Oct 31: Night, Luang Prabang
After last night's tasteless noodles served by lethargic staff, we walked to the guesthouse opposite to try their breakfast.
A ragged-looking girl came with two grimy menus. Not very hungry, we ordered a hard-boiled
egg with one serving of toast and coffee. The egg was very boiled, the toast very dry and the coffee very thin. The utensils did not appear very clean either. When we paid for our 6,000-kip meal with two 5,000-kip bills, the girl indicated that they had no change.
Since last night, we have been paying tourist prices for lousy food, overpriced room and patchy service. All in all, Pak Beng cannot be recommended. We hope other visitors have a different experience.
We left the village after breakfast, feeling that those in the tourist trade see foreigners as walking dollars in a captive market. A pity, as Pak Beng can be a pleasant overnight stop on a memorable journey down the Mekong.
The Lao people we have meet so far are reserved in the presence of strangers. I think the locals are bemused by the foreign ways of travellers. It must be stressful to have to cope with people who speak, eat, dress and behave so differently. Even those who help with passengers' bags across tricky parts do not give a hand when passengers are struggling up and down planks and slopes.
An hour into our second-day journey, the engine died. Once again, father and son spotted pinched looks. They tried to steer our boat to shore, but the Mekong is no meek mistress. We drifted for half an hour or so, the crew looking very worried as they alternatively anchored and steered to avoid eddies and rocks.
Gazing at the swirling waters, Annie said: "What's to be's to be." Guess we might as well enjoy the scenery while we could! So I took her advice and paid homage to the majesty of the mighty Mekong.Then, a motorboat passed by. It stopped to help our captain tow the boat to shore.
The next hour was spent on repairs. While waiting for the repairs to be done, we clambered up to the village above the beach. A sandy gully almost a metre deep proved too much for me. After some hesitation (When is the last time I try a long jump?), I barely managed to leap across it on the way up. On the return trip, I ended up in the gully. Someone stretched out a hand and hauled me up.
And the village? No toilet we knew of, only a few dusty bottles of Coke and many a bemused villager looking up from their chores to see a horde descending on their village in search of loo, drink and snack.
We reached Luang Prabang early evening. Again, there was no jetty visible. Our boat parked next to another, away from the shore. Within minutes, the crew had cut the engine, secured the boat and disappeared, leaving the passengers to make it to shore on their own steam.
First, we hopped from our boat to its moored neighbour. Although this boat was the closest to the beach, it was also taller than ours. Looking down from that boat, I saw we were almost two metres above dry land. We had the choice of leaping from the boat to ground or walking down two planks joined end to end. The second plank, the one wedged into the sand, was half the width of the first.
An American middle-aged couple was one of the first off the boat. It was the husband who found the plank route. He reached the ground first and walked off, leaving his wife to follow none too steadily. Both left without looking back. Others had also jumped off from another side.
Gathered around the plank, the rest of us looked at each another. One of the taller girls jumped. I think she was one of several Scandinavian girls. If she had landed wrongly on the uneven ground, she could have sprained her legs or worst.
She was all right.
We passed her the biggest backpacks and then the rest started down the planks, one by one, some teetering more precariously than others. Oooo, not fun if you are afraid of heights, although you would not drown in the shallow waters should you topple off.
All the cabbies and guesthouse touts watched us from the top of the landing while we figured out how to get to dry land. When enough of us made it, they hopped off their perch to tout their business.
The tuk-tuk is called the jumbo here.As usual, the driver quoted a ludicrous price for a ride less than 1km. We bargained to one-third of the original price, piled in and made our way to check out the first guesthouse we had marked out as a possible place to stay.
After two interesting days, we are in Luang Prabang.
Ancient abode of royalty. Elegant city of culure. Former capital with fabled past. It feels less like stepping into the past, more like the past coming to meet the present.
In a place like Luang Prabang, history feels like now.
