I’d have to say that our nearly one-month in Lao has been good. Its been continually surprising, enlightening, and enjoyable. Although I had a general idea of how I thought Lao would be, I have been consistently surprised. Immediately, its smallness, ruralness, and overall lack of development surprised me. And I knew the north was mountainous, but not to the degree that it was. Steep cliffs and deep valleys created a beautiful vertical mountainscape. Sometimes it was nice as it was incredibly scenic, but sometimes it was awful as we rode on the curviest roads imaginable and plenty of our bus mates puked. Lao look different from north to south, not to mention the dozens of other ethnic groups present (notably the Hmong). Most of the people we encountered were friendly, always offering a hello or cigarette. And I was also pleasantly surprised by the diversity of things to see and do; from the scenic north, to the wats, to the war history, to outdoor activities, to the ruins, Lao has something for all. But the past month has also been personally enlightening. The more places we travel, the easier it is to isolate the variables we like/dislike about a place. Lao has confirmed some of my travel preferences. I’ve learned that I really enjoy being in undeveloped places because they’re so different and unfamiliar. I like doing things that you can’t do in the developed world, like explore ruins without guardrails and roped-off areas. I like riding on top of buses. And there’s no better way to learn about the third world than to experience it. I like destinations with adventurous outdoor activities for the obvious reasons that I like to have fun. I like adrenaline rushes and to go a bit beyond my comfort zone physically. I like jumping off things into water, I enjoyed going into the cave in Vang Vieng because it was scary, and I enjoy difficult hikes/treks. Being in a totally foreign culture is exciting for me too. I find something appealing about being way out of my comfort zone culturally, perhaps because that’s when I feel I learn the most. Lao has also confirmed in my mind that I don’t really like to rest and relax too much. The exception, of course, is at the beach, but even there, the ocean is a continuous invitation to activity. Unlike Joylani, I’ve learned I’m pretty indifferent to what I eat or where I sleep. I enjoy a good meal or a nice room, but its not that important to me. But if a place doesn’t have much to do or any interesting history, chances are I won’t like it. So like any place, Lao was a mixed bag. I enjoyed that it was really different, scenic and fun, but it was slow and mellow to the point of boring more than a few times. But overall it was good. Its been the first country in a while that, overall, Joylani and I both liked a lot, albeit for different reasons. I’ve learned a lot, about Lao, about Joylani, and about myself. While there’s probably not enough here to draw us back anytime soon, it was a good month in Lao.

Our last few days in Lao have been spent on a couple of islands in Si Phan Don, which translates to “4,000 Islands.” After the interesting ride from Champasak, which Joylani described, we took a ferry across the Mekong to the village of Muang Khong on the island of Don Khong. Don Khong is the largest island with the largest population of Si Phan Don, which is not saying much. There are two paved roads; one circumnavigates the island, while the other bisects it. A road map of the island is simple an oval with a line through it. Despite being the largest village, its still pretty small- a few guesthouses, a wat, a dock, a decrepit bank, and not much else. We did find a room which turned out to be one of the nicest we’ve stayed in on our entire trip. While I’d expect a clean room with hot-water and AC for 10 USD, we also got maid service and a room with great décor and a pillow-top mattress pad (Joylani’s observations, not mine

