Entre le Marteau et l'Enclume
Have you ever been in a situation where you know you’ve committed to doing something fantastically stupid, but you’ve come so far that you really have no other option other than to see it through?
That happened to us twice over the past week in Laos.
The first time, we were stranded on a sticky, uncomfortable slow boat on the Mekong River, covered in diesel fumes and half-deaf from the engine noise, floating down from Huay Xai to Luang Prabang.
The second time was on a bicycle seat in the middle of the Lao countryside, at the bottom of a mountain we had to climb up, running low on water, energy, and sweating out of every pore in the 38 degree Celsius (100 Fahrenheit) heat.
Rachel and Allen getting in over their heads? Never.
After a fairly intense travel day, where we took every kind of transportation at our disposal (including one hilariously janky locals bus where we sat next to an open door for three hours), we found ourselves whisked away from Pai and dropped in the little border town of Chiang Khong, Thailand.
The thing about border towns is that they rarely get much recognition on their own merits, what with their prime purpose being to facilitate border crossings. That said, Chiang Khong had one thing going for it -- a little Mexican place named Bamboo Restaurant. The proprietor and proprietress were friendly, and assured us that though they’d never visited Mexico, the food was made with love so it’d be fantastic. And the hell if they weren’t right – the cheese and kidney beans were imported right from Central America, and the salsa was some of the best we’d ever had, regardless of location. It was a welcome change of pace for both of us to have something that wasn’t Asian or Asian inspired, and give us a little fuel for our big boat journey the next day.
Rachel warned me that river boats weren’t fun. She had done it previously on the Amazon and swore she never would do it again. But, I knew that this wouldn’t be the case. I imagined some sort of romantic, “Heart of Darkness,” style trip down the river – taking a languid ride on a big, rickety wooden boat, sharing sticky rice with locals and their chickens, drinking ‘lao lao’ (rice whiskey) and smoking tobacco from bamboo pipes, listening to the howls of monkeys and the roars of tigers on either bank, and laying in hammocks to wait out the heat of the long, sunny day, while drifting down the artery of Indochina.
Yeah, it wasn’t anything like that. Point, Rachel.
The boat was rickety, yes. It was also hot as hell, double yes. There were locals on it, again, yes. However, the locals were far outnumbered by the multitudes of Westerner backpackers jamming up the used car seats that lined the interior of the boat, and the only smoke we inhaled was from the giant straight-six diesel motor ten feet behind our head. Even the scenery was sub-par; while the jungles on either side were plentiful, and there were moments of spectacular limestone karst canyons, it was mostly just trees and muddy riverbanks. We were on the boat after sunrise and off before sunset, so we didn’t even get any of those. No, the highlight of the entire two-day trip was this great little fer (Lao: noodle soup) place we ate at in Pakbeng, the halfway overnight stop on our voyage – it wasn’t even that good, so I believe that says everything we need to say.
We thought about finding a different way to Luang Prabang after the first day, but we were always taught growing up that when you make a commitment to something, you have to see it through. The hell if we were going to let a horrible, terrible, hot, sticky, miserable day on the river deter us from continuing our boat trip!
Also there were no buses from Pakbeng to Luang Prabang that wouldn’t take us longer than the boat journey – we checked.
When we finally landed in Luang Prabang, we were so happy to get off the boat that we just got into the city as fast as we could and found some glorious, glorious air conditioning and a couple cold beverages before making any decisions about what we wanted to do. While doing this, we had an opportunity to look at our surroundings.
Civilization! We’d found it!
