Don Det - hammocks and coconuts

As it turned out, I did have another day of riding the bus. The day did end with a boat ride though and I am now on the island of Don Det in the 4000 Islands region of Laos. I can say now, the trip was definitely worth it.

While I was in Pakse, as chance would have it, some french friends that I had met on my journey down were staying in the same guest house as me. They were also headed on to the 4000 islands the next day and had gotten an insiders tip on the best place to stay there. So, I shared the last leg of my journey in the back of a truck overcrowded with pigs, chickens, random belongings and Laotian families to the beach and then on a longboat to Don Det island.

The boat took us to a less populated section of the island and dropped us off at the guesthouse. The island pace of life immediatly overtook me. I forgot about the discomfort of the past five days and grew a huge smile. Despite my heavy pack, I felt as those I was floating along the dirt path along the river as I saw the scattered bungalows each with a direct view of the river from their porch equiped with hammocks.

Other than kayaking, I barely ventured farther than a few hundred feet from my hammock. The guest house had a restraunt with an amazing view of the river and several more hammocks on their deck. I really enjoyed the family that ran it and the incredibly laid back vibe of the place. When I wanted to order one of their world class fresh coconut shakes or an order of banana chocolate pancakes I would have to find one of the girls and patiently wait for them to get around to it. Everything ordered or taken from the cooler was self-recorded in a little notebook to be self-tallied and settled at the end of the stay. With food and drinks and my own bungalow I only spent about US$10 a day.

I was still feeling pretty weak from my illness and long journey. So, for that price I didn't feel too guilty wallowing away my days studying the river, reading in my hammock, sitting on the bridge watching the sunset, ordering yet another coconut shake and laughing with my french friends, the owners and other few patrons of the guesthouse.

The only thing that got me out of there was the possibility of kayaking. I set out one morning with my friend Freddy to explore by boat. We found a kayaking outfit that mostly does tours but agreed to rent us some boats if we promised not to go downstream of the landing. This wasn't much of a problem since the river is more like a large lake there and the current wasn't too strong.

So, we headed upriver and began paddling alongside another island. Very soon, we noticed children calling to us. They were so excited to see a couple of foreigners. They would stop their play in the water or along the shore to jump up and down, wave and call out to us. Some would run along the shore trying to keep us in their sites. Another couple of miles up the river we found a little beach and stopped to relax. We had barely been there a minute when I got the feeling that I was being watched. I turned around to see five little heads duck behind a tree across the beach. When they shyly tried to take another peak I called hello to them and waved.

They burst out with nervous giggling and reluctantly began to approach us as a pack. Each one didn't want to be in the front and tried to hide behind the others. With a few panicked back tracks they finally came close enough to get a good view of us.

Freddy and I joked around with them a bit and shared our snacks. I stood up to play a game with them, but as they saw me at full height, they got so scared they all took off screaming and running. I laughed out loud and then did a cartwheel. That stopped them from their retreat and they started attempting cartwheels themselves, but still left some distance until I sat down again.

Freddy handed me a beautiful little shell that he found in the sand. As the children saw that I was interested in it, they began collecting shells for me as well. "Oh, thank you, it's beautiful." I told each child as they handed me a shell. They would giggle then run off to find me another. Soon my whole hat was filled with shells and they still didn't want to end the game. I had no intentions of removing any shell from the beach that they belonged, so I eventually had to stop them and rescatter the shells.

We tried paddling upriver further but the current got really fast between some of the islands, so we just explored some of the farming islands checked out the water buffalos cooling themselves on the muddy banks, then headed back to our island.

Three books, countless coconut shakes, and one week after arriving I finally decided that it was time to get back to Thailand so that I could do a few things before my flight back to the US. I arranged the boat ride back to the mainland and said my goodbyes to all my new friends at the guesthouse. Just before I left, "mama" and the three girls that ran the place called me over to give me blessings for my trip. This is a tradition in South East Asia to protect people on journeys, however it is very offensive to the spirits to cut off any of the strings. They each took a string and carefully brushed it up in down my arm while chanting, they tied the strings to my wrist. One was specific to help me regain my full strength, and mama chanted for my safe journey and for me to one day return to Don Det. With that she gave me a surprisingly strong squeeze on my shoulders and set me off in the little boat.

The Length of Laos

Feb. 8th, 2009

I didn't realize that I wanted to be in the southern-most part of Laos until I was just about as far north as you can get. From Huay Xay I headed north to Luong Nam Tha. According to the Lonely Planet the trekking is really good here and fairly cheap. What I found were prices about triple the cost from what was quoted.

I just couldn't justify spending over twice my daily budget to do some walking and stay at yet another hilltribe village, so I rented a bike for a couple of bucks and explored on my own.

I had been riding for several miles, up a dirt road through some villages, when the chain of my bike popped off and jammed up. This hadn't happened to me since I was in grade school so I was a little concerned that I would have to walk the bike all the way back. Fortunately a grade school aged boy, that I had stopped and talked with earlier, came up the road with his friends. We all inspected the problem and I tried to tug the chain free. No luck. Each boy responded by whipping out their trusty machete and taking turns jabbing at the chain. Hmm, maybe I should have got the insurance, I thought to myself. But eventually with their jabbing and my pulling, we were able to free the chain and returned it to the spokes. The boys continued down the road with newly puffed out chests. I happily peddled off and found a waterfall to explore and made it back with out too much more trouble.