view of the Mekong

Don Det on the left, Don Khon on the right

We didn’t do a whole lot during our day and a half there. We attempted a midafternoon walk after we arrived and ate lunch on our first day there. But Don Khong doesn’t have many trees (and I think I’ve mentioned how its getting pretty hot), so that ended after a few minutes as it was just too hot to be out. So we spent the rest of the day reading and writing. Then yesterday we walked as far as we could across the island before we turned back, when it got too hot. There really is not much to do on Don Khong- the only things on the island are some huts with the usual satellite dishes, harvested fields, a few motorbikes, the occasional truck, and kids and animals roaming around. The middle of yesterday was also spent reading and writing, although we took a walk south along the riverbank in the evening. It was a really mellow day, but it really typifies Lao. This morning we caught a boat to Don Det, which is about an hour and a half south. It’s a small island that’s totally undeveloped and caters to backpackers; no roads or electricity at night, but it has internet cafes and expat bars. We ate an early lunch and then began walking south along one of the many dirt paths that criss-cross the island. Luckily, the island has plenty of trees and the riverbanks are shaded by coconut palms. So we walked for a while. After an hour of walking, we crossed an old French bridge from Don Det to Don Khon. The bridge is only noteworthy because it happens to be the only bridge the French ever built in Lao! They ruled Lao for a century and they only managed to build one insignificant little bridge between two insignificant islands. From the bridge we walked another two kilometers to Tat Somphamit, a large waterfall. It was not as great as our guidebook had made it out to be, perhaps because the only viewpoint was from above. Also, maybe we expected more after walking unshaded for the last kilometer or so in extreme heat and humidity. Anyways, from the waterfall, we backtracked to the main path where we continued south until we came to a beach, where some locals were playing volleyball and a food stand was setup. A bunch of longtail boats were lined up on the shore and we charted one to take us out on the river, in hopes that we’d spot some Irrawaddy river dolphins. We went downriver about 30 minutes and then we tied up alongside a big rock in the middle of the wide river. We hopped out and climbed to the top of the rock, where we stood and looked out for dolphins. We did see a few surfacing for air, but they were a few hundred feet away and difficult to see. It was a bit disappointing after our Maldivian experience of seeing dolphins spontaneously doing aerial flips and barrel rolls. We probably wouldn’t have even tried to see these dolphins, except that I recently read Amitav Ghosh’s The Angry Tide, which has a main character who studies the species and so the dolphins are, in a way, central to the plot.

on our way to see the dolphins

saw a few dolphins btw the rock this photo was taken from and that island….

It was a bit over an hour’s walk back, but it was much more pleasant in the evening. Back in town, we ate and tried to spend the rest of our kip- internet at expensive rates, some gifts for people at home, and Beer Lao. Tomorrow, Cambodia.

We left our guesthouse a little after 8am in the back of a pick-up truck. A sawngthaew is what it’s called—three benches are fitted lengthwise in the bed of the truck and a metal frame supports a sturdy roof-top which provides both shade and a sturdy place for extra cargo. The metal frame extends past the bumper and is attached to a platform extending out a couple of feet. After two kilometers we arrived at the ferry dock. The ferry had just filled up and our sawngthaew would have to wait for the next one to cross the river. Ours was the first vehicle onto the new ferry, but that meant we had to wait until it was full. Champasak has very little traffic; we waited over an hour for the ferry to leave. In the meantime, Matt made nervous glances at the baby sitting next to him who had just finished his bottle. During our time in Laos we’d already seen a few babies spitting up, and Matt’s nervousness was understandable considering his proximity to the kid. Presently the baby in the seat next to Matt peed. This is of note because most babies in Laos do not wear diapers. If you drive through any village you are bound to see huts with a clothesline strung with 5-10 pairs of tiny pants. This is what the babies wear, if anything. So the kid peed, which meant the seat was wet. Matt moved to the middle row, and I made plans to do so as well if I was asked to move over. Grandma got out a towel and dried the little guy off before handing him out of the sawngthaew to grandpa, presumably so the kid could finish air drying. Eventually the baby was back in the truck, bouncing himself on the seat as he peered out over the side of the truck, as most kids do from their crib. We heard a sound. Matt and the grandma exchanged embarrassed smiles (Matt says hers was more of a guilty smile). I looked down at the kid’s leg, then down behind the bench I was seated on and saw a tiny tan turd in the middle of a goopy pile of poo. Yup, he’d done the dirty deed and had soiled not only his little baby bloomers, but also his grandma’s skirt, the seat, his leg, and the truck. Perhaps the explosion could have been more contained if only those leg holes had been a little tighter. After getting over the initial shock of what happened (I suppose it must not have too shocking for the grandma, I mean, if you’re taking around a baby with no diapers that is bound to happen more than once), the grandmother got out an even larger towel than the first time (yup, she must have been expecting this) to wipe the kid down. This time the bloomers came off and the kid was sent back out with his grandpa in case of aftershocks, if you know what I mean.

