Cycling through karsts

Vang Vieng has a bit of a reputation as little more than a party town with a pretty backdrop. And this is not inaccurate. But there's a lot more to this town than just young, drunk gap-years, Friends re-runs, banana pancakes, and "in the tubing" tank tops.

First of all, if getting smashed isn't your thing, it's easy enough to avoid the buckets of alcohol. But if it is, then giv'er. You'll be in like-minded company.

Second of all, the backdrop is way more than just pretty. The karst mountain-scape is jaw-droppingly stunning. Dramatic limestone peaks jut up from the rice fields to jagged heights, while ferns choked by vines cling to their impossibly sheer faces. Throughout the day these monoliths shift colour as the light moves around them, from a pale blue in the morning before the sun burns off the mist, through various shades of charcoal, to a smoldering mauve at sunset when their layers solidify into one imposing mass whose silhouette looks something like an erratic soundwave.

On our first day we rented mountain bikes and did a 42k circuit west, over the river, alongside karsts and fields and through villages, with a stop en route at the neat-o Blue Lagoon and cave. After dodging cattle and water buffalo on the road, we passed a muddy river where they were cooling themselves, a pool of disembodied, writhing, horned heads grunting and exhaling loudly. It was amazing! And then, just around the next corner was another bunch in a pit, covered entirely in mud. It looked like a cow sculpture. Living cow art. So totally awesome.

As we rode through the villages, the kids would run to the roadside screaming "sabaideeeeeeee!" and holding their hands out for ride-by high-fives. It was the best!

The only un-awesome part of the day were the ridiculously rocky and pot-holed roads that vibrated our hands until they were battered and bruised...

Well, at least the views were nice...

The lore and the guidebooks did not lie when they warned that the road from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng is known to cause motion sickness, and to prepare yourself. I am very, very glad I took anti-nauseants, otherwise I would have, without a doubt, suffered the same fate as seven of the seventeen passengers on board. We were only about an hour into the 6-hour journey when the breakneck speeds around tight, winding mountain roads and being jostled over teeth-jarring potholes, caught up with those aboard the Vomit Comet, resulting in a chorus of people simultaneously throwing up into bags or with their heads out the window. It was quite the soundtrack.

It began with the young girl behind us--her dad shouted something which must have meant 'bag! bag!' and got one just in time for her to throw up into--and then the young boy on the other side of us and his mother, and then the guy behind me, and then another few in the first row. I couldn't believe the chain reaction! It was looking like it was going to turn into a full-on Monty Python-/South Park-/Family Guy-/The Office-esque pukathon. But oddly enough, it was only Lao people who were affected; the five foreigners on board were fine, though I wouldn't have been if I hadn't dosed up.

Before the man behind me lost his breakfast, I offered him a gravol and tried to mime what it was and how it might help. Unfortunately he threw up before it could take effect. I had to tilt my seat forward, past the vertical setting so that he could have access to the window we shared, but even still, he wasn't always successful getting it out the window...

As awful as I felt for those blowing chunks, I also felt bad for the pedestrians and people on motorbikes we were passing whom I suspect may have been impacted by either heads out of windows, or full puke bags being tossed out the windows... And now I understand why the buses at the station were getting such a thorough wash-down...

At one point, when all bags on board had been exhausted, the driver quickly pulled over to a roadside stand and got a new stash of bags which he tossed into the back.

Then, when we stopped for a break about halfway, the people who had been sick had lunch (I can't say I wasn't tempted to do a slow-motion dive across the table screaming 'nooooooooooo!'), only to repeat the process in the second half of the trip. But hey, at least the views were nice...

Rising above the basin of clouds cloaking the valley

Up before dawn

After sleeping through it each previous morning in Luang Prabang, we awoke before dawn on our fourth morning to the rooster's chorus and the sound of drums to go and see the tak bat, the sacred alm's giving procession. Despite having to get up so early, we were not the only ones who wanted to witness the scene.

We had read numerous posters and pamphlets around town outlining ways tourists can help respect the tradition. Most of it seemed so obvious, I was surprised it was necessary. And yet as light began to brighten the morning, and bus after bus full of tourists started arriving, it quickly became apparent why those guidelines were necessary.

Have a quick read of some of the suggestions here. And I can tell you, that every single one was broken. For instance, by the woman in a short skirt who scampered alongside the silent monks, flashbulb firing in their faces. Or the tour bus that trolled along the street, tourists hanging out of the windows, cameras flashing. There was no silence. Tourists were talking loudly and walking directly beside the monks. Nobody bowed or attempted to stay lower than them, and nobody kept their distance. It was horrible. I just couldn't believe how disrespectful people were and what a spectacle it became!

It's difficult to reconcile wanting to see something that for us is very unique, but know that you are tainting it by your very presence, even if you do keep your distance. We observed the rules we were aware of but I'm sure we inadvertently broke other unspoken rules without realizing it. And though we were quiet and kept our distance on the opposite side of the street, I still felt like an intruder on something very sacred.

Later that afternoon we went to the public library for their English Conversation drop-in session, where you can chat with locals who want to practice their English. We spent a couple of hours talking with a couple of novice monks, Mai and Huong, and a few other travelers. It was great! Mai showed us some of the English books and materials they use in class, as he had some questions about one of them. One was Steve Job's commencement speech given at Stanford in 2005, and Mai wanted us to explain what he meant by "stay hungry, stay foolish," and "never settle, keep looking." It was certainly interesting attempting to explain what Jobs meant to a Buddhist monk, and how generally westerners aren't seeking non-attachment...

