Xin nian kuai le, wan shi ru yi!

Wishing everyone
Health & wealth
In the Year of the Dog!

Altitude bussing >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 34

Nov 7: Night, Vang Vieng

It was a cool morning when we checked out of our nearly deserted guesthouse. Our lady proprietress looked sorry to see us go. As it was rather early, the shops were closed. On the walkway, however, a woman seating on a stool was selling crepes. The smell from her makeshift stall was most tantalising.

As we walked past, our stomachs rumbled, reminding us that we had not had breakfast. The warming aroma of crepes being cooked drew us unerringly to its seller.

She was cooking and sliding piping hot crepes onto strofoam plates for customers to take away. There were a couple of people waiting. We ordered one crepe and joined the waiting queue.

When our turn came, she looked at us and pointed to the various ingredients. We settled for some minced meat and vegetables. A few minutes later, breakfast was ready. We paid up and ate while walking to the bus station. The egg batter which made up the crepe base went very well with our veg-minced meat combination. Wish we had bought another one!

The bus was full when we set off from Phonsavan's dusty station. There were only four foreigners. Two Caucasians sat behind us and started eating breakfast. The other passengers also snacked and chatted. It was a cheerful morning. Soon, we rolled onto the undulating highway hugging the mountains.

The locals started puking.

At a particularly bad stretch, the people in front and opposite us looked really sick. Annie and I offered them medicated oil and the locals realised we were foreigners like the two Caucasians. Even the stoic soldier opposite us, who had been clenching his teeth, trying to control his nausea, took the oil. To our surprise, our tiny bottle passed from hand to hand, up and down the bus.

When it came back, I noticed only a slight dip in the contents. The sick but still thoughtful locals had used the oil most sparingly. Our fellow foreigners were very curious about the medicated oil and took a look at our bottle. Unfortunately, the oil only gave the vomitting passengers temporary relief. They got sick again as our bus hit another winding stretch, wheeling up and down the mountain road.

We foreigners seemed to travel better. When the bus boy went around handing out plastic bags (yes, the bus crew was very prepared for this!), he did not even bother to give us the puke bags. He just smiled at us as he gave out lots of these small bags. The rest were tied in bundles along the hand rails for use later.

A most ominous sign.

The locals were very careful even when sick. They vomitted into the bags and took care not to dirty the bus. When someone did not reach for a bag in time, our bus stopped to clean up the mess. Someone even picked up a few leafy branches to cover the offensive spot and deodorise the interior of our bus.

Thankfully, the invigorating mountain breeze was enough to clear the air and those of us not vomitting could enjoy the rugged scenery.

More disturbing was the way the locals disposed of their rubbish. While we bagged ours, they simply threw their plastic bags out of the windows.

When we stopped for lunch, everyone ate again. I was afraid we would have another puking load of passengers once we went on the road. Fortunately for us, we were finally on flat land and so were spared another round of vomitting.

We reached Vang Vieng in the afternoon.

We are now comfortably ensconed in a simple guesthouse, overlooking an old military runway. It is fairly peaceful, away from, yet within walking distance of, the main drag, where most visitors head for food, drink and entertainment. Just the way we like it.

For some reason, I'm reminded of our 'discovery' last evening. Phonsavan is not merely a one-road, dusty, town after all.

Before dinner and on our last night in town, we took another walk. Walking away from the bus station and past Dok Khoung Guesthouse, we left the main road and veered right.

Another world greeted us.

The scenery transformed into rolling hills and picturesque farmland. And the air was definitely fresher! People were harvesting and threshing grain. A boy was walking his cow home.

The sun was setting, its burnished rays gently warming. We stood and watched the activity on the field. The golden land slowly deepened to a rich orange as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. When the colour faded into night, we reluctantly left to return to our world.