Budget (for two in kip and USD)
Room >> US$15Breakfast >> K6,000Jumbo (tuk-tuk) >> K5,000Dinner >> K27,500
Next... R&R
Oct 30: Night, Pak Beng
The day started well.
We left Tammila cheerfully, buoyed by the sunny day and the anticipation of visiting another country for the first time. After seeing speedboats thundering past with small groups of helmeted passengers sandwiched within, we decided on the two-day alternative, by slow boat. A speedboat gets you there in six to eight hours - if you do not smash into anything first.
After Thai immigration, we were led to one of those slim longtails. Before we pushed off, the female half of the middle-aged couple manning the boat asked for B20 each for the cross-river trip. I suddenly remembered our guesthouse owner's ealier reminder to tell anyone asking for more money that we had already paid the fare for the entire trip from the Thai side to Luang Prabang in Laos. So I shook my head and said we had paid up, waving our receipt. They smiled, the man stowed our bags and off we went.
No problem at the Lao immigration in Huay Xai. The young officer checked our visas, did the required paperwork, stamped our passports and smiled us off. We were early so we walked around a bit and went to the bank to change some kip, the local currency.
People walked in and out of the bank with wads of cash in roomy plastic bags or large paper envelops. We decided to change only a small amount of money as we had limited storage space. Even for the little we changed, we left with a small stack of Lao notes!
Just above the pier was the police post. Some passengers were already waiting there so we joined them. After a short wait, our passports were collected for the police to check. Another short wait and we were told to go downhill to board our boat.
Trouble began with boarding.
First, we had to clamber up and down the slightly muddy slope just to reach our boat. Then, to get into our boat, everyone had to carry their bags across a 20-cm wide wooden plank, one end attached to the small entrance of the boat while the other end was wedged into the sludgy shore to keep it from floating away. There was no jetty although there were several other boats parked next to ours.
Except for one or two reaching out to steady the more tentative passengers, the rest of those working at the boats and the pier simply hung around to gawk.
Seats in our boat came in the form of a long bench hugging each side. It would have been comfortable enough for 30 perhaps, but packing over 60 people with backpacks into this long, slim contraption was asking for a disaster to happen.
We saw boats returning from Luang Prabang with 10 to 20 passengers and did not realise they intended to overload our vessel until everyone was wedged in, still waiting for the police post uphill to return our passports.
More trouble came a-calling, in the form of a young chap waving a few leaves of paper. "Compulsory" insurance at 30 baht each, he said. Each of us got a piece of photocopied A4 paper claiming to be a notice from the government.An excerpt (spelling, punctuation and grammar as appeared):
The assurance Law 29.10.1990
The decree of mistry of finance No 259MF dated 13/4/1994
... Every body will must have covering from Lao inssurance before will you trip and travel different place ...It was signed and chopped, purportedly by the "MANAGER TRANSPORT STATION", "BOKEO, Dated 25.5.01".
The guy also passed around a brochure advertising travel insurance from the Allianz Group. It was the kind of information pamphlet you could easily pick up from the insurance office or an agent. There was nothing "government" about this slightly grubby brochure. The rates, advertised in US$ and kip for travel within the country and overseas, also did not tally with the 30 baht demanded.
Being the last few to totter onboard, Annie and I ended up at the end furthest from the entrance of the boat. By the time Insurance Man came to us, our boat was packed to the gills and the guy had to remain at the entrance, limiting his effectiveness to dragoon the entire boatload into coughing up the dough. Unsurprisingly, those who sat nearest to him came under the most pressure to shell out that 30 baht. The rest of us, snug against a huge cylinder of flammable fluid, decided we might as well save that 30-baht insurance.
When we demanded for our passports, Insurance Man insisted we pay up first. He managed to 'persuade' a few of those seating next to him to pay up. The rest of us declared we could spare the day waiting. Of course, the loudest nays came from those of us sitting far, far away from Insurance Man!
But, I did not think he heard us.
