VIP Bus Luang Prabang, Laos to Kunming, China

Sasha:

Our VIP bus in the Luang Prabang bus station.

For those days when you just want to get out of Laos, Luang Prabang's travel agencies are happy to provide you with a $50USD ticket from Luang Prabang to Kunming, China. For a premium, they will also sort out your China Visas by sending your passports to Vientienne. Our agency arranged for a tuk-tuk to pick us up 6am from our guesthouse.  We convinced him to stop at a sandwich and smoothie stand so we could pick up a quick breakfast, before he dropped us off at the bus station for a 7am departure.

VIP bus?  This basically translates to the bus being a sleeper bus.  The standard Kunming-Luang Prabang bus has three double-decker rows of beds separated by two aisles.  The beds are wide enough that my elbows only lightly brushed the wall and metal guard, and my hips fit just fine, though without much room to spare.  At 5'6", I could lay down fully extended, but my toes pushed up against the "box" that contained my feet.  It was much more comfortable to either curl my knees, or be sitting up.  Ra, at 6'1" was not so fortunate, and less comfortable. They give you a pillow and a comforter, but no sheets.  The bus is AC, and you can independently open your windows, which is quite handy when one of your neighbor starts smoking.  If  you are in the middle row, too bad.  You don't get a window or a wall to lean against.

Inside the VIP bus.  Happy not to have a middle seat.

Something about the bus reminded me of a hospital.

Our bus was fairly empty, so we were able to negotiate a set of beds on the lower level that connected feet to head so we could talk without one of us in a middle row bed.  I had a knee injury and was EXTREMELY happy that we didn't have upper berths, where we would be climbing up and down. Most people on the bus agreed with us, and the lower level was in much higher demand as people got on and off the bus.

We were told to expect a 25 hour ride, while one of our fellow passengers was told to expect to be on the bus for 30+ hours.  All told, the trip took 22 hours, with several long stops for food. The bus tended to stop every 2-3 hours so our driver could have a cigarette.  I was grateful that for the most part, the driver stepped off the bus to smoke, or at least only smoked when the door was open.  Not all passengers were so accommodating.  Our lunch stop was at a bus station, where the easy food options were donuts, barbequed meat, and fruit stands.  Dinner was in a Chinese border town that had lots of soups and various dishes served in metal bowls.  Because I don't eat meat or wheat, I stuck to yogurt and fruit. Ra had a sandwich from that morning.

Our most exciting moment was when the driver stopped short because of an epic rock that had fallen into the road. The driver and the strong men pilled out of the bus to see if their combined force could move the boulder.  They lifted, they pried with a stick, and finally with their combined might they were able to move the rock perhaps a half a foot closer to the side of the road.  At that point, they looked at the rock, brushed their hands off, and called it a day.  The driver got back in, and drove around it.

Crossing the border was simple and straightforward.  Boten, the border town on the Lao side was filled with new construction buildings that looked empty.  They were so tall and clean- think new Las Vegas hotel without the neon lights- completely out of place in China, and completely empty.  The were clearly a new chinese building project.  At the Laos side of the border, we stepped off of the bus, filled out our departure cards, got everything stamped, and got back on the bus.  We reached the Chinese border patrol parking lot, grabbed our bags, and hauled them inside a building inspired by a new-construction airport.  we went through he expansive lower floor, complete with automatic passport scanners that printed and filled out our arrival/departure cards for us, which a Chinese official was good enough to direct us to and scan our passports with. .  The immigration station looked exactly like the modern airport variety.  We lined up with everybody else, only they took about 30 seconds each, while the border guard took about 5 minutes to process each of us- flipping through the passport multiple times, eying the photo to make sure we matched, and even tried scratching off the photo to make sure it was an original. At this point, I can watch what he's doing because standing with my backpack is putting so much pressure on my knee, and I need to find a way to relieve it. Finally I was through and able to join Ra at the baggage scanner.  They ex rayed the bag, and we were done.

Crossing the border from Laos into China

The Chinese Border Administrative building.

We stopped just outside of the border in a bizzare town- like they built the road and realize a city should be there, so they built a shiny new town.  Only, they are still waiting for the people to arrive.  It was like a backwards ghost town.  New, instead of old, but still haunted and eerie for the lack of people. Ra trudged up and down the street looking for an ATM, unsuccessfully.  As it turns out, he only needed to walk another two blocks further, but only discovered that as the bus cruised by the ATM on the way out of town.  One more hour down the road, we stopped at a proper town with people. Everywhere we went people would stare and smile at Ra.  However, finding vegetarian soup was close to impossible. Instead, we munched on cherry yogurt through a straw, and rambutan fruit. Back at the bus, we brushed our teeth in the parking lot before settling into our beds (seats) to catch a few hours of sleep.

