Chiang Khan: Small Town Life with Friends

Things are moving along faster than I can both experience AND record. So I'l skip Khon Kaen, only temporarily because it was a delightful experience, to tell you a bit about our arrival in Chiang Khan yesterday afternoon. This is a small town right on the banks of the Mekong River in Thailand, looking across the river to Laos. It is where our friends, Dtaw and Katie Tiparos and their two sons, Tahn and Cody, are living for awhile. Like us, they have rented their home in Portland for a year and are having an amazing adventure. Unlike us, they have deep Thai roots, as Dtaw grew up here and his extended family lives here, including his mom, just across the street!

We had met up with Katie and Tahn in Chiang Mai a few weeks ago for lunch and a tour of a beautiful city museum. However, I was intrigued with seeing the more typical small town where they are living. So we made plans to take a couple of buses to get here from Khon Kaen for a couple of days on our way back to Chiang Mai.

We arrived yesterday, after 4 hours on a bus and 1 hour in a sorng-ta-aouw (a truck-like bus with benches along the side for passengers). When we arrived in Chiang Khan, we called Katie and got directions to their home, not far, as the town is small. Hugs and greetings all around were followed by water and conversation on the patio of their home. Nearby I could see the low table, books, and mats where Katie and the boys do their home schooling.

As we followed Katie and Tahn to the local guest house which Katie had found and arranged for us, we were joined briefly by Dtaw's mom. She is a sweet woman who clasped our hands warmly and told us that she has 4 sons who also are teachers, like us!

The guest house is lovely! It is 3 stories tall, and we are on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows all around, giving us the feel of being in a tree house. (I remember the same sensation when I first saw the "new" top floor classrooms at Breakwater!). We can look out over the town and see the golden Buddha statue atop a hill where Dtaw's brother is the head abbot, another tall hill over-looking the town, and also the banks of the Mekong beyond which is Laos.

Dinner last evening was quite magic - outside on mats on the patio where I imagine that most socializing and family life takes place at Katie and Dtaw's home. While dinner was being prepared by Dtaw, Bruce and I joined an impromptu badminton game with Tahn and Cody and a friend on the narrow street (soi) in front of their home. It quickly became apparent that I need some serious practice. Can I use the darkening sky as an excuse for missing the birdie so often?

Dtaw's dinner was exotic and delicious, full of herbs and tastes that were new to us. One dish was created with fish from the Mekong River and was served on a large banana leaf. Another had eggplant in a coconut milk sauce. Fresh herbs were picked from plants beside the patio. No silverware was necessary, as we used balls of sticky rice to scoop up the meal from a communal bowl. Dtaw's mom joined us and, as adjunct hostess, urged us to eat lots of food. No urging was needed: the tastes were fantastic! Dessert consisted of a an incredible banana in coconut milk creation, so simple-appearing but with subtle combo of tastes. Yum.

The boys went off to see friends after dinner. We chatted with Dtaw and Katie about their lives here, their plans for an upcoming family bike trip to China, to be followed by a stint of public school enrollment here for the boys and teaching for Katie. Eventually, we made our way back to our little aerie at the guest house. It had been a delightful introduction to life in a small Thai town. We can't wait to have Tahn show us more!

half way

Hello, webbworldtour readers. Hard to believe that we are a little more than half way through our journey. Bruce, the forward-thinking, never-flagging member of the team, is already pondering and researching the date, cost-effectiveness, and place of departure for our return to Maine in early August. What an incredible job he has done to keep us legal - every country has such complex and unique entry rules - and to have a bed waiting for us at every turn and to have a steady supply of resources so that we have cash when we need it. No wonder the poor man needs his afternoon nap! I am deeply grateful for his hard work to make this all happen.

As you know, my job is just recording it all:   in photos, in blogs, through emails, as well as my journal. Which brings us to the point of wondering whether what we are recording is what YOU are wondering about. Sending posts out into the stratosphere, having no idea where they are landing or with whom or what the reaction is, leaves us in doubt. So, please give a shout here, in the comments section, or by email to lwebb34@gmail.com to let us know. What is it about these fascinating cultures that interests YOU?

