8itchyfeet

Short stories from Luang Prabang

Published on February 16, 2016February 16, 2016 by 8itchyfeet2 Comments

Luang Prabang, Laos. It almost felt like home. We spent 8 days there all up in two different stints. Below are some snippets from our stays.

The ATM debacle

‘No, I want my money’, I said strongly to a young Lao man. ‘You took $445 US dollars out of my account and only gave me 3 million kip!’

Then I showed him the math’s. $445 times the going Lao Kip exchange rate added up to 3.6 million kip (I know – crazy). Subtract the 4% commission and I figured I was out of pocket somewhere in the vicinity of 475,000 kip (about $80 Aussie dollars). The young man just looked at me blankly and insisted he didn’t know anything about it. He wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted my money.

It started out simply enough. We were low on cash and leaving town the next morning, so I wandered up the street to find an ATM. I found four, but none of them worked. No cash in a country that barely recognises a credit card does nothing for my blood pressure, so I tried one of the many money exchange windows scattered around town.

I asked if I could withdraw money using my debit card and receive the cash in Lao Kip. They nodded agreement. I asked for 3 million Kip worth. They put through a withdrawal for US $445, before slapping down a pile of cash about an inch thick. Just then two American guys walked past behind me. ‘Count your money carefully – they ripped us off’, they warned in strident tones. Hmm, I thought. So I counted carefully. Sure enough the pile of cash was a million Kip short. The money changers looked unimpressed as I pointed this out, but added another three quarters of an inch of cash to my pile. More counting, more calculating.

Off I went back our hotel where, with Emma’s assistance, I realised I had used the wrong US exchange rate in my calculations. I was short 600,000 Kip! Back I marched determined to right this wrong. When I got back to the window, the lights were turned out and the shop door was all but closed and locked. I stuck my foot in the door, collared the young attendant and set about berating him for what felt like thirty minutes, insisting I had been ripped off. I wanted my money and I wasn’t going anywhere until I got it! But it was late now. Shops were closing up and down the street.

I eventually yielded. I was getting nowhere. The young man looked like a rabbit trapped in the headlights and either didn’t or wouldn’t speak English. So I left. Then my heart sunk, even further, as I realised my mistake. The young man I had been haranguing did not work at the money window where I made the original transaction! I felt like a worm as I quickly found the right place just fifteen metres down the street. The two windows looked so similar and my mind was clouded by emotion.

Ten minutes later, and after repeating my now well practiced rendition about how I had been rorted, the whole deal was reversed. I wound up back at our hotel two hours after I first set off and still without any cash in hand. I did go back to the place where I had wrongly accused the poor young man to apologise. Profusely, which at least appeased my guilt. I went to bed telling myself the ATMs must surely be working in the morning.

Into the night markets

‘Can Seigne and I visit the night markets together?’ Amy asked Emma and I one afternoon. Seigne is Amy’s Danish (almost) twin, the eleven-year-old daughter of our now Danish friends Morten and Britt from the cruise down the Mekong. We ended up spending a number of thoroughly enjoyable days hanging out with them and their three children, exploring the sites of Luang Prabang.

But that would involve you, being separated from me, in a strange and foreign land. That was the first thought that went through my head. Before I could say anything though, Britt had said in a relaxed and casual voice that it would be fine with her as long as it was fine with us? ‘Um, sure, I guess’ one of us must have replied.

So off the two of them went into the bustling Luang Prabang night market. What could go wrong? Not much I told myself. We strolled the market entrance ourselves, quiet calls of, ‘Froo (fruit) shake Mister, froo shake madame?’ greeting us every few paces from the food stalls that lined the area.

They returned 30 minutes later, Amy with a slightly grown-up air about her and me with an inaudible sigh of relief. She had bought a couple of small items and even bargained with the shop keeps to reach a price. ‘Can we go again tomorrow?’ they both implored. ‘Isn’t once enough’, I didn’t say.

They did go again, two nights later. This time for an hour! Oliver went too and I was without both my offspring. Emma comforted me with a chocolate croissant. They all returned, on time, feeling well pleased with themselves, but substantially poorer.

Oliver and Sebastian keeping entertained while the girls shopped

Photo bombing in the temple

We left Morten and Britt’s lovely, spacious, apartment early one evening after spending a thoroughly enjoyable day meandering through the streets of Luang Prabang. We had been skimming stones and launching rocks from Oliver and Sebastian’s (Oliver’s Danish alter-ego) sling shots across the Nam Khan river (with a local who came and put us all to shame); exploring Buddha shrines and temples on Mt Phousi; crossing rickety bamboo bridges over same said river; and lunching on baguettes in the markets.

