Laos Groceries, Blessed Shopping, The Bike Crash and No Lady Love Allowed

 

How do the Laos people go grocery shopping? They take a trip to the market where other locals sell the freshest fish, meat, fruits and vegetables...and by freshest I mean still alive. At the Morning Market in Luang Prabang everything is ultra fresh. Fish still flapping about on damp banana leaves. 

Laos, ladies fry up some of the tastiest little fried bean balls; crouched down and almost motionless they're easy to trip over. Delicacies like ox and pig's hooves, crab wreathes and the stinky-sock-smelling durian are also on offer by the plenty.

Cruising the colourfully tarped stalls of the night market where hundreds of locals tent up and display their handicrafts to sell. While baby sleeps, local women work their sales skills on shop-happy tourists to earn their living. Bartering and haggling in Luang Prabang is nothing compared to that of other parts of Asia. I thought Thailand was bad, but it wouldn't be until I'd get assaulted by a vendor in Hong Kong that I'd recognize the very serious business that is haggling. The Laos ladies in Luang Prabang hand make everything they display and it really seems sad to even haggle with someone of a third world country; we're arguing over a few pennies here. The Yank prides himself in being the supreme barterer, attributing the quality to genes. I on the other hand have a problem with figuring out an appropriate price...my logic is simply, if I like it...I'll buy it. Things are just so much easier when there's a price tag. When you do purchase something you are taking part in your first blessed shopping experience. Before pocketing the cash, vendors will fan their money out and proceed to tap and sweep the cast over their crafts, blessing them. It's a ritual done for good luck to the vendor.

Laos has one of the highest vehicle accident rates in the world, and considering the size of the country, it equates to a rather high incident rate per capita. All accidents involve some combination of motorcycle, car, tuk-tuk or bicycle. Strolling back to our guesthouse we'd  notice a motorist come barreling out from a side alley without stopping. We'd notice him, number one because he'd whizzed past use without flinching and second, because he'd then nook a cyclist. Like many tourists do in Luang Prabang, this guy had rented a bike to get around. For one US dollar, it's a splurge everyone indulges in here. Of course though, this doesn't include a helmet. Helmet? Asking for one will leave your bike rental guy looking at you like you've got a boog hanging out. Mr. Biker came cruising down the very open road while Mr. Moped did the same from his side alley. BAM! Mr. Biker did a mid air double sow cow over Mr. Moped. This was about to get very interesting. What do you do? Again, like Thailand, Laos people are known for their non-confrontational demeanor. And there was a good chance Mr. Biker didn't speak any Lao. So, here's the breakdown of what happened. Mr. Biker landed flat on his face, but luckily momentum propelled him to his feet. He'd rush over and grab Mr. Moped's bike to show his upset and then began to pantomime his frustration. With no signs of blood or protruding bones, he brushed himself off and then in slow and irritable English that was loud, but decibels still not reaching a yelling category, Mr. Biker said simply "You. Stop! You. Look!"

There were rumours circulating of a bowling alley was open till the wee hours, but sadly it had been closed down. Instead we'd head to the town's only nightclub. After a few buckets, we'd end up cramming 15 people into a 7 person tuk-tuk. When the driver saw how many we were trying to cram into the little cubby he waved up a hand and said no no no, but we flashed some extra George Washingtons at him and he'd get on board. The nightclub clearly wasn't catered to heavy tourist drinkers and the function of  what a "bar" actually is evaded them. There was indeed a bar, but that's not where you'd bought drinks. Instead you'd order off a very minimal menu list at a take-out window next to the bar...but still inside the nightclub. It's still foggy what was ordered, but we'd hit the dance floor where a random Laos girl found it amusing to use a white girl as her stripper pole and began bumping and grinding all up and down my leg. I guess the girl-on-girl thing doesn't make pages in the Laos gentlemen's dirty magazines because the girl's boyfriend was none too pleased. I guess it was the hate stares I was getting, but maybe this was Laos love? Either way Laos Lady Love scampered off. Utopia bar was a favourite with its indoor volleyball court that more than made up for the sketchy bamboo constructed deck with no railing.

