Laos

“USA . USA!” he was chanting in my ear, again, as I bowled yet another gutter ball. So I punched him playfully (or was it) in the guts for his hubris. I am mediocre at this game at the best of times, but couple that with being three sheets to the wind and nursing a healing broken arm and you would be witnessing some of the most appalling bowling ever attempted! To add to the humiliation of it all I was oddly peppering my pathetic gutter balls with the occasional spare, which must have been confusing to my drunken opponents but was entirely frustrating to me. How could I go from crap to near stellar in one fell swoop? I tried feebly complaining in the ears of anyone who’d half listen that the reason for my comprehensively dismal bowling was because I had broken my arm not long ago, but I’m pretty sure no one really cared! But let me back track aways…

There we were. Enjoying another quiet night in the all too picture-perfect monastic town of Luang Prabang. One thing led to another and we found ourselves strolling along the waterfront to a bar (we did not know where) when finally (where are the tuk tuk drivers when you need them most?) out of the darkness we got a lift down the road to a drinking establishment. Pity we didn’t realise when we climbed into the tuk tuk that a destination was a mere 300 m away! The bar had loads of character and enough foreign patrons to add atmosphere and make as want to stay for a few more.

Damien was off for a while getting cash from an ATM so I had time to chat to one of the staff. Clearly we hit it off and we exchanged details so we could hang out while we were in town. Once Hien had moved on to serve other patrons and Damien had returned, I noticed a large contingent of British nearby and was considering ingratiating ourselves when suddenly it was all over. It was curfew time. All bars in Luang Prabang must stick rigidly to the 11.30 pm curfew or be fined. So all too soon our night was over. Not satisfied with this we asked the tuk tuk driver if there was anywhere else we could possibly go and he replied that there was! So we were whisked away at speed and watched as the charming streets of this UNESCO world heritage town flew by and were replaced with the less pleasing to the eye outskirts. We certainly were a long way from the town centre at this stage and I was beginning to wonder exactly where we were headed when next minute we were there.

We arrived at a large shed in what felt like the middle of nowhere with an equally large collection of tuk tuks and their drivers assembled outside. So we sauntered up to the shed in the quiet and sultry night air and as we flung open the doors we were assaulted with a cacophony of bowling bowls connecting with ten pins and it was quite the soundtrack to our entrance to the scene in front of me. There they were, lines and lines of teams of drunken falangs all intently engaged in games of ten pin… downing long necks of BeerLao. Well, this was not quite the thing I had in mind when we had hopefully enquired about another possible drinking venue. But hey, when in Rome! I mean, Lao!

As things often go on nights like these, the British guys we’d seen at the bar were also at the bowling alley along with two Americans and we soon found ourselves playing with them. Damien was good at the game in equal proportion to how woeful I was, which was lucky, cause someone had to fly the flag for the Aussies, especially, when we had “Mr USA” loudly chanting away every time he bowled a strike or I bowled at gutter ball! He was also keen to tell me that Australians were American wannabes which did not endear him greatly to me. Nonetheless, his mate was an engaging conversationalist and we got involved in lengthy discussions about everything and anything and I didn’t seem to mind at all when he told me that he had met lots of really nice Aussies, but there are a lot of “assholes” too.

What an odd night indeed. I did wonder how the bowling alley got away with serving alcohol when clearly everywhere else could not. I asked Hien (the worker from the bar) this when we spent some time with him later during the week. He said that it was because the bowling alley was outside of the UNESCO area. But as Vientiane (the capital) also has a curfew, I am not entirely sure if that is the whole story. Another strangely unexpected aspect of that night was that twice during the evening Damien was offered, unsolicited, drugs by tuk tuk drivers. Once was when he was going to the ATM and the other on the way home. When he was going to the ATM the tuk tuk driver asked him to sit up front with him and then pulled back a cover on his dashboard to reveal bags of pot and opium. This came as a bit of a shock to both of us, as this more seedy underside did not match our idealised view of it as a pristine monastic town.

