Later, in Laos... (Yes, that is a Gangnam Style shirt hanging out to dry behind me).
Hey Steemers! Yesterday I saw someone make a comment that the only people getting upvotes were posts with “tits and travel”. I laughed about it- because heeeeere come some tits and travel! Join me and my travel companions (who wish to remain anonymous- let’s call them Batman and Theon) as we journey into Laos, nestled deep in the heart of Southeast Asia.
Batman and I have just completed one year of living and teaching English in South Korea, and Theon has flown to Asia to meet us for our journey. What I’ve written is a very honest account of my experiences and feelings. Something I’ve learned while traveling is that what you see in the gorgeous pictures and hear in the enthralling stories is never the whole trip. There are intense ups and downs, and while it’s almost always different and exciting, it’s not always fun- in fact, sometimes it’s pretty damn stressful. But it’s always, always worth it. I hope this inspires you to do a little traveling of your own; before moving to Asia, I had never been anywhere- and it has truly changed my life. In this installment, we’ve just departed Thailand, which is a doozy of a story, and will give you something to look forward to in my next post...
Riding in Laos.
After another choppy ferry ride back to the mainland, we purchased tickets for an air-conditioned sleeper train to take us back up north through Thailand to the Laos border. After days of being mind-numbingly blistered and sick (more on that when I do my Thailand entry!), I was exhausted, and after a solid two weeks of the most intense heat I’d ever experienced, I was also sick of being hot. At this point I was ready for some “air con” (official Korean terminology) and convinced the boys to spring the extra 5 bucks each to be in the section of the train with A/C. I boarded and felt the magical coolness wash over me. When we reached our individual sleeper pods, I grinned even bigger, if possible. Instead of seats there were double decker, twin size mattress pods on each side of the train’s aisle with a curtain you could draw and firmly Velcro shut. The introvert in me rejoiced, drew my kelly green curtains, and beamed in the privacy of my pod.
We rolled north through Thailand for hours, blissfully cool and snoozing. When we neared the Laos border we had to change trains. Our new train wasn’t air conditioned, and it didn’t have sleeper pods; in fact, it was gloriously rickety and old-fashioned. I loved it. I was quickly learning that rail was my favorite way to travel through Asia. Unfortunately and unbeknownst to me, this train would be the last one I’d take on this trip, with bus after uncomfortable bus waiting just around the bend. We sat on plastic seats, reading Game of Thrones (I was on my second reading of A Storm of Swords, woop!) and gazed out the open, unscreened train windows, wind whipping our hair into a frenzy. When I felt nature’s call, I headed to the bathroom and was more than a little surprised to see a toilet seat with nothing in the bowl but a large hole opening directly onto the tracks whooshing by below me. You could poop right on the tracks! It was super fun.
One ferry, two trains, and more than an entire day later, we arrived in Laos. This was the most difficult country of our trip to negotiate upon entry. We were dropped at a “bus station” that was more like someone’s garage than a travel port. The only other foreigners around were a German couple and a Swiss man. They all spoke English but seemed just as confused as we were about where we had been taken and how to get to the various islands we were respectively hoping to travel to. No one else that we encountered spoke more than a word or two of English. We were confused by Laotian monetary transactions, as we had been told you could use the Laos kip (though no one would exchange our money into kips anywhere, not in Korea, Thailand, or Laos), or the Thai baht, OR the US dollar. Basically, they’d take almost anything. We thought.
In every direction, as far as my eye could see, the country looked sparse. All dirt roads, all dirt everywhere, actually; hardly any grass or trees, just hot, dust, and dirt. There were shacks and shanties scattered every few yards along the road. Eventually one of us managed to mime out to someone where we wanted to go, and they conveyed to us that a bus would be coming in about thirty minutes. Great! We would wait. A short while later a minivan pulled up, and about 8 people, all locals, got out and stretched. Lo and behold, this was our “bus”. At least, we were pretty sure. No one could speak English, and we couldn’t speak Lao, but the firm gesturing of the bus driver made it appear as if he wanted us to climb in. My anxiety started to skyrocket as I cautiously hauled myself in with the boys, our backpacks roped haphazardly to the top of the vehicle.