I popped a valium at 9pm, and woke up at 6am to a bus that had already pulled into the south bus station in Kunming.  We, along with a Londoner named Mick, were hustled into a minivan to take us into town which cost 60 yuan (would have cost no more than 20 if we had taken a metered taxi).  We checked in the Hump Hostel and prepared for our first full day in China.

Gluten Free Eating in Laos

Congratulations!  This may not be as hard as you thought it was going to be. Or perhaps it doesn't seem as hard to me since I've already been traveling for 7 months.

To prepare for a gluten-free visit into Laos, I recommend getting a gluten free restaurant card translated to Lao. I got mine from selectwisely.com.  They offer cards for gluten, fish, nut, dairy allergies and more.  Their language selection is pretty great, and if they don't currently offer a language, they'll research it for you.  The Lao card worked well (the card I got from them written in Thai did not function for me at all.)  Select Wisely will either mail you a printed/ laminated card or email a PDF that you can print and laminated at a copy shop, so you can purchase it on the road.

Here are some helpful words, phonetically spelled.  They are Thai, but the most Lao people understand Thai tjust fine.  The only problem is that tones completely change the word, and I'm not so good at tones:
See-oooo  Means soy sauce.  If you are gluten free, you have to stay away from everywhere in SE Asia
Nahm Pla  Fish sauce.  Mostly okay, although if you read labels in a grocery store, some have wheat inside
Bahng or Bahng sa Liiiiiiii  This is a rough translation for wheat, wheat flour, although it also means corn flour.

If you are adventurous, you can try out the following phrases:

Geen Nahm Pla die.  Fish sauce do want
Geen See-ooo mai die.  Soy sauce do not want
Khao Chai Mai?  Do you understand?

Sadly, I will say that without soy sauce most stir fried dishes lose their flavor.  Luckily for you, in Laos they liven those dishes up with generous amounts of MSG.  In one restaurant we visited there was a condiment tray that had sugar, salt, and msg ready to be spooned onto your food.  The omelets in Laos are really tasty, and I can testify that they sparkle on your toungue more than anywhere else in the world I've been.  Either they have better chickens or they flavor them with monosodiumglutemate.  I would usually say No MSG! but I'm already asking so much that I let that one slide for the sake of simplicity.

We generally ate a tourist restaurants where the staff spoke English, and were used to dealing with crazy falangs and their weird food requests.  I generally avoid street food because of the language barrier and because it can't be made to order. On the treks went on, I discussed my food issues in advance, and most of the food they sent for lunch and dinner (sticky rice, omelet, veggies) didn't have any soy sauce in them anyway.

Things you can eat*
*always ask, because local recipes can vary.
Rice- brown, black, steamed, sticky, or as noodles, rice is your friend. It is eaten by Lao people with every meal of the day.  I know that that the other term for sticky rice is glutinous rice, but never mind- it does not contain the same protein that causes you problems. Spend enough time in Asia and you will be sick of the stuff, but you will always be able to eat something


Lap- (also spelled lab, laarb, or some variation) The national dish of Laos!  It is made up of crumbled meat (beef, fish, chicken or pork) and sometimes tofu or bamboo mixed together with galanga, lemon grass, mint cilantro, lime, sugar and fish sauce.

Jeow- literally, chilli paste.  You can find it in a multitude of forms here- red, thick and spicey, with chunks of tofu, mild and made from eggplant, green chilis, or with some kind of pork.  Usually listed as an apetizer, the Jeows are served with steamed carrots, kale or cabbage and sticky rice.  May contain fish sauce, and always double check that soy sauce, mushroom sauce, or oyster sauce is not an ingredient.

Fruit- every market will have a fruit stall.  You can get a cup of mixed fruit, or a whole pineapple sliced up for you for $1.25USD

Sticky rice with coconut and mango- not as sweet as the Thai version, but still good.

Papaya Salad- wicked spicey, and full of fish sauce.  If you are buying from a street vendor, watch which sauces go into it, and if it looks dark brown stop them from using it.

Omelets and Fried Eggs- almost always available, see the paragraph on MSG

Things you MIGHT be able to eat

Spring rolls- in Northern Laos, they seem to use rice noodle sheets instead of wheat wrappers, that they then deep fry.  If you are sensitive to cross-contamination, stay away from these.

Soups- Pho, Khao Soi, noodle soups, vegetable soups. . . the Lao people really like to eat soup.  I personally only get soup if I can get it made to order and stay away from street vendors.  I make sure to ask for the white rice noodles, with NO soy sauce, NO oyster sauce and NO mushroom sauce, and pray for the best.

Curries- yellow, green, red, tofu. . .  most will use either soy sauce or fish sauce to give it a salty flavor.  I usually ask for just salt instead.

