travel

The World Conservation Society has operated a research centre on the banks of the Nam Kading river for several years, and recently they’ve opened it up to travellers who want to stay there. The guidebook mentions it and it piqued my interest, so when I saw a current brochure about the place in Vientiane I made contact by email. It sounded intriguing: accessible only by boat or a rough road and in a picturesque location on the edge of the Nam Kading national park, it promised basic but comfortable digs from which you can explore the area. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to go until the morning I left Paksan – indeed I didn’t really make the decision until I was standing at the bus station…

It was worth the effort. My first trip on a sawng-thaew, a flatbed truck converted to carry passengers with two benches running lengthways down the tray and a canopy above. It’s the most common form of transport in rural areas, best-suited and most frequently available for journeys of up to 50-100kms, and I’d seen them all over northern Laos but never had the need to catch one before now. After jumping off at Ban Nongkham, a tiny speck of a settlement barely worth a name, it was a short trip on the back of a motorcycle (I was too lazy to walk it) to the banks of the river, where for 80,000 kip ($11) a longtail boat took me upriver for half an hour to the research centre. The centre has the feeling of a school adventure camp, situated high on the riverbank with several raised wooden buildings in a gentle forest glade. The pristine Nam Kading river can be seen through the trees, and the “Boys Own” feel was accentuated by the three young male staff on site. I was the only guest staying there that night, it turned out.

After settling in to my room – I had the pick of eight identical cells each with two single beds, mosquito nets, pillows, blankets, and nothing else – I asked for some lunch as I hadn’t had breakfast. There was no menu offered, I simply heard some chopping and frying taking place in the open kitchen underneath one of the huts (it turned out to be a tasty mix of sauteed shiitake mushrooms, fried eggs and sticky rice). While it was being prepared the head guy there, a boy-man called Khong who was probably twenty-something but looked younger, began his soft-sell about the various treks they have to offer. None of them really appealed, especially as the supposed highlights were a couple of waterfalls that looked like small rapids (at best) from the pictures. Even with my new-found adventure focus I don’t want to traipse through remote jungle unless there’s something worthy to look at! It made me wonder just how much research is actually done at this place, though to be fair it was the day after Christmas and most of the normal crew were probably back home with their families. I chose instead for the low-key option of being boated upriver a short way to the nearest “waterfall”, and then tubing back. I use inverted commas for the “waterfall” because while it’s big enough to prevent a boat going upriver, it doesn’t fall that far. Two metres, actually, hardly a big attraction in my book but it was located in a picturesque part of the valley. Getting there involved scrambling over rocks for quite a while, and the tubing started with a leap off the edge of the falls into the cool water below. We didn’t float very far downriver, but it was fun while it lasted and much more relaxing that doing the same thing in the tubing heaven/hell of Vang Vieng.

That was the highlight of the day, in terms of action. Because I didn’t want to trek the boys left me to my own devices, and I happily sat at an outdoor bench overlooking the river and started a new book. The peace was almost complete, broken only by different birdsongs and a very occasional engine rumbling past the road behind the camp. Dinner was served early at 6pm, and all four of us tucked into a simple but delicious meal of sauteed cauliflower with shreds of beef, fried egg, sticky rice and mushroom soup with lemongrass. I crashed out very early, and later I heard some motos arrive as the boys had some guests from the nearby village over. Guitars were brought out and I was tempted to join, but an unexplained fatigue took me off to sleep before I could act. Waking the next morning I was still tired, and somewhat cold as a powerful wind had developed overnight and was still blowing hard. Breakfast was yet more sticky rice with fried egg and diced beef, then afterwards another boat and moto trip back to the main road to head further south. The Nam Kading Research Centre was an interesting and definitely off-the-beaten-track place to stop, though I’d recommend it only if you have oodles of time to spare or are very keen on getting into the wilderness of central Laos.

Getting to Paksan was by far the best bus journey I’ve had so far. After a couple of weeks of being in big cities and hanging around lots of other travellers, I felt a strong urge to get away from them all as far as possible. Which made my choice of transport a no-brainer when I wanted to head to south: local buses all the way.

There are numerous “VIP” buses and minivans that offer to deliver you in relative comfort from Vientiane to the tourist hotspots of Tha Kaek, Savannakhet and Pakse, and they’re all good value. But they are almost entirely patronised by westerners, many of whom don’t have the time to visit the spaces in between. I was looking for a different experience this time, and the VIP buses also leave very early in the morning which did not appeal at all. So I rose when I felt like it, did some Christmas Day contacting and then got a tuk-tuk to the southern bus station. There was a local bus leaving to Paksan in half an hour – perfect. And it was dirt cheap: the 9km tuk-tuk to the bus station cost 50,000 kip (A$7), whereas the 100km+ journey to Paksan cost only half that 🙂

The bus left exactly on time, which was a bit of a shock. But we only made it two hundred metres before it slowed down to let more than a dozen hawkers on board. They agressively went up and down the aisle trying to flog drinks, chewing gum, books, barbequed chicken, sticky rice and more, and it was another twenty minutes before we set of in earnest. Stopping frequently to pick up more passengers on the way, the conductor got increasingly creative with the seating arrangements as the bus filled. When every seat was taken, he produced from nowhere a large plastic stool so the next guy could sit in the aisle in comfort. When more got on, they were directed to the lumpy sacks filling the back half of the aisle. Later arrivals simply leaned against the nearest post. I was the only westerner on board, and I was joined on my seat by a young man who was returning to his home village just south of Paksan. He’d been competing in the South East Asian Games which have just finished in Vientiane, and he’d won his division of boxing. He was very proud of the fact and discreetly showed me the gold medal hidden in his beltbag.

