Laos Part 1

I apologize for not updating my blog earlier. Internet in the north of Laos is completely nonexistent and I haven't sat still in one place long enough to compose my thoughts of my last two weeks in this country.


From Hanoi I took an all day minibus up to the far reaches of northwestern Vietnam, to a city named Dien Bien Phu. When I reached there I found out that the bus that usually runs three times a week and should be running the next day, had broken down and so I had to search for alternative means of transportation.

Never one to worry so much, and knowing that my two friends, Adrian and Sjoukje, had crossed the morning before, I got up early the next day, and hired a moto driver to take me the 38 km up to the border. When I arrived I realized that it is truly remote up here. We hadn't passed a village within 10 k on the road and the border station was little more than a small outpost perched on a ridge embedded in the surrounding mountainous forest.

After the border formalities on the Vietnamese side- I was the ONLY person there at the time- I began looking for available transport to the Laos border post which I was told was only 800 meters down the road.

There was a man strapping things down onto the back of a motorbike and when he saw me he offered me a ride for $15 dollars down to the nearest town, Mung Qua, which was 80 km away. I was just about to counter his offer when I saw this big van pull up and six white people, three couples, get out and head into the building. I thought, "This is my chance."

I went back inside, spoke to the people and found out that basically an old French couple had rented the van to take them all the way from Dien Bien Phu to Mung Qua, for $250! When I heard the price that the man paid I was really surprised. He was DEFINITELY getting screwed over, but he told me he felt like he had no choice since the bus was broken until who knows when. He agreed I could have a ride and said he wouldn't ask me for anything. The other couples had chipped in or paid the driver even more instead of paying the French man who had paid for the whole van before.

After getting through the Laos border we stopped only once, to check out the wreckage of a big semi-like truck that had fallen off the road a couple days ago. There was a man in a tent there but he didn't need a ride and said the driver of the wrecked truck was taken back to Vietnam. Hopefully no one had died.

The truck that had fallen off the mountain road.

Arriving in Mung Qua, I first had to block attempts of the van driver who thought I owed him $20 for the ride (bullshit) and then eventually walked away to find a guesthouse. Arriving at one, I walked in, saw a couple of packs and did a double take. There was a pink helmet hanging off of one. That pack belongs to Sjoukje! I thought for sure that they had headed off somewhere this morning and wouldn't still be here. They had waited for me!

I began my search and, because the town is SMALL, I found them immediately and big hugs were given all around. We ate lunch, I bought the French couple lunch and a couple beers for giving me a ride- they were very appreciative so thats good- and we hopped on the 330 bus for Udomxai, the biggest town in the north of Laos.

On the way Adrian and I changed our plans. Instead of heading northwest where there were a lot of tourists, and some great trekking options, we decided to head way north where the tourists were few and the Chinese border nearby. So the next morning we took a 9 hour rattletrap up to Phongsali.

Adrian, Canadian; Sjoukje, Dutch; and our rattle trap, Laos

Our hotel was cheap, but we arrived on Saturday, and Sunday the tourism office was closed meaning we couldn't organize a trek, and it was horribly foggy and rainy all day. Internet was nearly non existent, there was no TV, but there was plenty of card playing, cookie eating, and for a short time, we were invited to partake in some local fire water with a bunch of short male youths listening to load music and dancing up a storm to celebrate Womens' Day. How that was celebrating I don't know.

A foggy day of fun in Phongsali

Later we celebrated Women... with young men... and green alcohol.

That night over dinner we were approached by a soft spoken polite local man who used to work for an NGO in the town but now was guiding treks while he found another job. We agreed to go on a two day trek with him starting the next day because we figured even if the rain held, we could be dry the second night.

Early the next morning we walked to a local bus stand and awaited our guide, Song. When he finally arrived we stood on a tiny cramped mini bus to a village named Hatsa. Adrian and I used a trick I have picked up involving both leaning and ducking in a comfortable position to survive the 20k (which took 1.5 hours!) ride in the very short us. I sang songs to the locals who stared at me in disbelief and we arrived in one piece.

The comforts of Laos bus travel.

After Song bargained for a ride up the river with some local boatmen, we all stepped onto a long boat and were ferried for half an hour past villages and jungle up the Nam Ou river. We were dropped off at a small sandbar, promised we would be picked up the next day, and we began our ascent.