Lazy in Laos

Today is our last day in Laos and, after 2 and a half weeks here, we are heading back to Thailand in the morning. Laos has been an unexpected delight for us, with much to absorb, learn and experience. We had no plans to come here until our New Zealand friends, who took a detour here earlier, persuaded us to include it on our itinerary. It was quite an adventure to get to Luang Probang, requiring a two day boat trip down the Mekong river. The city was the ancient capital of the country and a slightly decrepit -but in a good way - crumbling French colonial town . We loved the laid back feel of the place, the good food, and the gentle people. It was a real contrast to Chiang Mai, which is a bustling modern city with lots of mind- numbing traffic and many American fast food chains. In Luang Probang, we could feel ourselves exhaling a bit and slowly getting into the rhythm of what Asia might have been a few years ago. No McDonalds or 7-Elevens.

Since we had two weeks there, we could take some time exploring the various sights and also take time to relax. I have been battling a chronic respiratory infection which only now seems to be clearing up, thanks to our German doctor friend and the time to rest. Our daily schedule included breakfast at our lodgings, a walk around town during the morning when the temps were cooler, a mid-morning fruit shake (crushed ice with fresh pineapple, mango, or banana - delicious) a leisurely lunch, and then back to our hotel for a nap or down time during the hottest time of the day. Around five, we would sip a leisurely Beer Lao - good beer for about $1.20 a liter - and discuss our dinner options. We have been eating out nearly every meal in Asia since it is usually cheaper and easier than preparing our own meals - a common custom here. Not only that, but we have no facilities for cooking!

We have been especially cautious about eating street food and have done so only sporadically - acutely aware of the consequences of a bad choice. Ironically, the only serious episode occurred when Linda ordered a mushroom soup at an upscale restaurant and was sick all night long. Thankfully, she recovered quickly and we have stayed safe by choosing to eat in established (permanent) street front restaurants rather than the portable types. We have found that it is best if the food is prepared in the open, cooked well, and peeled or washed carefully - but you can't always tell so there is an element of risk in a society that doesn't have the same level of food safety as at home. We have tried to be careful but you just never know if a place is completely safe and you have to assume that a place that serves tourists doesn't want to risk making its customers sick.

One of the biggest factors in the laid-back atmosphere here is the heat - which is increasing as we approach April - the hottest month. The mornings are surprisingly cool but by 10am, the heat is palpable and by noon, it's easily in the 90s. Not surprisingly, the folks here make great use of the shade offered by the lush trees, awnings, buildings, and umbrellas. We are surprised by how many people cover up completely with long sleeves, gloves, face masks, and neck coverings. We learned that sun-darkened skin is a sure sign that you work in the fields - as a peasant at the lower rung of society and thus something to be avoided. We also notice that people tend to retreat to their houses during the heat of the day. In the evening, the streets are really bustling as folks tend to come out to do their shopping, cook on the streets, and hang out - in the open. Unlike Guatemala, there is a very active street life and people seem to live outside with little privacy between their living quarters and the street. We see little of the walled-off, private compounds that we observed in Antigua. It also seems much safer here.

We have been impressed by how friendly the Lao people are - especially given their treatment by the Americans and the French over the past 200 years. Of course, 40% of the population is under the age of 14!  We went to an exhibit in LP showing the problem with unexploded ordinance that continues to kill and maim someone nearly every day.  It was sobering to learn that Laos had more ordinance dropped on it during the war in Vietnam than was dropped during all of World War II. Much of this ordinance was cluster bombs which are 500 pound bombs filled with 650 little "bombies" - about the size of a big tennis ball - that are designed to fling their lethal contents far and wide. The problem is that over 30% if these bombies never exploded on contact and remain active and buried in the ground: in rice fields, in streams, and in ditches, mostly in rural areas. People who inadvertently come in contact with these devices can activate them and get killed or seriously injured. This is an especially serious problem with children who find these devices and think they are toys. That is why the Laotian government has undertaken an education program to teach rural children not to touch them. It is also the reason that Laos is a leader in organizing commitments from the international community to never use cluster bombs again. Has the US signed on? We saw no evidence of that.  This was a grim reminder that the impact of the war is still being felt by the most innocent people here.

A sampling of the weapons of mass destruction visited upon the Laotian population during the Second Indochina War - what we refer to as the Vietnam War.

