....................................................Everything is same same, but different in Lao. Unloading from the SLOW boat in Pak Bang along the Mekong, we were bombarded with hoteliers selling their services. They typically had little flyer's with pictures of the homestay, and wanted to be your friend. If you started listening to another young salesmen, they would exclaim, "No, no, it's same same, they are all the same!" They were not all the same, and nothing is in Lao. A very slow country and laid back, Lao is one of the most undeveloped countries in the world, but the people seem very happy in spite of this. The mighty Mekong was not shall we say, crystal clear. The muddy waters seemed to not even be liquid, but a slick, brown ice that we skated down for two butt-bruising days. Our destination, the quaint town of Luang Phrabong, perched up high on a steep shelf above the swirling mud. Luke and I met a lot of cool people on the boat, so I wouldn't trade the experience for the world. Peeta and Marade from Ireland, Kirstina and Christian from Denmark, some Canadians who wheeled their motorcycles onto the boat to do cross the border, continueing their road tour of Asia, all interesting folks. There are a lot of art galleries and coffee shops in that town, some good wats, and sheik bars.
Heading south, we took a crazy winding road through the mountains patroled by men with machine guns. Bandits had been seen recently, and some busses even had an armed escort, consisting of a kit with a ousi. We, however, did not, and didn't have time to worry about a hold up, what with all the near misses (water buffalo, gas tanker truck, forest fires), and the steep cliffs. You know it's going to be ruff when they supply every seat with a barf bag. Many used them, then simply hucked them out the window. Our destination, the field of jars, a surreal landscape of 3 meter tall jars carved out of solid rock some 2,500 years ago for some unknown purpose, quite like a stonehenge mystery, although they did have a million elephants in those days. The going theory, first started by a French women, is that they were used in a burial ceremony, although our guide, Som Chiew, surmised that they were used to store the Lao Lao, the moonshine whisky found all over the country. We had our fill of the stuff at the wedding we crashed after the jar tour. Everyone at the party was just die'n to share a toast with us Americans, only thing, they would dump half theirs on the ground while we swigged ours. We had a great time dancing and eating some very exotic food, but I think our guide had a better time, becuase, alas, he was unable to continue in this capacity due to passing out in the van, but not after he confided with a giggle that he was scared to death of the big British cigar salesman, and also invited us to a party that night in Phosovan. He never showed up to pick us up, so Luke and I learned to play snooker with some local boys, and also played some video games.
Another long bus ride to Veng Viang, the innertubing capital of Lao, and me thinks the world. What an amazing setting, so serene and calm along the river (this one actually had water) We stayed in a very luxurious hotel consisting of bamboo huts looking at the mountains, and I loved to lay in the hamoc and read my book, that was until the first water taxi tractor rumbled by. No this contraption is basically a cart, one that probably used to be pulled by an ox, but now is tugged through the dry season waters by a freakin tractor. Kind of makes sense, except the thing goes about as fast as a tortois on opium, and makes a raquet like no other. Then came the car driving down the river, then came the back hoe, seemingly indiscriminately moving rocks around till it broke down. I joked that maybe they just rent it out to tourists to play with by the hour. Even with all this, I still found this town to be quite relaxing and nice, and the experince of being pulled to shore on your innertube to a series of bars and huge rope swing contraptions (waterproof photo's to follow) was sublime. Next day, we took a wonderful trekk with a British couple to this great hidden valley and up through the mountains. It was about as humid an experience I have ever had, but great. Last stop, Vientiene, the capital city full of French expats. Great parties there and met some cool locals. Our first night we stayed at probably the worse accomidation to date, found a rat in our room, and then almost cut my finger off with the low ceiling fan (just kidding, but it does hurt). Finally, we said hovuar to our friendly little country, and cought the last flight (6 whole flights out of the airport a day), to Hanoi. Korp gai Lao for a great 11 days.
