Cambodia, yesterday and today.
Staying longer in Laos that we expected, combined with our desire to be in the biggest cities possible to increase our odds of being able to watch the Steelers in the AFC Championship Game and Super Bowl on television, meant that we ended up giving Cambodia short shrift. We ended up spending only 11 days there, less time than we originally allotted. At first, I didn’t think it would matter much. But, like many people who visit parts of Cambodia other than Siem Reap, Sean and I both developed a fondness for Cambodia and were sad to go.
More so than most of its neighbors, Cambodia is a very rural country and a very poor country. It is impossible not to think of Cambodia’s history while you were there. Some people might think this makes Cambodia a sad place. But we found it to be anything but. Personally, I think Cambodia’s history is much of what makes it so special. A lot of countries have happy, friendly people. A lot of countries have good cuisine. A lot of countries have historical sites. But to have all of these things after what Cambodia’s been through just thirty or so years ago? Putting today’s Cambodia in context with yesterday’s Cambodia can really blow your mind.
The year I was born, 1979, the Vietnamese toppled the Khmer Rouge and ended 4 years of hell for the Cambodian people. That means every.single.person older than me and alive today in Cambodia lived through all or some of the Khmer Rouge’s regime. What was eerie was that we were more likely to encounter people younger than us rather than older. Those that were older have seen things you and I can’t even imagine. On April 17, 1975, after many years of civil war, the Khmer Rouge rolled into Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s biggest city by far and its capital with army tanks. The people of Phnom Penh were heartened by their presence; they were hopeful, believing this new government would alleviate the many problems the countries suffered during its civil war. But although there was no way of knowing at the time, this couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
Instead, the Khmer Rouge turned the clocks back and declared it the Year Zero. The Khmer Rouge was determined to remake Cambodian society into a docile, rural, agrarian one. They rounded up the 2.5 million people living in Phnom Penh, killed certain intellectuals and former government officials right away, and made everyone else march into the countryside. The people still didn’t know what their fate would be. For some, they were taken to places like the Killing Fields, where they were separated from their families, photographed, and killed. For others, they were forced to toil away in the fields, given very little food, and indoctrinated against their old ways of life. Many died of starvation and diseases.
I believe there is no excuse for continued ignorance once you travel, in person, to another country. While we were in Cambodia, we tried to learn as much about its history as we could. Cambodia’s recent history doesn’t begin and end with the Khmer Rouge. There’s many facets: colonization by the French, a civil war, intense bombing by the Americans during the Vietnam War, post-Khmer Rouge control by the Vietnamese, starvation and poverty during the eighties, continued terror from afar by members of the Khmer Rouge hiding out for years, implicit acceptance of the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities by support for a Khmer Rouge backed government in the UN by the United States and other Western countries, more implicit acceptance of the Khmer Rouge’s atrocities by continued delayed trials of the Khmer Rouge and participation in today’s government by former members… It is enough to make your head spin, especially knowing that the United States’ own agenda made it get involved in ways most Americans don’t know or think about.
While we were in Phnom Penh, we visited the sites of the former Killing Fields and Tuol Soung Musuem, otherwise known as S-21, which is a former school turned into a prison by the Khmer Rouge. We watched a video about the rise of the Khmer Rouge in Siem Reap’s night market. (Incidentally, we were the only ones). We tried read up on as much history as we could on-line or in books. Learning in museums and books are important, but often, it doesn’t really sink in until you see a living, breathing reminder. There’s a lot of trees at the Killing Fields, at least where the Khmer Rouge didn’t clear them to make room for mass graves. One of the trees had a sign that said, matter-of-factly, This is the tree against which the Khmer Rouge used to beat children. The starkness and abruptness of that sign stopped me dead in my tracks, but it wasn’t until days later, when I saw a woman holding a baby next to a giant oak tree, and thought about what if that baby had been born thirty-some years ago, that I could feel emotion really well up inside.