The cluster bombs filled with many, many "bombies", the name that the Laotians use in referring to the small bombs inside the big one.


During our stay here, we had the privilege of getting to know a few young people who are trying to improve their skills in English so that they can improve their chances of getting a decent paying job in the tourist industry. These kids are all very poor and typically from the countryside, but they are acutely aware that their path to a better life is through education and especially the acquisition of English language skills. We were surprised that even some of the young novice monks in the temples are eager to learn English. These kids can enter the wats as early as 10 years of age and often do so because their parents see this as an opportunity to escape poverty or they cannot afford to support them. Many young boys enter the wat and stay for a few years to get an education before leaving to get jobs. Not many actually become full-time monks after their early years.

After two weeks in LP, we embarked on a long, 11 hour, arduous bus trip to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. We had been warned about the trip and advised to take the VIP bus rather than a minibus van. The bus was very comfortable with nice seats and air conditioning, but the road was just unbelievably twisty, rough, and narrow. It's about 230 miles long and winds through high mountains, along cliffs with no guard rails, through small villages, and is the major highway, north to south. The road is mostly paved but many stretches were washed out during last year's flooding and have not yet been repaired. During the trip, we got a glimpse of rural poverty, as well as the beautiful mountainous landscape that covers much of Laos. In one village, as we waited for a huge on-coming truck filled with tree trunks to pass by, we watched out the window as a mom scrubbed her bare-naked little boy under the village water spout. Our huge bus rushed through sleepy villages, leaving us fearful for the safety of young children along the roadsides and small herds of cows or goats ambling across the road. Finally, as evening approached, we pulled into the bus station in Vientiane and found a tuk-tuk to our hotel - happy to be safe after such a long trip.

Vientiane has a large city feel and is not as laid back as LP - but is still less bustling than Thailand. The heat is more intense here, the humidity is higher, and the haze is still as bad as it was in LP. It seems that the farmers in Laos burn their fields at this time of year to promote the growing of mushrooms that they can sell in the market. The result is that the air is thick with smoke which makes it hard to breathe and obscures the visibility. Last night, we went to a riverfront bar to watch the sunset over the Mekong and couldn't see a thing because of the heavy haze. This impacts not only Laos but is worse in Chiang Mai, which has declared an air quality alert because of the smoke. The Lao and Thai governments are trying to stop the practice, but it is still common in both countries and a real health problem for the people.

In reflecting back on our experience in Laos we have been surprised at how much we enjoyed our experience here. Although it was only a brief sojourn, we were touched by the poor kids in LP trying to improve their lives through learning English, the beauty of the landscape, the intensity of the climate, and the gentleness of the people. We were also touched by the people who are struggling with difficult economic and political conditions and doing so with grace and courage.

Hanging out in Luang Prabang

We arrived in Vientiane, Laos, last evening after a 10.5 hour bus ride - on a VIP bus! Although it's always fun to discover the delights of a new city, Luang Prabang is still dear to our hearts. It was the kind of peaceful, quiet city that makes you want to just relax and hang out. The afternoon heat certainly reinforces that idea, and it just happens to be Bruce's idea of a good time. Even I, intrepid explorer that I am, was usually forced to retreat to the shadiest spot that we could find to wait for the slightly cooler evening air to descend - and for BeerLao time at about 5pm!

Here are some of the places that we found where we could be still, trying to exert ourselves as little as possible to reduce the sweating. The photos will also give you a flavor of the city, which I found to be a photographer's dream! Is it a coincidence that many of these places involve food?

I think that this spot with its overstuffed chairs and delicious fruit smoothies, overlooking the Mekong River, was Bruce's favorite, for obvious reasons!

This spot was called "Utopia" and it was pretty nearly that. We spent one afternoon lying propped up on cushions, reading and watching fishermen and kids in the Nam Khan River below us.

This was Bruce's most frequent afternoon locale: our own room. We used the mosquito netting for a few nights but getting tangled up in it in the middle of the night is a little annoying. After consulting with other bungalow mates, we decided that we didn't really need it. Being vigilant mosquito swatters and using the overhead fan seemed to ensure our defense against malaria and dengue fever as effectively as the netting did.

The National Palace grounds were lovely, featuring this reflecting pool filled with carp. It was a wonderful spot to sit - and reflect!

