Better get the cuppa made and get settled into your comfiest chair, this ones a long one . . . . hope you enjoy.
Myself and a friend are off to Laos, “will someone get the name right please”? The Imperial French, who made the country part of French Indochina in 1893, spelled the name with a final silent “s” Why? Well just because they're French really. It's stuck anyway although people have a tendency to pronounce the silent “s”. Long before the French, a poor old, hard of hearing Chinese trader, misheard the name “Dao” when it was told to him and instead heard “Lao” which he then circulated (dare I say via Chinese whispers) :o)
Anyhow, it’s another month of public holidays in Cambodia for; the Kings birthday, for the Royal Ploughing Ceremony Day and for Visaka Bochea Day. With one days annual leave I get 10 days off in a row and is too good an opportunity not to go somewhere I haven’t been before.
Just as I’m locking my gate on Friday 8th I see a minibus outside the Townview Hotel, probably mine I think, but before I can walk the 20 paces it has already departed. I play the waiting game for 10mins on the off chance it wasn’t my bus but on nothing else appearing I jump on the back of a moto and head to the Central Bus Station where Mara’s mind is only just starting to go through the “what the hell am I going to do if she doesn’t turn up" scenario.
Our bus is in need of some tender loving care, but it doesn’t break down and the aircon works and at $6 for a 5.5hr journey our expectations are more than met. We make a couple of stops enroute and I end up with rice and pork for breakfast – a little odd for my stomach but normal for the Khmers. We pick up beautiful mangoes at the roadside stalls which they peel and cut up for us ready for takeaway. There are also the usual fried crickets and tarantulas for sale, what a shame I’d already eaten!
We arrive in Kratie (pronounced Kra-Cha) at 3.30pm and it’s sweltering hot, hotter than Phnom Penh if that’s at all possible. The room touts are there to greet the bus but are neither aggressive nor even pushy – maybe its too hot for hard sell. Two are more persistent than the others however and to play fair I put their business cards behind my back and get Mara to choose. We end up at a 50 room hotel whose facilities are more than adequate and cost us a measly $2.50 each for the night. Our room tout also organises us motos and drivers (himself and his brother) and we head out for dolphin and monastery viewing. Kratie is so beautiful with a whole stretch of road shrouded in vegetation running along beside the river. My moto slows down at a police stop and I think he may be in for a fine due to his helmetless head. He yells hallo to one of the mob standing at the checkpoint and on we press, on that is until our moto breaks down. I jump onto Mara’s moto with her and her not very petite Khmer driver.
We arrive at the monastery, on the summit of the only visible hill – it’s 160 steps, then 127 steps and then 73 steps straight up! Wow, that’s got the heart pumping. We hear the monks practising instruments – tranquil this is not, but with beautiful views. We get to speak Khmer to some elders who have just climbed the first 160 steps – gosh these old people are fit! The women’s heads are grey and completely shaven and they grin at us with toothless smiles. One of the ladies grabs my arm and says something in Khmer which makes the others all start laughing. Hhhmmm, I wonder why I'm so amusing. Next is a short moto ride to where we jump in our long-tail boat and head out into the middle of the Mekong. Our driver kills the engine and it is so beautiful with only the water slapping against the hull to break the quiet. We’ve timed it perfectly, the suns slowly sinking behind Trong Island while around us the dolphins are surfacing for air, clearing their blowholes as we swivel left and right, catching quick glimpses before they dive again. We are surprised at the number we get to see, the guide books having us believe we may not be lucky enough to see any. Just as the sun is setting they begin to play with each other slapping dorsel fins on top of the water – it really is a majestic experience and we head back to dry land feeling privileged and peaceful at having spent a bit of time with these lovely creatures in their home on the Mekong.