Stir Fried Anything-  whether you want fried rice, fried noodles, or some combination of veggies and/ or meat, they will automatically use soy/mushroom/oysters sauce unless you ask for something else.  If it comes out with a brown sauce, they might have used tamarind but probably didn't follow your instructions.

Fruit Smoothies- although I didn't drink them often, and when I did they weren't an issue, I read another blog that warned against smoothies because they might mix in some sort of wheat or barley powder in with the sugar.

Here is more good news: if you get tired of Lao food, almost every tourist town will have an Indian restaurant run by a family from Tamil Nadu that serves up curries, pakoras and dosas, all (most likely) safe for your consumption.

Although a food allergy creates a more challenging travel experience, I hope it doesn't hold you back from visiting.  With research, patience, and a lot of restaurant conversations traveling while celiac is entirely possible!

Hmong Homestay- Muang Sing

Sasha:

The main draw of being in the far North of Laos is the nature and village treks offered by the local travel agencies.  Laos still has a considerable number of landmines out in its jungles, so hiking on your own isn't especially recommended. We were game to try out the experience.

Clouds over a Hmong Village near Muang Sing

Our companion on this part of our journey, Adam, wanted to do a village tour and homestay.  We agreed to try it out with him.  We went to Tigerman Trekking on the main street and signed up for a one day-one night bicycle trek.  We would bike about 25km, see a variety of different hilltribes, get a traditional lunch, dinner, and breakfast, and stay overnight in a Hmong village for $37USD/person.

When we showed up, our first task was to pick out a bicycle.  There were ostensibly 3 bikes with gears, and 6 fixed gear bikes with padded seats and baskets.  Ra wanted a mountain bike, and two of them didn't have chains, so he took the other.  Adam and I selected identical fixed gear bikes, except Adam is 6'3" and I am 5'6".   Of the three of us, I was the lucky one!  Ra's bike had gears, but they didn't work and his chain fell of frequently.  The seat was so hard, and the bike designed for someone shorter, so he spent his time riding without sitting on the seat.  Adam's bike was so small for him that he could barel extend his legs past 90degrees while seated, so he had no power and his chain fell of more often than Ra's did.

Ra and Seeno posing in front of traditional swing

Biking on dirt roads near Muang Sing

Our guide was named Seeno, a Hmong man who was a cousin of the guy who ran Tigerman.  He was dressed in a black and black/red/gray camo hoodie, and black baggy shorts? pants? with hardware that were equal parts skater and goth. I took comfort that we were being guided by someone who resembled a hip asian dj.  He was also extremely good at putting bike chains back on the gears.  I was thrilled to tell him that I grew up with a bunch of Hmong kids in Missoula, MT.  They were the largest minority in the city I few up in.  The Hmong people helped the Americans in the Silent war that took place in Laos at the same time as Vietnam.  After the war, the US govt. helped some of the Hmong people relocate to the states to avoid persecution.  For some reason, most of them went to the Northern US, places like Minneapolis, Missoula, Seattle. . . Because of this, as far back as I can remember, there was a country called Laos where the Hmong people came from.  I was geeking out, telling Seeno this story, and he seemed to understand (although did not want to talk about the silent war) and when I told him that some of the kids I went to high school had the last name Moua, it turned out that his last name was also Moua, and that among the Hmong here, if you have the same last name, it is as if you are brothers.  I had tried telling this story to a couple of other people here, and he was the first person that seemed to understand or care. Having the connection of knowing his US "brothers" was very satisfying to me for some reason.

By the time that we got to the first village, Ra was struggling.  He was faint, sweating, and couldn't get his body temperature down.  We managed to find a place to sit down- basically on one of the village women's porch- while Ra tried to calm his system down. Eventually, one of the local women came by with some little green berries- they were hard and extremely bitter- kind of like the texture of an apple with the taste of a sour lemon.  Oddly enough, either the flavor or the sugar was enough to get Ra going again.  He seriously debated between riding back and continuing on, and he decided to power through.  I think he did the next couple hours from sheer determination and will power.

The arm of Adam with Hmong kids. 

When we would ride into a village, there might be a couple of women selling handcrafts- embroidery, or baby sized hats with huge red pom-poms on the top.  The local kids would wave frantically saying Saibadee! or Hello!  depending on whether or not they knew the English word and be dressed in what looked like Goodwill hand-me-downs..  The rest of the adults would mostly ignore us. Some people will be wearing traditional costume, but most area wearing the same thing the Lao people in town are wearing.

Next to one village, a man and two boys were building tools on a forge.  The boys would take turns stoking the fire, while the man pounded metal.  Ironically enough this was the only place we found shade, so we stopped in front of it to cool down to moderate success.