This laid back eating and hanging out venue sits on the opposite side of the small Nam Khan River. To get there, we had to cross over the river on a bamboo foot bridge, which exists only during the dry season. It gets swept away during the rainy season, necessitating the building of a new bridge each year. Once we got there, we sprawled out on cushions and treated ourselves to the most delicious "tasting" platter of LP specialities, like river weed that has been flash dried into thin sheets, similar to nori, and then topped with sesame seeds and peanuts. Yum.

The bamboo bridge made a really cool creaking sound and bounced a little as we walked on it.

We didn't get quite this relaxed but the temple compounds were quiet, gentle places to sit and just BE. Bruce is good at this. Perhaps that's why a couple of young novices approached him one day as he sat (and I roamed around with my camera). They asked him if he was interested in the Buddha. He actually was interested in THEM and their lives in the temple. They had quite a good chat there in the temple garden.

On our last day in Luang Prabang, Bruce hung out with his book here in the cafe of this weaving and natural dyeing center, also overlooking the Mekong, while I toured around to my heart's content.

There is an innocent, unspoiled quality to Luang Prabang. Despite the growing numbers of tourists who are discovering this beautiful UNESCO Heritage Site, it maintains an almost spiritual presence. I can't say that we'll return. The chore of getting there and getting out (unless by air) is a bit arduous, as we learned on our bus ride to Vientiane. That seems to assure that the tourists who do go there are either young and robust or wealthy enough to wing their way. If either of those descriptions fits you, go while it's still so lovely!

The Language Everyone Wants to Speak

One of the delights of staying in a guest house is that breakfast is usually a rather social affair. Here at the Bellevue Bungalows in Luang Prabang (go to their website to see more), we eat outside and often meet new sojourners and hear their travel tips. That was the case with Julie and Alan, travelers from Wales, who told us about a drop-in center in LP where they had been teaching English to eager young learners. Apparently many students here study English but rarely have an opportunity to practice. An American man has hit upon the brilliant idea of using that pent-up tourist desire to "connect" in a useful way, even though the tourists are here for only a short time. Julie and Alan had spoken with such enthusiasm about their experience that I was intrigued. However, I was still too curious about the sights of the city to commit myself to a schedule. That was the first week.

By the second week, after visiting too many temples to count, I was ready to turn my attention elsewhere. I decided to give "Big Brother Mouse" a try. Despite its rather silly name, the center is a "hoppin'" place each evening from 5pm - 7pm. While Bruce rested and read during the hot part of the afternoon on Monday, I found out where the center was located and was there by 4:30pm, ready for whatever was going to happen! What happened was that almost immediately, Lee, a 14 year old student, arrived and sat down with me at a long table. Lee had a small notepad filled with random English words that he had written down, along with the Lao/Hmong translation. He began by politely asking my name and where I was from. After a few more conversational niceties, he went to the sparsely filled bookshelf and picked out a book to read aloud.

Lee and another student outside Big Brother Mouse.

Meanwhile, several other young men trickled in and joined us. They were all teenagers, ranging in age from 14 to 19. Most were high school students who attended school during the day and then filled out their day with this 2 hour session of conversational practice! Many lived with an uncle or other family member in LP, so that they could attend high school. Their parents and siblings were back in their village several hours away. I invited them all to take turns reading the book that Lee had selected. As they read, I would help them with pronunciation; they would jot down words that they didn't know; in between, they would ask me questions about myself.

Eager students and English-speaking tourists crowd into the Big Brother Mouse classroom space each evening.

The book that Lee chose that first evening was a children's picture book about a cow named Cushie Butterfield who played sick on school days so that she wouldn't have to go to school. What an ironic story for this uber-motivated young man to select! I wasn't sure that he could even understand why anyone would want to do that, given the great lengths that he and his buddies went to for their schooling. There also were expressions like "fit as a fiddle" and "under the weather" that I'm sure these kids will never have occasion to use. But there were also some useful concepts like days of the week and colors. The collection of students varied widely, not only in age but also in their English skill level. What was consistent was their gracious politeness and their incredible hunger to learn English, mostly as a way to better their lives through the tourism industry. They were, without exception, delightful!