We hired a guide to take us around the countryside surrounding Battambang. His name is Philay. In addition to showing us around in his tuk-tuk, he also was kind enough to retell his experience with the Khmer Rouge. He was living in Phnom Penh on April 17, 1975. He told us, matter of factly, that the Khmer Rouge invaded his house and killed his father and brother, because they served in Cambodia’s military. Philay and what was left of his family were forced to march to the countryside like millions of others in Phnom Penh. He worked in the fields for many years, and due to lack of food and hard work under the hot sun, he got very, very sick more than once. His mother and one of his sisters died of starvation in the fields. After the Vietnamese liberated the Cambodian people, like many of the people lucky to still be alive, Philay walked across the entire country to return to Phnom Penh. Philay lived as a refugee on the Thai border for a time, and eventually returned to Cambodia, fought in Cambodian’s army , settled in Battambang, married his wife, and had children. Today, he drives a tuk-tuk around Battambang, a very competitive field, and on some days, he takes visitors like us out to the countryside.
A lot of visitors come to Cambodia just to see Angkor Wat, some of the most majestic ancient ruins in the world. Angkor Wat certainly is amazing, but I enjoyed our time seeing the living, breathing Cambodia of today in Battambang and Kampot much, much more. What was most amazing about Angkor Wat to me is that Angkor Wat is still standing today, despite Cambodia’s tumultuous history.
Cambodia may not be for everyone. It is true that Cambodia can be a little rough around the edges, that it isn’t as clean as Thailand or even Laos, that there are many pairings of creepy older Western men with very young Cambodian women, that there are a lot of poor people begging you for money. It is true that Cambodia has a really, really sad history, and it can be really, really sobering to learn about it. But outside of Siem Reap, a city where desperate people all clamor for the same dollars of the visitors who have so many more than they do, people are friendly just for the sake of being friendly. Tourism is a major industry in a country without many major industries, and is still relatively new, so while people try to make money through tourism all over the country, they also smile and laugh while doing so. Kids yell “Hello” in English and run around blissfully oblivious of yesterday’s horrors. People play quirky games like badmitton, hacky sack, and volleyball in public squares. Men crowd around televisions on the streets to cheer on their favorite boxer. Women, the older ones often dressed in printed pajamas, the younger ones often dressed in jeans, sell goods in lively markets. Good-natured NGOs cook up tasty fish amoks in trendy cafes, even in the smaller towns.
Yes, 11 days was entirely too short.
Paper cranes left at the Killing Fields by Japanese visitors
Flowering trees outside the former Toul Sleng Prison
The site of the former Toul Sleng prison now houses rooms after rooms of photographs of victims of the Khmer Rouge.
What would you look like, if you knew it was your last photograph? Would you look scared?
Would you smile because you were nervous? Or because you always smile for photographs? Or because you are thinking of happier times, far away from where you were?
Then, there's the pictures of the children.
Sean with Philay, our guide to the Battambang countryside
Traffic in Phnom Penh
When we came across this minivan transporting hundreds of chickens, inside and out, in Kampot, we had to stop and gawk.
A sneak preview of the Angkor Wat temples...
Some of the cutest, and certainly the most outgoing, children we came across in Cambodia.
Forty Before Forty (with a Wanderlist too)
I never been on a railroad, as many times as they pass me by
I never crashed in the desert or seen a rodeo
I don’t know much about the world wars or Vietnam
I’ve yet to read about Uncle Tom
Never climbed a real rock or seen Colorado
Am I the son I think I am
Am I the friend I think I am
Am I the man I think I wanna be – hey
I never had a day where money didn’t get in my way
I never listened to much Elvis
I can’t remember a warm December
Am I the son I think I am
Am I the friend I think I am
Am I the man I think I wanna be – hey
Cause I’m here for my sanity sanity
I am here for you
I’m here for your fantasy sanity, I am here
I am
Am I the son I think I am
Am I the friend I think I am
Am I the man I think I wanna be
Cause I’m here for my sanity sanity I am here for you
Whether or not I’m walkin in
Whether or not I’m walkin out
I’m always here for you– I Am, Train
The other day, I was sitting on a train making its way north in Vietnam, and this song came on my Ipod. Something about this song always gets me. I think all of us want to be a certain type of person, and at some point in your life, you have to either be that person or realize that person just isn’t you.
The irony was not lost on me that now, I do know something about Vietnam. And the only thing passing me by was the scenery, not railroads. Not to mention that I can remember a warm December.
I turn 32 today. And I’m not getting any younger. If it is one thing taking this trip made me realize, it’s that if there’s something I want in life, it’s up to me to do something about it.