This wasn’t the first time this happened to Damien though… maybe he has the “look”! When we were kayaking in Vang Vieng we stopped off for a beer at a riverside bar in the infamous tubing zone. We had met a couple of Swedes the day before, Theresa and Peter. Theresa and I had spied each other and she yelled out wanting to know if we would stop off for a while and join them. We had intended on cruising straight through but we are always keen for a yarn with new people and we had met them the day before and I had felt an instant affinity with Theresa and was happy to chat some more. As I was later to discover, Theresa was particularly keen for some company other than Peter!

As I sat chatting to Theresa and Peter, Damien returned with our beers and told me that he had been asked whether he would like a complimentary spliff with the beers! My first reaction was surprise but then that wasn’t for long as this town has unfortunately become notorious for the groups of tourists who come here to drink, take drugs and go tubing down the river. It is a shame that it has this reputation as I am sure it probably deters some people from visiting the town. But if you want to avoid this scene it’s really not hard to do, at least it wasn’t when we were there. Vang Vieng is truly breathtakingly beautiful and every time I raised my eyes and was confronted with the view of those sheer karst cliffs rising above the Nam Song (River Song) I was jolted again by its grandeur…. there were more than a few “How’s the serenity?” moments!

Yes, I was having “How’s the serenity” moments and poor old Theresa was having “Peter’s ruining the serenity” moments. There was clearly some tension between the two. We met for dinner and drinks later in the evening and when the boys went to play pool Theresa told me exactly why she was unthrilled about having to travel with Peter. Peter was a guy she worked with and they had travelled together for this short trip and things had not gone well very early in the piece. When they were in Vientiane Peter had bought some pot and proceeded to smoke it while they were down by the Mekong. Theresa was not interested in getting involved. The next minute Peter and Theresa were surrounded by the police, all with AK47’s and they were demanding they pay 7 million Kip (approx. A$900). So poor Theresa was left with the cops and the AK47’s while Peter went off to try and withdraw the cash from the ATM. He eventually returned but with less than the amount they demanded as he had reached his withdrawal limit. Peter said that Theresa would have to get the remainder out of her account. She was understandably angry about this as it had nothing to do with her in the first instance but luckily for Theresa, they accepted the cash Peter had produced and let them off the hook. So no surprises really that Theresa was not feeling too amorous towards Peter for involving her in this shitfight when she had herself done nothing illegal. To compound matters Peter had again taken it upon himself to smoke more weed in public after this scary episode. I felt really sorry for Theresa and glad that at least by meeting Damien and I she had some fun and a bit of a break from the not so cold war waging between Peter and herself.

It is easy to forget that all is not as it seems in Lao and that even is this apparently laid back and amiable society, you can still find yourself in hot water if you flaunt the rules. I was reminded of this again when we had dinner one night with Ivor, a Victorian fisheries worker who was involved in a fishing ladders project being funded by the Australian Government in Paksan. He relayed a story of one evening in Vientiane when he had been drinking at his mate’s bar down on the Mekong. It was past the curfew and the music was still pumping and no one looked close to calling it a night. They were suddenly surrounded by militia (Ivor said they were clearly not the police) with AK47’s and everyone at the bar very promptly called it a night.

These stories seem so completely incongruent with the way I feel about this country and the impression it has left on me. I was only saying tonight to Damien as we walked down the road in the dark to a restaurant that I feel so completely safe in this country. I have never once feared that someone would harm me or steal from me. I have found Lao people to be gentle, friendly, and considerate people and that will be my enduring recollection of them as a people when I leave.

Now that I’m at the very bottom of Laos about to head south into Cambodia, I’m encountering numerous travellers heading the other way who want to know what I think are the ‘must-see’ parts of this country. And to be honest, when I think about it there aren’t that many. But this place has a calming influence that permeates every aspect of life, and some of my best times here have been spent in smaller out-of-the-way places simply existing at the local pace.

Laos has its problems. It’s not a democracy: it’s a single-party State that combines low-level capitalism with high-grade cronyism. Transparency International ranks it as one of the most corrupt countries in the world, more corrupt than Sierra Leone, Bolivia, Pakistan, Indonesia or Ukraine. Only failed or pariah states like Somalia, Myanmar, Iran, Afghanistan and the other ‘Stans rank lower. That crudest measure of wealth, per capita GDP, at approximately US$850 per person per year places it within the forty poorest nations in the world (Australia measures around US$48,000 a year).