Once out of town the ride was a dream, and completely different from travelling in the north. The road is flat, straight, paved and almost bump-free, which mean we could overtake safely and travel at the rare speed of 50 kmh or more! Several times we slowed to pick up or set down, or to invite more food sellers on who hawked their wares as the bus slowly rattled a few kilometres down the road. They got off well away from their start point, presumably to wait for the next bus heading the opposite direction so they could try again. The bus was ancient, of course, but it was still kitted out with a television and dvd player in the console above the driver’s head. That’s one thing I’ve noticed here: no matter how old the bus, how crappy the seats or how rough the suspension, Laotians certainly know how to wire together a sound system. Even on the juddering ride to Phongsali there was an old amplifier strapped beside the driver, and quality speakers lashed to posts throughout the bus. They sounded fantastic, burrowing the Lao and Thai pop that was blaring away endlessly deep into your head. It’s not as awful as it might seem.

Arriving in Paksan earlier than I expected, I wandered from the bus stop to where a decent guesthouse and restaurant were supposed to be and took stock of the place. My guidebook is dismissive (“we’d like to say there is nothing much to see in Paksan, but that would be overstating it”), but for my needs at the moment the fact it’s right is not the point. For a change I was looking for somewhere that tourists barely notice, let alone stop in, and this fits the bill perfectly. It’s actually the first place that’s made me think of an Australian country town. Situated on a flat plain and broadly distributed around a river crossing, the main road – the highway – has shops and other services spread distantly along its length, and the side roads are wide and quiet. There are suburban houses (or the local equivalent of, anyway), even picket fences in places, and further from the main road are pastures, crops and sparse bush. And it’s hot. If I start seeing cattlemen in Akubras walking down the street, I’ll lay off the Beerlao for a while.

later…

Walking down the road a few kilometres to the river. Kids hurtle past, rushing away from school on scooters. By the rushed shore of the wide, languid Mekong two women tend fishing nets in the afternoon sun. Thailand nestles prosperous on the far shore. Past a large field where youngsters play volleyball watched by their parents, Christmas carols blasting loudly from the sound system. In English. I remember from the guidebook that this part of Laos has a high proportion of Christians, improbably. It feels like any other country suburbia. I see no westerners apart from an older woman with cropped blonde hair riding past. We wave at each other heartily – perhaps she’s the French woman who’s also staying at my guesthouse tonight? We carry on our ways. Later at the nearby restaurant, reading, sipping a cool beer in the dark evening. Later still some outstandingly fresh fish, battered and deep fried. Cut vertically to make the bones easy to avoid, it’s delicious. Now I know why a constant stream of people drop by to pick up takeaway, the oil’s sizzle heralding the despatch of yet another meal. A brief chat with an older man who installs solar panels up and down the country. He wonders why am I not celebrating Christmas today? Back at the guesthouse I sit on the balcony writing this post. Pop music wafts loudly from a neighbouring house, muted by the shrill of crickets. From the gloom a figure approaches: It is the french woman, the same one I saw this afternoon. We sit for several hours chatting about our travels and I get and give lots of useful advice. When we part at 11.30pm the music from the nearby house has been replaced by an indistinct low male voice. It is a wedding, I’m told. Back in my room I finish my book: William Boyd’s well-written but somewhat unsatisfying Brazzaville Beach. Tired, sleep comes quickly, a calm, fulfilling rest. Tomorrow will be even more remote.

Last year I spent Christmas in Qingdao in northern China, where the highlight of the day was a decadent two and a half hour foot and body massage followed by a walk around town in near-freezing conditions. This year I’ll be spending it on a bus heading to southern Laos, and the temperature will top 30 degrees before 11am. The memory of Christmas past is still a little too raw to be in Australia or New Zealand right now.

My second stay in Vientiane has been another relax-fest, though for the first full day I was ill so I simply spent it lounging around my hotel room with its view over the Mekong River. Since then it’s been good food, some random meetings with other travellers, a luxurious two hour massage, walking, tv time and reading. Yesterday I faced a choice: get a bus outta town or stay one more day. I was conflicted because I felt like I was idling needlessly, but then I remembered that is in fact the point of this journey! To have the freedom to sit still if that’s what I wanted. Decision made, it was a fine day 🙂

Bloody hot too, a perfect pool day, so I hired a bike and rode out to the Australian Embassy Recreation Club. It apparently has the best pool in the city and until a couple of years ago it was open to all upon payment of a day fee. But I discovered on arrival that it’s now exclusively for members – not even expats from other countries can join. I later found a blog post from two years ago that said it used to be a popular meeting place for expats, especially wives of embassy-types with young children. But in its wisdom the Australian Government has closed it off to outsiders, so I was forced to find another option. Fortunately the Settha Palace Hotel has a fine pool which you can use for a fee without staying there, and though noone was around it was a nice place to kill a couple of hours and work on the tan.

Today I’m ready to move, though I still don’t exactly where I’m going. The short-term goal is Kong Lo Cave, a river that runs for seven kilometres underneath a mountain. It’s apparently spectacular and one of the best natural wonders of Laos. But there are several other places on the way that sound interesting, so I don’t know exactly when I’ll get there… I’m simply going to go to the southern bus station shortly and see what’s leaving when I get there. I may be off-the-grid for a few days, but will definitely be online again within a week when I get to Tha Kaek.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!