Adam under the Spirit Gate

We did get to see evidence of some traditional culture- a spirit gate in front of one village that we were advised not to touch.  If we did, they would have to rebuild it entirely.  That same village had a swing built on a tripod for a once a year festival that involved matchmaking boys and girls to sit on the swing together.

Inside the Lao Lao brewing facility

We were about 90 minutes late for lunch, or at least 90 minutes later than most tours.  This was in part because we started late, because Ra needed some down time after the heat exhaustion, because our bikes were more often pushed up the hills than ridden, and because the last village we stopped at involved pulling out snacks, which we then shared with a bunch of local kids and followed up with by spinning poi for them. By the time we had lunch, Adam was also ready to drop from heat exhaustion, though Ra was staring to feel better. We had lunch in a house? barn? where the local village made lao-lao, the home-brewed whiskey.  Lunch was sticky rice, huge omelet, and stir fried green beans and onion.  With hunger being the best seasoning, it was delicious.  After lunch, we each had a taste of the lao lao- which was really good for liquor that hasn't been aged, and was served out of a plastic jug.  So good, in fact, that we paid 10,000 kip (about $1.25) for a bottle of it, which they poured strait out of the 5 gallon jug into one of our used water bottles.

Our post lunch ride was much easier, if you don't count the number of times the chain came off of Adam's bike.  We stopped in a weaving village, which I was excited about. It involved a two minute demonstration of how they use a loom, followed by 8 women carrying cloth and scarves decending upon me, each intent on selling their wares to me at inflated prices.  Believe me- having 8 stacks of fabric shoved at you at the same time was unpleasant.  I bought one scarf for $2.50, then yelled at the guys to leave quickly while I still could.

While riding we had fun coming up with translations for Seeno's name. We came up with the following:
Both yes! (si!) and no! (no!) in Spanish. C-note or a hundred dalla bill, ya'll. In Lao, he told us the translation was colored bump.  Huh.The translation for my name, as pronounced by Lao people, Sasa, is "slowly".  This is a very appropriate word for many things in Laos.

At about 4 or 5pm we arrived at the village Seeno lived, where we would be staying. We wandered around it with him. There were many houses with bamboo walls, thatched roofs, and no windows.  Why no windows?  Because it is traditional.  The Hmong people here only moved to Muang Sing around 16 years ago, from the outskirts of a city to the country so they could be farmers.  Seeno grew up in the city, then studied English in Vientienne for two years (all he could afford) before coming to stay with his cousin here in Muang Sing.  He lived in a one room house with his cousin's family- Tigerman, his mother, and his wife, their three children, and two other cousins. This is the house where we would be sleeping- Ra and I in one bed, and Adam sharing with Seeno and a cousin. Adam was not thrilled with the arrangements.

Adam, Seeno and Ra in front of Hmong houses

Hmong village kids.  Super cute, and kinda shy.

The village had communal out houses with squat toilets, and a basin full of water, and washing areas that consisted of a cement block with a water hose and drain.  This was the showering area.  I used it to wash the mud off of my legs and to wash my face, but Adam did the full shower.  He stripped down to his boxers, and hosed himself off.  Luckily the local women wandered away to give him relative privacy.

Dinner came just after dark.  We all sat down at the table together to eat, except for the Mother who was a Shamman and the small children, who ate by themselves on the floor. There was more green bean stirfry, a soup with pork, an omelet, and salad leaves.  We each got a plate of sticky rice, and scooped up food with either spoons or with the rice.  The fantastic thing for me, is that it was easy for them to make the meal gluten free!  Soy sauce wasn't required, and vegetarian was easy too.

After dinner, we were told that the family goes to sleep between 9-9:30.  Being that there is only one light in the building, and really only one room that meant that we were also going to go to sleep at that time.  Each bed was separated by mosquito netting, and perhaps a foot or two.  This sort of served to create rooms, being that the light was over the cooking area, and there were no windows to let light in.  Still in shock about the sleeping arrangements, Ra had mentioned that he sleeps in just his underwear, and Seeno told him that perhaps he should wear more just this once. . .

I guess when I heard "village homestay" I assumed that there would be a bungalow for the falangs to sleep in, and didn't realize that we would be shacking up with the whole family.  We are spoiled in how much privacy we have in compared to these people.  They clearly didn't blink at having Adam share a bed with two dude, but he was almost ready to leave over that.  Our bed was not particularly "made", and we were quite certain that they had not changed the sheets for us, or that they would think about doing so.  I had earplugs, bur Ra was kept awake by the sounds of sleeping in the same room as so many other people, and at the memory of the HUGE spider he saw in the house before we went to bed.  At some point in the night we shifted, and felt the bed frame sink on one corner.  Clearly, this bed was designed for Hmong people, not two American falangs. We avoided that corner of the bed, stayed very still, and made it through the night.  We have observed that people in Laos get up EXTREMELY early.  As in 5:30am..  With everybody else moving, and starting the fire on the cooking stove in the house, we didn't sleep much later then they did.

