Rivers, Mountain Climbing, and PURE MADNESS

Even though Luang Prabang was quite touristy itself, we still wanted to head off the beaten track and explore areas that many falang ("foreigners") still don't travel to yet. Chris, Alex, and I decided to take a boat journey up the Nam Ou river into the far northern reaches of Laos, up close the Chinese and Vietnamese borders. Our goal was to reach Phongsali, which should take us three full days boating up the river.

Wednesday March 26, 2008

The first leg of our journey involved an eight hour boat ride up the Nam Ou from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw. It cost 110,000 kip (about CA$12). Yes, that is expensive, given where we are.

This section of the river valley was described to us as one of the most beautiful boat journeys in the whole country of Laos. Even though we could take a bus to the same place in half the time and for one third of the cost, we decided that the boat would be worth it. It really was. We saw gorgeous mountainous landscapes with sheer cliffs and stark rocky outcrops. The boat pushed its way up through many rapids. At one point, the boat got stuck in a shallow section and the crew had to get out of the boat to push the boat through the shallow part!

When we got to Nong Khiaw we found ourselves in a small town nestled on steep river banks between scraggy mountains. A tall bridge over the river joined both sides of the community. We walked around to find a cheap guesthouse to stay in. From across the bridge, we could see a pocket of little bungalows on the opposite riverbank. All of the bungalows were raised on stilts, but two of them seemed to be caving in somewhat. They were definitely in disrepair. Chris remarked, "There's no way we're staying there!". However, when we got there, we discovered that the bungalows were REALLY CHEAP (40,000 kip (about CA$5) for one). Chris and Alex decided to share one bungalow and I took another for myself. It seemed almost natural to sleep in the slanty shanties, after all!

For me, it was my first experience sleeping in such rustic conditions. I had a private bathroom in my bungalow, but it was very basic. There was no shower, just a bucket with cold water I could pour over myself. To satisfy my bodily functions, there was a squat toilet. The toilet did not flush, but you had to use the bucket to pour your business down the drain. There was no sink -- yep, you guessed it -- you had to use the bucket to wash up. The town didn't have electricity 24 hours of the day, and I had to sleep on a hard bed under a mosquito net. It was a bit to put up with, but the price was right (you get what you pay for, right?), and it was part of the experience.

Thursday March 27, 2008

Nong Khiaw was pretty enough, and we had spent enough time on the boat the day before that we decided to spend a second night here.

We spent the morning on a bike ride on the road east of town. Again, we were in the middle of the mountains in the middle of some of the most beautiful terrain I had even seen.

We had purchased a bottle of rum in Luang Prabang and we decided to start working on it in Nong Khiaw. The afternoon was a scorcher, so we parked ourselves on a guesthouse patio beside the river with some banana milkshakes that we spiked with our own rum. I spent the afternoon writing postcards.

After drinking rum for a few hours in the hot hot heat, we were ready to pass out. The rest of the afternoon and evening was pretty quiet -- we just didn't have the energy to do much else.

We chatted to a few other backpackers. There were a few in town, but not many. Most of the people we talked to were traveling down river. We were one of the very very few who were making the journey up river. Later, we found out that that would prove to be rather unfortunate.

Friday March 28, 2008

From Nong Khiaw, we had two choices. We could take the boat up the river one hour to Mung Ngoi or five hours farther up to Mung Khuoa. Mung Ngoi sounded nice, but we wanted to push up all the way up if we could.

However, since there were so few travelers going north, there was no boat that day all the way to Mung Khuoa. We could charter one, but only at great expense. Instead, we had to take the boat to Mung Ngoi and hope we could find enough travelers there to help us get the rest of the way north. The one hour boat ride cost 20,000 kip (CA$2.30)

Mung Ngoi was pretty nice though. It's an even smaller place than Nong Khiaw. There's no road there -- the only way in or out is by the Nam Ou river. The bungalows we found here were even cheaper -- only 30,000 kip (CA$3.40). No private bathroom, though.

Apparently, Mung Ngoi has been "discovered" by the backpacker scene. There were more travelers, guesthouses, and restaurants here than in Nong Khiaw. More, but still not many. It was still a pretty quiet and rustic place.

We spent a good part of the afternoon floating on the river floating on inner tubes. The day was another hot and sunny one, so we soaked up the sun and relaxed.

The family that owned the bungalows we stayed at were somewhat uncomfortably friendly. There was this little kid (maybe like 6 years old) that Chris nicknamed "Little B & E" who like to play with the combination locks we put on the bungalow doors while we weren't there. Even if we were hanging out on the balcony of the next bungalow over, Little B & E would be fidgeting with the combination lock on the other or swaying in the hammock there. I'm not sure if he was trying to break into the bungalow, or just liked playing with shiny things, but it was a little annoying.