But it doesn’t feel so poor when you travel around. The majority of the population live in small rural villages and produce or gather all of their own food, selling what surplus they can for some cash, and generally this fact is not represented in official economic stats. Most kids go to school, even though the schools can be as simple as some chairs set up underneath a thatched awning. I’m not saying people don’t want more – I’m sure everyone would like some better mod-cons to make their life easier, or a new tractor, or scooter, or whatever. Better services such as health care are definitely needed. But there is unmistakably a joy of living and a generosity of spirit here that many “richer” countries lost long ago. And guilt-free enjoyment of the simple art of doing nothing: taking a daytime nap or lazing in a hammock is commonplace and unremarkable, and they haven’t even bothered to formalise it into a rigid siesta time…

So for me, with all the time that I’ve had to indulge, it’s been the quiet, local, relaxing places that have appealed as much as the obvious highlights. But for those planning a trip here (and I highly recommend it), this is my personal list of ‘must-see’ places:

Luang Prabang – an exotic mix of French colonial architecture, temples, the Mekong and high quality restaurants and bars. Not remotely like the rest of Laos because it is completely devoted to tourism, but definitely a highlight

Nong Khiaw – a tiny village north of Luang Prabang, best accessed by slow boat up the Nam Ou. Slow and lazy with guesthouses spread along the eastern shore so you watch the sun set from your balcony, there are some nice short tracks into nearby hills if you want to get active. Much nicer, so I’m told, that the nearby Muang Noi Neua which used to be idyllic but is now touristed to death

Vang Vieng – you have to pass through here when travelling between Vientiane and Luang Prabang, so why not stay a night or two? Great karst scenery, many caves to explore and tubing or kayaking on the river is available too. It’s known as a party town and you can have as big a night as you want here, but it’s easy to keep it quiet if preferred

Vientiane – the sleepiest capital in the world, spending a few days here soaking up the atmosphere is great. Dining on the banks of the Mekong at sundown, have a cheap but quality massage or spa treatment, an excellent range of local and international style restaurants, bars ranging from Lao-style beer barns to backpacker joints to classy nightclubs where jeans are out and cocktails are in… this place certainly hasn’t got it all but that’s part of the charm

Kong Lo cave – a seven-kilometre journey by boat underneath a mountain, passing through low tunnels and cathedral-like caverns on the way. I don’t know if it’s the largest cave in the world you can travel through without special equipment, but it certainly feels like it. Stay near the village for an even more exotic experience – almost everyone else comes here on a day-trip

Pakse – if you have time to come down south, Pakse is the perfect base to see an increasing range of great sights. The waterfalls and coffee plantations of the Bolaven Plateau, Wat Phu near Champasak, the elephants of Ban Kiet Ngong, loads of multi-day treks in every direction, all are available from here and the town’s got a sedate feel about it too. Make sure you have at least one drink or meal at the rooftop bar of the Pakse Hotel at sundown, the view there is spectacular

Si Phan Don – only a couple of hours south of Pakse, this is still a paradise-like island despite the increasing numbers of backpackers. Every famous tourist place like Waikiki, St Tropez or Phuket was once upon a time just home to a handful of villagers and the occasional traveller, and Si Phan Don feels like those places must have done before the hordes came. I would not be surprised in thirty years time to find it dominated by soulless hotels and resorts, for the time being there are still rice paddies and pigs and chickens and most locals don’t rely entirely on tourism to survive. It’s basic but that’s part of the charm, and it won’t stay like that forever

I have not been to every corner of Laos, so there may be other gems that I can’t talk about yet. There’s apparently great trekking around Luang Nam Tha in the northwest, and The Gibbon Experience up that way gets very strong support from everyone’s been there. Then there’s the Plain of Jars near Phonsavan, the wartime caves near Sam Neua, the elephants of Hongsa, truly remote trekking east of Attapeu… all good reasons for me to return too!