By now, the father-and-son boat crew had disappeared and Insurance Man was looking increasingly pinched the longer we held out. Despite an hour of such shenanigans, the majority of our boatload remained recalcitrant, refusing to yield even a baht to Insurance Man. Finally, someone handed over several stacks of passports. Insurance Man slunk off in ignoble defeat.
The supposedly nefarious scheme had turned into a Mr Bean-like sort of farce. The scamming locals seemed rather inept as villains. Perhaps we got them on an off day?
"Singapore! Singapore!"
A blond guy with sun-sea-sand complexion waved our red passports energetically. Besides a couple from Africa (I think), we seemed to be the only non-white on board, our shoulder bags dwarfed by hulking backpacks. I grinned and collected our passports more sedately. The atmosphere in the boat was less tense now that we had our passports back.
Our boat captain appeared with his family - wife, mother, teenage son and a younger boy or girl. The family packed into our end, after the flammable fluid, and closed off that section.We did not know at the time, but they had taken away our only toilet on board.
The captain moved to the other end while his teenage son ran along the edge of the boat, releasing the tethers. A couple more passengers joined the captain at the front. The engine rumbled; Ban Huay Xai receded into the distance.
Then, we heard angry shouts.
Since it was very cramped inside, some passengers moved on to the roof. When any of the women tried this, either the captain or his son got very excited. One would physically blocked the way up, gestured firmly and insisted that the women return to their bench. Must be the age-old belief that it is bad luck to allow a woman on top of the boat (and men?).
The boat crew certainly needed any luck bestowed on our dangerously overloaded vessel.The waters were treacherous, with seemingly calm stretches suddenly morphing into swirling eddies. It was not comforting to see the crew turning pale on occasions or to witness that pinched look on the son's face as he hurried by.
To our relief, the crew was skilled and experienced, as the captain navigated the packed boat safely past numerous eddies and rocks whose tips were barely visible on the surface of the water. I am sure we would sink into deep trouble in lesser hands.
During the day, we stopped at a few villages to drop a couple of people off and to pick up or deliver sacks of goods. Since the boat's only toilet had been declared off limits by the captain and his family in residence, those who wanted to answer nature's call simply find a discreet spot on land during one of our pit stops. Some of the guys got on to the roof and emptied into the river.
Actually, it is cleaner to do your business outdoors than to pay for the use of a filthy loo in someone's backyard. So we find out later in our Laos journey. But, wisdom comes from experience. At this stage, we are still disconcerted by the alternatives offered to our idea of a toilet.
So I was glad when we reached Pak Beng at six in the evening. It was getting dark. We forked out for an overpriced room so I could clean up with hot water. I am feeling particularly yukky because I am having my period. Annie, in the meantime, sorely needed somewhere softer to rest her back. She was beginning to spot a couple of blue-black patches on the area along her spine, from leaning her 'fat-free' back against the wooden support of the boat all day.
The electricity in our hotel is erratic.
The lights in our room flickered out briefly. I took a shower with my torch within grabbing distance. When we left our room at 7pm, the place was completely dark.
People were eating dinner in candle light.
Out came our torches as we explored Pak Beng's one main street in search of dinner. In the end, we headed back to our hotel's dimly lit cafe for an indifferent meal of soup noodles. In the middle of our meal, we heard several cracks. The waiter, passing by with a bowl of soup, had stepped on a beetle the size of a ping-pong ball. He continued, crunching across the hapless insect, oblivious to the destruction he had wreaked and left behind on the floor.
Today has been interesting. I have been taken out of my comfort zone. So has Annie, I am sure. But, it is not everyday that we are treated to the might and beauty of the Mekong.
I look forward to another day on the Mekong. And the rest of our Laos sojourn. I think Laos has much to lavish on us.
Budget (for two in baht or kip as indicated)
Breakfast >> B95 + Boat to Luang Prabang >> B1,100 + Lunch (packed) >> B60 + Room B>> 400 + Dinner >> K14,000
Next... Two metres above Luang Prabang
Oct 29: Afternoon, Chiang Khong
We are nestled in Tammila's riverside cafe, drinking ginger tea. Every sip is comfortably warming as we enjoy the gentle breezes brushing the open-air cafe. I am reading Lonely Planet about our next destination, Laos.