More annoying were these local men who came to hang out on our balconies and chat with us. They looked into the open bungalow doors frequently (to see what we had in there?) and very actively flirted with Alex and Chris. The girls were feeling very uncomfortable and they called me over to try and save them, but I was three-quarters passed out on my hammock, and couldn't be bothered to walk the twenty feet over there. Some gentleman I am! Nothing bad happened, though... it was just a bother.

We made a bit of a pub crawl that day. More banana milk shakes spiked with our own rum in the afternoon, and a few Beer Laos at night. I decided though, that I should try and cut back on the amount of Beer Lao that I drank though. It definitely had some kind of ingredient in it that induced hangovers too easily. I had heard rumours that Beer Lao was wonky that way, and I really started to believe it.

After the heat and drinking, I was passed out at 10 PM. What a party animal I am!

Saturday March 29, 2008

I was forced awake at the crack of dawn by the sound of crowing roosters making their rounds and babies crying. Already, the rustic experience was starting to try me.

We made our way to the boat landing in the morning (nothing more than a beach with some steps leading to town) to see if could catch a boat up to Mung Khuoa. Unfortunately, although there were several other travelers going south, there was no one other than us going north that day. We could wait it out another day, or charter a boat ourselves. We decided to not wait, and charter the damn boat. It cost us 200,000 kip each (CA$23)!!!!! Yes, that is very expensive for a four hour boat ride. It was nice not to have to share a boat with anyone though. With only three people on the boat, we had plenty of space to stretch out and be comfortable.

Finding a place to stay in Mung Khuoa was trickier than the last few places. It was a little bit bigger, so there it wasn't as simple as before. We walked into one place where this kid showed me a room with two beds and private bathroom for 50,000. It was pretty nice, but we figured it was too expensive and kept walking. At the next place, the owner was so sleepy or apathetic he could barely walk. He wearily showed us a dirty dirty room that we didn't want to stay in. When he held up five fingers to show us the price (50,000 kip, again), we moved on. We crossed a rickety, rockety, swaying, suspension bridge to the other side of town to try and find a guest house that our guide book recommended. It was under construction, though. We decided to give up and went back to the first place. This time, though, the kid showed us some other rooms that had only one bed each and shared bathrooms. That was more expensive and less nice than the first room he showed us that Chris and Alex could split. I asked for the kid to show us the room he had shown us only fifteen minutes before. He didn't know what we were talking about. I pointed to the closed doors of the rooms he showed us. He shook his head, "no" and claimed he had never showed us the rooms. Was this kid playing dumb, or trying to rip us off? We really doubted that the rooms had been taken in the past fifteen minutes, so I figured he was trying to rip us off.

We parked ourselves in the common room of that guest house while we took turns walking around the rest of town looking for somewhere else to stay. Eventually, I found a place to stay at the Nam Ou Guest House. Chris and Alex got a room with two beds/private bathroom for 50,000 kip and I got a single for 25,000 kip. A better deal than the other place, and still clean enough to be worthwhile.

The Nam Ou Guesthouse overlooked the Nam Ou river (of course). There is no bridge over the river there. Instead, highway traffic has to cross the river using a barge. The barge is not motorized, but is pushed by a noisy tugboat. We got to see (and hear) all this action from the patio of our guesthouse. When we got there, it seemed like the barge was STUCK on the dock. The tug boat pushed it over and over and it didn't move. We later learned that it had been stuck for about two weeks and there was a fleet of trucks parked on the beach there that had been stranded the whole time while trying to travel to Vietnam. Bummer. Even though it seems like Laos is catching up with the rest of the world, several key pieces of infrastructure (like bridges!) are still missing.

Given the difficulties we faced getting up the river all the way to Mung Khuoa, we figured that it would continue to be harder to continue up the river, too. We wanted to go up the river one more day to get to Phongsali. Time was running out on Chris' visa and we couldn't take forever. We wanted to do a trek from Phongsali. Fortunately, we saw advertisements for a trek guide in Mung Khuoa, too. Our guide book even recommended the same guide by name, too. We decided to forget about going all the way to Phongsali and do our trek out of Mung Khuoa.

We walked around town trying to find the recommended trek guide. Unfortunately, when we found his house, some woman who lived there (his wife, I assume), told us that he was already out on a trek and wouldn't be back for three days. Doh!

Reading our guide book, it also said that there were other trek guides available from Nam Ou Guesthouse, too. How convenient! That's where we were staying. We went back there and examined the poster that lead us on our wild goose chase. One of the guesthouse staff (we had seen him before chopping wood), approached us. We asked him if he knew where these other trek guides were. He told us that he was one and he could take us on a trek himself. We were a little surprised. It was certainly convenient that the guy who was chopping wood claimed to be a trek guide, too.