Si Phan Don (literally “four thousand islands”) is an idyllic part of the Mekong at the extreme south of Laos, on the border with Cambodia. There aren’t actually thousands of islands here but dozens, and the pace of life is dreamily slow. It has a reputation as a backpacker haven, a place where in the words of Lonely Planet life is “so laid back that you could imagine the islands just drifting downriver into Cambodia with barely anyone rolling out of their hammock in the process”. That might have been true five or ten years ago when it was difficult to cross the border, when coming to Si Phan Don required lots of time to get down here and then back up again after you’d had enough of chillin’. But now that through travel to Stung Treng and beyond in Cambodia is rididculously easy, it’s become an almost-mandatory start or end point for those visiting Laos for any length of time. The ‘Lonely Planet Effect’ has transformed the most popular islands of Don Det and Don Khon into what is effectively a giant backpacker resort: now there are dozens of small properties each with a few bungalows on or near the river, distributed up and down the banks of each island. It’s still a very peaceful and beautiful place, but it’s no longer as remote as when there were just a handful of simple shacks available for as little as a dollar a day.

I’d always intended to finish my trip to Laos there, and I still will, but I was expecting it to be quite crowded so I was also keen to find a different way to visit the area. When I discovered that the eco-tourism outfit Green Discovery offers two- or three- day kayaking trips to Si Phan Don I signed up as soon as I got to Pakse. To make it affordable I had to wait for some others to join the trip, and in the end the only people who were interested wanted to do a two-day trip instead of the three-day version I preferred. But it turned out two days was plenty, and along with the unique perspective offered by floating downriver we still got to visit all the highlights of the area and spend a night on Don Khon, so I now have a much better idea what to expect when I arrive there again tomorrow.

After a three-hour minibus ride to the boat landing that heads to Don Khong, by far the largest island in the area, we packed our gear into drybags and mounted up. Our party was small: just myself, Australian couple Tom and Belinda, and our guide Don (also known as Tigerman). Initially Don wanted he and I to share a kayak, but I was keen to paddle alone so I insisted on one by myself. After making it clear that it would be quite an effort as the kayaks were large and designed for two or three people, Don relented and he and I both had separate vessels while Tom and Belinda shared. I think Don was hoping I’d prefer to share too; now he had to paddle all the way by himself as well! The sun was bright and strong as we set off, and I quickly revelled in the freedom of paddling my way down the Mekong to Cambodia. Our first day involved a lot of paddling: close to 20 kms in fact, much of it into a stiff headwind, and I experimented with different strokes, rhythms, and grips throughout the day trying to find the most efficient way to move. The two-in-one kayak of Tom and Belinda had “turbo power” as Don said, and they set a strong pace that was an enjoyable effort to keep up with. I’ve never kayaked so far or so exotically in my life and I was loving it 🙂

Past riverside villages, a car ferry, kids playing in the water, people bathing or washing clothes, all under the penetrating glare of the unforgiving afternoon sun. Lunch on a small beach in the middle of the river was a picnic affair of sticky rice, noodles, vegetables, and most contentiously an array of cooked meats that probably flouted every food hygiene standard imaginable back in Australia. Lao sausage (essentially little balls of pig fat in small casings), diced chicken, strips of the popular local dried beef jerky, a large “fresh” pork sausage that looked rather uncooked in parts, and dried fish – all of which hadn’t seen a refrigerator for at least seven hours (if at all). It was an extensive but very typical Lao picnic and I hoed into everything except the fish. Tom and Belinda avoided all the meat, as they’re naturally cautious and had suffered food poisoning only the week before. My fingers were metaphorically crossed behind my back but I was hungry, and if it was good enough for Don it was good enough for me. I survived.

We pulled into Don Det late in the afternoon after more than five hours of paddling, and headed off to a lovely outdoor bar-restaurant to watch the sun set over the Mekong while our kayaks were towed away for the night. The sunset was spectacular and much better than the one in Vientiane; here you could see the sun descend all the way down into the hills of Cambodia without it getting lost in low hazy clouds. I will definitely return to this spot at least once before I leave Laos. After a hair-raising bike ride through the dark with little illumination and no brakes we arrived at our bungalows for the night on Don Khon, and the welcome relief of a shower and change of clothes. Before dinner Don treated us to a special ceremony called baci. This Lao tradition is performed whenever people arrive from or are about to set out on a big journey, and involves a shaman saying prayers and lighting candles before tying a number of white threads around your wrist. Before tying they are waved up and down your forearm while he intones words to the effect of “out with the bad energy, in with the good”. You wear the threads for at least three days, after which you can remove them but only by untying or pulling, never by cutting. It was a simple but special ritual, and Don said afterwards that in two years of working for Green DIscovery he had never before done this with foreigners. He felt we were a very good group of people, and I was humbled to be honoured in this way.