P2070382-1600x1200 — On the top of Mt Phousi

Built annually as they don’t survive the wet season

Out the front door was one of many temples in Luang Prabang and on this occasion evening prayer was underway. The rhythmical chanting of the monks robed in orange at the foot of a large Buddha lured us in for a closer look. All of us, except Oliver and Sebastian sat ourselves quietly at the rear of the temple to observe a wonderful cultural opportunity.

As the chanting went on, it became clear not all monks are as diligent as others. Young men all of them, a few towards the back passed notes to each other distractedly like naughty kids in a classroom, while the leaders at the front lead the chorus. I cast my eyes back to check on Oliver and Sebastian just in time to see them streaking across the temple grounds and launching themselves in the air, arms outstretched. Curious, I thought. So I got up to investigate.

‘What were you doing?’ I asked as I came outside, but I didn’t need a reply. Across the temple grounds a Japanese man had a camera set up on a tripod and in front of that his family was posing for a photo. Oliver and Sebastian had been waiting until he set the timer running on his camera before streaking across in the background to ‘photo-bomb’ their photo and giggling delightedly. I laughed. What else can you do?

The prettiest falls in South East Asia

Black bears? I thought we were here to see waterfalls? We were, but the black bears, or moon bears more accurately, were a wonderful addition. The Kuang Si waterfalls are one of Luang Prabang’s main attractions, single handedly employing a large fleet of tuk-tuk drivers to ferry ‘farangs’ thirty kilometres into the countryside.

The falls are also home to, ‘Free the Bears’, an organisation we had read about even before leaving home. They rescue the bears from one by one metre cages where they are kept often for their entire lives, catheters in their stomachs to extract bile, which isn’t even good for you. Free the Bears rescues as many as they can and provides them a vastly improved, if still captive, life. Wild and free is just no longer an option for moon bears in this part of the world. Keep up the good work we said and made a small donation to show our support.

Beyond the bears lay one of the prettiest waterfalls we’ve seen. Minerals in the water ensure that rather than eroding the landscape these waterfalls gradually build it up. The result is a series of beautiful cascading falls tumbling over curved rock shelves into pools of unusually blue water. It was cloudy and really quite cool this particular day, but we swam anyway because it just looked so good.

Not many other swimmers, but we couldn’t resist

Fondue by the river

‘This place was recommended to us by some Canadians we met’, Morten and Britt told us. ‘Goodo, lets eat here then’. So we did, in a scenic little restaurant hidden under the bamboo on the other side of the Nam Khan River just across, and with views of, one of the two rickety bamboo bridges in town. Lunch took hours, cooking up delicious food on a fondue over our own bucket of hot coals perched in the middle of the table. So good.

Lao Royalty

‘That’s the kings throne’, I said to Oliver while looking at an ornately carved, large, golden and uncomfortable looking seat. We were in the royal palace museum. Who knew Laos had a king? I have much to learn when it comes to Asian history. Laos no longer has one by the way.

The town of Luang Prabang however is a world heritage site, recognized for the fact that is was the royal and religious capital of Laos from 1893 to 1946 and for, ‘…the fusion of French colonial and traditional Lao urban architecture’. It’s an easy place to be with a great vibe, classy restaurants and bakeries, art galleries, temples and saffron robed monks, foreigners and Lao locals all mixing together in almost equal numbers.

Temple in the museum grounds contains PraBang Buddha statue

Oliver however was more interested in the gold scabbards holding the king’s swords. One was splotched with red, so we assumed it was the blood of some poor servant or foreign soldiers sliced down for failing to answer the King’s whims quickly enough. What else could it be? Ceramic, mirrored murals covered the walls of the throne room depicting all kinds of terrible battles complete with hundreds of de-capitated men, so we may not have been too far from the truth.

We wandered around the palace making ‘swoosht’ noises, pretending to slice down servants who failed to respond quickly enough to our fickle demands and amusing ourselves in the process – which was all that really mattered.

Big Brother Mouse

I met Pai-Lee at Big Brother Mouse. Big Brother Mouse is centre where English speaking foreigners like us are encouraged to spend a couple of hours helping Lao locals practice their English. I chatted with Pai-Lee while Emma spoke with a young man by the name of Sor. Amy and Oliver hung back, listening and drawing pictures with labels to help us explain certain words.