The Limey

The One About Nirvana, Monks and Finding a Laos Lettuce Wrap Lady

The city of Luang Prabang, Laos is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Doing as the monks do, we woke with the rising sun to witness Binthabhat; the daily ritual of giving alms to monks. 
Giving alms is just another way for travellers to get scammed or ripped off. You can barter for your alms, but this just seems a shame in the light of what is suppose to be a good cause. No bartering took place for us here, but to pay 40,000 kip (four U.S. dollars)for a couple scoops of sticky rice is outrageous. I had heard the price go as low as 10,000 kip.

The act of giving alms is believed by Theravadan Buddhists to be a means of earning brownie points leading to a better afterlife or reducing the amount of times one is re-born, or reincarnated, before finding nirvana. Not the band, but a mental cleansing of the Three Poisons: lobha, dvesha and moha, or greed, hate and ignorance. It is thought to free you from the cycle of death, rebirth and the troublesome effects of karma.  If you are wondering, Kurt Cobain was indeed a practicing buddhist and after his cremation a handful of his ashes are said to have been given to a buddhist monk to make a tsatsu (a memorial sculpture). You can help but wonder if monks think...if I find nirvana, will Kurt Cobain be there? Although they abstain from speech and many modern luxuries, monks are contradictingly quite with the times - doubling on a scooter to using cellphones and surfing the net (image of monk using a computer). In Thai wedding rituals the ceremony will actually come to halt for the men in robes to break for a Coke,  http://www.thaiworldview.com/bouddha/wed1.htm.

Wats in Luang Prabang? Lots of French colonial-style architecture, cafes and shops. Unlike many countries around the world who's most redundant mark of modern day culture is a Starbucks on every corner, there actually isn't a Starbucks in Laos at all. Instead, streets are sprinkled with multiple wats (temples); there are more than 30 wats in Luang Prabang. Climbing the 300 or so steps to the top of Mount Phousi, one of the most impressive views in this small city can be found. Half way up the stairs you'll find local ladies selling woven, bamboo cages with live birds inside. It took me a while to figure out that the chirping was coming from inside the bamboo cages (a very Zoolander computer files moment). You can buy one (10,000 kip) and release the bird at the top of Phousi for good luck. It was explained to me that these women actually find these freed birds and recapture them for the next batch of freeing-fanatic tourists.

The Pak Ou Caves in Luang Prabang, which are usually reached by riding upstream on a boat, contain a number of impressive rock formations, and miniture statues placed by the very first worshippers and preserved by their descendants. Our long-tail boat trip to the caves was interesting, sadly with the caves being the sortest part. Docking, our guide told us we'd have 30 minutes to spend exploring...and of course there would be the largest group of Chinese tourists arriving at the exact same time. We'd shuffle and contort our way behind the umbrella ridden crew on the most overcast of days. We'd be given a good half hour to visit the driver's friend's whiskey plantation on the way. We'd dock and were told we'd have to pay 10,000 kip each to visit. I had no problem supporting the local people, but when you pay the initial price for the Pak Ou Cave with whiskey tasting included it's hard to resist the tear-jerking pout. Again - the tricky Laos at work. We would get ourselves a free tasting of some homebrewed lao lao whiskey.

Lao Lao is a rice whiskey made in Laos  Various flavoured lao-laos are made by macerating such additives as honey, scorpions or snakes. Suckers for a good time, we grabbed a bottle. That bottle has since gone on to provide much in the way of entertainment and sanity on some very interesting bus rides through Laos.