Sign on the school campus. WTF?

Bleary eyed, we had a little breakfast (omelet, boiled green beans, lettuce with dressing, sticky rice, some dish with meat in it) we set off on the bikes again for our short morning ride.  Our first stop was the school.  There were hundreds of  10-16yo's lined up in front of a school house as the headmaster was reading announcements.  Not a single student actually appeared to be listening.  They were much more intent on gossiping with friends, or staring at the weird falangs on the schoolgrounds.  The young, orange clad monks were in the back of the line, talking and joking with one another.  I was surprised to see them studying with all the other kids. We looked into a few class rooms.  There were posters of the quadratic equation, and algebra that I could barely remember learning on one classroom, and another was filled with english and grammer that was mostly correct.  As we left, the announcements had stopped and half of the kids left the school grounds.  "The Afternoon class," Seeno told us.  So, they have to show up in school in uniform at 8am on Monday morning just to listen to that guy talk for 20 minutes?  Yup.

Rice noodle sheets drying on bamboo.

From there, we biked to the rice noodle village, where one woman was well on her way to making a couple hundred kilos of rice noodles.  Pour-smooth-lift the lid-pull the pan out of the steamer-put the new pan in the steamer- move the pan-move the other pan-fold up a noodle sheet-scrape noodle sheet off of pan onto bamboo to dry- repeat.  She had a system that she would perform over and over, in no rush, giving each pan of noodle sheet to steam just the right amount, then cool the right amount, then dry on the bamboo.  It was pretty fascinating.  We cringed to learn that the oil she used to keep the noodle from sticking to the pan was pig fat.  But, with all the pigs around, I imagine that is easier to get and cheaper than vegetable oil.  Sigh.

By the time we got back, we were exhausted and sweaty.  We checked back into our hotel where Ra and I napped for the next few hours.  Meanwhile, Adam and James packed up, and got on a bus back to Luang Namtha.  By late evening, both Ra and Adam had come down with food poisoning- the "bad kind".  It was a really bad night for Ra, and the 2nd one in a row without really sleeping.

Although he was sick, Ra and I agreed that it would be more comfortable to be sick in Luang Namtha than the tiny town of Muang Sing.  The room we had had bugs crawling through the window, and the hotel staff liked to yell across the guesthouse at one another at 6:30am. I did my best to pack most of both of our bags, then hiked down to the bus station to buy tickets.  As I walked across town, I was determined that he wouldn't have to do the walk with his backpack while he was sick. I got to the bus station where one minivan was about to do the drive and had very few passengers.  I managed to get a local who spoke some English to convince the driver to drive to our guesthouse to pick up Ra and the bags.  The driver has me sit in the van to wait.  He then sells a few more tickets and suddenly the van is quite full.  I see what is happening, and using the same translator manage to secure two seats in the front, next to an open window with only 1 other Lao person, instead of being smashed in the back with 2 other people.  The woman who moved for Ra and I was shooting me evil looks.  When we got to the guesthouse, Ra was packed and pretty much ready to go.  He threw on a shirt, and hauled ourselves downstairs.

The drive is only 2.5 hours, but I don't know how Ra, with his fever in full force, would have made it had he not been sitting next to a window, with a solid view of  the front windshield.  Meanwhile, the evil-stare woman was puking into plastic bags in the backseat.  I felt kinda responsible, but I'm too much of a protective mamabear to sacrifice my sweetie's well being for someone I don't know.

Overall, the homestay and trek was a challenging experience for us. However, it ended up being one of the more memorable and authentic interactions we've had.  I appreciate the fact that it was the travel agent who sold us a homestay with his own family.  I certainly can't accuse him of exploiting anybody, which was some of our objections with some other hilltribe tours.  It was such an honest look at a sort of poverty and entirely different social norms than what we conceive of in the US.  One thing I appreciate is that there was not a moment of shame or apology- just the frankness of how they lived, and our opportunity to conform to it while we were there.  I think about the difference between this family, and Hmong people I was friends with from home- who seem to have so much more in common with me, the same geography and education that I had- and now find it much harder to connect the two.

Rocket Festival in Muang Sing

Sasha:

Ra and I on the Chantimmeng Guesthouse Veranda

The bus ride from Luang Namtha to Muang Sing is one of the beautiful bus rides I've ever taken.  It cuts right through the NPA- the Laos equivalent of a national park.  It is a protected area, with the only settlements being the bamboo huts that make up hilltribe villages.  There are towering karst mountains coated in trees and vines, and rivers snaking through swooping valleys.  We were like small children looking into toy stores- with our faces pressed to the windows in awe.