So, I’ve created a list. A list of dreams, you could say. I’ve been thinking about creating a list of dreams for a long time. I think I first read about the concept from Chris, over at Notes from the Trenches (one of the first blogs I ever read and one of my favorites to this day). Karen at Chookooloonks calls hers a Mighty Life List. I’m a visual person; I like seeing things spelled out in front of me. Having it all there in black and white appeals to me. I don’t view this as a to-do list; I’m sure I will look at some of these things at 40 and laugh. Many won’t get crossed off. Maybe some will take me more than eight years. Half the things on this list are contradictory or just a small seed of thought in the back of my mind. I’ll probably change my mind a million times, anyway. But I think it will be interesting, at 40, to see who the 32-year-old me thought she wanted to be. And writing down your dreams is the first little step to taking that giant one.
Without further adieu, here’s my Forty Before Forty:
1. Figure out what I want to be when I grow up. (Might as well just start with the big one).
2. Find a job that doesn’t make me miserable.
3. Take the plunge and stop being DINKS (or more accurately as of late, NINKS) and have some rugrats.
4. Learn how to drive a stick shift.
5. Live in a house, with original character, that is finished. (Might as well dream big!)
6. Eat smaller portions and less meat.
7. Compost.
8. Grow a flower and vegetable garden.
9. Write a novel.
10. Live in a foreign country for a year.
11. Become fluent in Spanish, preferably by spending some time in a Spanish-speaking country.
12. Make yogurt, mozzarella cheese, and bread from scratch.
13. Make pierogies from scratch with my cousin Karen.
14. Take a photography class.
15. Become scuba certified.
16. Start shooting my camera in manual mode.
17. Can fresh local vegetables for use in winter.
18. Decorate with fresh flowers for Chinese/Vietnamese New Year.
19. Live by the ocean.
20. Own a shop/cafe with fair trade products and tasty treats.
21. Open a bed & breakfast.
22. Celebrate New Year’s Eve with Sean, Danielle, Matt and Tony in a different locale each year.
23. Bake apple pie just like my mom’s.
24. Ride a bike to work.
25. Be a tourist in my own city.
26. Become friends with someone who owns a boat.
27. Bind together a book of my blog posts.
28. Create a photo album of our trip.
29. Get caught up and resume making photo albums of everyday life. (I think I’m somewhere in 2008? Who knows).
30. Finish the photo album of our house renovations. (Probably should have done this before we sold the house last year!)
31. Keep blogging after we return home.
32. Join the library again.
33. Stop talking about volunteering and do it.
34. Learn from the Europeans and spend more time appreciating beauty, lingering at cafes, and taking more vacation time.
35. Go on a girls’ trip, finally.
36. See Josh Ritter and the Royal City Band play in Idaho.
37. Live in a walkable community and walk whenever I can.
38. Perfect a chocolate chip cookie recipe.
39. Keep on experiencing my Wanderlist!
40. Be a person who creates happiness instead of a person who complains about not being happy.
And, because all of my travel related dreams often take on a life of their own, I created a sure to be never ending Wanderlist:
1. Stop neglecting Canada. (Because it is true that all I know about Canada I know from HIMYM. And the South Park movie).
2. Take a road trip from Vancouver to LA.
3. Visit “our” bakery in France again.
4. Try all different types of Belgian waffles in Belgium (and eat Pierre Marcolini chocolate again. And since I’m over there, drink lots of beer).
