(Written February 22)
The various modes of transportation in Thailand and Laos are an experience unto themselves. In less than 48 hours, I've gone from the very south of Laos (Don Det island in Si Pahn Don) to Pak Chong (a couple of hours from Bangkok). This involved one boat, 4 so-called VIP busses, one local bus (recall mention of glorified pickup truck), a tuk-tuk, and an 8 hour train. Oy vay!
I've come to Pak Chong because it's the gateway to Khao Yai National Park, which is supposed to be one of the best in Asia, if not the world. I'm a bit skeptical of the claim though. I'm sure there are some amazing animals here (gibbons, gaurs, elephants, various monkeys, and a dazzling array of birds if you're into that kind of thing), but I haven't seen anything in either Thailand or Laos to suggest that managing wildlife is something that is invested in very heavily (if at all). Still, we'll see.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Don't get lost
(Written February 16)
I don't know if it's luck or skill or a bit of both, but I haven't had too much trouble finding my way around every new place I come to. It helps that most places here are rather small and have essentially one main road with a bunch of side streets. But on the occasion that I have found myself in need of direction, it can happen that the following conversation might occur:
Luke (L): "Sabaidee. Do you know where I can find a guesthouse?"
Local (L2): "Guest house".
L: "Yes, guesthouse".
L2: "Guesthouse" [it's said as a statement, not a question]
L: "Um yes, a guesthouse. For sleeping [gesturing accordingly]".
L2: "Uh." [this is a very common statement here and seems to mean just about anything at all, so no help there]
L: "Guesthouse this way?" [pointing down lane, simplifying conversation to bare necessities]
L2: "Uh uh!", nodding the head suddenly. He then says a BUNCH of stuff in Laos (none of which I comprehend) and waves his hand in a vague way that brings to mind a maestro conducting an orchestra while asleep. I assume this is meant as a way to point me down a street and turn at some point, so I try to repeat the gesture.
L: "This way", I point straight down the lane, "and then turn left at the corner?" (again, what I believe to be a clear sign of direction and hoping just to get started in the correct direction)
L2: "Uh. [gestures vaguely]...then rye ["right", I think]". This would be a good turn of events, if he hadn't just pointed left.
L: "Okay, so I go this way...", and repeat the sequence of gestures I'd done earlier for confirmation.
L2: Without responding, he turns back towards his shop and yells at someone (his wife, I presume, since the women clearly run this country). She shows up, and I have the EXACT same conversation with her, except that they talk a whole bunch and she seems noncomittal as to which direction I go. Eventually they just go back to whatever they were doing, clearly becoming bored with the conversation.
L: Finally - exhausted, sweaty from the bus or train ride, and still having no idea where I'm going - I cut my losses by saying khawp jai lai lai (thank you very much) and begin looking for another person to repeat the experience with.
I don't know if it's luck or skill or a bit of both, but I haven't had too much trouble finding my way around every new place I come to. It helps that most places here are rather small and have essentially one main road with a bunch of side streets. But on the occasion that I have found myself in need of direction, it can happen that the following conversation might occur:
Luke (L): "Sabaidee. Do you know where I can find a guesthouse?"
Local (L2): "Guest house".
L: "Yes, guesthouse".
L2: "Guesthouse" [it's said as a statement, not a question]
L: "Um yes, a guesthouse. For sleeping [gesturing accordingly]".
L2: "Uh." [this is a very common statement here and seems to mean just about anything at all, so no help there]
L: "Guesthouse this way?" [pointing down lane, simplifying conversation to bare necessities]
L2: "Uh uh!", nodding the head suddenly. He then says a BUNCH of stuff in Laos (none of which I comprehend) and waves his hand in a vague way that brings to mind a maestro conducting an orchestra while asleep. I assume this is meant as a way to point me down a street and turn at some point, so I try to repeat the gesture.
L: "This way", I point straight down the lane, "and then turn left at the corner?" (again, what I believe to be a clear sign of direction and hoping just to get started in the correct direction)
L2: "Uh. [gestures vaguely]...then rye ["right", I think]". This would be a good turn of events, if he hadn't just pointed left.
L: "Okay, so I go this way...", and repeat the sequence of gestures I'd done earlier for confirmation.
