Pha Tang & Luang Prabang, Laos
PHA TANGAnna's entry:
We headed out North from Vientiane, the Laos Capital, on a very long and exhausting, but very picturesque bus ride. Our goal was to by-pass altogether Van Vieng - the drug and hang-over capital of backpackers combing through South East Asia pretending to be "world travelers". If any of you, Van Vieng hang-outs read this entry, here is my question for you - in today's world of tragic global climate changes, why don't you spare the planet your share of pollution, and do your drugs in your own backyard, instead of wasting the fuel and flying across the ocean in search of getting high?? How much dumber and more selfish could you get? Anyway, as I said, we by-passed Van Vieng altogether, and instead stayed about 20 km north of Van Vieng - in a remote village of Pha Tang. We were the only foreigners there, and stayed in a local resort, hidden on a bank of a forest river. I know what you are thinking - Anna and Rob in a "resort"?? Yes, however, it wasn't your typical resort. The place consisted of attached airy rooms with floor-to-the-ceiling windows; the floor, ceiling, and walls were all made out of wood, and the floor was constructed on stilts right above the soil (with a few creators running/crawling around which we tried not to think about). However, the rooms were beautiful, and we had the entire place to ourselves. Our room was surrounded by exotic tropical trees and was located on a shore of a fast floating river. During our stay it was raining non-stop, and the water in the river reached its shores. We (and the owner) were wondering if any day it could start flooding the area, and we might just set afloat. It didn't, but it felt very exotic to spend some time on a terrace built right over the storming river shore, and watch that red-rusted water bursting along the shores while being pushed by strong currents. On several occasions we walked along the highway to the village (where we ate our Lao soups), and to the Buddhist monastery, where monks were shocked to see Westerners. While walking along the empty highway, our only companions were cows, one of which took a peculiar interest in my umbrella. Thinking that the ornamental flowers on the fabric could be the real thing, the cow politely insisted to smell it, and after admitting it was just an umbrella, she nodded and let us pass. The highway was stretched among high hills and mountains covered in clouds, and during the twilight they seemed almost surreal. Once in a while we could see the twinkling lights of a lonely vehicle, somewhere miles away, trying to make its way on the mountain pass. It was quiet and peaceful, and it reminded us how glad we were not to be in Van Vieng. After several days, it was time to leave Pha Tang. The owner attempted to rip us off by alluring us to purchase an over-priced bus ticket to get out of here, but we knew it all way by now. Instead, we decided to try our hitching skills. We went back onto the highway, and after waiting a few minutes, a posh looking van pulled over. The driver could speak a good English, and he offered us a reasonable price to get all the way to Luang Prabang. We agreed, and the ride turned out to be great - we had several seats to ourselves, stopped on a way at a remote village market to pick up cheap and delicious pine-apple, and were dropped off right in the center of Luang Prabang. If we were to take a regular bus, it would have been more expensive, with longer ride, full of obnoxious Van Veing tards-backpackers; so our hitching turned out to be the way to go, and it gave us more confidence to start more hitching in Laos later on.
Van Vieng to Luang Prabang
LUANG PRABANG
Anna's entry:
Well, as expected, a labelled by guide books "The Most Beautiful City of South East Asia" town of Luang Prabang was an over-exaggeration. Yes - it was pretty, yes - it had excellent Buddhist architecture, yes - it had a romantic French influence, but many cities in this part of the world do. We enjoyed our walks, we enjoyed the night food market, but for us the most visual memory has nothing to do with a touristy staff. Quite the opposite... One night a rain storm started suddenly, it began pouring and flooding the market streets; and it caught us right in the middle of the street where we were getting our supper from a street stall vendor. We saw a house on stilts near by, and a local woman motioned us to come for a cover, right under the floor on the stilts. We did, and ended up surrounded by locals, who were also hiding from the rain under the house. They all were smiling at us, and a few were giggling. We had no idea if they lived in the house, if they stored their belonging under the house, if they were sleeping under the house, or if they were just vagrants? But, it didn't matter - it was so cozy! They offered us to sit on a tarp, we all were in a circle, eating local food from the market; a stray dog or two cuddled near by; and somehow it just felt good to be in Asia at that moment... Maybe because at that moment we were not divided by our languages, by our cultures, and a notion of "us" foreigners and "them" locals simple did not exist that very minute - the rain made us all the same. We knew that reality would come back when the rain ends, but it made me believe that there was a hope, or at least at that moment in time...
Anna's entry:
Well, as expected, a labelled by guide books "The Most Beautiful City of South East Asia" town of Luang Prabang was an over-exaggeration. Yes - it was pretty, yes - it had excellent Buddhist architecture, yes - it had a romantic French influence, but many cities in this part of the world do. We enjoyed our walks, we enjoyed the night food market, but for us the most visual memory has nothing to do with a touristy staff. Quite the opposite... One night a rain storm started suddenly, it began pouring and flooding the market streets; and it caught us right in the middle of the street where we were getting our supper from a street stall vendor. We saw a house on stilts near by, and a local woman motioned us to come for a cover, right under the floor on the stilts. We did, and ended up surrounded by locals, who were also hiding from the rain under the house. They all were smiling at us, and a few were giggling. We had no idea if they lived in the house, if they stored their belonging under the house, if they were sleeping under the house, or if they were just vagrants? But, it didn't matter - it was so cozy! They offered us to sit on a tarp, we all were in a circle, eating local food from the market; a stray dog or two cuddled near by; and somehow it just felt good to be in Asia at that moment... Maybe because at that moment we were not divided by our languages, by our cultures, and a notion of "us" foreigners and "them" locals simple did not exist that very minute - the rain made us all the same. We knew that reality would come back when the rain ends, but it made me believe that there was a hope, or at least at that moment in time...
posted by Rob and Anna @ 6:24 AM
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