5. Eat my way through Italy.
6. Eat real Mexican in Mexico.
7. Go to Madagascar and see cool animals.
8. See the Great Migration before it disappears.
9. Visit an island in the South Pacific.
10. Go to the Caribbean without being on an all-inclusive trip.
11. Enjoy life in small villages in Spain.
12. Go to Cork, Ireland. (We missed it this time around).
13. Go to Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic. (Ditto).
14. Drink beers at breweries throughout the Czech Republic.
15. Return to the Andaman Islands in 10 years.
16. Get the courage and strength to visit India again.
17. Go on a microbrewery tour in the United States.
18. Take a cooking class in Italy, Germany, China, and Mexico.
19. Board the next plane or train going anywhere.
20. Drink malbec in Argentina or Peru; sauvigon blanc in New Zealand; and shiraz in Australia.
21. Drive a VW Beetle throughout Southeast Asia. Or South America. Or Central America. Where ever. I’m not picky.
22. Take a cross-country road trip.
23. Take a trip entirely based on food.
24. Visit all 50 states.
25. Travel in South America, especially Argentina.
26. Learn how to make pastries in France.
27. Explore the Deep South.
28. See koalas and kangaroos in Australia.
29. Go to Thailand during mango season.
30. Explore other boroughs in NYC besides Manhatten.
31. Trace our roots in Germany.
32. Go where the live music is.
33. Go white water rafting at Ohiopyle.
To be continued…
If it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month or even your year…
To say I was not a fan of Vang Vieng is only putting it mildly. Vang Vieng is a small town between Luang Prabang and Laos’ capital city, Vientiane, located among limestone mountain karsts and the Nam Song River. Its claim to fame is being a party mecca for young backpackers who come there to go tubing down the beautiful river and allow themselves to be reeled in to shore to drink Beer Lao and Lao-Lao whiskey by the bucketful. Sean had no interest in tubing, so we only stopped overnight to check out the scenery and break up the trip between Luang Prabang and Vientiane. By all accounts, Vang Vieng is touristy, Westernized, and rowdy, and most travelers whose blogs I read seemed to view Vang Vieng as a guilty pleasure after their visits. So I was prepared to see some good-natured debauchery and even the strange phenomenon of cafe after cafe running endless loops of Friends, the Simpsons, and Family Guy.
But I underestimated the scene in Vang Vieng. I know lots of people love it, and I’m sure I sound like the old, thirty-something fuddy-duddy that I am, but to me, Vang Vieng is a giant frat party gone out of control. From dusk onward, the streets are filled with stumbling, obnoxious kids clad only in skimpy bathing suits (in a very conservative country) and with lewd sayings written in marker up and down their bodies. As one group stumbled by, cackling and shouting, a bikini-clad girl filled her companion’s cup to the brim with whiskey. He chugged it down and threw his cup on the street while yelling “F*ck yeah!” like he was in the basement of a college house and not a guest in someone else’s country.
Despite listening to pounding bass late into the night (thank you Travelfish reviewers who called our hotel “quiet;” you apparently are deaf or didn’t come back to the room until 4 a.m.), we decided to take the afternoon bus to Vientiane and first check out an organic farm up the river. If we thought this would get us away from the rowdiness in town we’d be sadly mistaken; the farm has the unfortunate location of being right near the start of the tubing. This means instead of peaceful sounds of birds chirping, the farm gets to hear the sounds of competing music screeching out over the river.
Other than the noise pollution, the farm was lovely. We took a tour led by “Mr. T”, a little Laotian man who is passionate about organic farming and leading by example. He hopes to show other local farmers that organic farming can be profitable and healthy. The farm centers around its mulberry trees, used for mulberry tea, mulberry wine, mulberry tempura and most deliciously, mulberry shakes. The farm also grows organic vegetables and fruits (we saw starfruit and jackfruit trees, for example) and has chickens, pigs, and goats. In addition to sustainable farming, the farm also runs various projects for the community, such as building inexpensive housing out of local materials, paying fair wages to local people, running schools for local kids, and a goat lending program where locals receive goats and repay their debt with baby goats.
Hearing about one man’s efforts to better the local community made me less cranky about our stopover in Vang Vieng (or at least until the tuk-tuk driver insisted on charging us $5 to return to town even though they were already going that way any way to pick up more tubers). Besides eating delicious fresh organic meals by the river, and learning more about organic farming in a third-world Communist country, it gave me a different perspective on the party scene in Vang Vieng that I wish more travelers would consider. There’s nothing wrong with having a good time, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of a community. I’m not even talking about people’s claim that Vang Vieng is a former shell of its former, sleepy self and that its Lao culture had disappeared; that happens to a lot of places where tourism takes over. I’m talking more specifically about the locals who lived by the river long before tubing came to town, who have to listen to the partying day in and day out, who can’t afford or who don’t want to move. I’m talking about the little Lao kids who see the drunk, raunchy foreigners and think all foreigners are that way or that it is an appropriate way to behave. Both the travelers who participate in behavior they wouldn’t necessarily engage in at home and locals who profit from the travelers are all complicit. There’s nothing wrong with letting loose and having a few beers and some fun, but I wish more travelers would think more about the consequences of their actions.
Now that I’m done ranting, if you could please get off my lawn.
Mr. T explains organic crunchy things to Sean in the midst of the mulberry trees.
Mr. T greeted the goats with "Bonjour" instead of "Sabaidee." Most of the goats, used for the farm's community lending program and to make goat's cheese, were donated by a Frenchman.