Pai-Lee is twenty and studying to be a teacher. He is learning English because he wants to go back to his village (2 hours from Luang Prabang) and help them learn English – for free – because he was inspired by a fellow villager who had gotten really upset at her lack of English skills. After an hour and half we had to finish up. Pai-Lee asked if we could come every day for a month! Regrettably not.

We spent another half an hour at the centre though while Oliver and I were thrashed in game after game of Connect-4 by Lam, one of the monks from a nearby temple, who clearly practiced his English and Connect-4 on a daily basis.

Oliver said afterward – ‘it’s like he can think 3 moves ahead!’

UXO – Unexploded ordinance

Laos has the unwanted distinction of being the most heavily bombed country in the world. So we learnt at the Lao UXO (unexploded ordinance) Centre. During the Indochina war, the United States flew more than 500,000 bombing runs over Laos, dropping close to 240 million bombs.

It is estimated that approximately 80 million of the bombs dropped failed to explode and remain scattered throughout the country. Cluster bombs are particularly problematic. A single cluster bomb contained about 680 smaller ‘bombies’ each with a killing radius of about 30m. About 30% of bombies failed to explode on impact and therefore remain scattered across the country. More bombs were dropped on Laos than were dropped during the entire Second World War!

Cluster bomb, the bombies are often be mistaken for balls by children

The people of Laos have learned to a certain degree to cope with this legacy although hundreds still die or are maimed every year. Bomb casings are used for fences, bbqs, candlestick holders and even lamp shades. Despite government bans the UXO scrap metal industry is booming, with the additional income outweighing the risk of death. A single 700-pound bomb will return about two thirds of the average Laos income.

How fine it is that unexploded ordinance education is not on Amy and Oliver’s curriculum as it is for the children of Laos. I don’t know what to make of it all. What forces have pushed and pulled and shaped this country.

Ock Pop Tok

Oct Pop Tok. It means east meets west and is a Lao legacy diametrically opposed in nature to the UXO. Ock Pop Tok is keeping alive the silk weaving skills of Lao people across the provinces by providing them with an outlet to make sell their wares to wealthy foreigners like us. The fabrics are stunning, and that from me who really has no interest in such things. The weaving looms are even more amazing. We took a tour where they explained how it was done. I smiled and took photos of the looms. It went in one ear and out the other, but I love the product!

They use natural dyes to colour the silk, here it is drying by the Mekong

Farewell Luang Prabang

We bid a fond farewell to Morten, Britt, Seigne, Sebastian and Siegward on our last evening of our first stay in Luang Prabang (we returned for two more days after visiting the elephants). Like so many of you, our good friends back home, there are some people you just get along with. These Danes are such people and Denmark is now looking increasingly like a great place to visit when we make it to Europe. Happy travels our Danish friends we hope to see you again mid year.

Farewell to the lovely Luang Prabang – so many great memories.

Slow boat on the Mekong

Published on February 14, 2016February 14, 2016 by 8itchyfeet2 Comments

Border officials in foreign lands intimidate me. It’s a hangover from watching ‘The Bangkok Hilton’ when I was younger, re-enforced by my perception of government officials and corruption in various places around the world. Lonely Planet dedicates an entire chapter to the crossing of borders in South East Asian countries and although I read it, all I really learned was that crossing borders is not always straightforward.

With this emotional baggage hanging around my neck you can imagine how pleased I was when the whole thing went very smoothly. We jumped on a bus, stopped at a big, white, grand looking building, whipped out the passports and handed them to the Thai immigration officials who stamped our passports and ushered us through. Jumped on another bus through no-mans land, across a bridge over the Mekong before arriving at another very similar looking grand white building. Here we struggled to work out which queue to line up in before getting to the head of one of them and handing over our passports.

Then we waited, and waited some more until one by one the two or so bus loads of other ‘farangs’ were summoned to the counter to hand over some green backs (US dollars). I wasn’t sure I had enough so had to take a loan from the Bank of Amy. I guess Australia is on good terms with Laos because we didn’t need to spend her cash and paid less than visitors from other countries. Visas all sorted, we passed one more gate with a very unofficial looking official and we were in Laos.

The Mekong stretched before us, as did a very long river boat quite unlike any I have seen before. Thirty, maybe forty metres long, the back third housed the crew, engines and kitchen while the rest was turned over to us. Seats from a minivan sat in groups of four around tables and open sided windows made it feel as though we right on the water. Colourful throw rugs draped over the seats and ornate looking woodwork decorated the rails. We took a seat along with Stan and Margaret from Scotland, Britt, Morten and their children from Denmark, Sarah and Kiel and their children from Melbourne, Ana from California and a bunch of others from around the world.

