Life on the Mekong

"Shoving off" and "watching the world go by" have literal meaning here!  Left the Gateway Villa Hotel where I had been staying in Huay Xai for the two day slow boat trip to Pak Beng and Luang Prabang.  Bid my friends goodby, shared a tuk tuk to the dock with a German couple, bought my ticket and played petanque with a fellow passenger while waiting for departure.  My fear that this would be some kind of party boat did not materialize.  The potential party crowd found their place on the bow; smoked, drank, sang and did not move!   Everyone brought food and drinks aboard for the 8 hour trip to Pak Beng so they would not have to purchase the more expensive offerings on board.  As someone who has always had his nose pressed against the windows of trains and planes in order not to miss any of the sights, it is hard to understand how some people can read, sleep, listen to ipods or chat for the entire trip without appreciating the amazing scenery.  This long, narrow, flat bottomed boat is controlled by a pilot in the front.  The wheel is connected to a small rudder in the rear by means of chains threaded through PVC pipe above the windows and the very rudimentary throttle has a small cable running to the diesel engine in the rear. A glance into the engine compartment gave me comfort as it had been blessed with flower offerings and a small Buddha.    Relax, take photos, eat and enjoy!  
Day two-  After spending the night in Pak Beng, the village full of guest houses that is midway between Huay Xai and Luang Prabang, it is time to continue down stream.  Taking advantage of the swift current, the boat slips into the middle of the Mekong, gliding between steep ridges covered with tropical vegetation, occasionally old forest, but more often low trees or cultivated patches that have replaced the original jungle. Jagged rock outcropping line the banks, extending into the river at sharp angles and creating brief areas of rapids.  Since it is the dry season, the river is low and the boat scraped bottom on several occasions.    Bamboo poles extend from the rock formations, supports for fishing nets of fishermen who live in nearby villages.  Beautiful sandbanks with multiple water lines resembling stairs have accumulated between the rock formations providing variety to the landscape, playgrounds for children, warm resting spots for clusters of water buffalo and an easy place to grow peanuts at this time of year.  They also serve as a reminder of the water level during the rainy season, perhaps 30 feet higher than today in the narrowest places.  The surface of the river glistens; silver and gold ripples masking the murkey brown green of the water.  Mountain ridges, four to six deep, continually appear before us and slowly fade into the distance behind the boat.  Many people pan for gold in small inlets, others fish from rocks using weighted throw nets.  Long, slender wooden boats moored at the river's edge indicate the presence of villages hidden in the trees.  Seated near the front of the boat, all I hear is the low, steady drone of the engine and  light splash of water along the bow.  Slow boats heading north pass making the same sound, but an occasional "fast" boat, a small banana shaped boat carrying 8 passengers wearing crash helmets, creates a slight turbulance as it roars past.  We stopped several times to allow villagers to jump onto the beach where they were greeted by family or friends.  For two days, life proceeded at the pace of the Mekong current.
Relaxing in Laos, and loving it!

Adventure in Laos

Lots has happened since my last entry; however, I decided a quick jump forward was necessary to capture events of the last few days.

Left Thailand, crossed the Mekong River on a small wooden boat and landed in Houeixai, a small river port in Laos where I intended to spend one night before continuing on a two day "slow boat" trip to Louang Probang.   All of that changed when I read a notice announcing an evening campfire at the home of a family beginning a project to help village people, and that they needed volunteers.  Dinner and a campfire has turned into a week of tutoring English several hours each day and invitations from students working at my hotel to visit their villages and meet their English teachers at the local college.  When one student took me to the college on his motorbike, I ended up teaching two classes and met three of the five teachers.   I have a standing invitation to return. This evening I have been encouraged to attend a celebration at the local Buddhist temple, a farewell dinner for the couple that has been volunteering at the project, and have more invitations for the weekend. I am certainly learning more about Laos and Lao culture by interacting with locals here than if I were to simply photograph more temples, Buddhas and street scenes.