The seat of Lao royalty as far back as the fifteenth century, Luang Prabang was already a resplendent old town, filled with glittering temples and flowered gardens, before the French arrived in Indochina with their guns and cutlasses. When they saw the pretty little place, situated on the banks of the Mekong and surrounded by picturesque mountains and rolling hills in the distance, they offered military protection against the hostile Chinese in exchange for being able to establish a commissariat there. Of course, under the guise of protection the French eventually ended up colonizing and ruling Laos, but Luang Prabang was one city that actually benefited greatly from this regime. The small royal town became a thriving colonial metropolis, complete with beautiful French colonial architecture, food, and culture. Following independence from the French in 1954, and the Communist revolution in 1975, Luang Prabang became a shadow of its former self, with more than half of its population being forced to look for greener pastures. However with the country being re-opened for tourism in 1989, and its inclusion as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the charming little city is coming back in a big way. As we walked down the quiet, sun-dappled streets on that first day, smelling the fresh coffee and newly baked croissants and baguettes, popping in and out of shops selling hand-made textiles and strolling among market stalls hawking aluminum goods from recycled bomb casings, we knew we were going to enjoy our time here immensely.
Part of the reason that UNESCO branded Luang Prabang as a World Heritage Site is because of the royal lineage of the city, but is probably as important if not more so to acknowledge the religious importance of the city. Like Chiang Mai, the center of Luang Prabang is riddled with wats and temples and it was and still is an extremely important Buddhist center in Laos. This was fully on display during the daily alms that the Lao people give to the thousands of Buddhist monks that inhabit the city.
The next morning we woke up extremely early to witness this phenomenon. Thousands of orange clad monks of all shapes and sizes come streaming from the temples where they live, bearing alms bowls. The citizens of Luang Prabang line the streets, one-by-one placing offerings of rice or crackers or other food in the monks’ bowls, in a seemingly never-ending line. The donations that the citizens of Luang Prabang make every morning, as they have for hundreds of years, to the monks that inhabit the city, are the only food that they will get that day. It was humbling to see the generosity of the people and incredible to watch such an auspicious tradition of the Lao people (even as it was somewhat defiled by hordes of ignorant and rude Chinese and white tourists).
After the alms ceremony, we closed out the beginning of our day by visiting Luang Prabang’s surprisingly lively and expansive morning market, where they sold everything from tools to fresh veggies to live turtles. It was an eye-opening experience, and doubtless the best market that we’d been to in South East Asia so far.
The following day, we opted to rent some bikes and go for a ride into the surrounding villages – Rachel wanted to check out a hamlet known for their weaving and textile manufacture, and I wanted to take a look at a village known for it’s blacksmithing using forges made from old bombshells. We found the first village, and were awe-struck at the ability of these women to weave silk, wool, and hemp into amazing patterns, all by hand on home-made looms. They work for days at a time on simple silk scarves, making only centimeters (inches) of progress per hour, all while probably raising four kids and taking care of a husband who, like most men in South East Asia, likely spends too much time at the local Bia Hoi (fresh beer – a surprisingly OK, daily brewed beer commonly found in Indochina). The women of Laos are made of steel, no doubt in our minds.
Speaking of steel, after biking around aimlessly through the villages surrounding Luang Prabang, we had no luck finding my blacksmithing village. However we did see a sign on the way back into town about a blacksmithing course, which, after having a read, I promptly signed up for. Two days after that, I was sitting in the blacksmithing village, hammering an old leaf spring from a car into a surprisingly nice (and devastatingly sharp) knife. If you make it to Luang Prabang, I would highly recommend taking the blacksmithing course through Backstreet Academy – they hook up local artisans and provide interpreters for tourists who want to have experiences that would otherwise be inaccessible to them. It was a great way to take part in a bit of traditional Lao village life.
While I was hammering a piece of steel into a smaller, flatter piece of steel, Rachel was getting an extremely creepy massage from a heavy breather at a Red Cross affiliated massage parlour. If she would have known what we had in store for the next day, she probably would have waited.
When we were in Sapa, we met a Dutch couple who had just come back from Laos. Though they were extremely pleasant people, they were kind of know-it-alls. Of course, with both Rachel and myself also being know-it-alls, there were times when we rubbed each other the wrong way. One of those times was when we were comparing methods of travel – Rachel and I like to be on the move, hopefully seeing the length and breadth of the country we’re travelling in; the Dutch couple liked to hang out in one spot for a long period of time and really experience it, even if it was at the expense of other areas. Neither is a bad way to travel, but, of course, we think ours is the best.