If you don't think about how they are destined to become your bacon, these baby pigs are adorable. We watched this pink guy doggedly worm his way in between his polka-dotted buddies.
Mulberry fields on the farm.
Laos, the Bird’s Eye View.
Laos. (Don’t ask me if it is pronounced Lao or Laos, because I still don’t have the foggiest clue. I heard it both ways while we were there). I wouldn’t know much about this landlocked, socialist country, except I’ve been reading travel blogs for years. And for years, people have been touting Laos as the “undiscovered gem” in Southeast Asia. Perhaps at some point that was true, but trust me, you won’t be the only person traveling through Laos. In fact, a lot of our stops in Laos seemed to be the most touristy we’ve experienced in Southeast Asia. The Laotian government removed roadblocks to visitors traveling to Laos in the nineties; now, one in every 10.9 jobs in the country is in the tourist industry and 1.876 million people visited the country in 2010. Pretty remarkable when you think about how the country only has 6.8 million people. But it is true that Laos is less crowded than its neighbors and gives you room to breathe.
While we were there, I felt like Laos was noticeably more expensive than Thailand. As it turned out, we spent $8 less per day in Laos than we did in Thailand. I suppose we thought Laos was more expensive at the time because you get better value for your money in Thailand: more amenities, more modern. I suppose at the time of our purchases, we thought Laos should have been cheaper since it was less developed. But here’s the funny thing about Laos. There really aren’t any big cities. The capital city is only getting its first movie theater this year. There are only a handful of paved roads criss-crossing the country. Most people live in wooden shacks along dirt roads. But you can find a trendy cafe in many towns where the tourists frequent with a computerized cash register, free wi-fi, and coffee drinks that wouldn’t be out of place anywhere in the Western world. There are two economies in Laos: the local economy and the tourist economy. And more so than anywhere else in Southeast Asia, the economies don’t really mingle together. Sure, you can ride transport or eat with locals, but you have to go out of your way to do so. Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world, but you may not even notice if you don’t leave the tourist areas.
Our original plan was to blitz through in a week. We ended up staying 24 days. A week seemed reasonable last winter sitting in our apartment, staring at maps and planning our itinerary. Laos is kind of small, we figured. But unless you fly in and back out, a week won’t get you anywhere. Laos is the kind of place that takes a while to get around. Its also the kind of place that draws you in slowly and encourages meandering. These factors, along with a drawn out stomach bug for me in Luang Prabang and Vientiane, meant that we stayed longer than we planned. I didn’t realize how laid back Laos was until after we left and were in the middle of a whirlwind of scooters and people in Phnom Penh.
The two most-talked about aspects of Laos is the fantastically tasty and cheap Beer Lao, which we’ve covered, and the concept of Lao time. Everything was always hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait, probably best epitomized by a shuttle to an overnight bus we took in Vientiane. The shuttle came at the last possible minute to pick us up. At every pick-up, the driver threw the luggage in the back of the truck, and sped off before the new passenger ever sat down. Suddenly, he pulled over to the side of the road and there we sat. When asked what we were doing, he only told us, “No worries, no worries.” Just as suddenly as we pulled over, he was yelling for everyone to get back in the truck and we were careening down the road, chasing after our bus. Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait, and always no worries.
Less discussed is the abundance of old VW Beetles throughout the country, giving rise to another item to add to my wanderlist: road tripping in Southeast Asia in a Bug. It will happen.
Unlike the Thais or the Cambodians, who are all smiles all of the time, the Lao people are more reserved. At first I thought the people we encountered were rude, but it just took longer to coax a smile out. Laos felt traditional; lots of families gathered together to eat communal meals outside and women wore long, silk skirts to sit side-saddle on motorbikes. One of the first things we noticed upon entry were the adorable Lao babies. There were tons of them, and almost always to mothers who looked babies themselves – probably because Laos has the youngest population in Asia. The Lao food wasn’t spectacular, but it was usually cheap, and there are plenty of tasty cafes with French influence, leftover from the days when Laos was part of French Indochina. The raw beauty of the country is stunning, and is reason alone to visit. Visiting central Laos was enjoyable, but we didn’t become engaged with Laos until we ventured to the less-visited south. Come explore Laos with us…
Taking a break from our motorbike trip through the Bolaven Plateau
View along the way from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng
Pretty flowers in Vientiane
A bar called Utopia in Luang Prabang. Laos is the most bombed country in the world, per capita, courtesy mostly of the United States. More on that later.