Big Brother Mouse storefront and classroom

At the end of that first evening, I learned that Lee was going "my" way on his way to catch a bus for his 40 minute ride home. We chatted as we walked together in the warm evening. On our way past the crepe stand, Bruce, crepe in hand, spotted me. We invited Lee to join us for a bowl of noodle soup. Bruce was immediately smitten, as I had been. It wasn't difficult to convince him to come with me the next evening.

So that is how we have been spending our evenings this week. We're not sure that we are helping all that much, but it has been a gift to us in opening up the real lives of real kids here in Laos. The experience has evolved. At the end of our second evening, Yeng asked us to come with him to meet Carol, an amazing American woman who has developed a library and resource center, called My Library (you can google that, too), where young folks gather to use the computers, read books, play games, make puzzles. Though the place was full, it was quiet as could be with intent energy spent on absorbing and figuring out stuff.

Bruce drops in at "My Library", which is filled with kids on this Saturday morning.

Then Yeng took us directly across the street to a temple compound, where his American friend, Michael, teaches English every evening to young monks in a big open building. Michael, as it turns out, is a Bates College grad. He was eager to see us and invited us to return one evening to work with HIS students. We did that last evening, instead of going to Big Brother Mouse. Michael, who has named his small project SMILE, is a one-man English teaching school. He attracts about a dozen teenage monks on any given evening, and they work on learning the language that everyone seems to want to speak. On the evening that we visited, we held conversations with the boys, which gave us a little glimpse into the life of a novice and how a young man would happen to join the religious life. We felt privileged to have this opportunity. Bruce did a great job of creating engaging and fun vocabulary games.

Looking through the gate to Wat Non at the brick building in the compound, without glass in the windows, where Michael holds his nightly classes.

What we have taken away from our quite extraordinary and serendipitous experience is an awareness of not only the impressive drive among the students but also the astonishing commitment of ordinary individuals who have chosen to leave their first world homes to devote their time and resources to improving the lives of these adolescents. It’s been humbling.

alms giving: an ancient tradition

One morning last week, Bruce and I arose at 5:15am in order to observe the Buddhist monks collecting alms. It's part of the tradition of being a monk.   Each morning long lines of teenage boys dressed only in orange robes, each carrying a metal bowl, emerge from their temples to proceed on a route where observant Buddhists, mostly women, are ready with food to donate to them. If I understand correctly, this tradition allows the monks to devote themselves to meditation and study without having to earn a living. It also demonstrates their vows of poverty and humility. For the devout, it means that they can "make merit" which brings goodness into their lives. It is a somewhat serious, quiet, and meditative process which has been rather sullied of late by disrespectful tourists who intrude by taking photos, talking loudly, etc.- you know, all the things that tourists are known for.

Bruce and I were sure that we could maintain a respectful distance from the process, taking only the most subtle of photos. It was dark when we slipped out of our bungalow garden and across the bridge spanning the Nam Khan River. The occasional street food vendor was beginning to light her fire for the day. A few motor scooters with headlights on zipped past us. The air was cool, and I was glad that I had my long sleeve shirt on top of my blouse.

Right in "our" own neighborhood, just beyond the bridge, we first encountered middle-aged women with sticky rice baskets, sitting in neighborly clusters along the sidewalk. I was rather excited at this evidence that the ancient tradition really did still take place. We pushed on, not knowing for sure at what time the monks made their rounds in the center of the city, where most of the temples are located.

As we scurried down the nearly empty main street, still in darkness, a Lao woman scooted up beside me, asking if we were looking for the monks. Thinking that she wanted to be helpful, I quickly said, “Yes.” Bruce was trying to ignore her, and he had not slowed his pace. In the next instant, I realized that she wanted to sell me some rice to give to the monks, as she deftly pulled out a basket already full of warm sticky rice and a plastic platter with bananas. I was holding them both by the time that she asked for several thousand kip. I told her that I had only Thai Baht. No problem! She shot back with a price of 100 baht. I did the math surprisingly quickly, for me, and calculated that I was being pulled into this experience for only $3US Dollars.