Eventually, we made it across the river and 10 minutes further to a junction where we got off to catch transportation in the opposite direction. Supposedly, buses came by every 40 minutes heading to our destination. And when I say buses, I mean really large sawngthaew; the truck cab the size of a delivery truck. After about half and hour, the first one came along. It was packed. All three rows of seats were filled, the cab was full, and several people where standing on the platform extending from the truck bed. But we could ride on top. So after handing our bags up, we both climbed up to the roof. A minute later I was tapped on the arm and motioned to come down. There was a seat for me on the tailgate, sandwiched between the full truck bed and a wall of people standing on the back.

As we pulled away from the junction and started to head south, I looked behind me and tried to count the number of people sitting inside the truck. I counted 42. The second time I got 43. Later I counted 45—I kept discovering a new person each time the passengers shifted around. With the additional people on top (6 or 7) and in the cab (3), I figured there were probably between about 55 people being transported by the sawngthaew. Perhaps 20 or 30 minutes into the ride, the vehicle stopped and four girls got out. It alleviated some of the crowding on the platform. I stood up to see how Matt was doing up top and mentioned that my butt was a little sore from sitting on the three-inch wide tailgate. He answered, “Try sitting on a bunch of coconuts.” I sat back down and the sawngthaew started moving again. It is worth noting that the roads in the south are much better than those in the north. They are equally well-paved and non-trafficy, however the road in the south is much more level and almost perfectly straight. So besides the uncomfortable seating arrangement, the drive was ok.

During other sawngthaew rides we have taken, it has been hard to get a good look at the scenery because the truck shell blocks the view. This time, with Matt on the top and me on the tailgate, both of us were facing backwards and so we could easily see our surroundings. It reminded me of riding in the back of my friend’s mom’s station wagon, only with a lot more people. We came to a small town and the sawngthaew began to slow to a stop, perhaps to drop off more passengers, I thought. Suddenly, from the dust in the empty road behind us, there materialized about 20 women waving sticks of barbequed meat in their hands and running towards the vehicle from all directions. A food stop. Chicken, pork, corn, even grilled bananas were available. Cigarettes, gum, sodas, and rice cakes. I bought some chicken skewers and a couple of bags of sticky rice, which I passed up to Matt who was still sitting on top of the shell. As I started munching on my own lump of sticky rice, one of men working for the sawngthaew kept pointing to the food Vanna White style each time someone came up to me to sell their snacks. The overall consensus seemed to be, how could she just eat plain rice? His daughter even offered me one of her chicken sticks, but I declined.

The ride continued. As we pulled away from the food stop, I saw sticks, corncobs, and plastic bags go flying out behind us as other passengers threw out their trash upon finishing their meal. It was still really crowded in the vehicle, and I was tiring of sitting on the tailgate. We passed through a happy looking village and I thought, “this is a nice village, doesn’t anyone want to get off here??” The sawngthaew slowed, “Oh good,” I thought, “Someone is getting off here.” On the contrary, a family of six got on, and we continued on our way. Another 20 minutes or so passed. We stopped again. Someone handed a kid out the window for a bathroom break, and a few ladies got out of the front. As the crew unloaded the debarking passengers’ belongings from the roof, I stood up to take a picture of Matt. Before I could take a shot, I felt a tug at my arm. The matriarch of the sawngthaew (mother of two kids, wife of one of the crew, and the woman who collected the fare from passengers) motioned for me to follow her. Not sure what was going on, I followed. Ahh. The seats in the front cab had opened up and I was being offered one. NICE. After paying the higher of a two-tiered pricing system for transportation the last month, I was reminded that sometimes being a foreigner does have its benefits in transportation. I enjoyed the rest of the ride from the comfort of the front seat, somewhere I hadn’t sat in months. Five hours after we started, we finally made it to our destination, less than 100km from where we started.

In typical Lao style, it took forever for us to get from Vientiane to Champasak. We ended up taking the public day bus rather than the private night bus. One thing Joylani and I have learned to appreciate is the change in landscapes as we travel. Its something you miss out on when flying or traveling by night. Anyways, it was something like 9 or 10 hours to Savanahket and then another 4 hours to Pakse, where we spent the night in a really nice hotel. The next morning, we took a sawngthaew to Champasak, which took two hours and included being transported on a makeshift car-ferry.