Just got in someone's minivan...feeling very unsure.
Upon entering our chariot, it was obvious that this was absolutely not a bus; it was, however, absolutely someone’s personal vehicle. A few things started to set off alarms in my head, and I realized exactly how isolated we truly were. Not being able to speak a single word to our driver or any of the other passengers frightened me. Not knowing if we were headed in the direction we wanted to go, or could be going god knows where in the complete opposite direction, frightened me. Not knowing if this was actually a “bus” or just some random person’s car we had hopped into frightened me. Not having a phone or internet or any way at all to contact anyone in the entire rest of the world REALLY frightened me. None of the three other foreigners hopped in with us, all of us heading to different destinations in Laos. We were stuck and alone, a ridiculous 11 people deep in a tiny minivan, sweating profusely. No turning back now; we were off. It’s an odd, pretty indescribable feeling to be sandwiched in a minivan with 8 other people you don’t know, who you can’t speak to, wondering if you are going where you want to be going, in the most middle of nowhere place you’ve ever seen (and I grew up in the Middle of Nowhere, USA).
Immediately after taking this picture one of the boys mooned us and started slapping his own butt.
The minivan trundled along for a good hour or two before we reached a large river. Confirming with our driver that it was, in fact, the Mekong, we breathed a short sigh of relief: at least we had arrived at the river wherein our island destination was contained. If we were trying to get to an island, approaching water seemed like we were at least heading in the right direction. Ready to disembark the minivan and get on some type of boat, our new comrades indicated that no, we should stay inside the vehicle. Huh? With a shifting of gears and a weary sputter, our automobile drove onto a small, rickety looking ferry and idled. Not even turning the engine off in the van, a small motor boat came up behind the ferry and began pushing us across the river, car still running all the while. There is a video that Batman took of this where it looks like I am ready to jump out the window if it all goes down at any moment- I can’t find it now but I will look! I squeeze my eyes shut and finally, we are across. The van eases off the ferry onto the dock and drives out into more wilderness. We go maybe a half hour or so, our driver dropping locals off at their homes here and there. The homes are all shacks, pieces of wood nailed together here and there with maybe a tree in the yard to give a little shelter from the never-ending, blistering heat. The poverty I see is shocking, like nothing I have ever seen before, and I feel sad. But each person departs the van with a smile and a wave, speaking in a tongue we can’t understand to each other. I imagine it’s something like, “Thank you! See you tomorrow!” to the driver.
Everyone stays seated, vehicles idling, as we cross the Mekong.
Finally, the van stops, and no one gets off. We are in the middle of absolutely, 100% nowhere. In front of me I see fields and behind me I see fields. There are some cows off to the left and the river to the right. No buildings, not one, except for a large house far off in the distance. We smile blankly at each other, waiting to see who will be the next to depart. Suddenly I realize that everyone is staring at US. Shit. Is this where we conveyed we wanted to be taken to?! Did our pantomiming bring us here?! Did we even get in the right vehicle?! Shit. Shit shit SHIT! We are in the middle of abso-freaking-lutely nowhere. We try to convey our dismay and that no, in fact, we want to stay on the bus. Yep, it’s the bus for me. No no, someone has climbed on top and is taking our bags down. They are firmly directing us that our time has come, and this is the moment we must depart the van. Pointing at the big house far off in the distance, it seems that this is where they want us to go. Real fear starts to sink into my belly. Are we lost?
Imagine being dropped off here.
Suddenly, our ride is gone and we are no longer packed like sardines sweating in a can. It is driving off into the distance, and Batman, Theon, and I are standing alone in the middle of a dirt road between two fields. No phone, no internet, no way to connect with anyone or call for help if need be. We wouldn’t even be able to speak with a local to charter a boat, if we could find a human being in the first place. At this moment I see nothing but fields, a river, cows, and that house in the distance. In the very connected world we are used to living in, this was an incredibly odd and disconcerting feeling to have. Even after a year of living with no cell phone in Korea, it felt deeply uncomfortable and strange. Batman would later tell me that this was his most-scared moment of the trip. At the time, he put on a brave face and assured me everything was fine. But deep down, even he was shaken. Where were we going to go and what were we going to do? He pointed toward the house in the distance and we picked up our packs and just started walking. There was nowhere else to go.