Budget (for two in kip)

Room >> K40,000
Breakfast >> K1,000
Tea >> K13,500
Dinner >> K21,000

Next... V V, backpackers' boon

Jars on the Plain >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 33

Nov 6: Noon, Phonsavan



We slept very badly last night. Our room at the Dok Khoung (DK) was fine, clean and spacious. Unfortunately, we were on the ground floor and the neighbours behind our room were pigs and chicken. That night, the animal farm was particularly lively.

So, this morning, we checked out at the first crack of light and moved to a rather deserted guesthouse down the road. We got a room almost double the size of the one at DK. The place was in need of a good coat of paint and a change of furniture, but it was clean and, mercifully, quiet. The lady proprietor was also nice and reserved, presenting a somewhat less mercenary and sleazy appearance, compared to some of the staff at the more savvy backpacker outfits along the same stretch.

And then, we decided to reward ourselves with a trip to the Plain of Jars. Actually, I had wanted to visit the Jars for a while and since we had finally made it to Laos, I told Annie we simply shouldn't miss this sight.

The way there proved to be rather eventful, an interesting prelude to our destination. We decided to go by jumbo, after several unsuccessful attempts to negotiate a mutually-satisfactory deal with the taxi drivers. But, with a jumbo, we were restricted to only the jars at Site 1, the group nearest to Phonsavan town. That was all right with us as we didn't want to be held ransom by the cabbies. Neither did we want to do a rushed tour of many places in one day, an option the proprietor at DK was very keen to promote.

So, Site 1 it was.

Our driver could not speak English and we spoke no Lao. However, money is a universal language. So, we were able to settle on a fare for the trip.

First, he drove us into the marketplace to a congregation of jumbos. Then, in sign language, he told us we should switch to his friend's bigger jumbo.

Oh dear, that was not part of our initial bargain. We were a little suspicious, but his exhortations sounded most sincere. We switched, he got into the driver's seat and we were on our way again.

Thank goodness for the bigger vehicle. The road was awful, full of potholes. We even splashed across a tiny stream in our bouncing jumbo. I think he took the scenic but bumpy shortcut. After a bracing ride, we arrived spotting windswept hairdos.

As we entered, our driver casually sauntered after us. Once inside, he led the way. Some areas were fenced off. We kept to well-trodden paths. Here and there, we saw small craters, some almost a metre deep, overgrown with grass. Had old ordance blown up in these spots?

The concentration and size of the stone jars are impressive. This part of the countryside is studded with such monuments, whose origins are still debated by academics.

The Plain of Jars is an evocative sight. Like the intriguing puzzles (Stonehench and the Nazcar Lines, for instance) left by other human civilisations, these monolithic containers are another mystery bequeathed by ancestors who walked the land before our time.

Our driver went with us everywhere. He was like a fellow tourist and was very happy to pose for pictures. Many of the jars were broken; others stood like the leaning Tower of Pisa. Several were as tall or taller than a five-foot plus adult. The largest at Site 1 stood at about six tonnes, according the literature we picked up before the trip.

On our way back, we saw a man on clutches minus a leg, another grim reminder that we were in UXO (unexploded ordnance) country. Along the way, warning signs and makeshift wooden fences discouraged the unwary from venturing onto fields which might contained UXO, a deadly present from military aggression.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> K50,000
Breakfast >> K16,000
Jumbo & entry to Site 1 >> K50,000
Bus tickets to Vang Vieng >> K110,000
Lunch >> K27,000
Dinner >> K32,000

Next... Puking into Vang Vieng

A town called 'Savan >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 32

Nov 5: Night, Phonsavan

Cold. Dusty.

Great views of the land from Luang Prabang to Phonsavan, though. The road winded up, down and around mountains. Except for a short section, it was paved.

Along the way, we saw signs of recent landslides. Groups of labourers were clearing broken branches and loose rocks by the road.

For a stretch of the journey, we were thoroughly unentertained by a couple of boorish young Lao men. They took up a lot of space. One took off his shoes and prop his feet on the seat. They ate and littered. After dirtying one seat, they changed to another. The women on board were so much nicer.