Back to two motos again we head back into town. My poor driver with neither helmet nor sunglasses gets pummelled with insects and I have a moment’s anxiety as he wildly swots them away from his eyes. Straight to dinner at the Red Falling Sun and back to the hotel for showers and an early night – exhausted after our days travel and with no idea of what’s to come tomorrow we fall asleep to the sound of monks in the Wat just down the road from us.
This 9th day of May has to be one of the craziest days of travel I have ever had! We are picked up at the café where we are have a great breakfast and a lengthy dialogue with the American owner. It’s really more of a lecture than a dialogue as he does not draw breath and certainly never lets another person have the remotest chance of adding to the conversation. That said he’s a wealth of information and recommends somewhere to stay at our next destination. The minivan in which we’re picked up has bent seats and a window missing and they drive us around the block, picking up a mother and baby enroute before depositing us at the bus station a journey from café to destination that could have taken us 5 mins to walk and which in the minivan took 30 mins. I sign of things to come. We get transferred into another minivan and are greeted by the “hallos” from three sweet but dirty young girls who are sitting on the back seat with Mum, another babe in arms. There are only three other people in the van and as we take off and I mistakenly think “this is great”. We stop 15 mins out of town and another 11 people pile in. That's now a total of 21 in a 14 seater. We sit for the whole journey squashed close with no leg room, with our packs on our laps, no aircon and Khmer DVD’s filling the air with excruciating noise. While in motion the wind whips our faces and the temperature is bearable but this van is to make many stops; wee stops (which involves the ladies peeing on the side of the road, their pee skirts or sarongs wrapped around them for modesty), people pick-up stops, people drop-off stops, stops for picking up containers of petrol and then a turn around about 15 mins down the road and return to the petrol pick-up stop as we’d forgotten some containers. We finally arrive at Steng Treng 3 hours later and are told we must wait 2 hours for our next minibus. We have a look at the market and a leisurely lunch and arrive back at the allotted time only to have to wait another hour until we get to leave (when asked why? I am told it’s because they are sorting their beer money??) It’s less than an hour to the Laos/Cambodian border and the customs officers are surprisingly friendly – I’m always surprised when customs officers are friendly. One of them, on seeing my New Zealand passport told me his brother lives in NZ, we chat and manage to avoid paying the “administration” fee. No relatives in NZ or Australia in the Laos side though and we hand over the small fee. Some young Americans come through after us and have to pay at both sides and twice as much as us at the Laos control. They seemed perplexed as to why – are they serious? Could it not perhaps have something to with their country having bombed and caused both major loss of life and destruction to both these countries???
We spend 2 hours sitting at the border, the explanation we’re given is that we’re waiting for more people. By now, and mostly due to the intense heat, patience’s are wearing a little thin especially when we realise the people we’re waiting on have come all the way from Phnom Penh in the time it’s taken us to come from Kratie! Worse off than us though are the poor Laos family also waiting in our minivan with us that were only out to visit the nearby waterfall. Finally, the stragglers arrive and we get to take the family to the waterfall where they spend a very short 15 mins after the lengthy wait. We drop them home and then head to the Pier where our boat to Four Thousand Islands awaits us.
We get to experience another sunset on the Mekong on our 15min boat trip to Don Dhet (the main back packer island) then we head on foot (we’re told it’s only 2 km) to another less backpacker packed island, a brave move as darkness soon descends and we trudge through forests of trees as well as along beside paddy fields with the only light from the moon. We hear a bizarre loud noise that wouldn’t be out of place in a Star Trek movie – it’s stereophonic as it shifts from one side of the road and back again. Bats? no idea but nice and eerie all the same. Locals appear out of the darkness and answer yes when we ask if we are heading in the right direction but they add that it’s about 4km or half an hour away – oops. We justify by telling ourselves we need the exercise after a day spent on our asses in various forms of transport. We finally reach Don Khon having crossed the “French” bridge and find accommodation, all fairly much in the dark as this island has no electricity. Generators supplying power to the bungalows and restaurants from sunset until 11pm, only. We dine at the restaurant belonging to our bungalows and are told on ordering that there is no fish – what someone forgot to throw the line in??? They’re sitting on a river for goodness sake! I order something like chicken curry which fails to turn up and on chasing it up 30 mins later am told “its coming” and finally end up with something which turns out to be a very delicious chicken fried rice. Welcome to laid back Laos!