L2: Without responding, he turns back towards his shop and yells at someone (his wife, I presume, since the women clearly run this country). She shows up, and I have the EXACT same conversation with her, except that they talk a whole bunch and she seems noncomittal as to which direction I go. Eventually they just go back to whatever they were doing, clearly becoming bored with the conversation.
L: Finally - exhausted, sweaty from the bus or train ride, and still having no idea where I'm going - I cut my losses by saying khawp jai lai lai (thank you very much) and begin looking for another person to repeat the experience with.
The act of doing nothing
(Written February 14)
There's only one way to explain how my time here in Vang Vieng has been: aaahhhhhhhhhh....It's day four of doing literally nothing worth mentioning (and yet, here I am telling you about it). On day one, I rented an inner tube with every other tourist in the town and spent a glorious 5 hours floating down the Mekong river. My bum was wet the whole time, but that's a small price to pay. Among the highlights is floating with an Irish girl who had the hilarious tendency to warn us of the impending "ass whooping" whenever there were shallow spots ahead (water level is low, so you'll knock your bum off if you don't pay attention).
You might be thinking to yourself, "Why, it sounds like you were doing something after all!". Not true. That was the first day. Since then, I've spent three days in a hammock on the very edge of the river reading, napping, and having food delivered to me. Seriously, I could step out of my little bungalow directly into the water's edge. And the best part is that it's free! How good is that?
There only two counterpoints to the last few days is that a) I rolled my left ankle last night and am dubious about my mobility at the moment (it's like the millionth time, and so that ankle is beyond full and rapid recovery) and, b)I made the erroneous mistake of letting a strange Thai guy share my guesthouse last night, figuring that the bed is huge so why not? At some point in the middle of the night, I had to knock his hand off my back (for the third time) and firmly explain to him that there are two sides to the bed: one for him and one for me. First thing in the morning, I packed up and - bad ankle or no - got the hell out of there!
I'm heading south to the capital city of Vientiene now, with the intent of getting down to Si Pahn Don (4,000 Islands) on the border with Cambodia for a few more days of lazing about in a hammock before my visa expires.
There's only one way to explain how my time here in Vang Vieng has been: aaahhhhhhhhhh....It's day four of doing literally nothing worth mentioning (and yet, here I am telling you about it). On day one, I rented an inner tube with every other tourist in the town and spent a glorious 5 hours floating down the Mekong river. My bum was wet the whole time, but that's a small price to pay. Among the highlights is floating with an Irish girl who had the hilarious tendency to warn us of the impending "ass whooping" whenever there were shallow spots ahead (water level is low, so you'll knock your bum off if you don't pay attention).
You might be thinking to yourself, "Why, it sounds like you were doing something after all!". Not true. That was the first day. Since then, I've spent three days in a hammock on the very edge of the river reading, napping, and having food delivered to me. Seriously, I could step out of my little bungalow directly into the water's edge. And the best part is that it's free! How good is that?
There only two counterpoints to the last few days is that a) I rolled my left ankle last night and am dubious about my mobility at the moment (it's like the millionth time, and so that ankle is beyond full and rapid recovery) and, b)I made the erroneous mistake of letting a strange Thai guy share my guesthouse last night, figuring that the bed is huge so why not? At some point in the middle of the night, I had to knock his hand off my back (for the third time) and firmly explain to him that there are two sides to the bed: one for him and one for me. First thing in the morning, I packed up and - bad ankle or no - got the hell out of there!
I'm heading south to the capital city of Vientiene now, with the intent of getting down to Si Pahn Don (4,000 Islands) on the border with Cambodia for a few more days of lazing about in a hammock before my visa expires.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Northern Laos
(Written February 7)
Some things are worth the effort it takes to experience them, and the north of Laos is one of these. The roads alone are enough to frustrate you senseless. The steep breakpad-melting hills, endless potholes, and cramped conditions (the "busses" - little more than glorified pickup trucks - don't move until every last inch of space is taken up with people, rice, and chickens) generally make for long, tiring rides. 150 kilometres doesn't seem like much, until you've spent four hours with your face in a standing stranger's crotch and a snoring pig in a bamboo wicker cage under your feet.
Like I said though, it's worth it. Man, is it ever.
