiane has by far and away the best-tasting bananas I’ve yet discovered in Laos or Thailand.
Also must say, Vientiane’s got a quite healthy aerobics scene. Much more so that Chiang Mai, for example. It seems to me its per capita participation rate must exceed that of Lumphini Park’s. The instructors are every bit as competent as are Lumphini’s. The music is almost as good. They even supply hula hoops and exercise mats for those who desire to move their bodies to the music without playing aerobics.
And yet, it feels soulless, somehow. Like a pale imitation of a real deal. Like a town that’s lost its Groove Supply. Even so, it seems like it’d be an okay place in which to live.
Not me, however. Tomorrow, they kick my ass outta here. But I will return, for I must: Laos is the best.
Well, my ass most definitely did not appreciate the ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane. The road alternates in roughly quarter-mile sections of paved and dirt/rock the entire four-hour trip. Bump, bump, in other words.
How the road from a country’s capital city to one of its major tourist destinations can be in such a state of disrepair, I do not know. Welcome to Laos! Maybe the figure the twenty-somethings bound for Vang Vieng will be so excited to get blotto-assed drunk, that they’ll not care. And that those returning from Vang Vieng will be so blotto-assed drunk that they’ll not notice.
Dang, I’m not envying the driver of that route, assuming he makes the round-trip five times per week. Always think during the rides how cool the bus driver or boat captain is, and that I must shake his hand after. Usually I forget to do; but this time, there was no way I could forget. That dude’s a trooper – such a happy guy, too.
Most every traveller one meets describes Vientiane with the same three words: “Vientiane is shit.” One or two people say it’s okay. I wouldn’t call it “shit”, having been here for half a day. But…well, the first thing one will notice is that somebody up and took the beautiful, beautiful Laotian mountains away. Boo!
Because of that, and because there seem to be more motor-cars than motor-cycles, and because many of the street vendors sell their fruit wrapped in styrofoam and plastic, and because the air pollutant of choice is carbon-dioxide rather than smoke, and because there are evening aerobics in the park – well, it feels a lot more like Thailand than it does Laos.
Which is okay: one may recall that I was reluctant to leave Thailand. But now, having been in Laos for nigh upon one month’s time, it’s more than a bit sad to be leaving it.
We’re back on the Mekong here. But, from the river walk, one can barely see the river.
Although, the river walk doubles as the flood-wall; so all of that wide expanse will in a few months’ time be underwater!
I do quite like the hostel at which I’ve landed. One of the best at which I’ve stayed. Four-bed dorm for $5; and the beds are quite comfy (also more like Thailand than Laos). Unlike Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng, however, the curfew is apparently actually enforced here.
One of my dormmates is an Aussie who’s ridden his bicycle all the way from Bali to here. He had planned to ride on in to China, but has now decided to ride only up to the Chinese frontier. I’ve thought a few times before now that cycling through would be a fun way to tour the region, and began to ask all sorts of (possibly annoyingly simpleton) questions. He made it sound pretty do-able, even for a total novice of a cycler.
Another Aussie, name of “Brock”, had his wallet pinched in Vang Vieng. Was able to get some cash via wire; but is now stuck in Vientiane for three weeks while he gets a new bank card issued, and then sent to him here. Much better to’ve been stuck in Luang Prabang, I should think!
Got called a “farang” to-day, for the first time since arriving in Asia. I was walking along, and heard, “Falang!” (as the Laos pronounce it) in my left ear. Didn’t register for a few seconds, however. When it did, I looked back, and the dude had a big smile on his face. So I smiled back, waved, and went on my way.
I then fell in love with this guy.
So, anyhow, I was walking along a row of fruit stalls, and it just so happened that as I was approaching one of them, about eight or ten mangoes became unmoored from their pile, and plopped onto the ground in front of me. There were plenty of witnesses to see that it had happened before my arrival, and that I had not been at fault. So, I didn’t feel as though I’d raised anybody’s ire.
Bent over to pick up the mangoes and return them to their pile, for which the stall-keeper thanked me. As I bent over to pick up a second batch, I heard a lady call, “Hey you!” Looked up, and she pointed at my feet, and the pavements. “Hot feet,” she noted, and offered me a Satsuma. I declined the offer, but not without doing my best to express my appreciation.
And the pavements are damned hot here – again, reminiscent of Thailand. But I was managing that okay. Nah, the real problem is that I’m a stupid fawking idiot.
See, I’d gone into this market to see if I could find some safety pins to mod my hat with. Which, I did find some straight away. I guess it looks pretty goofy, but I prefer to have the neck cover away from my ears, so I’m gonna rock this look for a while and see how it goes.
So, okay, after I’d got the pins, I was walking along and came to a point where the aisle was blocked by a two-by-four-on-sawhorses barricade. Saw a local go over it, so figured it was okay to do the same. Stepped over with my right leg, and then the left, and…being the absent-minded stupid fawking idiot that I am, I banged my left little toe onto the two-by-four, exactly in the spot I’d hit it last week. Couldn’t have nailed it more perfectly if I’d drawn a bullseye onto it.
It’d been feeling great to-day, too. I’d noticed on the bus that it was still a bit swollen; but I seemed to have been given the green light for unlimited walking. Now…right back to square one, I fear. Means another two or three days of doing not much at all.
Great day for hiking, as it stayed overcast throughout. The sun has been mind-meltingly hot lately, even though it’s still nominally the cool season. Definitely a nice change-of-pace. Almost too nice, though, as it appeared on a few occasions, that it would even start raining, and me out traipsing the back forty.