When inspired, I drop my guide book to scribble a line or two in this journal. Annie is reading a novel, probably fantasy or romance, her two favourite genres. Two tables away, another occupant, a young Caucasian woman with long, blond hair, is also reading, writing and gazing the day away.
Periodically, the roar of flashy speedboats pierces the silence and we become distracted enough to pause for a drink while watching the commotion on the river. At other times, more placid slow boats and a barge or two ferrying goods and trucks drift past.
During a lull from boat-watching and journal scribbling, I look up to see two pairs of feline eyes lazily wondering over the cafe's occupants. Ah, must be the household cats. They look so settled, perched on top of one of those waist-high cabinets a few tables across where we are lounging.
All this lazing around is very nice, but we should gear up for Laos tomorrow. I think I will suggest a walk by the river this evening, before dinner. We may even bump into our landlady walking her dog, not to mention numerous cyclists and fellow strollers.
Last evening, we were extremely sedentary, choosing to enjoy the panoramic view of Laos across the river from our balcony, instead of joining the stream of walkers and bikers on the pavement below.
Today, the Mekong at sunrise has been equally mesmerising. As the sun inches higher, the morning mist unveils Laos in ever sharper relief, reminding us that our stay in Thailand is almost over.
Across the river, Laos awaits.
Budget (for two in baht)
Room >> B300Breakfast >> B85Groceries + Drinks >> B50Lunch >> B95Dinner >> B140
Next... Scammed in a sardine can
Oct 28: Night, Chiang Khong
Our day did not start well at all. We were unable to buy tickets to Chiang Khong the night before. People at the Chiang Rai bus station's ticketing office were unhelpful. They could not even tell us when we should come back tomorrow.
It was drizzling when we left our guesthouse this morning. Our lady proprietor was driving out and she gave us a lift to the bus station. When we got there, it was still not possible to buy tickets. Perhaps there was no bus today? We could not tell because everyone just shook their heads. Giving up on the ticketing office, we asked other passengers.
In the end, we found a small bus leaving for Chiang Khong near a quieter side of the station. The vehicle was old but clean. There was no space to leave our bags where we sat, so we stowed them in the empty space before the last row of seats, across the open exit of the bus. But, we did not have to worry about our bags. The conductor was very nice. When it rained, he made sure our bags stay dry.
The ride was scenic. From city to suburbs to farms to green gorges, the roads got narrower and less paved as the outdoors became more rural.
Chiang Khong is a one main-road town, compact and very managable on foot. The road is well used. Dust flies whenever a trading truck thunders past, a regular occurrence during the day. But, just metres beyond that main road, the noise recedes.
Behind the foliage, another Chiang Khong exists.
Chickens peck the ground diligently. Wooden fence pairs with waist-high hedges of bougainvillea and other flora. People stroll around in shirt and sarong. The muted rumble of a motorbike wafts by occasionally from smaller roads leading into the interior.
Tammila, our guesthouse, is leafy, rich with the smell of earth. Steps leading down to the guesthouse also take us closer to the river, away from the industry of the main road.
We are staying in a bungalow of wood and bamboo. Our 'ensuite' toilet is outside, a concrete afterthought. Fronting our room and loo is our balcony. The view is splendid and the peace, priceless. No cars, no TVs, no cell phones. Just night sounds from active nocturnal denizens, a world (or two) away from our home in Singapore.Also see Huts & houses.Budget (for two in baht)
Bus to Chiang Khong >> B84Breakfast >> B60Room >> B300Tuk-tuk >> B20Lunch + drinks >> B110Tea + Muffins >> B40Dinner >> B125Drinks >> B30
Next...Laos from the balcony
Oct 26: Evening, Chiang Rai
We made a short trip out of sleepy Chiang Rai today. We took the bus to Chiang Saen, on the fringe of the Golden Triangle. Laos, Myanmar and Thailand share the Mekong at this juncture.