We talked to him for a while. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and we decided to trust him. He set us up for a two day trek on the east side of the Nam Ou river. He told us that the recommended travel guide went on trek on the west side of the river with a bus load of tourists. It was a much more "touristy" trek than the one he would take us on. We were excited by this news. It really was exactly what we wanted, after all... and we could do it there in Mung Khuoa instead of traveling farther up the river.

The two day trek would cost 350,000 kip (CA$40) each. That cost included all transport, food, and one night's accommodation. I don't know if that's expensive or not, but its the price we decided on. We would pay him 150,000 kip each before leaving and the balance when we got back.

Sunday March 30, 3008

Our trek guide's name was Khack. We met him in the morning on the boat landing. He had chartered a small boat to take us about one hour up the river. It was the smallest boat I had yet been on in Laos. It had no roof and there was only room to sit one person across. It was little more than a long canoe with a motor.

We traveled upriver and got out at small Laotian village. From there, Alex, Chris, and I proceeded to walk a trail through the jungle up a mountain with our guide Khack and our porter Ap. It was a hot morning and the trail was slippery in places. Chris was feeling ill, and we took turning carrying her pack for her. It was rough going, and I though, "What had we gotten ourselves into?"

It was about a three hour slog up the steep trail. As we got higher and higher, we could see farther and farther. Eventually, we could see very far indeed. We were on a jungle-covered mountain, surrounded by more jungle-covered mountains. Tired that I was, I was still happy. I love mountains, I wanted to get into hiking, so this was a Good Thing for me.

Around noon, we seemed to top out at a little village of hill-tribe village. It turns out that there are more people than just Laotian people living in Laos. The Laotian people themselves mostly lives in the valleys, plains, and lowlands. The country, however, is very mountainous and rugged. The Laotians don't venture onto the mountains much at all. Several hundred years ago, all sorts of tribes of people wandered in from the north (mostly from China or Tibet) and settled in the highlands of Laos, Thailand, and Myanmar. Many of these tribes are distinct from each other and even speak their own languages. It was into one of these villages that we trudged into that afternoon.

The village of Khamu people came out to see us en masse. It really seemed that Khack really had taken us off the beaten path. Foreigners weren't seen here very often and many people, especially children, came out to stare at us. We were an oddity. For about twenty minutes, we were the centre of attention for the town. After a while, though, the novelty had worn off and people returned to their activities. Children played, puppies ran around, roosters strutted, and adults did whatever adults did in villages.

Khack prepared lunch for us in one of the villagers huts, while we sat in the shade and rested. When we got to each it, the lunch was VERY GOOD. We sat around a small table on small benches (I got the only chair -- I guess since I was the only man among the guests) and shared the food. There were tender young bamboo shoots in broth, spicy sausage, steamed minced pork, buffalo jerky, a mushy salad of mushrooms, spicy chili powder, and plenty of sticky rice. It turns out that the fresh bamboo shoots are only available for one month of the year and we were fortunate enough to be there at the right time to get them. I really felt fortunate, since the bamboo was just that delicious -- especially when dipped in the chili powder!

After lunch, we continued to rest for a while and watch the children play. Some kids were rolling a hoop around with a stick. Another kid was pushing a shoe around with a stick. The stick seemed to be covered with poo or mud and was easy to slide around. I took a turn pushing the poo-shoe, too.

Soon, we headed out again. We walked about three hours to another mountain top. Up and down and up again we went. There was less jungle cover on the other side of the mountain and there was little shade to screen us. It was pretty tiring, but the views were fantastic.

We reached another village -- this time of Akha people. Again, we were greeted with stares. Being an oddity again and again was a bit unnerving. After a while though, life returned to normal. We watched several of the men play a game that involved kicking, head butting, or shoulder-whacking a small rattan ball over a net. Those guys were really good. They offered to let me play, but I didn't really want to embarrass myself that badly. It took a lot of skill to play that game. I think it was called "Katto".

Dinner was good, too. More bamboo shoots, served with pork stir fry, vegetables, and the ever present sticky rice. We drank a lot of home brew rice whiskey ("Lao Lao") served from a yellow bottle labeled "Shell Brake Fluid."

A combination of sun, exhausted, and liquor completely wrecked us and we were in bed by 8:30 PM. While we were sleeping apparently our host family started watching TV that was powered by a big battery. I didn't even notice the dozen people watching TV only half a meter from my feet. I was just toooooo tired.

Monday March 31, 2008

In the morning I was woken at about 5 AM. The village came to life around me as I was subjected to a chorus of noises: roosters crowing, pigs squealing, babies crying, children playing, dogs barking, other dogs fighting, more roosters crowing, music playing, adults shouting or singing, cows mooing, and even more roosters crowing. Did I mention the roosters? I hate roosters. HATE. THEM. SO. MUCH.