After finding a guesthouse and eating lunch in the village of Champasak, we hired a sawngthaew to take us out to the ruins. The ruins were the reason we came to Champasak, which is just a small village across the Mekong from the main highway. The temple, called Wat Phu is about 15 km from town. We passed through a couple villages and past bright green fields of rice. I haven’t yet brushed up on my Khmer history or learned what I need to know for Angkor next week, so I don’t know much about the ruins. At a small visitor’s center at the site, we did learn that it was a Hindu temple built by the Khmers and dates back to the 11^th century. Exploring the ruins was incredibly hot. As a sidenote, we’ve definitely felt the gradual change in temperature as we’ve gone south and its only going to get hotter.

The ruins weren’t huge, but they were set at different elevations over a kilometer or two, so we climbed many stairs. Although the structures were mostly intact, the temples were lived up to the term ruins. Many stones and walls had fallen down and have not yet been restored, although an Italian team is working on certain sections. Seeing the ruins in a state of disrepair made them more attractive in my opinion. The huge black volcanic bricks spilling onto the red dirt and dry gold grass, with the jungle-clad hills and deep blue sky as a backdrop.

The ancient stone paths were uneven and the staircases were buckling under their own immense weight on the hillside. Gnarled leafless plumeria trees gave the place a desolate look, while littering the grounds with the fragrant white and yellow flowers. Locals sold goods and snacks, as well as took care of the Buddhas. Partway up the hill, where the highest temple is located, we were afforded an awesome view of the plains below, which stretched out to the horizon. Looking out there, I saw the temples, and then nothing but farmland and small villages under a clear blue sky- I can’t imagine the view being much different when the temples were built.

Champasak wasn’t mind-blowing like its cousins at Angkor, or even great. But it was the first ruins we’ve seen since Hampi, which was nice and reminded me that I really like ruins. And it was peaceful, because barely anyone comes to Champasak. It was a nice stop on our journey south and we both thought it was a pleasant surprise.

A gentle breeze blew the fragrance of 26 blooming plumeria trees up the steps on the hillside to the temple area where I stood enjoying the view of the flat river valley below.

Despite hearing from multiple sources that Vientiane was “quiet,” I was still surprised by this small town. It shouldn’t have been that surprising though, as its population is a miniscule 200,000. I think the next biggest town is less than half of that. I say miniscule because with a population of over 5 million, one would expect Lao’s capitol to have more people. In India, 200,000 people is barely a town and I think even Male, in the Maldives, has 200,000 residents (from national population of only a half million). Anyways, Vientiane’s population quantifies how agrarian the country is, if nothing else. Combine the smallness of Vientiane with the mellow Lao culture and you have the most laid-back capitol I’ve ever visited. In my opinion, Vientiane was too quiet. I’ve learned that I like living in and around cities, but usually try to avoid them when traveling. I’ve found that the majority of large cities have little to offer travelers and tourists, although the famous ones often offer sightseeing. Vientiane had even less. We toured the national museum, which had recently been renamed from the “Lao Revolutionary Museum.” The first exhibit was about dinosaurs because several dinosaur skeletons were discovered in Lao a hundred years ago. Most of the museum was an interesting history of Lao since its European discovery and the end was chock-full of propaganda; busts of everyone from Lenin to Ho Chi Minh and plenty of references to “American imperialists.” Besides the museum, we saw the city’s most famous wat, Wat Si Saket, which was disappointingly unimpressive, although it had an interesting collection of Buddhas. Patuxai (pictured above) was an interesting monument to see for a brief few moments, kind of Vientiane’s answer to the Arc de Triumphe. We also walked to the Cambodian Embassy twice to drop off and pick up our passports to get visas. And the American Embassy to get extra passport pages for Joylani. You can see where I’m going with all this. We found the food in Vientiane pretty mediocre, which was tough for Joylani (she does want me to quote her saying, “The Vietnamese restaurant was my favorite though. Bo Bun- its where its at.”). We tried all sorts of restaurants, but the street stalls were the best we ate. There were and handful of ATMs in Vientiane, but I only found 3 of them that accept international cards. The city has no buses and very little traffic overall. With the exception of one tall hotel, most of the city doesn’t rise about three stories. And all the nicest buildings are government and or Party ones- sad when you think how poor the country is. There’s a sizable NGO population too, which can be seen by the numerous nice SUVs they drive. Overall, we both found Vientiane underwhelming and were plenty ready to leave once we had our visas and new passport pages in hand.