I'd heard that Laos baguettes were to die for, but sadly they fell short offering little flavour and for that matter lacking sandwich satisfaction. I did, however, discover the lettuce wraps. We had been told to find the lettuce wrap lady on the a street corner that leads down from the Spicy Laos hostel heading in the direction of the night market. San Diego Brandon had been given specific orders from a friend to try these little delicacies if ever in Luang Prabang. So the slow boat crew set out to find the Laos Lettuce Wrap Lady. We found her perched on a bed of grass with a folding a trillion little bundles of goodness. Fresh leaves of green filled with cilantro, mint, rice noodles, bean sprouts, cardamom and peanut paste. The Yank insisted the lettuce wraps be included in this posting. "How could you forget the wraps? That nut sauce was so good" were the exact words...nut sauce.

When you find the easily missed 'food alley', you've found Luang Prabang's food heaven. the strip is soley dedicated to food and a hungry travellers mecca. You can score a full plate of buffet-style grub for a dollar. A little bag of six lettuce rolls is 5,000 kip. Cheap.

The Limey

Floating Pigs, Black Outs and Slow Boating the Mekong

From Chiang Mai we would head north to the Laos border town Huay Xai enroute to Luang Prabang. Not making it to Huay Xai on time (buses only running certain times a week/day), we were left to spend a night on the Thai river bank across from Laos in a town called Chiang Khong. Vacant and dark by the time we arrived, we were lucky to find accommodations before things got even darker when the town's power went out entirely. We sat at a local's house chowing on morning glory and cashew chicken when, POOF!, sudden darkness. The town's only fuse box blew. Finding our way back to the guest house was interesting. That mini travel light I had never used would really have come in handy at that moment...Waiting for your eyes to adjust wasn't much help either; it was pitch black.

As slow boating trips up and down the Mekong River have become popular amongst travellers, the remote town of Pakbeng has developed itself into a middle ground between northern Thailand and Luang Prabang - backpackers and visitors are made to stop over and spend the night in one of many operating guesthouses after one day of boating. Pakbeng itself is merely a hill peppered by lodgings for travelling river goers. We were forewarned of the mobbing by locals advertising their homes as a place to stay once berthed.  Workers on the boat will tell you that there's little left in the way of accommodations if you wait to find lodgings once you get there, but really, this is just one of the many ways the Laos people try and rip you off. Depending on how fussy you are, there are loads of options.

Things you can expect to see along the way: local fishermen setting up their nets; locals bathing in the garbage-filled water; nude children running down the riverbank waving at the boats like crazy; herds of water oxen wading in the shallows and rolling in the dirt.  Of all the scenes, by far the most shocking was the floating pig I saw swirling amongst some waste.

Spending two days on the boat gives you lots of time to think, read, drink, eat what have you. It's also a great bonding time for backpackers to share tales of the road. First, come the introductions and meeting each other. As people began to trickle in, a mini Himalayan mountain of backpacks had been formed, we'd see a hard-to-miss 6 foot 5, basketball-built dude sporting the trendy "I read books and like fine art" glasses look. Heading toward us, and getting an ear full of high-volume conversation from a group sitting near us, the nerdy giant shouted out "Man, I hate Americans." Of course The Yank's ears perked up, but more so because the guy spoke in a very American English.  We'd pipe in with a rebuttal followed by amendments, clarification, high fives and new found friend in San Diego Brandon (an army serviceman and personal caddie to some big names like Bill Clinton) - oddly finding each other across Laos and in Cambodia.

Lao Lao whiskey is fun to drink, but more fun watching someone else drink it. A fellow boat mate Danger Dan (named on account of his hurting himself a few times, twice on the boat trip alone) took a big swig and a few minutes later spewed over the port side. Good thing the boat was only drudging along. If you visit Pakbeng you're sure to meet the town drunk. He's a googly eyed, stumbling, dirty Laos man, he's not Danger Dan from Australia, although the appearance is scarily similar.

We'd make it to Luang Prabang and were ready for some Spicy Laos.

Note: It is possible to make the boat trip in eight hours in a fast boat, but that's sitting for eight solid hours with no stopping.

PS: Slow boating the Mekong has been listed amongst the top 100 things to do before you die.