The space between our bus seats was very small. I, a five-footer, had no problem. But, Annie, who hit five feet six, had to place her legs diagonally across the cramped space. I could see her legs spilling onto the aisle.
That is what I admire about the people in this region. So many of the Thai, Lao and Myanmar people are agile and elegant. Climbing steep and narrow steps to a temple or archaeological ruins; manoeuvring to drop into a longtail undulating on the water; making space to accommodate yet another passenger in a vehicle seemingly bursting at its seams; all done with minimal fuss and so gracefully.
Despite the cramp, we had a pleasant trip to Chiang Saen. Nice breeze, gentle scenery. Very relaxing because the bus was not crowded.
At Wat Chedi Luang, we sat on the matted floor and enjoyed the serenity of the sanctuary. A guide came with two visitors.
After a while, the guide came over. He told us his visitors were from Perth. When we told him we came by bus, all three looked at us.
"By public bus?" The guide repeated.
They looked surprised. We did not know why. We were 'guideless' and obviously on our own. Had we missed something here?
The trip back was equally pleasant and after a short rest, we are now dressing up to go to the Chiang Rai night bazaar for a bite of dinner.
Oct 26: Night
The night bazaar sells loads of food, especially deep-fried stuff. Huge platters of meat and seafood balls, spring rolls, innards and insects, all prominently displayed to tempt the tastebuds. Pick what you want and the hawker serves it on a plate or pack it for you to take away. From 10 baht onwards, you can order a generous plate of grub to go with your beer under the balmy night sky.
We walked and gawked at the array of fried insects. The crickets looked particularly ghastly, like roaches! The worms looked just that tad more appetising. Getting a plate of worms was simply too overwhelming before dinner (or after), so we strolled on to more pedestrian fare.
Compared to the night before, tonight, a Saturday, was more crowded. More stalls were opened too. Diners ate al fresco and in relative darkness, eyes glued to the performers on the large stage in front. When we were there, a lone guy was on stage singing and playing the guitar. This was followed by three dancers putting on a very tacky routine.
Back in our room, I decided to watch the Pool versus Spurs match on ESPN. This is killing two birds with one stone because I get to enjoy a bout of armchair sports while getting out of Annie's hair for an hour or two.
When on the road for a while, we find it worthwhile to set aside an hour or so each night for reading, writing or folding clothes. These pockets of time to ourselves make for a more harmonious relationship on the road.
Budget (for two in baht)
Oct 26
Room >> B350Breakfast >> B40Bus to Chiang Saen >> B50H2O + donation + museum >> B90Lunch >> B40Bus to Chiangrai >> B50Internet >> B26Tea >> B61Dinner + spring rolls >> B250
Oct 27
Room >> B350Breakfast + Curry puffs >> B30Donation + Groceries >> B59Lunch + Kueh (local cakes) >> B60Internet >> B47Tea >> B50Dinner >> B190Ice-cream >> B64
Next...River lives
Oct 25: Night, Chiang Rai
We have just changed our room because the aircon in the old one was dripping water, industrial-size plops marring the pristine terracotta floor. The lady proprietor was most dismayed because her guesthouse was only three months old. Hers was no doubt the messier problem; we simply moved into a new room.
Baan Worabodee is a charming, lovely place - warm wood, white walls and potted greenery in strategic spots, surrounded by a neat little garden, where you can have breakfast or drinks.
We found our guesthouse by accident. Exiting the bus station, we walked down the main street. A short distance later, we saw a cloth banner advertising Baan Worabodee and recalled the tiny picture we saw in a tourist info magazine advertising this guesthouse. We decided to give this one a try and headed into a side street. There, we found Baan Worabodee, tucked in a quiet neighbourhood.
In contrast, our bus ride from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai was anything but tranquil. Our bus was packed. An hour before Chiang Rai, we stopped to pick up stranded passengers from an earlier bus, leaving the expired vehicle and its forlorn driver to wait for mechanical aid by the side of the road. Further down the road, our driver stopped for more passengers. Feet filled the narrow aisle.