Morning in Don Khon, we awake to the sounds of the river, the splash of the fisherman’s nets being cast on the water, the dull thud of hammering in the distance, a long-tail boats engine putt, putting as it passes by, and the harmonised voices of the Lao girls singing while they clean the room next door. It’s rained most of the previous night, such a beautiful sound as it pummels our roof and we lay in bed watching the room fill with light but only momentarily as the lightening flashes. When the rain lets up we can hear the gentle plop, plop as the rain dripps off the roof and onto the massive “Elephants Ear” leaves of the plants surrounding our front door.
Having dinner some distance from our bungalows the previous evening we were surprised at how instantly the air cooled as the wind picked up, announcing the rains imminent arrival. It continued it’s tropical downpour throughout dinner which was a fairly lengthy affair (as nothing is done with anything other than the cadence of a snail) but was lovely as we over indulged. The rain subsided eventually and we headed bungalow-bound on our very wet bikes. Now remember there is no electricity on this island, therefore we rode in the pitch black on a dirt road now turned to mush by the rain. I try to keep to what I imagine is the middle of the path with visions of veering off into the river filling my mind. We bounce over big rocks as well as gravel and the bike practically freezes in place numerous times, as I sink into big mud puddles. Mara shrieks out “cow” at one stage, as a water buffalo with nice big horns looms out of the darkness and I dissolve into hysterics while putting my foot down (to gain some control of myself and the bike) and sink three inches into something wet and squelchy. I giggle like a girl as a beacon of light from our bungalow beckons us onwards all the time hoping that it is mud and not buffalo poo that covers my only shoes!
The third day of our trip begins with rising late into a steaming hot day and hiring push bikes for a tour round the island. There is only one 4 metre stretch of concrete on the whole island, the rest dirt, and the bikes were definitely not designed with this terrain in mind. One of my hips begins to ache as we cycle along and I realise it’s because one of the springs under my bike seat is missing – glad I’m not riding the Pyrenees on this little beauty. The scenery more than compensates for any discomfort as we venture between rice fields and small forests of trees, it is so serene, the only sounds made by birds, cicadas or the occasional call from a buffalo and the squeak, squeak from my CRC deprived bike. Our path takes us towards a waterfall, as we cross small rickety pedestrian sized bridges and pass beneath a natural canopy of cane branches forming an arch overhead. When we arrive, there are groups of Thai tourists who are very eager to chat and I’m not sure if that’s all down to the whiskey they’re putting in with their coca cola at this early hour. We follow the sign posts to a beach which is not ideal for swimming but is used by Cambodians as a landing point on the island to come shopping. One elderly gentleman was just getting back onto his long-tail boat with bags of supplies and a guitar amp – maybe they’re cheap in Laos?? Further on we see a herd of water buffalo grazing in a paddock with a calf bleating it’s wee heart out. Mum’s answering bellow sounds as she emerges out of trees a couple of fields away, glistening with mud she must have been cooling herself down in the river. She races across the fields and across our path bellowing reassurance to her calf who is bleating all the while. It’s nice to see Mum and calf reunited and all at peace again. We give into the heat wishing we had a big mud puddle to wallow in, and head back to the Bungalow. It turns out not to be that much cooler, with no electricity nor breeze to speak of – we lay like panting Labradors until the heat of the day eases. Our bikes have gone as we make to head back across the bridge to Don Dhet but replacements soon materialise and as fortune would have it, are huge improvements on the last – two springs per seat and no squeaking.