Bruce was far down the sidewalk by now, frustrated at my fast collapse to the sales pitch. Meanwhile, my alms-giving mentor was ushering me across the street, pointing to where the monks would pass. She pulled out a large rattan mat for me to sit on, added a few banana leaf-wrapped treats to my platter - and then fluttered around close by, trying to make another sale. We waited about ½ hour. The sky turned pink. The café across the street opened its large French doors and turned on Western music. Minivans began parking nearby, emptying themselves of tourists. A small group of Chinese tourists, with their well-informed guide, settled on mats not far from me.

Getting ready to give alms in the early morning dark.

I sat quietly for a while, wondering if what I was doing was respectful and basically ok, hoping that I wasn't overstepping my bounds. I said a prayer for God’s blessing on ALL of His children, especially those who are looking for themselves, for love, for personal peace. After a while, I spotted Bruce directly across the street from me. Soon four small, ragged children with empty plastic baskets sat on the curb nearby, clearly waiting for the monks. I decided that they needed bananas as much as the monks and got up and quickly put a banana into each of their baskets. In a few moments, I caught a glimpse of bright orange just beyond the Chinese tourists. I was a bit nervous. Would the monks feel that I was an interloper?. However, I told myself that it was ok to be doing this, that giving food to anyone who is hungry is a good thing. I stood up to make it easier for the monks to reach the food. Almost immediately, my smiling mentor gently indicated that I should kneel and reach up to place the food into the bowls as the monks passed.

I carefully dropped a small handful of sticky rice into each bowl, looking into the face of each young man, which is probably also verboten but did not seem all that disrespectful to me. After all, the previous day a couple of monks had approached Bruce and begun a conversation in a peaceful wat compound.

In front of me, the children held out their baskets and plastic bags to the passing monks, obviously hoping for their own small supply of food. A bedraggled old man had joined them. Out of that long line of devout young men, only a very few shared their food with these needy neighbors. I guess their own grumbling adolescent tummies got in the way.

                                     Collecting alms



Before long, the bananas were gone from my platter and my sticky rice basket was empty. My mentor tried to sell me more banana leaf bundles but I protested firmly and she stopped. I returned the basket to her with thanks and found Bruce across the street. We watched together as more groups of monks filed by until, finally, the line seemed to end with a boy of about 10 years old. I hope that other merit-makers had some food left for him.

Cruisin'

Our trip down the Mekong was quite an experience! After spending Friday night in the border town of Chiang Khong, in northern Thailand, we crossed the Mekong River early the next morning with many other folks in long, low open motorboats. There was no dock. The boats had been pulled up on the sandy bank of the river. I felt like a refugee fleeing trouble as we scooted across the river in what seemed to be an overloaded boat. Luckily it was not far across, and I assured myself that I could swim that far in an emergency.

Getting ready to cross the Mekong from Thailand to Laos.


The few hours that followed gave us a glimpse into the apparent disorganization of a "developing" country. Going through the Lao immigration process took 4-5 hours. It was a mob scene, with hundreds of travelers from around the world trying to run this gauntlet at the small office on the banks of the Lao side of the river. Our passports were surrendered for scrutinizing to the anonymous and mute officials behind a barred window, leaving us feeling uneasy and unable to communicate. At least, unlike refugees, our lives were not held in the balance! Finally, after quite some time and scores of other applicants later, my passport was held up to the crowd silently from behind the window, while a sympathetic nearby tourist read the print and called my name. I paid the $35 fee and retrieved my passport. Bruce did the same. That was the first step!

The multinational mob scene at Laotian Immigration or 'what have you done with my passport?'


Suffice to say that, after more waiting and more scrutinizing by the police, we finally made our way through the town and down the riverbank to a "slow" - and LONG - boat. By this time, around noon, the two boats were jammed with travelers. Signs had forewarned us that there was no food on the boats. Not to worry, I never go far without my own supply of food! We also had heard that the boats might be rather primitive, with hard bench seats. Cushions were being sold on both sides of the river. However, we were pleasantly surprised to discover that the seats were similar to bus seats, with no extra cushions needed.

Bruce makes his way down to our "home-away-from-home" for a couple of days, our slow boat.


Each boat held about 70 passengers. Most were young foreign nationals, although a Laotian family congregated at the end of the boat, sitting on the floor where their small children slept, stretched out next to a brown, wrinkled little grandmother.