What followed was two indescribably wonderful days cruising 330 (or so) kilometres down the Mekong from Houi Xai to Luang Prabang. The Mekong is a proper river. It has real amounts of water in it, quite unlike those ephemeral water bodies I work with back home.

Even at its low, dry season ebb, the water swirls and boils and eddies as it flows downstream. Boulders and rocks are constantly passing by as are forest, steep hills and mountains. In amongst this are scattered villages and a constant slow puttering of river life. Small boats make their way up and downstream, others are anchored in rows to the shore and among the rocks always held in place by bamboo poles and slivers of rope. Fishing nets are strung up also using bamboo poles in amongst the faster flowing water and rocky crags. Children play on the waters edge and villagers tend to their peanut crops or dry then beat some bushy plant (to make brooms) on the sandy beaches.

Hour after hour we puttered along soaking in the scenery, occasionally sipping at cups of tea, coffee or hot chocolate. The weather was neither too cold nor too warm. Amy and Oliver quickly befriended the other children on board and so were off happily entertaining each other and we soon befriended their parents. Grown-up type conversations about all of the various goings on and ways of life in our respective homes soon ensued.

No need for common language for ‘paper, scissor, rock’

Along the way we stopped to visit two of the many Lao villages that line the river. The ‘Nagi of Mekong’ tour information suggested this was to, ‘observe the primitive way of life of the people’. Unfortunately, this crude zoo-like description was all too true. We jumped off the boat, cameras in hand only to quickly put them away as we followed our guide into the village.

Entering the village – before the camera was put away

The only way to relate the experience would be to imagine a bus load of tourists getting off in your front yard, walking all around your house and yard while you were still home and taking pictures of you as if you were a zoo animal. I tried flashing a smile at some of the villagers as we traipsed through, but received only unfriendly, almost hostile, stares in return. It was super awkward and a huge relief to re-board the boat.

We speculated for some time as we cruised on what power structures were at play in the village and who was really benefiting from this steady flow of westerners. Only a few people took part in a similar visit the next day – the rest of us waited on the boat or simply strolled up and down the shore.

This was however a small blemish on an otherwise magical two days. That said, we were conscious that in just twelve months this trip will not be an option. Seven dams are planned for the Mekong river in Laos to export hydro power to Thailand, Vietnam and China. That however is only part of the story. According to the Vientiane Times there are 82 power stations under study or construction on the Mekong and its tributaries. I struggle to reconcile the economic imperative with the environmental change, but feel immensely glad to have had the pleasure of making this journey while we can.

Boats lined up at Pak Beng, Laos – overnight stop for us and many others

Chiang, Chiang and Chiang

Published on February 5, 2016February 14, 2016 by 8itchyfeet4 Comments

Chiang, Chaing, Chaing. Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Chiang Khong. Chiang, I now know means ‘city’ and these three cities are all a time honoured part of the ‘banana pancake circuit’. The banana pancake circuit being the well worn route followed by tourists through this part of South East Asia. It is marked by the constant trail of banana (or pineapple as is our preference) pancakes served by restaurants oriented to western clientele throughout the region.

But banana pancakes were not all that was on the menu in the chiangs. In Chiang Mai our feet were good for a snack as well. If you’re a fish that is. Strolling the streets one afternoon Amy noticed tanks full of little fish with a bench seat positioned so that your feet could hang in the water. ‘What’s that and can we try it?’ she asked. Sure why not. When in Rome…

So we indicated to the attendant Thai folk we would like to stick our feet in with the little fish, slid our shoes off, planted our behinds on the bench and dipped our feet in the water. The fish, hundreds of them, swarmed; attaching their little mouths all over our feet and legs and coating them with leech like protuberances.

It tickled like crazy as they darted and nibbled every nook and cranny, getting right in between each toe. I burst our laughing and couldn’t stop. I laughed like I haven’t laughed for years (see the video – I hope it works). Deep belly aching laughs. Emma, Amy and Oliver soon followed suit, but I’m not sure if they were laughing at me or the fish. It stopped the street. Passers by halted in their tracks to laugh at us, or with us, as we laughed at the fish. Diners in the restaurant opposite stopped eating to watch us with amusement. The day spa owners urged us to use our antics to rope in more customers.

Feet munching that day was preceded by eating of another kind. The sort of almost home cooked meal that comes with Thai cooking classes. It’s all about ‘emotion’ our instructor told us in her broken English. ‘No measuring, you just add the flavours according to your emotion. If your food is no good – no one to blame but your emotion’.

Great hats for the tour of the kitchen garden before we cooked!