We get to see the pitch black path of last night in daylight and are glad we’ve made the trip, again. It’s lovely, quaint and serene and only improved upon as the rain comes in gently and makes it all smell so fresh. Kids are larking about naked in the river, a plump little piglet wanders about close to it’s mum, a man saws a log by hand while others look on and chickens and dogs run across our path – it’s a tranquil country scene and could quite easily be anywhere in the world if you traipse back far enough in their history.
The next morning we spend watching life on the river unfold as we wait for our long-tail to come and take us back to the mainland and on to Pakse. Women come down to the river to bath in their sarongs, men throw fishing lines and nets while boats pull in to deliver the supplies for the day to restaurants. There’s much noise on the island today, due to what appears to be the annual tree pruning before the wet. Unless of course they’re finally going to put power on the island and are clearing for the lines – the powers being promised for the last 5 years, could now really be the time? Men are scurrying up coconut palms like monkeys with razor sharp machetes in their hands. They slice and strike at fronds which fall with only one hit while there’s much issuing of instructions from below. Smaller trees have a rope tied around them and men heave together until they break and come crashing down. Some large palms are cut off completely about a metre from their bases. Is there any strategy to this hive of activity – it doesn’t appear so to me, but then who am I to say? It’s certainly the most action I’ve seen from any of the Laotians so far.
The Mekong doesn’t fail to delight on our 15 min boat ride – a herd of buffalo up to their necks in the water, young boys fishing off a boat, one holding it steady while the other casts a net and with snorkel on dives straight into the river after it. There’s a Wat on the right bank with Monks robes laid out on a shrub in the sun to dry and a teenager washes his clothes in a big plastic bowl bobbing on its surface.
We jump into a Westerners minivan which means one person per seat and an area for everyone’s luggage – oh what luxuries we take for granted. It’s a three hour ride through the now familiar site of green vegetation as far as you can see. An icecream straight off the bus to regroup and find bearings and then we dump our bags at the Lonely Planet recommended Saibidy 2 guesthouse, it’s cheap at $4 each and is extremely clean and tidy.
Next morning in the drizzle I get my first lesson on riding a motorbike with gears, and having passed the test, head off complete with backpacks and Mara, into the wild “green” yonder. We stop for fuel and I mistakenly enter someone’s home to pay – interesting that they’ve set up home in the garage forecourt. Next stop is to buy a bungy cord to hold the pack between my legs in place and we leave town proper just as the rain starts proper. It doesn’t let up as I’d hoped during our very slow 37km trip and we arrive at our destination, Phasoume Resort, soaked through. The Lonely Planet describes this place as the “Disney Land” of Laos and although there is definitely an air of make believe about it, it has been put together really well. 8 years ago a Thai guy employed 24 men and an elephant to clear this site for an ethnic village park. They built all the buildings (restaurant, tree houses, and bungalows) pathways and seating etc out of the wood from fallen trees. Then they replanted hundreds of trees and shrubs and in 8 years nature has filled in the rest so that they now have a very jungle if somewhat contrived feel. The Thai guy is still there and the sad part of this story is that he contracted malaria just before the park opened and went blind as a result of being in a malaria induced coma. He never got to see the park opened but loves the place and wants to retire here. He and his wife employ 80 staff and house 50 of them onsite and they all seem to love being there with, and working for them. Local tribes people “exist” in the ethnic village for the tourists demonstrating weaving, playing of instruments or just going about village life and seem to be happy to do so.
Our accommodation here is a little more expensive at $15 each a night but feel it’s worth it for the surrounds and our experience here. Our bungalow backs onto the river and is closest to the waterfall with our deck having a prime view. The bathroom facilities have no roof just a huge deck umbrella covering the loo. How gorgeous! Showering under the stars while you stand on a floor of pebbles and treated tree stumps. No floors requiring moping here.
