Life is a highway these days. Well, in many cases also a modest dirt road with cows, chickens and pigs loitering it. Ah pigs. Pigs, I've learned, are the most stubborn (not dumbest) of these soon-to-be village platters. For some reason pigs insist on standing their ground at the approaching (and ear-deafening) clank of my motorbike's cheaply-fixed front mud-guard.
But having my own wheels has opened up doors into more than just evasion of animal congregation on the road. It's given me the freedom of taking in spectacular scenery at my own pace, encouraged me to speak to more locals off the beaten track, and allowed me to eat food that would, eventually, give me the most crippling food poisoning I could have ever imagined.
You know when you ask someone for directions to a landmark and they point saying "it's just over there" and it ends up being two miles away? Yeah well that's what I was expecting when I got my first flat tire in a small village when a woman, noticing my obvious dilemma, pursed-up her lips and pointed suggesting a repair shop 'just around the corner'. Luckily she was right and just a few meters away I found a shop where I'd get a new tube after destroying the one on my bike.
A fun overall experience and I learned a good deal about my bike, but the best part of the VERY slow tube-changing process was watching the kids watch me. They were so curious about anything I did but what they didn't know is that I was just as curious about them. Eventually it came time to pay. I'm still trying to learn the Laos numbers so at times I just write them out.
I asked him to do so and he scribbled '15000' on his old wooden toolbox with a piece of half-burnt charcoal that just happened to be on the ground next to him. The most creative bill I've ever received. I took a pic of him, the bill, the kids, and made it to the small riverside village of Nong Khiaw just before dark. Nong Khiaw is by no means a hotspot for tourists. Precisely why I went. Two towering limestone mountains are split by a snaking river with picturesque huts perched just a few meters from shore.
A truly spectacular scene that begged to be looked at any time of day. Here I happily trudged along the swampy edge of the river, explored a nearby cave, and met an Australian couple who was bicycling through Laos.
Yes, bicycling! This is probably a good time to mention what an incredibly hilly and mountainous country Laos is. It's mountainous AND hilly! I mean my motorbike is supposed to have four gears but because it has been passed on more than that gift no one wants at the company Xmas gift exchange, it is missing 2nd gear.
So I can only climb in third gear which isn't the most ideal climbing gear. If I have a hard time climbing in third then Simon and Solvega (crazy Aussie cyclists) are definitely sweating more than I. Props guys! Anyway, we talked about everything from politics to the common (and accepted) Asian habit of hawking loogies anytime, anywhere.
It was a great time and, since they are experts, I hope to do some different type of climbing if/when I meet them in Australia...rock climbing!
A few hundred kilometers from Nong Khiaw is the ugly town of Phonsavan. It really is just the best way to describe it. On a positive note, Phonsavan is the launching pad for an easy trip to see the mysterious plain of jars.
There are various theories (from an ancient burial ground to storing rice) as to why these almost human-sized stone jars are scattered along a rather large area.
Luckily we (Silvia from Germany and a Dutch couple) got to see the jars on the serene/breezy hilltop with no one else there which made guessing their purpose even more intriguing.
Later we bounced around a half-dry waterfall (it's Laos' dry season) which we initially thought would be uneventful but ended up being a lot of fun.
I later grabbed a KinKao (noodle soup w chicken) from a local market and took off to see the UXO exhibit. UXO stands for 'unexploded ordinance' and for those of you who were not previously aware (like me), the U.S. was engaged in a 'secret war' after Vietnam
and it involved the dropping of over two million tons of bombs over nine years in Laos with a large number of those being around the plain of jars site. I actually took a picture of Silvia standing next to a weeded crater where one of these was dropped to show the size and impact of an exploding bomb.
The problem, however, is many bombs never exploded so as villagers farm, wash, or play in the fields they are still coming into contact with these. Missing limbs and burnt skin are not an uncommon site amongst many Laoatians and it is all still going on right now.
Go to the links on my blog for more. Another charming quality of my motorbike is having to always and, without a doubt, push-start it in the morning. Yes, in a way it's an inconvenience but the local kids have taken it as an opportunity to laugh with me (not at me hopefully) and that makes it worthwhile.
Regardless of how long it takes to get the engine rumbling they are always there, giggling and providing 'moral support'. One thing is for sure though, once it turns over, we all throw our hands up in the air exuding victory! My scenic ride that morning to Vang Vieng started no differently and knowing I had a tough climb ahead of me which would take some time, I was anxious to get going.
There was a thick fog that morning but I kept climbing, slowly, even as locals stopped with their scooters on the side of the road, puzzled looks on their faces as I sputtered by. After an hour or so of wet, cold, and challenging conditions, I punched through the seemingly never-ending cloud break and was smacked by the warm sun and clear blue sky. I stopped immediately at a viewpoint and in awe, gazed down at the mountain tops peeking through the clouds.
It was a great moment and felt an extreme sense of accomplishment. Oh and the pig-less road was a plus. After an epic ride I arrived in warm and eye-pleasing Vang Vieng. Vang Vieng isn't just known for its natural beauty as the main draw is tubing down the river while tanking up on buckets of libations along makeshift bars scattered on the river's edge.
Insert hundreds of thirsty teens and twenty-somethings, permanent markers in hand to billboard themselves, and scantily clad attire and conservative Laos feels more like Cancun on spring break.
Unfortunately (not really) I didn't even get the chance to partake because I spent the day I arrived and the next three days a slave to the toilet thanks to massive food poisoning. I have never felt so miserable in my life! I blame it all on that sweet lady who sold me that KinKao at the out-of-the-way market after the plain of jars.
Eventually I got enough energy to slowly (very slowly) leave my room and found what became my favorite accommodation thus far. A perched bungalow right in front of the river with a marvelous view, an ideal deck, and a sturdy hammock...for $10 a night!
I spent the next four days in my slice of heaven recovering, reading, playing solitaire and eating tangerines.
Until a day ago I hadn't spoken a single meaningful word to anyone until I had a conversation with a Dutch man who was a bit on edge about how the governments of the world kept information from the general public, how the next big war was soon to come, and how the end of the world was quickly approaching in December of 2012. He did most of the talking. I plan to ride to the southern tip of Laos before my visa expires so I'll be on the road a lot and I'm hoping for smooth roads, interesting people along the way, safe food, and not so many stubborn pigs.
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