We must have been in a good mood, all of us, because our food was great! We pounded out curry pastes, deep fried spring rolls and banana (a particularly tasty treat) and stir fried noodles and other dishes. But no banana or pineapple pancakes, this was the real Thai deal. Another of Amy’s great ideas on things to do.

We needed good food in Chiang Mai to keep us warm. We went out of our way to get accommodation with a pool only to arrive in the middle of a cold snap that had the thermometer hanging around 10 degrees with cloudy, rainy and overcast skies. It rained so much one afternoon Emma and I brought plastic polka dotted rain ponchos! Amy and Oliver had raincoats. The ponchos worked but I couldn’t bring myself to be photographed in one. Good thing we don’t know anybody here.

Chiang rain – still smiling here…. it got worse

At a temple in Chiang Mai in between showers

The elephants around Chiang Mai also seem to have a healthy diet. This we discovered through a visit to the ‘Elephant Poo Poo Paper’ park, which has perfected the art of turning elephant poo into paper. The whole concept appealed very strongly to particular portions of our party and we spent several hours participating in the process and making our own elephant poo poo paper cards.

Coloured poo ready for spreading on screens

By the time we hit Chiang Rai my appetite for walking around crazy busy urban environments had well and truly passed. I hit a bit of a low patch. Maybe it was the Chiang Mai weather. Maybe it was the rolling in to town but not really knowing why we had come. For the life of me I couldn’t think how I was going to enjoy three more days hanging out in another chiang with its whizzing scooters, congested footpaths and all the rest.

Our Chiang Rai residence did its best to compound my low mental blood sugar. The Akha House River Lodge was a lesson in do your research before you book. Sometimes, even in Thailand there is a reason why a hotel is cheap. We arrived home one evening to discover we had locked the key to one of our hotel rooms, in the room (most hotels don’t have rooms with four beds so you have to get two).

No worries right? Just pop down to reception and get them to open up with a spare. I however almost went spare when reception’s answer to our dilemma was to pull out a carving knife and a fork and spend 15 minutes trying to break in to our room for us! I couldn’t work out whether to be delighted or furious that they couldn’t get in! I kid you not, they did not have a spare key. I’m pretty sure they also didn’t have a mop, feather duster, bathroom cleaner or plumber.

When it became apparent we were looking at a night sleeping on the streets I took matters into my own hands, climbed the 2-metre-high wall separating one balcony from the next and lifted the glass sliding doors at the rear of the rooms off their tracks. Problem solved, but add security to the list of features missing from this particular residence.

It is however curious how each day unfolds. Four different sets of ideas on what we could, should or would like to do together with the unknown opportunities a new place has to offer, means it is impossible to predict what will unfold.

In Chiang Rai opportunity lead us to a hire car and we soon left the buzzing city streets and drove off to the green countryside beyond. Here we found twisting, winding, mountainous roads with tea plantations and perilous drops on the side of ridgeways, hot springs (hot enough to boil an egg), rice paddies, crazy White Temples and waterfalls in the jungle.

We ate some of our best Thai food at this place overlooking the rice paddies

Even Chiang Rai itself lured us happily back into its fold with its Saturday night walking market. The main street closed for a kilometre or so and a mobile shopping strip emerged from the tarmac. Food stalls and stalls of every other kind soon abounded and the locals all emerged in their droves to create a really festive atmosphere. There was literally dancing in the street! Lanterns lit the night along with fairy lights in the trees from the accompanying flower festival that also happened to be in town. It was soon hard to imagine why I had felt any doubt.

The next day a little girl on the bus from to Chiang Rai to Chiang Khong had clearly eaten her fill as she threw up all over her poor mother. But hey, all we parents have been there. This however was not enough to put me off the ride. It was the coolest bus I’ve been on. I’m sure it was built in the nineteen sixties. It was tumble down and rickety and packed full of locals and westerners like us on the banana pancake trail. The door immediately adjacent my seat opened and closed at random as we whizzed along ensuring a plentiful supply of fresh air and no unpleasant smells from the poor little girl that had been sick. The spew itself was washed away by the attendant by pouring a bottle of water all over the floor as we drove along.

In Chiang Khong we experienced the benefits of a more carefully chosen accommodation choice as we checked into the Teak Garden Hotel. An ‘infinity pool’ perched above the Mekong River provided Amy, Oliver and I a beautiful view while Emma tapped away at the laptop at the poolside lounge, planning our next moves. The sun set casting a golden light across the river and onto the buildings in Laos on the other side. Tomorrow we would be there, all going smoothly at our first border crossing that is. But that’s another story.