Of course, we also think that we’re better in other ways, too – one result of having two sets of know-it-alls not seeing completely eye-to-eye is the beginning of a friendly rivalry. When our Dutch friends told us they rented mountain bikes and rode out to the famous Kuang Xi falls and back, and that it was extremely difficult but worth it, we just couldn’t let that go. We were definitely going to bike out to the falls as well, but, as we were both relatively avid cyclists back home, we had no doubt that the 60 kilometer (40 mile) ride was going to be a cakewalk for us.
And that’s how stupid situation number two started.
We rented some decent bikes from a local shop in town, went to bed early, got up the next morning and started pedalling through Laos’ beautiful countryside. Because of the morning’s lower temperatures, even thought the terrain was the exact same on the ride there as the ride back, we didn’t really struggle until the big hill at the very end, and actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, as well as the fantastic views and lively little villages along the way. Once we got to the falls, we were able to park our bikes, walk around, and rest our bruised asses.
Like Ha Long Bay, Kuang Xi waterfalls are one of those must-do tourist attractions that you’d just kick yourself if you actually missed. Unlike Ha Long Bay, both Rachel and I would go again in a heartbeat. We both thought the falls were unbelievably gorgeous, and the sun and moon bear sanctuary at the base was the cherry-on-top to a spectacular daytrip. We would not only recommend that anyone make the trip out there if possible, but would undoubtedly come back and see them again if given the chance.
Just, maybe on a tuk-tuk (three-wheeled motorcycle franken-taxi with a backseat, popular in Asia) instead of a bicycle next time.
We hiked to the very top of the falls, taking in the gorgeous views, swimming in the clear blue waters, and having a picnic among the mangroves before descending to the base and back to our bikes. During our time at the falls, the mercury had been steadily climbing, and was now well over 38 degrees Celcius (100 degrees Fahrenheit) with no wind to speak of. While we felt heartened that we only had one large hill to climb on the way back, even if it was a doozy, it was still a very long way back. We cruised through the countryside on our bikes, trying to reach some sort of speed that would give us some ‘Asian Air Conditioning,’ and cool us down a bit, but nothing was working. I was sucking down water as fast as it was coming out of my pores, and judging by the trail of sweat I left on the pavement behind my bike, I was literally melting. Rachel wasn’t faring much better.
But it’s one of those things. Here you are, sitting at the base of a mountain you have to climb up in order to get back home. You’re running low on water, you literally look like that guy who turns into goo at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and you’re dead-ass tired, but you do have options. You could flag down a tuk-tuk and see if they’ll give you a lift to at least the top of the hill, you could hitch, or you could walk. However, none of those things are what you’re going to do, because you committed to this stupid, stupid course of action, goddamnit, and you’re going to see it through.
Plus if we didn’t the Dutch couple would be better than us and we just weren’t going to stand for that shit.
So we climbed. We made it to the top of the hill. We flew down the hill, back into town, and almost literally crawled into a bar for a burger and a beer. We had done it. We had won.
You see, when the Dutch couple did their bike ride, it was raining. They didn’t have to deal with the heat, and as the rain made the hike too slick, they weren’t able to climb to the top of the falls, either. So, we won! Not going to say it wasn’t hard though, that’s for damn sure.
Our heads playing ‘We Are the Champions’ on repeat, we made our way back to the hotel, and then went to bed at like eight o’clock and slept for twelve hours straight, awakening the next morning to what I can only classify as an ‘exercise hangover’ (did we mention that the ride was 60 kilometers!?).
Being a champ ain’t easy.
The next day we left Luang Prabang on a flight back to Hanoi. It was difficult saying goodbye to the little oasis of food, drink, culture, and natural wonder – Luang Prabang was good to us, and we wish we could have stayed longer in Laos to see more of the people, and experience more of their unique and sometimes overlooked culture, but we were also anxious to get back to Vietnam and begin the journey South.