Then, trouble started. A man with wispy white beard was among the last load of passengers to board the bus. He stowed his banjo on the luggage rack above the passenger seats. When the bus moved, his musical instrument fell on the stunned passengers, a woman with a boy, seating beneath the rack. He seemed to find that funny although no one else was laughing with him. Except for the outraged woman, everyone simply looked away.
Chuckling, he removed the banjo from their laps and wedged it more firmly against other bags on the rack. The woman stared at him and he shuffled across the crowded aisle to stand slightly behind my seat. Unless I turned my head, I could only see him from the corner of my eye.
First, he leaned against the back of my seat. Then, he began to use me as his personal padded seat, rubbing and resting his ample bum on my shoulder. When I pushed him off, he sidled away. But, scant seconds later, he was back, resting even more of his body on me.
A silent battle ensured. I pushed him away and inched closer to Annie, who sat next to me. He withdrew but was back again. The more I moved away from him, the further he slided forward. Any further and he might as well sit on my shoulder or slide into my lap!
By the third skirmish, Annie realised what was happening. "What's wrong?"
While I was still wondering if I should escalate this struggle and make some verbal protest, my friend turned and looked up at the old man.
"Don't touch her! We don't like to be touched!"
Our reading material said that it was impolite to raise your voice in anger. But, we also knew that men should not touch women, especially those they did not know, in public. Well, I had tried to get rid of my problem quietly. We were not willing to suffer in silence for the next hour.
Annie's firm words ricocheted off the shocked faces of nearby passengers. They stared, but her warning worked. When some passengers alighted, the old man moved off, muttering, far away from us, to the rear of the bus.
Meanwhile, the equally careless young man beside the old man, who had been knocking my knees and bumping into other standing female passengers even when the bus was moving sedately and fairly smoothly, suddenly decided it would be more prudent not to be so cavalier about touching the opposite sex. And the rest of the men were were also very careful about bumping into me as they moved along the aisle.One even apologised when he had to step into the tiny space between me and the front seat to let passengers who were leaving walked through the aisle. He was so careful that he managed the feat without touching my knees.
I notice it is usually the guys who choose to impose on the women. We have not seen a female taking the same sort of liberties. Fortunately, for every obnoxious man, there is another who still practices decorum in public and we have happily benefitted from such gallantry.
The Chinese have a saying: When at home, you rely on family; when away, you rely on friends. Without the kindness of strangers, our travel would have been less.
Made in China in Greece
Travelling from a tiny city-state like Singapore to almost anywhere else always gives me the sense that the world is a big, big, place. Sometimes, though, it is as if we are travelling around a global village: Made-in-China souvenirs in shops at Athens' Plaka; Thai-made clothes in Johor Baru's shopping centres; Malaysian produce and pastries in neighbourhood shops in the heart of Singapore's public housing estates.
Today, we met some guys who had shared a taxi with us in Bagan. And we have been bumping into other travellers we have met earlier these past weeks. Perhaps it is not so much that the world seems smaller, but that our traveller circuit remains small.
You never know when you might run into another familiar face. That is fun. There is something quite carefree about meeting new friends for a few hours to chat over drinks or a meal in a foreign country, knowing we are all simply passing through and that we may or may not meet again.
Budget (for two in baht)
Oct 24
Room >> B550 + Songthaew to Wieng Kum Kam >> B40 + Donation >> B20 + Songthaew to Chiang Mai >> B20 + Lunch >> B50 + Tea >> B35 + Dinner >> B130 + Coffee & dessert >> B77
Oct 25
Songthaew to Chiang Mai bus station >> B40 + Bus to Chiang Rai >> B154 + Toilet >> B6 + Pau (2 steamed buns) >> B12 + Room >> B350 + Lunch >> B70 + Ice-cream (Swensen's) >> B78 + Dinner >> B30 + Cake >> B20
Next... To Chiang Saen we go