With incredible mountain views in nearly every town and village, it's a postcard waiting to be made everywhere you look. And then there're the rivers. It didn't take me long to decide that a bath taken in a river with a glorious view of surrounding mountains at sunset beats a cold shower in a mosquito-infested bathroom any day!
I've connected with a group of travellers (from France, Germany, Israel, Holland, and Belgium) on one of these bus rides between Vieng Khom and Vieng Thong and it looks like we're all heading the same way for a bit. East it is!
Some things are worth the effort it takes to experience them, and the north of Laos is one of these. The roads alone are enough to frustrate you senseless. The steep breakpad-melting hills, endless potholes, and cramped conditions (the "busses" - little more than glorified pickup trucks - don't move until every last inch of space is taken up with people, rice, and chickens) generally make for long, tiring rides. 150 kilometres doesn't seem like much, until you've spent four hours with your face in a standing stranger's crotch and a snoring pig in a bamboo wicker cage under your feet.
Like I said though, it's worth it. Man, is it ever.
With incredible mountain views in nearly every town and village, it's a postcard waiting to be made everywhere you look. And then there're the rivers. It didn't take me long to decide that a bath taken in a river with a glorious view of surrounding mountains at sunset beats a cold shower in a mosquito-infested bathroom any day!
I've connected with a group of travellers (from France, Germany, Israel, Holland, and Belgium) on one of these bus rides between Vieng Khom and Vieng Thong and it looks like we're all heading the same way for a bit. East it is!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
The end of an era
(Written: 30 January)
Yesterday, a 15 year streak of blissful vomit-free existence came to a sudden (and rather unnatractive) end in the mountains of north Laos. The picturesque view of the Nam Ou river flowing between soaring cliffs was at distinct odds with the biohazard that erupted from me this afternoon. On the four hour bus from Luang Prabang to here, I was forced to strategically place myself near the back of the bus so that I could leap out at a moment's notice should the threatening rumblings in all areas of my digestive system escalate to full-scale, all-out bowel evacuation. That's four glorious hours of wondering whether the next rhino-sized pothole was going to be the one to finally shake the shit right out of me.
I survived the trip with dignity more or less intact and crawled to the nearest guest house, where I immediately collapsed into a heap on the bed. Upon waking two hours later, the worst of my fears became reality. I suppose I ought to be grateful that the no-puke streak of which I was so proud came to an end the way it did. It was fast, furious, and left me with no choice but to admit overwhelming defeat. Two minutes after emptying myself from the other end as well, I again dragged myself back into bed. There I remained for the next 16 hours.
The look on the guesthouse owner's face when I emerged the next morning was nothing short of precious. Poor woman probably figured she would have to explain to the authorities why there was a dead farang locked in one of her rooms.
I'm feeling much better today, and am even considering eating dinner at the Indian place on this side of the river. The streak's not even a day old now, so what have I got to lose?
Yesterday, a 15 year streak of blissful vomit-free existence came to a sudden (and rather unnatractive) end in the mountains of north Laos. The picturesque view of the Nam Ou river flowing between soaring cliffs was at distinct odds with the biohazard that erupted from me this afternoon. On the four hour bus from Luang Prabang to here, I was forced to strategically place myself near the back of the bus so that I could leap out at a moment's notice should the threatening rumblings in all areas of my digestive system escalate to full-scale, all-out bowel evacuation. That's four glorious hours of wondering whether the next rhino-sized pothole was going to be the one to finally shake the shit right out of me.
I survived the trip with dignity more or less intact and crawled to the nearest guest house, where I immediately collapsed into a heap on the bed. Upon waking two hours later, the worst of my fears became reality. I suppose I ought to be grateful that the no-puke streak of which I was so proud came to an end the way it did. It was fast, furious, and left me with no choice but to admit overwhelming defeat. Two minutes after emptying myself from the other end as well, I again dragged myself back into bed. There I remained for the next 16 hours.
The look on the guesthouse owner's face when I emerged the next morning was nothing short of precious. Poor woman probably figured she would have to explain to the authorities why there was a dead farang locked in one of her rooms.
I'm feeling much better today, and am even considering eating dinner at the Indian place on this side of the river. The streak's not even a day old now, so what have I got to lose?
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