Phonsavan is one main-street town. The place has a very cowboy feel, dusty with a fringe of something untamed.

Mechanics in the garage shops lolled by slumbering engines and machine parts in the desultory afternoon.

Rows of motorbikes lined one side of the street. A hulking tattooed man suddenly appeared between the bikes.

Near the roundabout, and outside and opposite the bus shack (I can't call it a station), well-travelled taxis awaited custom.

And within the bus compound, itinerant food sellers peddled steamed buns, sliced fruits and other daily necessities.

We have been travelling for a while now. Been on the road for about six weeks. Without the myriad distractions of the city, Annie and I have easily slipped into an early-to-bed, early-to-rise habit. And we have been enjoying the sweet, crisp air of many an early morning.

Unfortunately, the air in Phonsavan is not so good. But, we have not walked beyond the main street area. Perhaps we shall do so tomorrow. The rest of 'Savan awaits.

Lost in translation: an episode in a Phonsavan diner, in Waiting.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 4
Room >> US$25
Boat >> US$5
Pak Ou entry >> K16,000
Lunch >> K5,000
Bus (LP to Phonsavan) >> K164,000
Dinner >> K29,000

Nov 5
Jumbo to LP's Southern Bus Station >> K10,000
Breakfast >> K5,000
Toilet (2x) >> K4,000
Jumbo to guesthouse >> K3,500
Room >> US$6
Oranges >> K1,000
Dinner >> K16,000

Next... On the Plain of Jars

Haven with a bakery >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 31

Nov 3: Morning, Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is a very pleasant town. Leafy lanes, interesting architecture, almost tout-free. Definitely stroll-friendly.

Unfortunately, the people in the tourist trade have not been as nice.

So far, Diethlem and another local agency sounded the most helpful. Some of the others we visited to check out transport and perhaps accommodation in Phonsavan just wanted your money.

Lao Aviation was unreliable. No one picked up the office phone. Even the travel agents had difficulty getting flight info because the airline's computer system was offline. It did not help that flight times tended to change.

Last evening, as we headed back from dinner, our peaceful stroll was rudely interrupted by the roar of motorbikes. The noise was a rude aural shock. A group of youths were racing up and down the road, churning up a ruckus. Later, we heard from some locals that this was a habitual nuisance and that many of those racing were rich kids from influential families.

There are snakes lurking in this haven too.

On a sweeter note, the Scandinavian Bakery was great and certainly worth the extra kip we forked out for their confections. Maybe we just miss indulging our sweet tooth!

Nov 3: Night

Earlier, we went to dinner with two Japanese women, Bosa and Siren, who were staying two doors from us. Dinner was a casual affair in one of the Indian restaurants. The ladies were gracious and gregarious. Annie and I enjoyed the easy chit-chat. We even made plans to visit the Pak Ou Caves the next day.

On our way back, close to 11pm, we visited one of the wats (temples). In half light, the place was serene and luminous. In a snug nook, Buddha sat in eternal repose. (I am so glad there was no one racing tonight.)

A cool breeze stirred some wind chimes, showering the air with music. As the cascade of notes tinkled off, we left the compound.

See Some where, some time for our Pak Ou excursion.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 1
Room >> US$25 + Breakfast >> K12,000 + Coffee >> K6,000 + Lunch >> K35,000 + Bananas >> K3,000 + Drinks >> K5,500 + Dinner >> K33,000

Nov 2
Room >> US$25 + Breakfast >> K11,000 + Drinks >> K6,000 + Tea >> K9,500 + Breakfast (tomorrow's) >> K12,000 + Oranges (3x) >> K1,000 + Dinner >> K26,000

Nov 3
Room >> US$25 + Lunch >> K19,000 + Bananas >> K3,000 + Tea >> K13,500 + Wat Xieng Thong >> K10,000 + Dinner >> K33,000

Next... Cowboy town