Sasha:
Our first Laos destination is Luang Namtha. This is in part because our friend Karen recommended it to us, and because we can take a 6 hour bus ride, instead of spending two days on a boat to Luang Prabang. The weather is rather cold and rainy, so the idea of spending two days wet and cold on uncomfortable seats sounds like no fun to me.
The bus drops us off in front of a noodle shop in the middle of town as the rain starts to come down. We grab our bags, and scamper to cover. We order as follows, Ra: khao soi noodle soup, Sasha: fried egg and steamed rice. This becomes a trend. With food in our bellies, and the rain letting up, we trudge on with the Lonely Planet to help us. The recommended Zuela's Guest House, and we followed their advice. Zuela's was just off of the main street, and the price worked out to $7.50/night
Interestingly, the longer we travel, the less money we end up paying for guest houses. Our first place in India was $40/ night, while our first place in Thailand was $20/night. I'm not sure if our expectations are falling, we have a more frugal mindset, or our locations are actually getting cheaper. Either way, we still don't ever choose the cheapest accommodations in town. We still take a hot shower when the destination isn't super hot, and want a sit down toilet- though a bucket flush is perfectly acceptable. These days, I tend to open my Lonely Planet's Southeast Asia on a Shoestring, and visit the guesthouses on the more expensive side of the list. Since the book is catering to a shoestring budget, the book doesn't bother including the most expensive places to stay. My personal key words to look for: comfortable, quiet, well-maintained. I tend to bypass guesthouses that have descriptions like: character, cozy, rustic. These all seem to refer to run down bungalows where the roofs leak, or bnb's run by crazy cat ladies.
Zueala's was well maintained, and had the added bonus of a blond bespectacled guitarist playing Jack Johnson on the back patio. The room had tall brick walls, which kind of reminded Ra of a prison cell. A clean prison cell, with a soft bed, but prison nonetheless.
Luang Namtha is a weird place. The town is small, and you tend to see the same falangs (literally "white devil", but colloquially refers to us and our fellow westerners) over and over. IT is a place that people go to because the Lonely Planet makes it sound interesting, and it is supposed to be a good place to go trekking. The falangs have been roped into a bizarre marketing scheme by the trekking companies to be constantly asking the questions, "Are you planning to do a trek? Do you want to do a trek with me? I want to do a (one day, two day, bicycle/ kayak) trek, and do you want to join me?" This is because all treks are priced so that the more people go on a trek, the cheaper it is for any one individual. Since we were in the low season (end of the hottest weather, the beginning of the rainiest weather) trekking companions were a hot commodity. We met up with the guitarist, Adam from the Washington DC area, who asked us if we'd like to go on a one day
jungle trek with him. So the three of us went to a travel agency to talk about destinations and costs. As it turns out, a one day jungle trek for three people costs about $29USD (232,000 kip) which is kind of a lot of money when you are paying $7.50 for a hotel, and on average $2/person for dinner. Speaking of dinner, at this point the three of us are too hungry to make a firm decision, and leave the trekking office to go in search of food. On this particular evening, all of the falangs in town were eating at the local Indian food restaurant. There is a particular restaurant migration in the types of towns where people only stay for 3 days or so. A few falangs sit down for a meal, then all the other falangs see them and think, "that restaurant has other white people eating there, therefore the menu must be in English, and the food must be relatively good!" Then, for two to three days that is where everyone eats. Then the next round of travelers come in, and start sitting at a different restaurant. The towns are so small, and the tourist populations so small, that literally one night EVERYONE in town is at once place, and then three nights later, not a single traveler stops to eat or drink. The village Indian food was quite tasty (and almost every LP recommended town in Laos has an Indian restaurant, run by a guy from Tamil Nadu).
In the meantime, we rent a couple of bicycles and decide to explore the valley on our own. This is a (mostly) glorious idea. I had forgotten how much fun it can be to be on a bicycle. We ride over bridges, on rustic dirt roads, and by villages made up of bamboo huts. The children all run outside and waive, saying, "Sa-bai-dee! Hello! Good Morning!" at us as we drive by. We can barely here the murmered, "Falangs, falangs, falangs!" they say to one another as we approach. I find the Laotian kids some of the cutest in the world for their excitement to waive and say hello to us.
To digress, the Laotian language is remarkably similar to Thai. In both languages, mostly what I know how to say is hello (sa-wa-dee kah in Thai or sa-bai-dee in Laotian) and thank you (kahp-kun-kah in Thai and khap jai in Laotian.) I can also muddle through with the words for wheat, wheat flour, soya sauce and rice. Ra was dedicated enough in Thailand that he taught himself how to count. This has been incredibly useful when shopping at the produce market, or anywhere else that the sales clerk does not have a handy calculator nearby to type the price into. Ra remembers all ten digits, and how to turn them into two digit number, and words that mean hundred, thousand, minute, hour and day. I'm lucky when I can remember the numbers two, five, and ten. Listening to me try to count to three when I take a picture of a Laotian kid is so laughable, the attempt never has the effect I'm trying for.