A Lao family gathers for breakfast in Luang Prabang.
River banks in Luang Prabang.
Joma Cafe in Luang Prabang - complete with free wi-fi, fancy coffee drinks, and tasty treats.
A Lao home along a dirt road in the Bolaven Plateau.
Shy but curious kids in the Bolaven Plateau.
A waterfall in the 4,000 Islands.
The first Bug we spotted in Laos, parked on a street in Luang Prabang.
Spotted again during the alms-giving ceremony to the monks.
A Bug procession - spotted parked by the riverside in Luang Prabang and later on the move.
A red Bug in Vientiane.
The Slooooooooooow Boat to Luang Prabang
After leaving spending Christmas in Chiang Mai, we were determined to get to Laos to ring in 2011. So of course we took the slowest way possible. Over the course of three days, we traveled from Chiang Mai, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos by a combination of bus and a slow boat (not to mention pick-up trucks, songtheaws, and a “ferry”). They call it the slow boat because it involves two very long days of cruising on the Mekong River, as opposed to the fast boat that makes the trip in a zippy six hours but requires motorcycle helmets and a potential death wish. Here’s how it all went down:
Day One: Ride what is a serious contender for our worst bus yet from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong on the border. The ride was at least seven hours and I spent all seven of those hours smooshed in between Sean on my left and a Thai boy on my right because why have four seats across when you can have five? I’m certain the Thai boy had to be upset with his dumb luck getting stuck next to the two ginormous Westerners but these seats weren’t even wide enough for five Thai people to sit comfortably. Of course there was obnoxiously loud music; it is Southeast Asia, after all.
Day Two: First leg of the slow boat. On the first leg, you alternate between, this sucks and this is awesome. They say it is easy to meet new people on the slow boat to Luang Prabang and it is true; misery loves company. Shortly after departing from the border, we met our German counterparts, Rod and Lizzy, who we ended up traveling with for the better part of two weeks. Besides meeting new friends, the first leg is characterized by consumption of Beer Lao and daydreaming while gazing at the Mekong. The views are fantastic, but the seats are not. Unless you arrived at least three hours early to grab the “premium” seats (i.e., old car seats), you were stuck sitting on a “handcrafted” bench. I’m not sure what would be worse – extending the already long day by three whole hours or sitting on the benches, which are basically two narrow pieces of wood nailed to each other in a crude fashion. I really don’t know whose butt would fit on those things, but my first impression of the Lao people is that they are even smaller than the Thais so maybe it is possible that a Laotian butt would fit. If you are considering taking the slow boat, B.Y.O.C. is a must. Your butt will thank you.
Day Three: After spending the night in Pakbeng freezing in a room with a broken window, and being very confused as to why we could see our breath in the tropics, we board the slow boat for the second leg. Of course all of the “premium” seats were gone, so we snagged our own wooden bench and waited for the boat to depart. As with day one, the slow boat doesn’t leave anywhere near the time it is supposed to. Our first introduction to Laos: the land of hurry up and wait.
We sat there, getting more and more hemmed in by the never ending stream of backpackers boarding the boat, and wondering how in the hell they are going to fit all of those people. Just when you thought another person couldn’t possibly fit, someone else who slept in would straggle down the hill. I’m not sure exactly how many people filled the boat, but at one approximate count it was over 100. Here’s the thing; on the first boat leg, they split the group into two boats, but on the second leg, they put everyone on the same boat. By the time we pulled away from shore, we were down to one bench and a small space on the floor. Within the hour, Sean was sharing his bench with a local and I had to sit cross-legged in an increasingly shrinking floor space.
Remember how I wondered earlier how they could possibly fit any more people? I must have thought that at least twenty more times over the course of the day. You would think, after adding person after person after person, all of whom were toting luggage, cargo, rice sacks, and chickens, that I would learn that there’s always more room in Lao.
To sum it up, the second leg was characterized by discomfort, boredom, stir-craziness, horror at the guy on our boat who insisted on sticking his camera right in the locals’ faces as they boarded the boat, shivers, a headache from the previous day’s Beer Lao, and many thoughts of are-we-there-yet-for-the-love-of-all-that’s-holy-and-divine.