Yesterday the family operating the volunteer project planned an outing for the French couple, Igor and Veronique, who were married recently and who are on a one year, around the world honeymoon, and me. We rode on motorbikes behind three of the men in the family to a village 70 kilometers from this river port and had an experience we will never forget!   First of all, these are small motorbikes meant to be ridden on city streets rather than treks in the mountains.   I rented an additional bike since the family had two vehicles and only foreigners are allowed to rent bikes.  Lao time means that things happen slowly, so we left the house about 10:30 am, all wearing helmets, two of us carrying small backpacks with cameras and a few snacks, and began the adventure.   I immediately thought of the Beta Theta Pi principle of "confidence and trust" as the bikes went screaming around turns and raced out of the town.   I could not worry about what might happen this day, must believe that the driver in front of me knew what he was doing, and just enjoy the experience.  I hung on for dear life, anticipating the corners and bracing myself for bumps in the road.  The pavement ended about 15 kilometers from town, the speed barely slowed, and the serious challenge began.   Unimproved mountain roads, single lane, torturous curves, steep inclines- one indicated at 15%- loose gravel, dust, all combined for a wild ride.   These people begin riding motorbikes at about age 10, and most of them on this type of road, so it is not a new experience for them.  Once we left the paved road, we began climbing into mountainous terrain, ascending ridges, descending into valleys, one after another, occasionally passing through local villages where children, chickens, dogs cows and even water buffalo quickly stepped aside as they heard our approaching bikes.  I must admit that the landscape was spectacular, especially the views from the ridgetops where a succession of  ridges resembled the surface of a giant blue cauliflower.  Tall trees have been removed from much of the area and only here and there stands of original timber still remain.  Otherwise a few old trees rise above a tangle of bamboo, vines and smaller varieties of trees, all of this seemingly inpenetratable. 
We stopped briefly in several villages to contemplate the houses, usually standing on  stilt like frames built of wood, sometimes with wooden slat walls, but more often sided with sections of woven bamboo.  The common roofing material is woven grass and only a few buildings have corregated steel or fiberglass.   We stopped for lunch at a roadside stand at the side of a house where the lady had a black pot setting over a small fire.  She prepared noodles for us and offered a soup with chunks of a glutenous substance made from rice.   Several times we had to chase the chickens away from the area where she was preparing the food!  Not an unusual occurance here.   Around villages situated in the valleys and along streams, small plots of rice are cultivated during the rainy season.
The final destination and experience had been a well guarded secret so we wondered what was in store when it was necessary to buy candles and obtain a few flashlights at the last village.   Four local girls were hired as guides and we discovered we were to explore a nearby cave complex.   Spelunking had not been on my list of things to do in Laos!    The setting was spectacular as we left the store, walked past the small primary school where laundry, colorful childrens clothing, was draped over the fence enclosing the playground (we speculated that they might wash their clothes during recess), waded across a stream and begain winding our way through bright green rice paddies.  Our destination, large rounded, rocky mound rose from the valley floor, surrounded by a maze of recently planted, and currently flooded, paddies.  Here and there small thatched roof shelters built on bamboo stilts provide shade for those working in the rice fields.  We zigzagged our way along the narrow muddy dikes separating the patches of rice, jumping small streams flowing from one section to another.   I wondered why I had bothered to take off my shoes to ford the stream at the beginning as it was obvious my shoes were going to be very muddy and wet for the return trip.  During colonial times, the French had built a concrete stairway to one cave entrance, but that did not lead to the main network of tunnels.  We continued to another entrance where it was necessary to wedge our way through a slot barely wide enough to allow passage for our shoulders and derriere.   Once inside, the space was larger, we lit the candles, let our eyes adjust to the darkness and began our exploration.  This chunk of mountain was perforated with holes eroded over the millenia and gave us the impression of having entered a giant wheel of Swiss cheese.  An occasional opening above allowed some light to enter from outside; however most of the rooms were only illuminated by the dim light of our candles and flashlights.  Bamboo ladders provided access to some levels that would otherwise have been inaccessible.   Finally, in the far reaches of this complex, there was evidence long term moisture, perhaps tens of millions of years ago.  Seams in the rock showed evidence of mineral deposits, flowing limestone stalagtites and mounded stalagmites where the water droplets had landed.  One giant post about 15 feet high and  several feet in diameter must have taken millions of years to accumulate.  The top surface of another looked like an enormous stone stump whose unique surface looked as though it had been eaten by worms.   Strange dark spots that we thought at first might be bats dotted the top of several high caverns.   We spent more than an hour investigating sections of this massive complex, trying to capture some of the beauty in photos and speculating at the origin of this natural wonder.  At the exit high on the side of the mountain, we had a stunning view of the surrounding rice fields and a small village at the base of a forest ridge, all bathed in the solf light of late afternoon.   Finally, deciding that we needed to reach paved road before it got dark, we left the cave, retraced our steps through the  beautiful rice paddies, waded  the stream- wearing shoes this time- paid the guides and began the return trip.  The lighting was perfect for photography, but we knew that not many stops would be possible.   A flat tire required me to wait along the side of the mountain road for about 20 minutes while my driver returned to see what was keeping the third bike from catching up.  Alone, I listened to the cracking sounds of a tropical forest, took photos of the  bamboo branches curving over the narrow road, nodded to a few people who passed on bikes and to the drivers of a truck that passed and greeted two men walking home from their day's work, axes in hand, not knowing  what was happening or when my driver would return.  Tire repaired thanks to a nearby village, we continued on our way, passing a slow moving logging truck carrying 4 huge logs cut from an ancient tree, carefully descended some of the steep rocky slopes because only the rear brake was working, occasionally coasted to conserve gas, passed workers returning to their villages slowly advancing in their garden tracter like vehicles, speeded on the straightaways to gain time.  In each village, dinner was being prepared  in pots boiling over small fires along the road or near entrances to houses and people were returning home from their work in the fields or forest.  Igor, Vero and I exchanged our thoughts about our ride at each stop, wondering what the next segment would be like.   Crossing the last wooden bridge, we arrived at paved road, achieved higher speeds and raced through the darkness for home.  When I got off the motorbike, I could hardly move and felt as though I had spent the day on a horse or camel.  Can you get bowed legs from riding a bike? 
We were all in agreement that it was a unique and memorable experience, but were not sure that it was one we would want to repeat anytime soon.

Safe and sound in Laos.     Jon