Back in our bicycling trip, we have a stretch of road where a lime green butterfly starts flying with us, and keeps pace with us for almost a kilometer. And I'm thinking how in my wildest imagination as a kid, I never would have pictured myself bicycling across the Laotian countryside. . .
We have a destination in mind, and a map to take us there, and yet we still get lost and miss our turn at least twice. We are out of water, and ready for lunch when we realize that we have to backtrack again because we missed the turnoff, and it looks like it might rain again soon. We find what we hope is the right turn, and the road has so many puddles across it I joke that we are biking across what feels like a river delta. Just in time, we arrive at Boat's Landing, that claims to have a great vegetarian options, 7km from town. (We took the long way there). We sit down at the tables overlooking the river, and the rain starts pouring down. We move tables so we aren't being soaked by the droplets carried inside the pavilion by the wind. I might mention that we are also the only people eating there. We order a large water bottle, and two cold lemon mint shakes, which we down right away. The rain continues while we make our way through a papaya salad that is too spicy to eat, and an order of jeow- a spicy chili and soy-bean paste with tofu dipping sauce that we eat with sticky rice and steamed kale, carrots, and cabbage. Yum. Tastes way better than it sounds.
The rain lets up as we finish our food. We take a few shots of the EPIC spider hanging out on its web next to one of the tables. Then we put on our rain ponchos, and bike "home." By the time we get back my pelvic bones are so sore and rattled by the combination of a very hard bicycle seat and rustic rock and dirt roads, that I can't actually sit on my bike seat a moment longer.
We run into Adam back at the guest house. When he didn't see us, he joined up with a different trekking group of 7 people, and paid $21 to spend 6 hours hiking in bamboo- the first half of the day was spent hiking up a steep hill, and the last half he hiked down a very steep and muddy hill, without a single good viewpoint in between.
Meanwhile, Ra hoofs it down to Green Discovery to make arrangements for our trek. The customer service agent asks him if we still want to go if it is raining. After hearing about Adam's trek, we aren't so sure, so we tell them we will call by 7:30am to let them know. It rains all night long. The alarm goes off, and I immediately suggest that after that much rain, the hike is going to be muddy, unpleasant, and not something I'm that excited about doing. So, we call to cancel. Instead, we decide to pack up and head north to Muang Sing.
 |
| View from Boat's Landing |
The bus drops us off in front of a noodle shop in the middle of town as the rain starts to come down. We grab our bags, and scamper to cover. We order as follows, Ra: khao soi noodle soup, Sasha: fried egg and steamed rice. This becomes a trend. With food in our bellies, and the rain letting up, we trudge on with the Lonely Planet to help us. The recommended Zuela's Guest House, and we followed their advice. Zuela's was just off of the main street, and the price worked out to $7.50/night
Interestingly, the longer we travel, the less money we end up paying for guest houses. Our first place in India was $40/ night, while our first place in Thailand was $20/night. I'm not sure if our expectations are falling, we have a more frugal mindset, or our locations are actually getting cheaper. Either way, we still don't ever choose the cheapest accommodations in town. We still take a hot shower when the destination isn't super hot, and want a sit down toilet- though a bucket flush is perfectly acceptable. These days, I tend to open my Lonely Planet's Southeast Asia on a Shoestring, and visit the guesthouses on the more expensive side of the list. Since the book is catering to a shoestring budget, the book doesn't bother including the most expensive places to stay. My personal key words to look for: comfortable, quiet, well-maintained. I tend to bypass guesthouses that have descriptions like: character, cozy, rustic. These all seem to refer to run down bungalows where the roofs leak, or bnb's run by crazy cat ladies.
Zueala's was well maintained, and had the added bonus of a blond bespectacled guitarist playing Jack Johnson on the back patio. The room had tall brick walls, which kind of reminded Ra of a prison cell. A clean prison cell, with a soft bed, but prison nonetheless.