Adam on the Veranda

For this journey, we were teamed up with Adam (from DC) and James from St. Louis.  They are both tall, blond American men who play guitar.  They met up in Pai, and enjoyed playing guitar together so much that they decided to travel together for a little while.  We were fortunate enough to hear them each play, and recorded a  jam session they did together.  They are pretty awesome musicians.  And we liked their company.  We arrive in Muang Sing along with a German woman, and the 5 of us set off in search of a guesthouse.  The first place we go to was the German woman's pick out of LP (Lonely Planet).  The rest of us are not impressed by the rough digs and potentially leaky roof, so we head out.  Ra and I find a place we like across the street, but Adam and James are not down with sharing a bed.  Ra and I drop off our stuff, and wander down the street to my original pick from LP.  James and Adam find a room with two beds to share, then come back to us.

Sasha on the Veranda

"Just go check out the inside," they tell us, " We're pretty sure you're going to want to switch hotels."

It wasn't so much that the rooms were impressive, or that the hard beds are worth writing home about, but there was a veranda on the 2nd floor that had a valley view to take my breath away.  There were a couple of tables, and chairs to sit on to enjoy the view.  So, sure enough, we hoofed it to the previous guesthouse, grabbed our bags, gave the key back and apologized, before hiking back to the Chantimmeng guest house to join the guys.

Hanging out on the Rocket platform 

We were lucky enough to be in Muang Sing the weekend of Bun Bang Fai, the annual home-made rocket festival.  As we explored the town the day after arriving, the rockets were very much in evidence. Ranging from 12-30 feet in length, they are made from bamboo (although some of them stuff the black powder into a pvc tube which is then attatched to bamboo) and decorated to be colorful and sparkly.  As the day went on, all of the rockets around town were carried out to the field where the festival is held. As we went out into the field, James was making friends with the local kids.  He could speak a little bit of Thai, which is close enough to Lao to be able to communicate.  So he was talking to them, and teaching them English phrases as the whole troupe of us walked out to the launching platform.  We joined all the kids who had climbed to the top of it, and they were highly amused to have the Falangs climb the platform with them.  As the adults carrying the rockets arrived, the kids all scampered down, and told us to get down as well.

Local boys practicing their English with the Falangs

Ra in Particpation mode

At this point, Ra's conditioning in radical participation kicks in, and he and Adam pick up a rocket and help deliver it from a truck to the place the locals are stacking up the other rockets.  Meanwhile, some of the local guys are clearing making fun of the falangs carrying the rockets (I am assuming this only because I hear them using the word falang repeatedly while laughing and gesturing in our direction).  At one point, two of the boys we made friends with approach with a rocket on their shoulders and Ra picks it up, and carries it while the two boys run and laugh along side. It was kind of cool to be there for the set up, and to feel like we had helped out.

Ra and Adam near the festival field

The next day, Ra and I came back from breakfast to find Adam and James on the back patio of the guest house surrounded by a group of locals.  They had made friends with a couple of girls who worked for the hotel, and the 4 of them had gone to the morning market to pick up ingredients for a Lao breakfast. On the table was a bowl of  fish soup, chicken soup, rice, and a large omelet.  Everybody had chopsticks and a spoon, and was digging in.   I spent the rest of the morning joking in a half lao/half english conversation while everybody consumed glass after glass of Beer Lao, served over ice.  The group ranged from age 20-34.  James had developed a decent crush on the 20yo girl who worked for the hotel, and was finding ways to flirt with her, with him knowing as much Thai/ Lao as she knew in English. That alone was high entertainment.

Eventually a bottle of Lao Lao, the ubiquitous, cheap, home-made whiskey was purchased, and the oldest Lao guy started pouring shots, and passing them to various people, with the Lao version of "drink drink drink" being chanted in the back ground.  Eventually I made my way upstairs, a little tipsy, to collect Ra so we could head down to the Rocket Festival.

Sasha with  rather drunk "Team Yellow"

The atmostphere of the festival was some part Asian-Buddhist festival, some part county fair, and some part redneck drinking fest.  Sorry if the last two are redundant.  There were crowds of people herding into the entrance, though due to the rural location and low population density of Laos, it was populated without being too crazy.  There was a karaoke bar open for business right at the entrance, with another musicians stage a stone throw away where people were probably going to sing karaoke later.  After giving a donation? entrance fee? we followed the crowd through the mud, out to the rockets.  Along the way there were carnival games- darts and balloons, betting games involving a vertical wheel, fishing games, complete with large stuffed animal prizes.  Beyond those, there were fruit selling stalls, barbecue meat stalls, papaya salad stalls, and other temporary tents set up to sell mysterious food. Beyond the stalls were hundreds of people-lots and lots of teenage Buddhist monks, Chinese tourists, Lao guys in cowboy hats, and groups of  women dressed in theme colors, wearing impractical shoes.  One group of women would be dressed in outfits made from the same lime green fabric, others would be dressed in yellow, blue, or bright pink, with matching parasols and gaudy makeup.  I think they were the equivalent of cheerleaders for the rocket making groups.  They'd be huddled up together around a yellow crate filled with 40's of beer Lao.