That first afternoon passed with a sense of adventure in the air. People chatted, drank their own stores of beer and hard liquor, read books, took photos of passing scenery. The boat, despite its name, was not exactly slow and kept a steady pace, slowing only to negotiate its way around rocky outcroppings with tricky currents. (The term “slow” boat is used to differentiate it from the “fast” boats, small motor boats that go extremely fast and are said to be quite dangerous.) The scenery along the riverside was very rural, with water buffalo walking in a single file along a path, reddish cattle resting in small groups, the occasional village perched high on stilts up on the side of a hill, small plots of land planted with crops, fishermen working alone or in pairs from small open boats, but mostly forests and hills of varying heights.

Water buffalo on the banks of the Mekong River.

A lone fishermen plying the Mekong River.


As the day began to fade away, we wondered how long it would be before we arrived at the small village of Pak Ben where we would find our own accommodations for the night. Before boarding the boat, we had succumbed to the offer of a pre-arranged room and had paid for it. We had been told to look for a man holding up a poster for "the Bunmee Hotel". Little did we realize that we'd be doing this on the banks of the river in the dark!

Bruce and I had planned that, when we arrived in Pak Ben, I would jump off and find the hotel guy, while he tried to retrieve our one suitcase, stashed away on the other boat, which hadn’t arrived yet. So, I was the first one to walk the narrow plank, set a little precariously on some jagged rocks. Our hotel guy was easy to find among all the others touting their rooms, including ours, now reduced in price from what we had paid! No matter, we had peace of mind for the afternoon, knowing that we had a room.

It all worked out well. I rode in the back of the pick-up truck with 8 or 10 other passengers to the rustic hotel perched on the side of the hill overlooking the river. Bruce arrived soon after with our suitcase. He had been offered marijuana and opium in the dark - but had declined! Our room was "serviceable" with a clean bathroom and a double bed but was missing the usual essentials, like towels and toilet paper. Ah, well, it was only for one night.

That evening we ate dinner on the porch of the restaurant overlooking the Mekong. Through the darkness, we could see a large bonfire across the river. We invited an “older” German couple (older than most other travelers, not older than us) to join us for dinner. I had seen them early in the day, she bossing him around in a frantic voice amidst the mob scene at immigration. They were calmed down by dinnertime, and we had a delightful meal exchanging stories. Despite the slightly scruffy surroundings, the food was delicious (chicken and cashew stir-fry. I’m sampling local versions everywhere).

Delicious pineapple crepe breakfast on the porch in Pak Ben, overlooking the river.

The next morning got off to a much better start, and we were ensconced on the boat early. The crowd of youthful vagabonds was quite subdued. The boat stopped at sandy ports along the river, distinguished only by a small group of Laotians gathered on the beach. As more and more people boarded, it began to feel like we were on a water-borne Guatemalan chicken bus where there was always room for one more passenger! Our craft became pretty tightly packed, with some luggage stored on the tin roof of the boat, just like the chicken buses! No chickens ever appeared, however!

Laotian travelers waiting for the slow boat.

The scenery was similar the second day. We saw villagers beating palm frond on the sandy banks, a young woman washing her long black hair in the river, kids swimming, a tiny regal goat perched on a promontory, bamboo fishing poles stuck in rocky crevices, waiting for their owners to put them into action. As the day wore on, more beer came out and voices rose. The backpacker crew began to play card games and charades. As we passed fishermen, I'd notice their slightly startled look and their gaze that followed us, returned by a few ship-board gazes, two worlds connected momentarily. For the most part, however, I had the sense of a western bubble floating downstream, oblivious to and totally disconnected from the centuries old life-style that was passing by.

Riverside scene

                                         Our mostly young boat-mates.

Just before we arrived in Luang Prabang, the boat pulled up onto a sandy beach and the Laotian passengers got off and were greeted by waiting relatives. We were a little alarmed when we saw the captain remove many tanks of propane gas that had been stored right under our feet!

The tourist stop was next, and was slightly more developed, with a long cement incline leading down to the beach where the boat was pulled ashore. Thankfully, it was not yet dark and we were able to get a tuk-tuk to take us to the Bellevue Bungalows, which had been recommended to us by Vicky and Simon. It had been a delightful, relaxing cruise on a small part of the mighty Mekong River, that is such an important presence in Southeast Asia.