The rain has let up as we hit the road again for Tadlo, about 60 kms away through some of the lushest vegetation you can imagine. It seems to creep silently right up to the roads edge and you can imagine it very easily covering up the road if your back was turned for too long. Our moto has no power which makes for a long trip but a safe one as all manor of animals have right-of-way on this main highway. I repeatedly slow for piglets and chooks or herds of goats who just meander sedately across the road, and I even have to stop completely as a herd of cows lay across both lanes, it’s wonderful and we’re so glad we’re on a bike – you miss so much in a car or bus. We have a meal at Tadlo and check out the waterfall and then it’s pretty much time to head back as I don’t want to be riding in the dark. It’s bathing time as we head back and we see girls washing in their sarongs and boys in their shorts down at the river.
Next day we head up onto the Bolven Plateau and towards Paksong. It must be a pretty big ascent as our moto almost comes to a stand still on occasion. Tadfane is one of the much publicised waterfalls but we are recommended to stop at another waterfall 3 kms before it and we are so glad we do. With steps that descend right to the bottom of the waterfall then raised wooden walkways at it’s base it’s stunning viewing and an amazing experience to be so close to something so powerful. I could have stayed there for hours in this green cool place. Instead we have to make the arduous climb back up the extremely steep steps, not for the faint hearted this one. Next is Paksong market where I become a blithering mess over the most gorgeous puppy dressed in powder blue shortie pyjamas with a wee hole cut in the shorts for his tail. Gosh, just the thought of him makes me go all mushy. It takes us about half the time to get back to Phasoume Resort as it’s downhill all the way. That night, as the only overnight visitors we’re invited by the Thai guy to join them in a Catholic Mass. They have already held a Buddhist ceremony in the morning and both are an annual event. It truly is one of the best experiences of the trip as we get to share and be part of this special community. All of the staff whether Buddhist, Catholic, Protestant, or “Ghost” come and sit on the floor around us and the Thai guy, while we wait for the priest from Pakse to arrive. It’s about 26 years since I was at my last Mass (dragged along by my great school friend Colleen who got me along under the pretext it would be a great place to meet boys – and she was right) The trappings and actions are pretty much the same from what I remember but this one is conducted wholly in Laos so I have to watch my neighbours out of the corner of my eye for when to bow my head etc. Everyone is here, the ladies we bought weaving off this morning, the man who played the instruments, the girl who made our fruit shakes and the grandchildren from my photo. They all sing together and some join in the offerings part of the ceremony and others the receiving of the body of Christ (forgive me Catholics if I’m getting this wrong). It’s lovely that when I look about me I’m greeted with smiles that say we’re happy you’re here with us being part of our community. After Mass everyone eats together and we’re served just as though we’re part of the crew. Its lovely that there’s this simply assuredness, by them ,that we would be eating with them tonight. No debate or asking the boss for permission it just happened so naturally. That night we are accompanied by one of the workers the 10mins to our bungalow and he points out the guards who have been sent to sleep in the small bungalow next to us, they weren’t there last night and it feels like they’re come just to make us sleep better. If I’ve ever needed a reason why I should travel; to have a simple but glorious experience like this is more than reason enough.
Back to Pakse the next morning to drop off the motor and book our bus back to Phnom Penh for the next day. We round up a Tuk-Tuk and head to Kiet Ngong so I can fulfil my wish and have another ride on an elephant. (The last being in Chang Mai, Thailand over 10 years ago). It’s not quite as I imagine, no trek through dense vegetation up the mountain. But it’s still a nice 40 min ride and a pleasure to experience one of these amazing creatures at close range, even though there were slight flatulence and snot issues.
The stay in Pakse and Laos for that matter, finishes with a glorious foot massage and a very mediocre noodle stirfry.
We leave at 8am and arrive back in Phnom Penh two hours early at 8 pm! A much better trip than the one up – thank goodness, and we get dropped at our front doors. It really was lovely to cross the border back into smiley Cambodia land and a relief to actually be able to converse with the locals again, even in my still very limited Khmer.