Lighting the rocket

When it was time for a new rocket to be launched, the women would dance, or clap cymbals while the guy who had sponsored the rocket by paying for it would climb onto a bamboo platform chair, with a crate or two of Beer Lao 40's in his lap, while a bunch of guys picked up the platform chair up to their shoulders, and carried him out to the field.  They'd chant and yell, and drink lots of beer while the fuse was lit. Then the rocket would either misfire, or it would go sailing into the sky to lots of cheering. There were probably more than a hundred rockets that went off over the course of the day.

Close up of the rocket decorations

The Rocket Festival is always at the cusp between the wet and the dry season, to request more rain.  No doubt, it predate Buddhism. I looked on the internets, and here is an excerpt of a song they might be singing:


 Oh Hao Oh   Hao Oh Hao Oh
        May we request for a glass of Lao alcohol!
        May we request for a bottle of Lao liquor!
        If you do not grant us any drink, we will not move away.
        If we die as the ghost, we will hunt you.
        If you run away, I will throw the soil after you.
        If we die to be the bird, we will cut you betel.
        If we die to be the rat, we will spoil your loom pattern.
        If we die to be your baby, we will cry for your milk.


The Rocket Festival seemed behind the season this year, as there was already plenty of rain, which made the field a muddy mess. With all my usual grace and dignity, I slipped in the mud and fell on my ass on the walk out of the field.  That concluded the afternoon for us.  We went back the hotel to change, and to relax after all the noise and people (and drinking).  By the time we went out for dinner, it was chaos.  Hundreds of people were leaving town, the restaurant we had been frequenting was closed, and the other restaurants waved us away because they were having private parties.  In the market area, they were closing, and mostly just selling barbecued meat.  After giving up on any other options, we went to the market where I grabbed a plastic bag of sticky rice and a packet of steamed bamboo, and we went back to our room in defeat. 

Travel Plans DO change...

Ra:

Hmm, shall we go to Vientiene first, than 4000 islands, and then Angkor Wat?

Perhaps Vang Vieng, which my sister Yael wanted us to go to, then Vientiene, and then Angkor Wat.

And after that? China? Malaysia? Indonesia? and what about Australia and New Zealand?

Before we started traveling, Sasha made plans. Now, I was consulted regarding said plans, but most of the time, I looked at these plans and I told her that once we start traveling, the plans will be just that... plans that might change. As any traveler worth his salt will tell you, part of the fun is to go with the flow, and simply travel wherever you feel like. This obviously works best when you don't have a time table to follow - which we (luckily) don't. 

And that's the way we've been traveling for the past 6 months. We'll (really, it's Sasha that will) make all these plans, and have them change a 1001 times. Luckily, she enjoys the plan making research and she doesn't mind.....

Yesterday morning we had to change our plans once again. Sasha and I were biking to a waterfall that's about 30Km away from Luang Prabang. we had spent all morning walking around town looking for the best bikes and the best deal for said bikes. We then waited around for our food to be cooked and put into a container so we could have a picnic once we got there. I also downloaded a program called "everytrail" onto my iPhone with which you can log your hike/bike rides onto a map, and was happy to try it out. We finally left around 11am(ish).

The first 4-5 Km were quite lovely. Those bikes were the nicest bikes i've been on in years, and the ride wasn't that hard - fairly gentle up and down slopes, meandering Loasian villages, etc.

After battling a relatively easy hill, I looked back, and realized that Sasha wasn't behind me. I waited a couple of minutes, and when she didn't show up, I turned around and rode back over the hill to find her sitting on the side of the road, next to a small stall. This was not a good sign, and as I rode closer, my fears were confirmed - she had some scrapes on her arms. As I rode even closer I saw it was actually much worse than that, and that she had taken a pretty nasty spill and scraped her arm and leg pretty bad. 

I flagged a Tuk Tuk and told the driver to take her to the hospital - which we had passed a few miles back - and that I would meet them there. I realized at this point that my lovely day of biking is over, and enjoyed the last few kilometers back to the hospital - by this point I knew it wasn't anything serious so i wasn't worried, but we both wanted it to be cleaned professionally.