Riverside, waiting to catch a longboat in Hatsa

The rain over the previous few days made the steep trail muddy and a challenging climb. My old tattered shoes have little of the way of tread left on the bottoms, and that fact helped nothing. Despite this, I never fell on the hour-long ascent of the first mountain.

After a few hours we stopped for lunch. Song produced a huge bag of sticky rice, a bag of beef lap (cold beef with green onions and spices), an omelet each, and a small bag of sauce made from a fruit he called hawk plum. After our hours of steep climbing we gobbled down the meal until the food was completely gone. It was the most delicious meal I had in Laos.

Another hour brought us to the first of three minority hill tribe villages we would visit. The small gathering of bamboo and thatch huts were set on a hillside overlooking a vast range of misty mountains. The site was gorgeous and thinking of the beauty of their everyday view made me think of Sonapani and its position overlooking a range of 25,000 ft. peaks in the Himalaya.

After visiting the tiny but seemingly well stocked school, we stopped in a local home to drink some tea out of VERY dirty glasses. One child in the hut had a fever that has lasted a few days and Song tried to describe the traditional medicine to woman.

The school in the first village, built by an NGO

Because of her remoteness, she doesn't speak Laos, but her young son had studied a little and translated for them. Song used hand gestures and made noises, got the materials he needed and made a tea for the ill toddler. Afterward, we asked him what he had done, since it is very very dark in the home, and he answered that he had taken "chicken shit, put in fire, when hot make tea."

Another hour and a half of hiking brought us to a second village where we first sang to some startled children (not a lot of traffic of tourists through this region) and then joined the village chief in some tea in his home. A few other older men joined us and they passed around a large bamboo tobacco bong between them, and Sjoukje even took a turn. (I bought a decorated one for $0.66 cents in Hanoi).

Finally after one more hour of trekking we arrived right before dusk at the village where we would sleep that night. After meeting our hosts we took a stroll among the numerous large thatch and bamboo huts while Song helped to cook dinner.

The third village where we spent the night.

A few curious children following us soon turned into a dozen and then into 30. I felt like Tiger Woods walking to the green of the 18th hole with the gallery of small snot-faced children following 10 meters behind.

When we had reached the other side of the village where more kids were playing a game with some marble-like balls, I immediately invited myself to play. Of course my one turn of attempting to flick a ball off of one finger into a tiny hole two meters away went horribly wrong. The ball went flying behind me and the crowd erupted in laughter. Let the entertainment by the white people begin.

I sang to them. I stood on one leg and jumped around. I made fake glasses over my eyes with my fingers. I did the running man, jumping jacks, and was about to attempt a head stand with I was saved by a small boy coming to join the large semi-circle of men women and children watching the strange white giants make fools of themselves.

As he ran down a small slope, the tiny child flew into a graceful cartwheel.

"YES! Do it again! AGAIN!" I yelled at the boy who was immediately too embarrassed that I had singled him out. However, the attention paid to him did attract others to follow suit. Kids cartwheeled, did hand stands and other tricks while the crowd, led by we three whiteys, cheered them on. It was incredible.

To round off the day, Adrian had a push up contest with one guy- he won- Sjoukje gave a noble attempt at a cartwheel which ended hilariously and a tiny tiny boy no older than three did his version of a cartwheel over and over while the crowd slowly lost steam for him. But it was crazy cute.

For dinner we ate steamed rice, potato soup, fresh vegetables and Song had brought some more beef. We had to drink more neon green firewater with our host, each time we took a sip, calling for a toast by saying Cheepa toma!

After breakfast the next morning, we started our long descent back to the river. I did slip once or twice and got pretty muddy. The day was relatively uneventful but the weather held out for us and we had some decent views around the range.

Taking a break on the second day at an empty bamboo hut

That night we stayed in Hatsa, I bathed (for the first time more than a week) in the river with the locals, and we stayed in a gorgeous bamboo guesthouse overlooking the river and the main part of the tiny village.

Our guide, Song, on the boat back to Hatsa after our trek

After just the first week in Laos, I was in love. The people are way more easy going that in any other Asian country I've visited, with "Bo Peng Yung" (no problem) seemingly the national phrase of choice. Hassle is low and the people are friendly if laid back about it. Plus the absence of tourism in large sections of the country just begs for adventure seekers to come explore.