The darling towns of northern Thailand

I looked out the minibus window to see Nissan dealerships, a Shell station, and a big box retailer, and concluded I'd left Laos and entered the US.  The two towns I visited next, Chaing Mai and Pai, did little to change that impression, as both had every modern convenience, a similar look to US house architecture, and both knew how to offer a perfect coffee shop experience.

My travel pal Erica is my friend Val's sister whose travel dates matched my own.  In chaing mai we visited Wat Phra That Doi Suthep on a hill above the city, which is THE WAT to visit! The wat had beautiful buddhas, paintings, bells, whistles (surely), and...monk garden gnomes! Souvenir for mom: check.

We also partook of touristy fun, including mountain biking and a cooking class, and visited the Saturday night market, complete with Thai silks, street foods, and numerous etsy-esque things. With no-pressure sellers and street music, this might be the most lovely shopping experience in all of Asia.

Next we headed to Pai, which I'd describe as the high hippie vibe of Santa Cruz meets the quaint streets of Carmel.  Pai was nice and comfortable, but it's a place made for tourists, thus not interesting culturally, unless you are interested in tourists.

We did the Pai thing, however, and rented a scooter to moto to the local sights including "land split" farm (it's a sink hole), a coffee shop with admirably landscaped grounds, the big white Buddha, and Pai canyon, the hotspot for sunset.  We ended our days at Edible Jazz, a laid-back bar featuring nightly live music. Both Erica and I agreed the "rambling roots" will someday sell out the Fillmore, and we sat mere feet away from them at open mic night in Pai!

Jungle times with Akha Abbie!

The third and final stop on my northern Laos traverse is Luang Namtha, known for jungle and hill-tribe trekking.  En route, my minibus suffered 2 flat tires, and during the 3 hours of waiting by the roadside with the 4 other Laotians on the bus, another minibus pulled up to help, and I met Noy. This encounter would shape the adventure to come!

Arriving late in Luang Namtha, I had reached a Zen state about the whole trip: "I'll get there when I get there. Ohm."  I ran into Noy, who had booked the cheapest 3-day trek in town, and I decided to join.

The next day, I set off with Noy and 3 other Israelis recently finished with their mandatory military service, Gal, Ofer, and Gabbie, Abbie from Australia, Georgina (UK), and Crembo, our hilarious guide. We hiked through some pretty jungle where Crembo showed us how to make cups from bamboo.  After not much hiking at all, we reached our "jungle camp" for the night, consisting of literally banana leaves on the ground under a banana-leaf roof that seriously challenged my sense of adventure.  I was disappointed to find no leave-no-trace practices, as toilet paper was strewn about and the "bathroom" was mere feet from the stream.  Thanks to our budget rice-with-more-rice meal plan, however, I think no one had to seriously use the toilet anyway.

The night was cold and painful, as we slept on the ground with only a thin fleece blanket and our bodies huddled together for warmth.  This could have been a low light, but the good spirits of our posse overcame, and we played cards and singing games late into the evening, wearing pants on our heads for warmth and finding every reason to laugh at our plight. 

The next day we hiked a few hours when suddenly the jungle vanished to deforestation, and I knew the village was near.  The village was of the Akha tribe, and as we walked through we saw topless women with beaded head dresses, little girls with lips stained by beetle, a tobacco product that is chewed, and a myriad of youth who instantly bonded with Abbie, posing for photos and dancing her down the street.  Abbie proceeded to teach the kids paddy cake and thumb war, which became wildly popular, and after drinking lao lao with Crembo, she became Akha Abbie! 

But I get ahead of myself, that happened after the shower, where we bathed at the town spigot in our swim suits while half the town showed up to watch: Only later did we realize that the town had women's and men's separate spigots, so perhaps we were quite the spectacle!  The hilarity continued with the massage, where the teenage girls of the town rubbed and sat on us for a half hour while the small kids played with our toes.  The women tried teaching us to count in Akha, and offered us handmade bracelets as gifts.