My Two Cents
If you wish to subject yourself to the three day journey from Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang, here’s some tips, for whatever they’re worth:
– Although everyone on both sides of the border will try to convince you otherwise, there’s no need to book any of the transport as part of a package. In December, the high season, we bought the bus tickets at the bus station (but we did have to wait for three hours before the bus left) and we bought the boat tickets straight from the boat operator (located on the left of the path leading down to the slow boats).
– I’m serious about bringing your own cushion, unless you are able to snag a premium seat (which requires getting there as much as three hours early, according to some girls who did just that). Don’t skimp and go without the cushion, even though they work out to be almost $4. They may be cheaper in the center of Chiang Khong of Huay Xuay, but we didn’t pass by these areas so we snagged them on the path leading down to the slow boat.
– Beer Lao gets progressively more expensive the closer you get to the boat, teaching us that perhaps communist countries aren’t quite so communist after all. Beer Lao is normally about 10,000 kip, but we paid 15,000 at a restaurant close to the dock. The beer is chilled on the boat, but it will cost you anywhere from 20,000 to 25,000 from the boat operator depending on what they feel like charging.
– There’s no food for sale on the boat other than some chips and ramen noodles, so bring some snacks and water. Our guesthouse in Chiang Khong boxed up fried rice for us for the first leg and we bought some Nutella and baguette sandwiches from a stand in Pakbeng.
– In December, Laos can be chilly (see comment about shivers, above), and that goes double for cruising on the river. Dress in layers.
– Accommodation in Chiang Khong and Pakbeng leave a lot to be desired. The owner of Baan Rimtaling Guesthouse meets the bus with her pick up truck. It was late, so we ended up piling in the back with others from our bus. Our room, in the “Ghost” house portion of the property, had a lovely sagging bed and a shared bathroom past the woodpile outside, but at least it was only 200 baht ($6.67 USD). Since everyone empties off the slow boat at once, our plan was to have one of us book it up the hill to try to snag a decent room while the other grabbed our backpacks. But anxieties over horror stories we’d heard about rats in the rooms in Pakbeng and exhaustion caused us to pre-book a room with a guesthouse with decent reviews on Travelfish (Villa Salika) from a guy on the boat. As mentioned, the room came with a broken window, which was fabulous with the chilly weather, and also had a majorly leaking toilet to boot. At least no rats were spotted. Anyone associated with the guesthouse disappears after you check in so you’re pretty much out of luck if you have any problems. I wish I could say the room was cheap but we way overpaid by pre-booking (500 baht, about 17 USD). Since we got our room in advance, I’m not sure if the hunt for accommodation was as bad as people make it out to be online.
– Remember, your experience on the slow boat could vary depending on the number of travelers, whether it is rainy or dry season, and the particular boat you end up on. You can research the trip all you want, but it is the type of thing that comes down to a big fat depends.
– Would we take the slow boat again? I’m not sure. There’s really no good option. Three days of bus rides sounds just as unappealing if not more and of course flying is expensive, although I’d jump on that flight in a heartbeat if we weren’t on a budget. The three day, two night slow boat experience is just that, an experience, with lovely views to boot, although I think a guy on our boat said it best: the slow boat is one of those things that royally sucks while you’re doing it and only becomes legendary later.
You know the bus is crowded when you can't even get a proper photo showing just how crowded it was.
First view of Laos from across the border in Thailand. Isn't she a beaut?
Slow boats, all ready to go. We saw ones that were really pimped out, but of course both of the boats we ended up on were nothing of the sort. If someone could solve the mystery of how exactly one gets on premium transport in Southeast Asia, please let me know. Right now I'm convinced they're just for show to torture you.
Sean, with his game face on.
One of my 4,000 photos while cruising along the Mekong.
Sean chatting with Rod and Lizzy, leg one.
It is true that Beer Lao makes the boat ride better, until you have to pee in the tiny on-board bathroom.
All Mekong, all the time.
The other slow boat, leg one.
There may not be a fancy dock but at least the tourists can usually get off the boat without wading in the river or climbing sand hills, unlike the locals.
At some of the boat stops, it seemed like the whole village would come to greet the boat. These little Laotians could care less about the boat and just had fun tumbling down the sandy silted riverbank.
Leg two. There's a chicken in that carrying case.
More people? Sure, why not?
As soon as the boat dropped him off, this Lao guy commenced smoking his bong on the riverbank.
Love that magical golden glow, but why aren't we there yet?
Rice paddies on the riverbank ALMOST in Luang Prabang.
Our reward for three days of travel: we arrived just in time for sunset on the Mekong.