Kuang Si falls

Kuang Si falls are absurdly beautiful. This is where inspirational calendar imagery is made. Ridiculous. Sun beams streaming through misty air as water tumbles down from impossible heights and over ledges, spilling into milky, aquamarine pools below. Lush, green forest, full of massive strangler figs and all kinds of ferns. Plus, there's a bear rescue shelter on the walk to the falls that I would have liked to explore more. I could have spent the whole day here.

Unfortunately we didn't have the whole day to spend here. Kuang Si falls are only about 35 km from Luang Prabang, but takes almost an hour to drive, so we looked around at the travel options, and the most economical option was to go by minibus, which gave us exactly 2 hours to hike around the falls and go for a quick swim. Not nearly enough time! We should have paid the extra money to rent a motorbike and spent the day there. That way we wouldn't have had to be on someone else's itinerary. An itinerary that also included a stop at an "authentic" Hmong village, which unfortunately had that hurry-up-put-that-TV-away-the-tourists-are-coming! feel... We had precisely 10 minutes to visit the village. 

As soon as we stepped off the bus, adorable children in traditional dress greeted us with you-buy-one-dollar-good-price-for-you-pretty-bracelet. As did every villager we passed on the 500 m paved circuit through the village where our bus was ready and waiting with the engine going at the other end. How do these operations start? Do we blame the first traveler/tourist who ever asked 'hey, do you make pancakes with banana?' or do we blame ourselves for thinking 'mmmm, that banana pancake sounds delish!' and perpetuating cultural sacrifices so that we can have a travel experience that doesn't challenge us too much? Or is this just an unavoidable part of a place becoming well traveled?

It's just difficult to accept a contrived situation that was created precisely for you and by you. And how am I supposed to have a meaningful encounter with anyone in 10 minutes, especially when their livelihoods depend on my buying that bracelet and moving on. They don't want a meaningful encounter with me, I'm just another tourist. But how do you support the culture but show you're not just another tourist, and that you're interested in more than just these identical souvenirs?

Luang Prabang

Picturesque, UNESCO World Heritage town, Luang Prabang sits on an elevated peninsula at the confluence of the Mekong and the Nam Khan rivers. But for all of it's ancient temples and history, tourism has definitely had an impact here. The main streets feel a bit contrived, with full English signs, western food, and amenities catering to your every whim and comfort, making your visit as easy as possible. You can speak your English, and have your pancake too! It just makes you wonder what's real, what's authentic, and what the locals think of the change. Laos has only been open to tourism since 1989, and is rapidly becoming well-trodden. We chatted with a monk who talked about the rapid growth and development he's noticed in just the last 10 years.

But regardless, there is no denying this is a beautiful, laid-back city, steeped in tradition, especially when you get off the main streets and beyond the other camera-toting tourists. French colonial architecture, European-style alleyways, mosaic-tiled wats, bustling markets, spices and tea leaves drying in the sun. And all of this charm, surrounded by big, lumpy mountains.

We visited Ban Xiang Khong, a village of traditional weavers and paper makers, just a short bicycle ride beyond Luang Prabang, over the footbridge and along dusty roads that follow the river. One house had a living display of the various stages of the silkworm's life cycle, and craftspeople working with this raw material to get it from cocoon to the final woven product. In almost every house in the village, there are tables and tables of luxurious silk scarves and tapestries in the most vibrant colours. I still need to learn how to say 'very beautiful', because my compliment of "sep lai" (very delicious) was met with puzzled looks, even though all the sumptuous colours are very yummy looking!

The majesty of the Mekong

Dramatic mountains rising sharply from the sometimes-calm, sometimes-turbulent flow of the Mekong signal that you have left Thailand, and entered Laos. A million kinds of lush, green trees cover these mountains. Some look like gargantuan fiddlehead ferns unfurling. Some have jagged, silvery trunks that stand out among the greenery like lightning bolts. Others, palm tree-esque green fireworks atop a long, slender trunk. And amid this thick forest, small villages perch, while below, in the river, locals set their fishing nets.

Every bend in the river leads to a new unimaginable landscape. Giant sandbanks (leftovers from higher waters during monsoon season?) line the river and create sand-islands. Some with herds of water buffalo and goats grazing. Others dotted with evenly spaced rows of plants.

Our boat, equipped with old car and airplane seats, already filled to maximum capacity, stopped frequently to take on more passengers, children lining up at the banks to wave to the foreigners, and us to them. The roof of the boat is piled high with cases of empty Beer Lao bottles, market wares, sandbags, and food.

All slowboats enroute from Huay Xai to Luang Prabang stop about halfway at Pakbeng, who's sole business seems to be offering guesthouses for weary travelers, and sandwiches for the next day's 8-hour trip. We were luckily, the first ones off the boat at dusk, and we dashed into town, looking for accommodation, trying to avoid the same 0-star debaucle of the previous night. After finding guesthouse after guesthouse full, we forked over $35 bucks for a very nice bungalow right on the river. Cheap by western standards, but totally overpriced, and totally out of our budget. The all-night wedding celebrations next door were a bit loud til the wee hours, but it was worth it, as we found out the following early morning, when two elephants came down to have a drink on the other side of the river! It was awesome! I could have watched them all morning.