After walking for 20 minutes or so, the house was getting clearer, and it looked really nice. It was quite an anomaly compared to what we had seen thus far in Laos. Suddenly, like a mirage springing up in the desert, we saw more houses behind it, and what looked like a few small open-air cafes right on the water across from it. Is this real? And then…we saw a person! Oh, relief! Thank you Jesus, thank you Buddha, thank you Universe! As we got closer to the house we saw a sign outside and realized it was actually some sort of hostel/ hotel. Oh thank God, thank Kitty Above, thank everyone! I wanted to kiss the ground and cry at the same time. We had somehow managed to arrive exactly where we wanted to be, and my racing mind finally stopped envisioning us being chopped to pieces, never to be found or heard from again, bodies sunk deep in the Mekong. Hallelujah! We had made it to the island of Don Khong, one of the largest of the fabled 4,000 Islands of Laos.
Out room - so, so nice! And at only $3/person per night... you can't go wrong.
The guesthouse had a nice room available with two double beds and a ceiling fan. The hotel was old, but beautiful and well-maintained; it was a large wooden house with lots of balconies and open-air hallways. For only a few dollars a night we had a great place to stay- I believe our room cost about $9, so $3 each per night. We were exhausted after 24 hours of travel and we badly needed a shower and a nap. When we woke it was dark, so we walked outside to the restaurant sitting right on the water across the street. A welcome, cool breeze was stirring the wind chimes hanging inside. Clouds gathered above the river, ominous and dark. A storm was coming, and I was relieved to be in a quiet, cooler place. So far in this entire area we had only seen maybe 5 other travelers, all older than us and all keeping to themselves. It was a welcome reprieve after the hustle, bustle, chaos and crowds of Thailand. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as we ordered various combinations of noodles, rice, meat, veggies, and drinks.
View of the Mekong from our guest house.
Feeling refreshed and ready after a shower and a nap post-24 hours of traveling!
The next day we rented bikes and rode around the entire island in the scorching sun. A little over 4 miles by about 12 ½ miles, we biked the entire island, encountering nothing but cows (everywhere unfenced, free-roaming cows, they scared me, they were huge and what if they suddenly charged us?! They didn’t), palm trees, dusty fields, a few small, modest, shack-like homes, and some roadside “convenience stores” that were actually lean-tos selling sunscreen, beer, gum, and the like. We stopped at one for sunscreen and a beer, the locals very friendly and happy for our purchases. Children would run out of their shacks to wave at us as we rode by. A friend in Korea told us that when he went to Laos, the children would run up to him and ask not for money, but for “Bic! Bic! Bic!” All they wanted were pens and pencils to draw and write with; they had none.
I was brave enough to grab a quick pic with the baby cows - not the huge ones!
At night we would drink Beerlao, play cards, and sit on the rooftop porch talking. We made a friend, a European man in his forties who had retired and was just going to travel for the rest of his life. He was the only other person besides us staying in the entire house; the peace and solitude was glorious. The hotel’s curfew was 11:00 pm, and we had to be inside by that time or we would be locked out for the night. If you ever truly want to get away, be alone, and go totally off the grid to a quiet part of the world where no one will bother you and your money will stretch far (and you don’t mind the heat, not having fancy accommodations, and there being no one there and not much to do), this would be a perfect place to do it. I hope to go back someday and just sit and write for weeks and weeks.