The next day we visited a famous temple on Don Khon, and were given a lengthy and detailed explanation of the life of Buddha before he became Buddha. Then to the massive Li Phi waterfall complex, a huge expanse of numerous rocky canyons and falls down which a good proportion of the Mekong tumbled. The French attempted to blow it up almost a hundred years ago pursuing their dream of creating a boat passage upriver, but one glance at the sheer extent of the rocky falls could tell you the plan was futile. It’s even more impressive in the rainy season, apparently. We put our kayaks into the river just below Li Phi, into a narrow chasm that still had quite a swift flow. Unlike yesterday we were instructed to wear our lifejackets and helmets and keep a good distance between the kayaks to avoid pile-ups, and I was the last to set off. Round the first bend was a small but fast rapid, and as I turned the corner I could see immediately that Don and Belinda had capsized. They were still hanging on to their craft and were floating to a large overhanging rock that formed a small and partially sheltered pool to the right. Don was trying to paddle back to them as I came through the gorge, and seeing what had happened I furiously moved to the right and came up beside their overturned kayak as they bobbed at each end. I held on to their kayak to see if I could help, but I soon noticed that my craft was being pulled towards the strong current of the main river flow. As Don pulled up and began to help Belinda out of the water, my kayak overturned and I was plunged into the river.

It happened so quickly that I barely had time to grab the cord that ran the length of the kayak, and all I knew was that my lifejacket would propel me to the surface as soon as possible. However the current had pushed me along and I surfaced underneath the kayak, unable to get clean air. I scrambled to be free, flailing, and cleared the kayak only to come face to face with the steep overhanging rock, still underwater. Suddenly a hand grabbed the back of my lifejacket and I was pulled to the surface, and I wrenched my headgear off in panic and gasped for breath. I was wearing a wide-brimmed hat underneath my helmet which was great sun-protection when floating on the river, but which hung wetly over my face when soaked and contributed to the feeling of drowning. I was probably only under for a couple of seconds but it was terrifying, and I calmed down only when I got a decent purchase on the rock and knew I wouldn’t be submerged again. Don was a champion in the crisis, and he herded Belinda and me and our two kayaks around the rock to a more protected area further down while he chased after a discarded paddle. Returning to us, he tied his kayak to ours and then swam upriver to rescue to Tom who was still clinging to the large rock. Don later explained that I should not have tried to help, instead I should have continued downriver until it was safe to turn around and wait for the others (or try and pick up anything that broke free and floated my way). It’s a lesson I have learnt the hard way and certainly will never forget.

It took another twenty minutes or so for us to collect ourselves and remount the kayaks, as we were all quite shaken. Fortunately our drybags remained lashed in place and we paddled carefully for a short while before pulling up to the rocky shore for lunch. We ate in almost complete silence, still processing what had happened. Don explained that there was only one more section that would be tricky, and he went as far as drawing a map to explain how best to approach it. The current would try to take us around to the right but we wanted to go straight on, so we had to keep left and paddle like mad to break free of the flow and head in the right direction. Our kayaks were designed for calm waters not rapids, so they were much more likely to tip than usual. As we’d found out… this time we were all extremely careful and made it through without a problem, and we could then focus on the highlight of the whole trip that was an hour downriver: the very rare Irrawaddy dolphins.

There are now less than a hundred of these creatures in the world, and they only live in this stretch of the Mekong. Distinguished by their short noses and very short stubby dorsal fins, at least a few of these are almost always visible in the afternoon at a particular spot just south of Don Khon. Tourist boats take sightseers to a couple of vantage points on the river, but neither of them get you anywhere near as close as we went. After a tough hour’s paddle including some broad low rapids we entered the dolphin zone, and Don ordered us to keep silent and paddle as quietly as possible as we approached. After a few minutes his eagle eye spotted a pair in the distance, and we slowly headed towards them. It was a good five minutes before I could see anything, but eventually I saw first one then another dolphin’s back arc over the water. For the next forty minutes we gradually crept towards them, floating in silence and wonder as they continued to surface every minute or two with a gentle pfffft of air. Drifting on the river, we got as close as 100m to the Cambodian shore before finally setting off again to our final stop. It was much more special than I expected and the best moment of the entire journey.