Yeah, the trails are largely zigging and then zagging through rice fields, sometimes meandering off into a patch of jungle, or down by the river. Perfect place to get out and wander. Was surprised, in fact, to not have seen anybody else out there (save for a few locals down at the river, and a few more out harvesting bananas).
It’s almost eerie how easily escaped is the noise of the town – just five minutes’ walking, and it’s wholly replaced by the birds a-singing and the grasshoppers a-jumping. Yes, the scenery was good, too.
I think I may’ve done a little more walking that the toe’s healing had warranted. Felt great when I started out, but not so great by the time I’d returned. Hopefully, a nice night of sleeping will have it feeling great again by the morrow. Would like to hit the swimming hole if it’s sunny.
On Saysong Island – the little island what’s party all night and sleeping all day – there’s a small herd of buffalo. I like them.
Back in town, a Laotian hepcat.
As much as I cannot stand its caterwaul, I can’t help but confess that I find this construction line to be outright mesmerising.
They’ve balloon flights in the mornings and evenings. They’re kind of all the rage. At $70 for a one-hour trip, too rich for my blood. Anyhow, I think I’d rather do it in the rainy season, when the visibility’d be better.
I asked Arne, the hostel’s owner, about the rainy season. Says it’s really nice here, only rains for a while in the afternoon, cleans everything up, river gets a-raging. Mosquitoes not too bad, he says. Yeah, may have to return here once the rains begin.
Arne always seems to be playing American Classic Rock when he’s hanging out; so I gave him a copy of the awesome new (-ish) remaster of The Stones’ Some Girls. Think I’m on his good side now. Hey, I wasn’t trying to brown-nose – just wanting to share the groove.
Later it came out that he’s a big Zeppelin fan, and I made some casual remark about being impressed with Robert Plant’s solo career – except which, the guy’d never heard of the concept of “Robert Plant Solo Career”; and so I had to end up giving him a bunch more music. All good!
Then I told he and a Frenchman and a Swissman about my day waiting on Patti Smith, and serving her coffee, and blah blah. Boy, were they impressed! Way more so than I’d have in a million years guessed.
It’s a real conundrum with these Europeans. They’re funnier than Hell, so entertaining, great stories. And they love to curse. Okay, perhaps not as much as I love to. But they curse with European accents, which acts as a multiplier effect and all.
Bottom line being they’re so fun to hang out with. Except…every single last fucking one of them is a chain-smoking demon. Once in a while one of them makes a big show about being conscientious about it – in practice, this means moving about five feet away. But most of them’re just completely oblivious.
So, yeah, it’s a real conundrum with these Europeans.
[Written Tuesday, February The 28th, Evening]
Purchased my ticket for Vientiane for tomorrow, and was pleased to learn that we’ll be leaping this year; meaning I’ve got one more day in Laos than I’d been thinking I’d have. Was tempted to stay in Vang Vieng an extra day, but decided may as well spend it in Vientiane.
One may extend one’s visa here, for two bones per day. I’ve still, of course, not set foot in Southern Laos; so this possibility, too, is tempting. But I do want to get to Angkor before it gets too hot to even move about. And I do want to spend more time in Northern Laos. So, I’ll planning on in future making a return visit.
Did a teeny bit of hiking to-day, but my toe wasn’t really feeling it, so instead I opted for an unoccupied hammock located inside a little shelter; just down by the river. Walking along down by the river, bumped into Martin from the dorm in Luang Prabang. We each expressed surprise that the other was here.
He too is off to Vientiane tomorrow, followed by a long ride to Bangkok, and a flight into Burma – which will be his second visit.
I finally finished up the book I’d been reading. Good timing, ‘cause there’s a book exchange here at the hostel. In return, I picked out Christ Recrucified, by Nikos Kazantzakis. So if anybody wants to play book-club with me, that’s what I’m on about. …Although it took me two months to read the first one, so will probably be way behind y’all.
I mean, who could make time to read on a bus in Laos with all the beautiful mountains to look at, and all the wacky entertaining crap going on inside the buses? Not me!
Speaking of beautiful mountains, they’re rather bewitching here. Always re-revealing themselves to you from each different location, and with each different angle. Okay, well, that’s not very profound, is it? Everything’s different when viewed from a different angle. But…somehow the mountains here more multifaceted than one would normally expect.
Yes, I know: they just look like any old beautiful mountains with a stream in the foreground. But they ain’t, man. They’re some kind of wicked.
One of the highlights of my day was when a fairly decent sized herd of cows was brought in by a nice young lad wielding a stick. I experienced this down on the farm as well: you got a stick in your hand, and cows will just not fuck with you at all.
Oh, I don’t mean to say that the whole deal with the cows not fucking with stick-wielding lads was the reason it was a highlight. Rather, the cows were grouped in families; and it’s always fun to watch babies (there were some baby chickens around and about as well). And also that many of the cows were quite beautiful. (And some quite inquisitive vis a vis yours truly.)
Realised that I’d misread a handwritten sign before. Big Beerlaos are not seven times as pricey here as in Luang Prabang, but instead are priced exactly the same. What’s more, most establishments offer free “buckets” to entice customers in the door, and/or one free for each two purchased, and whatever else. So alcohol is actually quite inexpensive here.
Not necessarily a good thing for the clientele, however. I’ve had a few people before now express to me in person this sign’s sentiment.