One evening after returning to our room alone (the boys wanted to stay up drinking and talking, but I was hot and tired), I was hungry for a snack and saw the stack of Oreos I had purchased earlier. Ahhh, a taste of home. I reached into the plastic sleeve without looking and plunged the cookie into my mouth. Suddenly, the cookie was moving, and there were legs running around in my mouth and pouring out onto my cheeks and neck. The cookie was covered with ants. I screamed silently and clawed at my face to get them all away. Urrrrgghhhh! I ran for the cold shower, bugs streaming down my body and falling down the drain. Traveling was exhilarating but I was suddenly tired of being hot, dirty, and covered in bugs and/or bug spray all the time. (But still no malaria yet, in case you were wondering. More on that in a future post!)
We stayed for 3 days on Don Khong, but there was really nothing to do except relax and sit around, since we had already biked the entire island. It was nice to be away from the party scene and unwind, but after a few days of lounging we were ready to keep exploring. We made arrangements with the front desk for a small motor boat to take us to Don Dhet.
Don Dhet is considered the “party island” of the 4,000 islands. Upon arrival we scouted a few bungalows on the river, and settled on one with cement walls, rather than all-wood everything, which kept us a little cooler in the unending, oppressive heat. The bungalow was luxurious compared to everywhere else we had stayed thus far, and yet from the window I could see an enormous mound of trash, dirty diapers, and food just outside.
Me n' my BFF - my backpack.
Sitting on the floor, making new friends.
Don Dhet was fun, and very different from Don Khong. Being known as the party island meant that there were lots of young travelers such as ourselves there, and we made a few friends. However, there wasn’t much to do except sit around and drink at various open-air restaurants and bars situated prettily right on the river’s edge. The view of the Mekong was lovely. Side note about Don Dhet: in Don Dhet marijuana is not only legal, it’s written on the menu. You could order it with your meal, in smoking (they will bring you a hookah) or “happy shake” form.
Outside of drinking, reading, making friends (we met some hilarious people from Wales) and hanging out in bars, there wasn’t much to do on Don Dhet. The strip of bungalows, shops, and eateries was fairly small, and the rest of the island itself wasn’t big. We felt a very real indifference bordering on hostility from the locals here, which made us somewhat uneasy and did not seem in keeping with what we had seen and heard so far about the Laotian people. If I were to guess I’d assume they were sick of all the foreigners coming to their home island to party and make a mess of everything- which I could completely understand. After a few days of exploring and relaxing on this chill island (and reading- Red Wedding time what!), it was time to move on again. Another small boat chartered us to our final destination in Laos, Don Khon.
Red sunset over Don Khon. View from our bungalow.
Don Khon was the middle ground between Don Khong and Don Dhet. It was much quieter and less of a party scene than Don Dhet, but had more to do than Don Khong with still only a few other people around. Like everywhere in Laos there were dirt roads, but Don Khon had more vegetation and wildlife than the previous two islands. I liked that. We rented a fantastic bungalow on the river that had a cute front porch with two hammocks, and we spent a few days gazing out at the river flowing by, sitting in peaceful silence with only the buzz of insects and the call of birds along with the quiet clinking of our beers for noise. One day we hiked to some old temples and on to the waterfalls, so beautiful and powerful.
Our home on Don Khon.
Hiked up the waterfalls (in flip flops, good choice hellokitty).
Swimming in the Mekong.
Before we knew it, it was time to check Laos off our list and head on to Cambodia. We were not sure what to expect, but we had heard good things from friends who had been there before us. In a way, our trip thus far was not what I had thought it would be. (What trip ever is?) The parts of Thailand I had seen had not been at all what I expected, plus I had been feeling like I was on-death’s-door-ill for most of it (you guys are so ready for this Thailand post now, aren’t you!?). Laos had been relaxing and easy-going, and it was definitely life-changing to see the poverty level and how a part of the world lived so much differently than we did. But Don Dhet had not been the crazy party we anticipated, and I was ready to kick it into a higher gear in Cambodia, see some sights, and have some FUN.
PS- The more I learn about and explore Steemit, the more excited and enthralled with this platform I become! I hope to be a valuable contributor to this awesome society and I promise to always share unique, original content. Thank you so much for reading…until next time, my friends!