After disembarking and somehow loading all three kayaks in a vertical stack on top of our minivan, we drove a short distance to the spectacular Khon Phapheng waterfall. Billed as the largest waterfall in south-east Asia by volume, tens of thousands of litres of water a second gush down a large horseshoe-shaped waterfall and several side falls in an imposing demonstration of nature’s force. Apparently the three-day kayak trip has you paddle near the edge of the TOP of the falls; I was even happier that we were on the two day option after I heard that! We were all tired by this stage and running quite late, but the late afternoon light was perfect and I managed to get a couple of good photos before returning to the van for the long trip home. Despite the mishap and the very tired body afterwards, this tour was the best two-day period I’ve had on the entire trip so far 😀

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something, a transition point between what was and what will be. But it’s frustratingly hard to define beyond that… perhaps it’s best not to force it. I should just do what I do and see what comes of it. And Pakse is as good a place as any for such contemplations…

For a couple of weeks now I’ve felt vaguely unfulfilled with where my travels are at. Not that I’m over Laos – far from it – it’s just that after five or six weeks here I feel like I have the measure of the place, that I understand it well enough to find staying here easy. Since Paksan(probably before then actually) I have not been fazed by the practicalities of getting around, getting a room, being fed and watered; whether in English or Lao I can manage my way here perfectly well now. Which means the wonder of the country has faded somewhat. Most places here are much like the others: relaxed, lazy even, with a gentle approach to life that feels both natural and pleasantly indulgent. Maybe too my desire to shut down and relaaax has finally run it’s course and I’m simply eager for more action? The truth is there are few attractions worthy of the name between Kong Lo cave and Pakse, so perhaps I’ve just been bored!

Pakse, in the far south of the country, is a fine place to be suffering this dilemma. It offers the best combination of Laos lifestyle and western tourist infrastructure I’ve yet come across. There are enough western-style hotels and guesthouses, restaurants and tour options to keep any traveller interested, yet it is understated and still undeniably Lao in atmosphere. And it’s not a busy place: though westerners and locals appear in equal numbers on the streets it is a sedate town where the streets are mostly empty and nothing hurries. There are loads of attractions in this province: nearby is the elevated coolness of the Bolaven Plateau with some spectacular waterfalls, there are several national parks with loads of trekking and kayaking options, the ancient ruins of Wat Phu Champasak which predate Ankor Wat in Cambodia are only an hour away, and the near-comatose serenity of the islands of Si Phan Don is just a couple of hours south.

Pakse is the last large town in Laos I can stay in before heading to Cambodia, and I’m reluctant to leave this country yet. I guess I don’t want the spell to end so I’ve spent almost a week in the area already, and will spend another week or so more before finally moving on. I haven’t been completely idle though: a one-day tour trekking to several waterfalls on the nearby Bolaven Plateau also took us to a tea plantation, the markets of Paksong and a model village where several minority groups are on display and sensitively explained; and I’ve just finished a two-day kayak trip to the Cambodian border which was awesome (and about which I’ll post separately shortly). Learning how to ride an elephant next week will also be a great experience, or perhaps just a unique and very memorable distraction?

I guess what I’m really feeling is the change in tone of this trip brought about by the sheer passage of time. Until now it has felt gloriously open-ended, and I genuinely haven’t given a thought to how much time is left or the fact that I will, eventually, have to return home. But even though I’m not quite at the halfway point I can already feel the downward slide, the inevitable increase in pressure caused by the knowledge that as every day passes I get one step closer to calling time on this idyllic journey. It’s a real catch-22: I’ve greatly enjoyed my time in Laos and I don’t want this part of the journey to stop, but I know that if I stay too long I’ll sully the memory of it. Yet while I know it’s time to move on soon I’m still hesitating at the point where I have to say goodbye… but I won’t whine any further. I know I’m very fortunate to be in this spot: it’s the kind of dilemma most people would kill to have to deal with 😉