Spending time in the tribal village was interesting. While Crembo tried to communicate with the kids it became clear they didn't speak much Laos, as their schooling is mostly done in Akha. This alone makes it hard for the villagers to seek work in town.  Also, I learned that the girls marry at 14 or 15, seemingly to immediately pop out 5 kids as the town was overrun! The teenage boys, before marriage, sleep alone in a chicken-coop-like thing, supposedly because they can't control themselves or similar, as translated by Crembo.  That night as we tried to sleep and they paraded around town with a radio until the wee hours (btw, the walls are all bamboo, so no sound proofing!), I became seriously annoyed at the apparent lack of discipline or sense of courtesy and wondered if they can't control themselves, or culturally aren't asked to. I'm an outsider looking in for a night, though, and I know this. 

The whole marriage at 14 thing, though, did strike a chord with respect to women's empowerment, which I've learned in my MOOC is a component of sustainable development.  In the town it felt like the role for a little girl was defined: that she will grow up to be married and have children young, and I found myself secretly thankful to be from my own culture, lest I now be a grandmother. 

After our evening in the village, we walked out easily through more jungle (though jungle void of monkeys etc as is all of SE Asia, perhaps due to the lack of wildlife corridors linking jungle, and tribal hunting) and back to town, where celebratory anything-but-rice awaited.

Luang Prabang

After a week of sleepy river life, it was time to hit the big bad city, Luang Prabang. Luang Prabang is a northern Laos city on a river filled with wats, neon-orange-clad monks, and coffee shops.  In contrast to northern Vietnam, the dry-season heat was oppressive, magnified by the heat-island effect of sidewalks and streets sans trees.  From roughly 1-4pm, the day would enter what I like to call the "doldrums of the afternoon", where all I could manage to do was find an ice cream or fruit shake and some shade!

My favorite attraction of Luang Prabang was, not surprisingly given the temps, Kuang Si falls, the postcard waterfall of Laos. It looked like all the photos I've seen, tiered green pools of sunkissed perfection, and the icy waters were a godsend! The attraction also had a cool sun bear rehabilitation sanctuary, where bears rescued from "dancing bear" outfits, being farmed for herbal remedies, and abusive situations can play together amongst tire swings and hammocks. Pretty sweet digs, thems lucky bears!

Along with my official LP adventure pal Rachel from Australia, I also explored enough wats to find a silver elephant like photos I've seen (2), and visited the museum, which thank the gods had A/C! My favorite room in the museum featured gifts given to Laos leadership by other counties.  China and India gave some impressive jade/ivory carvings, Russia apparently thought a little-orphan-Annie decoder pen/spy ball was appropriate, and Australia sent a boomerang, which seemed to disappoint Rachel.  My good ole alma the US of A send a gift seemingly oozing with bragging rights and nerdiness: a model of the lunar lander and piece of moon rock.  Well played! Definitely a cooler present than the lame plate sent by our northern brother. :-)

And finally, rounding out the backpacker LP experience, Rachel and I, along with pals Jessica (Canadian and crazy), Rory and Niki (biking SE Asia and soon, the US!) enjoyed 10000 kip ($1.25) all-you-can-eat buffet, followed by the only thing you can do after 1130 pm in LP: bowling! That's right, it was just like high school, except everyone was bowling in flip flops, and the most amusing part was watching the "working girls" bowling and doting on the 2 men next to our lane. As classy as bowling can be!

Laos village life

Still along the Nom Ou, I met traveller Derryn, an engineer from New Zealand, who I decided to go village trekking with.  We headed into the hills, passing a cool cave and staying the first night in a village of roughly 30 families.  Upon walking the village, we were both fascinated to watch the local blacksmith pounding and forging knives into shape.  In the evening we had dinner and headed to a campfire surrounded by older women who were chatting and keeping warm.  As we had seen many of the village men leave with long rifles for the evening hunt, Derryn was ok being the only man at the "granny fire."  We would have sought a more masculine fire, but were warned not to wander at night lest the town dogs bite us. Wtf?!

The next day we headed a few hours walk to a larger town. The homestay in this town was run by the village chief, Gil, an outgoing man who spoke good English and was perhaps a bit too excited about the lottery. Derryn and I bought tickets, choosing our numbers based on animals associated with them.  Sadly, my peacock-monkey was a lose.

At the homestay we helped cook dinner with Jen, Gil's wife, and then ate in the kitchen on small squat stools around a woven table. Gil taught us how to eat with sticky rice and our hands, and after dinner we again found a local fire surrounded by villagers. This fire tradition was so communal and felt a lovely way to discourse with neighbors and family each day. I asked Gil if the tradition continues in the rainy season, when hydropower from the local river allows television to be watched!  To lose the communal fire to individualistic evenings would be a loss, truly.