Once I arrived at the hospital, I walked in to a team of two nurses doing a pretty good job of cleaning the muck and asphalt off of my wife. I immediately took out my camera and took some shots of the injuries - a tradition with the two of us when one of us (usually Sasha) gets hurt. This of course made her laugh, and we got some quizzical looks from the nurses, but they eased up when they realized it was OK to take the photos and that Sasha was not going into shock.

Cleaned up, and bandaged up we paid our bill (250,000Kip, which is $31) and grabbed another Tuk Tuk back to the bike place to return them and back to the hotel. At that point, I also turned off everytrail, being fairly certain that no one is going to want to follow this particular trail any longer....

So, just like we've heard from several people, we are now "stuck" in Luang Prabang. Not a bad place to be stuck at per-say - this town was occupied by the French for a long time, and you can see their influence all over town in the architecture and food. We are paying about average for our nice, ACed hotel room (about $10 a night), but the food here is almost in American prices, which is killing our budget. 

Sasha is somewhat bed ridden - not because she can't move - she can, we walked to something called big brother mouse and chatted with Laos teenagers this morning (in case you're wondering, I had to find ways to explain how the internet worked, and what is radiation to someone whos English... wasn't awesome. It was a fun challenge...), so she CAN walk. but the walking wasn't great for her leg, so, we came back here, to the hotel, took off the bandages, and let the wound breath all day, and will probably do the same for the next few days until it's better.  I'm happy to say it's looking much better now than it did this morning. Both of us can't stop staring at it. ;)

And our plans... have changed again. Now, we will attempt to go to China from here, skip Vientiene altogether and from China's Tiger leaping Gorge fly down to Cambodia and Angkor Wat, Then fly to Malaysia, Indonesia and then... (if you've made it all the way down this post you DESERVE to know!) WE ARE COMING BACK TO THE STATES!

We've decided that we really REALLY want to go to Burning Man this year, and build some art, burn some shit, etc. so, come August, we are coming home!

However... we currently have no home. Everything is in storage, and we both know that if we unpack, that's it for traveling - we're too lazy to pack everything back up again... so, we're not sure what's gonna happen after BM. If you don't understand how we can say that and be so calm, look at the subject header of this post. ;)

Luang Namtha or Life in Lonely Planet Land

Sasha:

View from Boat's Landing

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.

Another Border Crossing

Sasha:


We left Pai on a Monday. Thanks to the bedbug infestation, we were VERY ready to leave.  I had some anxiety-  we were headed to a different country, new words to learn, new menus to navigate. . . I had heard some very bad things about trying to eat gluten free in Laos, so I was nervous that I'd be eating nothing but sticky rice and bananas for a few weeks.

We had reservations on an Aya travel agency minibus for the 6 hour drive from Pai to Chaing Kong, next to the northern Thailand/ Laos border.  The schedule had us leaving at 8pm and arriving at 2am, which turned out to be more like 3am.  We arrive at a grim guest house, and turn down the first bedroom after we see a cockroach skittering under the mattress, and are put into a room with two beds.  After seeing a hair and a few crumbs in the bed that were not our own, we pull out our sleep sacks and hop into them.  We had sent them to the laundry to be washed and dried, but our skin was crawling within within minutes.  It could be they were still infested, or it could be that we were tired and paranoid.  Either way, we didn't fall asleep until at least 4am, and were told to be ready to get up for breakfast at 7, and off to the border at 8.

We thought about sleeping through the border transport, but Ra was awake before 7, and the other people on our bus stirring woke me up shortly after.  We threw our stuff and ourselves into the back of a pickup truck,  and went 5 minutes down the road to a guest house for a breakfast.  As it turns out, this guesthouse was the place that Aya told us we were actually going to stay, and seemed to be nicer  than the place we ended up. We paid 50 baht a piece for eggs, watery tea, and toast. From the guesthouse, we jumped back into the pickup truck (I rode in front cab with the driver this time) who took us to the border crossing.

The Thai-Lao border is relaxed, to say the least.  You fill out the departure card on the Thai side, then walk down to the Mekong river where you pay 40 Baht (about $1.30) for a boat to ferry you to the other side.  From there, you fill out two arrival cards, hand them $30 for a visa-on-arrival, and voila! We have arrived.

At this point, I realize that there is a problem.  Which is to say, I reach into my bag to pull out my camera so I can get a shot of the Mekong River, when I realize that my camera is not in my bag.  I sit on the ground, pulling everything out- and it isn't there.  This is especially bad because it is the second camera I have lost on this trip-the first one was pulled out of my bag when I left it in my checked luggage on the flight from Goa to Mumbai.  Ahhrgghhhh.  It must have fallen out of my bag on the minibus ride from Pai to the border.

Between the camera, the bedbugs, the ominous clouds, the lack of sleep, the food anxieties, Laos is not yet our happy place.