I tried to lay in bed and fall back asleep, but I lost one of my earplugs, so I just tossed and turned and listened to the symphony all around me.

After a while though, I had a good reason to leave bed. Did I forget to mention that I had been constipated for the past four days? There was no movement since I had left Luang Prabang. However, up on that mountain top that morning, behind a couple different trees, it all came out. Why am I mentioning this in my blog for you all to read? I don't know. It was a proud moment, and I just wanted to share it.

Breakfast involved fried eggs, more sticky rice, and some ramen noodles, interrupted with several trips to trees outside of the village, if you know what I mean.

Khack had given us an choice. We could walk for seven hours to one more village (which he told us would actually be pretty similar to the one we had just been in), or only two hours to get back to the river where we could get back to town and attend a housewarming party. We were pretty tired and the party sounded pretty good, so that's what we did.

The slog down the mountain afforded more beautiful views. Parts of it were very steep and I ended up sliding down part of the mountain on my ass. When we got farther down, we had to cross several small streams. At first, I tried to get across by hopping across rocks, but after almost slipping a few times, I decided to just get my feet wet and walk across. It was never more than ankle deep, but I collected my fair share of mud.

By the time we reached the river we found ourselves in a lowland Laotian village again. We entered one of the huts and found ourselves to be an oddity again. Khack negotiated for a boat down river. When the negotiations were complete, a local brought out a bottle of Lao Lao (rice whiskey). At 11 AM we were already drinking. The bottle was passed around while half the village stared at us with curiousity. But it was good, we were friends -- we were bonding over millenia-old custom of opening a bottle and drinking it until it was empty.

I really felt like I was an explorer from hundreds of years ago. I was in a rustic village in the middle of nowhere with locals I couldn't really communicate with other then a couple words and hand gestures. We relied on our guide to get us through the situation. We bonded over liquor and were suddenly joking and laughing like old friends. Is this the same way explorers felt hundreds of years ago? It was a unique experience in my life.

Even though the trek was cut short, I don't know if I could have done more. I could have used force of will to get myself through a longer trek (and I know that I could have pulled it off if I set my mind to it), but going to a Laotian housewarming party sounded really appealing to me. When we got back to town and got cleaned up, we found the party on a street beside the market.

It was PURE MADNESS.

Khack brought us to a table with his friends. From there, it was time for serious drinking. There was a case of Beer Lao under our table. When the case ran out, another case would be brought in. When glasses were empty, they were refilled. If our glasses were full, then there was a toast and we would drink. The Lao men were pushers. If we didn't drink enough, they made sure we drank more! If we weren't drinking, then we were eating. If we weren't eating, then we were dancing. If we weren't dancing, then we were drinking.

It was PURE MADNESS.

Yes, the Lao people are serious drinkers, as we found. One man attached himself to Chris and wrote "I LOVE YOU" on the table. He then unabashedly jiggled his beer gut and wrote "89 kg" on the table. He was proud of his beer drinking ability, that's for sure!

We danced a lot with the Lao people, too. Being the only foreigners there, we were very popular and kept getting pulled to the dance floor.

How did these people drink so much? I observed, and quickly learned. They put a lot of ICE in their glasses. Not only does it help beat the heat, but it waters down the drinks so you can drink more! I made sure to use lots of ice and ate lots of sticky rice, too, and I survived the PURE MADNESS.

Nevertheless, by like 5 PM I was pretty hammered.

During the afternoon, I had managed to tag a few of the other foreigners that I saw walking by. They thought they weren't invited to the festivities. I fixed that. I made sure they sat down and drank with us. Of course it was okay. The Lao people didn't mind it. We were popular! Again, I played the role of the social organizer and got more people to have fun at my bidding. I'm good at it :)

By about 6 PM all of the foreigners were invited into the new house to formally congratulate the new house owners. About ten of us sat in a circle and gave them our best wishes while another Lao man translated. They thanked us. The other foreigners then wandered away, but the three of us were the special ones and continued to drink with the family for a while.

By about 7 PM Khack herded the three of us, along with another of his buddies to a restaurant for dinner. We thought, "isn't he a bit too drunk to drive?" but he assured us he was okay. Whatever, its not like he can drive fast in a crowded little place like this. There's not many cars on the road anyways. He used the horn liberally to force the pedestrians to take cover and we bumped our jostled in the van for about five minutes to get to the restaurant.

We ate fish soup, sticky rice, and fried eggs and danced to crazy Lao house music. Khack wanted us to drink and party more, but we couldn't anymore. We were so tired by then we were basically zombies. Khack is a great guy, and I really like him, but he partied us way too hard :)