Luang Namtha is a weird place. The town is small, and you tend to see the same falangs (literally "white devil", but colloquially refers to us and our fellow westerners) over and over. IT is a place that people go to because the Lonely Planet makes it sound interesting, and it is supposed to be a good place to go trekking. The falangs have been roped into a bizarre marketing scheme by the trekking companies to be constantly asking the questions, "Are you planning to do a trek? Do you want to do a trek with me? I want to do a (one day, two day, bicycle/ kayak) trek, and do you want to join me?" This is because all treks are priced so that the more people go on a trek, the cheaper it is for any one individual. Since we were in the low season (end of the hottest weather, the beginning of the rainiest weather) trekking companions were a hot commodity. We met up with the guitarist, Adam from the Washington DC area, who asked us if we'd like to go on a one day
jungle trek with him. So the three of us went to a travel agency to talk about destinations and costs. As it turns out, a one day jungle trek for three people costs about $29USD (232,000 kip) which is kind of a lot of money when you are paying $7.50 for a hotel, and on average $2/person for dinner. Speaking of dinner, at this point the three of us are too hungry to make a firm decision, and leave the trekking office to go in search of food. On this particular evening, all of the falangs in town were eating at the local Indian food restaurant. There is a particular restaurant migration in the types of towns where people only stay for 3 days or so. A few falangs sit down for a meal, then all the other falangs see them and think, "that restaurant has other white people eating there, therefore the menu must be in English, and the food must be relatively good!" Then, for two to three days that is where everyone eats. Then the next round of travelers come in, and start sitting at a different restaurant. The towns are so small, and the tourist populations so small, that literally one night EVERYONE in town is at once place, and then three nights later, not a single traveler stops to eat or drink. The village Indian food was quite tasty (and almost every LP recommended town in Laos has an Indian restaurant, run by a guy from Tamil Nadu).
In the meantime, we rent a couple of bicycles and decide to explore the valley on our own. This is a (mostly) glorious idea. I had forgotten how much fun it can be to be on a bicycle. We ride over bridges, on rustic dirt roads, and by villages made up of bamboo huts. The children all run outside and waive, saying, "Sa-bai-dee! Hello! Good Morning!" at us as we drive by. We can barely here the murmered, "Falangs, falangs, falangs!" they say to one another as we approach. I find the Laotian kids some of the cutest in the world for their excitement to waive and say hello to us.
To digress, the Laotian language is remarkably similar to Thai. In both languages, mostly what I know how to say is hello (sa-wa-dee kah in Thai or sa-bai-dee in Laotian) and thank you (kahp-kun-kah in Thai and khap jai in Laotian.) I can also muddle through with the words for wheat, wheat flour, soya sauce and rice. Ra was dedicated enough in Thailand that he taught himself how to count. This has been incredibly useful when shopping at the produce market, or anywhere else that the sales clerk does not have a handy calculator nearby to type the price into. Ra remembers all ten digits, and how to turn them into two digit number, and words that mean hundred, thousand, minute, hour and day. I'm lucky when I can remember the numbers two, five, and ten. Listening to me try to count to three when I take a picture of a Laotian kid is so laughable, the attempt never has the effect I'm trying for.
Back in our bicycling trip, we have a stretch of road where a lime green butterfly starts flying with us, and keeps pace with us for almost a kilometer. And I'm thinking how in my wildest imagination as a kid, I never would have pictured myself bicycling across the Laotian countryside. . .
We have a destination in mind, and a map to take us there, and yet we still get lost and miss our turn at least twice. We are out of water, and ready for lunch when we realize that we have to backtrack again because we missed the turnoff, and it looks like it might rain again soon. We find what we hope is the right turn, and the road has so many puddles across it I joke that we are biking across what feels like a river delta. Just in time, we arrive at Boat's Landing, that claims to have a great vegetarian options, 7km from town. (We took the long way there). We sit down at the tables overlooking the river, and the rain starts pouring down. We move tables so we aren't being soaked by the droplets carried inside the pavilion by the wind. I might mention that we are also the only people eating there. We order a large water bottle, and two cold lemon mint shakes, which we down right away. The rain continues while we make our way through a papaya salad that is too spicy to eat, and an order of jeow- a spicy chili and soy-bean paste with tofu dipping sauce that we eat with sticky rice and steamed kale, carrots, and cabbage. Yum. Tastes way better than it sounds. 
We run into Adam back at the guest house. When he didn't see us, he joined up with a different trekking group of 7 people, and paid $21 to spend 6 hours hiking in bamboo- the first half of the day was spent hiking up a steep hill, and the last half he hiked down a very steep and muddy hill, without a single good viewpoint in between.
Meanwhile, Ra hoofs it down to Green Discovery to make arrangements for our trek. The customer service agent asks him if we still want to go if it is raining. After hearing about Adam's trek, we aren't so sure, so we tell them we will call by 7:30am to let them know. It rains all night long. The alarm goes off, and I immediately suggest that after that much rain, the hike is going to be muddy, unpleasant, and not something I'm that excited about doing. So, we call to cancel. Instead, we decide to pack up and head north to Muang Sing.
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