The next day we woke most likely around 4 am, when my least-favorite villager, the rooster, decided to be an asshole and crow for 3 hours in a call-response game with all the other town roosters. I tried to sleep through it, but ended up day-dreaming of delicious fried...rooster.

Dien Ben Phu, Laos, and the in-between

Traversing from Sapa to Nong Khiaw in Laos consumed the better part of three days.  On the minibus from Sapa to Dien Ben Phu, I met Saskiya, a Dutch woman who is my age, and David, from Paris. Reaching Dien Ben Phu with daylight to spare, the three of us climbed to see a statue commemorating the Vietnamese victory in expelling the French, as apparently that campaign culminated at DBP.  Later that evening Saskiya and I went to a coffee shop buzzing with locals, where I had one of the best hot chocolates of my life!

But really, this is all just a preamble for what happened next: the bus to Laos. We arrived at the bus station 20 minutes early (normally this is plenty) to find the bus packed to the gills. Our bags were "placed" on the bus, which really means put in the aisles where a million Vietnamese immediately sat on them, leaving 8 of us to sit on the hard floor in roughly the first 7' of aisle.  It took 7 hours to reach our destination in Laos, including 2 hours of haggling over "weekend" fees at the Laos border. In that time, we disembarked 4 times, and each time tried to improve our lot, from floor ("I'm a human not a sack of flour"), to arm rest ("this is my arm rest, I am sitting here!"), to, finally, seat, where the guy I stole the seat from proceeded to sit on my shoulder for 2 hours. The only reason this isn't the worst bus ride of my life is that at no point did I think I might actually die. Nope, that honor remains Nepal's.

Ugh. When I got off that bus, I immediately bought a Beer Lao and took a photo of how I felt. Enjoy!

That night as I impatiently waited for our food, Saskiya laughed and told me to chill out, explaining we were no longer in the businessland of Vietnam: things happen now on "Laos time".  I was hungrily hardly amused with this answer to poor customer service!

However, the next morning while we chugged downriver past jungle-clad karsts to Nong Khiaw on the Nom Ou river, I began to relax and let Laos seduce me.  In Nong Khiaw we visited a local cave where Laotians hid during US bombing (Laos and Cambodia were bombed as the Ho Chi Minh trail meandered loosely along their borders) and spent a fun afternoon tubing a near-currentless river.  A few days of waterfall hikes, Indian food, bad movies, hammock lazing, and chocoballs, and I could feel myself slowing down a bit, matching the pace of river life. I think  I'll come to appreciate this Laos time after all.

Sapa

After an overnight train I arrived in Sapa, where I enjoyed my best coffee and omelette breakfast in Vietnam while I waited for the morning fog to burn off, as the internet promised me sun in Sapa! Oh, the horror: the fog seemed not only impenetrable, but increasingly so. In denial, I set off on a hill tribe hike with a local female guide and member of the black hmong tribe, Chi.

Chi is my age, has two toddlers, and married at the age of 30, quite late in the sapa hills.  Already I liked her! She probably stood at 4'11", but was quick-footed and strong on the muddy paths we walked through the rice fields.  At lunch I ran into 3 hilarious ozzie women who would become my homestay pals!   Because family members were joining to celebrate the official end of Tet (?!), an extravagant meal was prepared by our host.  The fried pork and minty herbs dipped in spicy fish sauce were divine!

Unbelievably, the next day was even foggier, so the four of us decided to attend a local harvest festival instead of trek onward. Chi brought one of her traditional outfits for me to wear, and after squeezing into the tiny jacket, we headed to the festival, where numerous local women giggled to see my trekking pants sticking out below the traditional velvet pants.  I admit I felt like a giant wearing kid's clothes!

At the festival, we saw games, the most popular of which was to catch a goat while blindfolded.  After minutes of scanning the crowd for volunteers, the host found an American woman who climbed into the pen after mistakenly thinking the goat would be the blindfolded one! Don't worry, mom, that girl wasn't me: I know too much about angry goats and rural medicine for that misadventure.

Such foggy adventures coupled with such cultural fun have made me a believer in the homestay and the local guide, as without them I fear Sapa would have been ho-hum at best. Thanks Chi, Rosie, Razz, and Georgia!