While I was poking around the various trekking offices I happened upon a brochure for kayaking in the 4000 Islands area in South Laos.

I couldn't seem to stop thinking about kayaking after that, so I embarked on one serious bus journey. It really didn't look that far on the map. Four days of bus rides later I have a different impression.

There are essentially two types of buses in Laos. The tourist bus and the local bus. Which is not to say that there are no locals on the tourist bus or tourist on the local. Often times the line will be strict, but sometimes there is a small handful of one type on the other.

In my opinion there are benefits and drawbacks of each. So, my stance is to leave it up to fate, show up at the bus station and go on whichever is available first. Generally this lands me on the local bus.

The local bus is usually quite a bit slower, a lot more rickety (aka frequent break downs) and a lot more crowded. However on the local bus I never get forced into a conversation with someone wondering about "the party scene" in Burma. (I'm tempted to tell them Burma is a "dry" country.) The local bus is also a lot more interesting. There are always people getting on and off with all sorts of interesting belongings and a fair share of farm animals. When the bus stops it is often overtaken with people selling various types of food and drink. My favorite is the sticky rice with coconut cooked inside bamboo. The most popular are they mystery meats cooked on sticks that are usually sold with a bag of rice.

Occasionally I'll meet some locals that speak a bit of english that I can chat with. All the other Westerners I have met on these buses have been really chill people. Well, with the exception of one couple that rode on my bus for a couple of hours last night. It almost seemed like they were smuggling something, the way they were so nervous and shifty-eyed. They clutched their locked backpacks tightly on their laps. The only look they flashed to me was one of horrified shock. I guess they couldn't believe I would ride alone with them. I wondered if I should tell them that I actually feel safer riding with people that are part of the local community, then some of the party-boy types on the tourist buses.

My days on the bus have all been over ten hours each, so I have had to learn how to take care of all my needs without a real break. For instance, I learned on my first day to always wear a skirt. The "restroom" breaks are often just stops on the side of the road where everyone scatters into a fairly open field. If you aren't wearing a skirt, you better thoroughly dehydrate yourself or be willing to flash the moon to everyone around.

I am now on my last bus, hopefully, before I make it to my destination. I say hopefully because yesterday was also supposed to be my last. I paid all the way through Pakse yesterday morning and headed off on what was supposed to be a ten hour ride on a local bus. After eleven hours I asked my new Lao friend about how much longer. "Oh, maybe four hours." I realized then that we wouldn't be there until past 2am. I knew all the guest houses would be closed by then. "It's ok" he told me. "The bus stops there. You just spend night on bus." The next town we pulled into was Savanaket. I looked on my map and realized we were only half way. Now it was past a personal discomfort concern. I had serious doubts about the safe driving abilities of the bus drivers whom were surely exhausted. I decided to end my day there and got off to find a bed.

You know, maybe I will book the tourist bus on the way back.

Huay Xai, Laos - antibiotics & b-boys

February 4th, 2009

Now I am just over the border in the small, boring town of Huay Xay. I am diligently taking my antibiotics, resting and eating rice soup. Basically just trying my best to get better. If I don't feel better soon I will need to go seek better health care in Chiang Mai, Thailand. However, if I can manage to recover I can go trekking all over Laos like I want to.

It has been kind of a blessing this is such a dull town. There isn't much to tempt me. My only entertainment has been from a couple of the people I have met. My friend Lotan from Israel and MC Loke, straight outta Laos. What this town lacks, MC Loke makes up for. This kid is hillarious!

My second night at the guest house I was surprised to hear hip hop bumping on the stereo. I have barely heard any hip hop since I've been in Asia, so I went to check it out.

Up on the roof of the guest house I could see the sun setting over the Mekong river and the first b-boy I'd seen in a long time.

"You like hip hop?" he asked me.

"I love it!"

"Cool. Where you from by the way?"

I told him and returned the question. Usually I just do this to locals as a joke, but this time I was genuinely curious about this young kid with a Laotian face and West Coast hip hop style and speech.

"Me? I'm from Laos. You can call me MC Loke!" he gave me a dap and a friendship was born.

He played me Laotian hip hop and I introduced him to some of my favorites from the US. Apparently the kid has been influenced by his brother that lives in California. He has been rapping for 5 years, since he was 12. My favorite song that he wrote was one about riding a bike with no handle bars. "It tells you if you try enough, you can do anything." he explained. "But I also rap the dirty shit. Like Tupac!" He told me, but then was too embarrassed to perform any of that in front of me. I know it is not what he is going for, but it was really adorable. (In a little brother kind of way. Don't worry, I haven't been interested in 17 year olds since I was about 16.)


I have finally gone through all of my antibiotics and I'm finally feeling better... I think. So, tomorrow I will head out and start exploring Laos.