Travel is really slow in Lao. I cannot write enough posts about the subject, because it is so slow. I’ll admit it could be faster is we took private tourist vans when they were available, but we prefer not to for several reasons. The main reason is because I feel that the local transport is one of the ways to really get to know a country. On a local bus, the windows are either broken or open, so we can smell and see the landscapes, we’re stuffed in dozens of other Lao, so we get to see how most people travel, and we eat real Lao food at all the local reststops. Contrast that with a private tourist van, where the windows are tinted and you drive so fast you can’t see anything, the windows don’t open and there’s A/C instead of the wind, so you’re in this little climate/smell controlled bubble racing down the road and only stopping at tourist/traveler oriented restaurant for any breaks. The tourist-vans have purpose though. We’ll take one if it’s a extraordinarily long journey or if we’re in a rush to get somewhere. For instance we’ll probably take one in a few days from Vientiane down to Pakse.’

makeshift ferries to transport cars and trucks across Mekong

I’ve written quite a bit already about how slow travel is in Laos and how we’ve spent a disproportionate amount of our time here so far in transit. Today we spent 4 hours going the 60-something miles from Vang Vieng to Vientiane. A placard at the front of the bus indicated it was gift from Japan in 1988, similar to many of the Korean-donated buses we’ve seen elsewhere in Lao. To ensure good seats (or any seat at all, for that matter) we got on about 45 minutes before it was scheduled to leave. Once we did get going, I realized that this was perhaps the slowest bus I ever took. On flat road, we went incredibly slow and I seriously think I could’ve walked faster when we hit inclines. We didn’t stop that often, but that’s just because Lao isn’t as populous as most places we’ve been. We stopped for everyone that waved us down, until many of the seats had 3 people and the middle aisle was crowded. But I learned a little bit on the ride too. Like other rides in Lao, many passengers were transporting big bags of grain. Most were put on the roof, but many were laid out or sat upright down the middle aisle for seats. And like our last bus ride, the driver, the bus boys, and the first couple rows in the front were all engaged in a laughter-filled conversation most of the ride. I also noticed that people in Lao have a kind of wide-eyed smile when they board a bus. The only paved roads we’ve seen so far in Lao are the main highways. All the sideroads and village roads are unpaved or dirt paths. Thus, we never left the highway, but just stopped as we passed through road-side villages. I say I learned a bit on this bus ride, because I was just making mental notes of how Lao local bus travel is unique. For instance, in India, the middle aisle always stands, the drivers never engage in conversation, most people look serious when they get on a bus, in addition to random pickups, most public buses stop at bus stations every few hours, and most travelers are men. That’s just a couple contrasts between Lao and India, but I think it’s the accumulation of seeing how people travel, eat, live, talk, party, etc, that helps one to get to know a country and/or culture. So like I’ve mentioned before, travel is slow in Laos. But its been really for seeing the country and observing its people. Flying around Lao wouldn’t give justice to its beautiful mountainous and rivers. And taking a tourist bus, I’d miss out on the good noodle stops and glimpse into a small aspect of Lao life. The travel has been slow, but its rewarding too.

Our bus is 20 years old. It is from the “88-89 Lao-Japan Cooperation Project for the Improvement of Public Transportation in Vientiane,” where we are headed. There is packing tape on the ceiling holding a broken panel together. The bus is a reminder that this is a poor nation. The minimal (yet increasing) development is obvious, just a few main highways connect the country, but they are not that busy with long distance traffic. Poverty is less apparent. During our many travel days in Laos, I have been reminded of the poverty as we pass by offices for NGOs—UNICEF, WHO, World Vision, Red Cross, Oxfam—all the big ones. It’s thought provoking that the poverty is visible by the presence of these NGOs and not by destitute faces of hungry kids and pleading adults. I think from a western mindset; poverty is associated with homelessness. So these people have homes. But they are temporary. A lot of the structures we’ve seen outside of the bigger towns are temporary—woven bamboo, thatched roofs. These types of structures do not last forever. Beyond a shelter though, there really isn’t much. I suspect that in the villages we don’t see there is even less. So what is the full scope of the poverty here?