The Limey

A Day with Mr. Ping Pong

From Phuket we'd head north to a place famous for its mountains and greenery. Compared to the rest of Thailand, it's visually quite different; not only the landscape and food, but the people are a whole different breed. This is Chiang Mai.

Parting ways from our dear friends in Thailand planning to re-meet again in Luang Prabang, Laos, we'd head north into the lush green of Chiang Mai. Not very much into tour orientated outings, preferring to do things on our own, we felt lazy and signed ourselves up for a guided tour - to include an orchid sanitary, the long neck tribes, a waterfall hike, white water rafting, bamboo rafting and another elephant ride.

Waking at the crack of dawn one morning we were welcomed by a stout, afro-haired, Thai guy with about as much energy as a kid after too much Kool-aid, a devil tattooed on his neck and an interesting habit of lifting up his shirt and rubbing down his belly. Let's begin with the introduction. The big 35 year-old Thai kid told us his name was P********ng......exactly.....so we should call him Mr. Ping Pong instead. An unfortunate choice given our whereabouts and since ping-pong didn't bring the nicest images to mind.

Setting off in the back of a truck with nothing securing us to our seats, we drove faster than the speed of light into the Chiang Mai jungle to find a hidden waterfall. Hitting a dip in the road didn't seem to phase our guide who'd speed up for the dips sending us ping ponging around the back of the vehicle. Mr. Ping Pong, now sporting a pair of flashy women's designer shades, would smile in the rear view mirror and say "Don't worry...you never die alone." Out of the truck, we'd set out on our hike. Now and then, Ping Pong would take off into the jungle and disappear for mintues on end...popping out from behind a tree to remind us "Don't worry...you never die alone." Mr. Ping Pong, I was worried...worried that we were all going to die in a Chiang Mai jungle because I murdered the tour guide for his painful attempts at humor. That, or the fact that he'd chosen to wear his grandma's best slippers on a jungle trek.

A trip to the elephant sanctuary would be totally unsafe and one of the most memorable moments so far. We hopped on the back of an elephant, seated on a plank of wood that was better fit for small Thai people than Morgan-size. Just like Mr. Ping Pong had taken off on our trek, so did our mahout (an elephant driver). Wondering at least five feet ahead of us, Mr. Mahout would pull out his personal machete to cut off bamboo leaves for our snacky elephant. Mr. Mahout asked me if I wanted to sit on the elephants head, so I bravely stepped out of the wobbly chair and onto the prickly neck of the giant mammal. Note to self...don't wear shorts while elephanting I thought as hundreds of coarse broom-stick-thick hairs chaffed my inner thighs. All was going smoothly until Mr. Elephant's appetite kicked up again and he'd mozy into the brush with me nearly tumbling off head first...literally. This would happen a few other times, but only next time it would be at the edge of a cliff. Mr. Mahout was too busy finding more bamboo to fillet.

Hands down one of the unsafest things we'd do in Thailand was the white water rafting. The equipment they gave us fit one size of person, that's man size, so I was already swimming in my gear and hadn't even hit the water yet. The tour guide was interesting though. He sang and laughed to himself and kept reminding us that he didn't know how to swim. He'd also hop out of the raft and leave Morgan to steer us on.WTF? Number One - Morgan doesn't know what he's doing...Number Two - you can't swim?!. Morgan, two Italian girls and I floated aimlessly down the river forced to beach ourselves once we were told by someone on land that we'd gone too far....looking back we'd see our tour guide on a bamboo raft making his way down stream to us.

Back in the trunk, the crazy driving barely phased us after the days events. Pulling over to the side of the road numerous times without any warning and without telling us where he was going, Mr. Ping Pong would return with snacks and other interesting Thai treats - one including some rice filled sausage that tasted unexpectedly fishy.

Mr. Ping Pong, Lindsay and Morgan's Excellent Adventure love you. If anyone should need or want a very interesting tour guide in Chiang Mai, let us know. We'll get you in touch.


The Limey