Travelling in Laos (6) - Nong Khiaw

[jai-dee]

I can think of just one thing I didn't like in Laos, their poultry.

 

Every house seems to have some chicken, even in the cities. Nothing

 

wrong with that, however Lao cockerels have a habit of starting to sing

 

very early. This night I first hear them at 2am,

 

then again about once every hour until dawn. There is not much chance

 

of waking up too late in Laos, and at the first light I am ready to

 

go to the bus station. Immediately outside the guest house a tuk-tuk

 

is waiting, the driver undoubtedly assumes someone will want to catch

 

an early morning bus. He asks 8,000 kip for the ride. I offer 5,000

 

and he nods with a big smile, as this is the correct fare.

 

 

 

When we get to the bus station the ticket office hasn't opened yet.

 

I am much too early so I use the opportunity to observe the station

 

coming to life. Several food stalls and restaurants are preparing

 

various breakfast food. This includes noodle soups, grilled chicken

 

and fish, sandwiches, rice dishes. Many passengers buy food to take

 

with them on the bus. Two Buddhist monks next to me, one very old and

 

one very young, are eating sticky rice with fried chicken. It's not

 

even 7 o'clock. After about four rounds I decide to have a pate

 

sandwich. I watch it being prepared, the bread is a baguette, a legacy

 

of the French times, and in addition to pate it is filled with some

 

vegetables and various sauces. The result is a delicious sandwich,

 

at 1,500 kip excellent value too.

 

 

 

The ticket office clerk arrives on a motorcycle. I buy my ticket

 

and she writes the registration number on it so I can find my bus

 

as the buses don't have any signs in English. My bus turns out not

 

to be a bus at all but a truck with two rows of seats in the back.

 

The air is quite cool this morning and I decide to sit in the cabin

 

instead. Passengers are slowly arriving and taking seats, there seems

 

to be no fixed departure time but nobody is particularly worried, we

 

all have plenty of time.

 

 

 

At 8:30 the truck is full and the driver decides it is time to go.

 

Another falang decides to sit with me in the cabin. This means less

 

space for me but at least I have some company. He is from Luxemburg,

 

he is a seasoned traveller, very friendly and open and within minutes

 

we are discussing our respective experiences as if we've known each

 

other for years.

 

 

 

The road is in reasonable condition although not as good as the one

 

between Vientiane and Luang Phabang. We pass through villages, some

 

people are getting off, others are getting on the truck. The road

 

follows the valley along the river, hills covered with lust green

 

forests are on either side. The journey doesn't last very long, before

 

2 o'clock we are in Nong Khiaw. This is the last stop and everybody

 

gets off. There were about 10 other falangs on the truck and they

 

all head toward the nearest guest houses. This time I'm armed with

 

a printout from the internet that has descriptions of all guest

 

houses in the village. I walk straight to the other end of the village,

 

near the bridge, to the guest house which my printout describes with

 

'go there for the best rooms in Nong Khiaw'. I get the last room,

 

and it is a nice one, beds even have mosquito nets.

 

 

 

The guest house has a restaurant too and I go and sit down there.

 

At the next table there is a group of Lao men having lunch. They

 

invite me and a girl from Quebec, who arrived just minutes before

 

me, to join them and eat with them. They are having deer meat with

 

sticky rice, salad and Beer Lao. I help myself with salad and beer

 

but order another plate of fried noodles. One of the men speaks good

 

English. They are a mine clearing team. He tells us about their work.

 

There are still many uxos (unexploded land mines) in many areas of Laos.

 

 

 

After lunch I go out to explore the place. My internet printout

 

contains a detailed description of how to reach the cave. The cave is

 

a large hollow in a nearby mountain which was used by local people

 

as a hiding place during the years of bombing. I cross the bridge and

 

start walking. The road follows the river which lazily flows by. There are

 

steep limestone mountains on the other side, covered with thick rainforest.

 

It is a warm sunny afternoon, everything is peaceful

 

and quiet except for the birds singing. There is no motor traffic,

 

I only see people walking or riding bicycles. Everybody I meet

 

smiles and greets me. By now I have learned my first word of Lao,

 

sabaidee, the universal greeting, and I use it generously. I begin

 

to understand why Nong Khiaw is so popular with travellers, there is

 

something magic in the air here that makes you feel content and happy.

 

 

 

It is 45 minutes to the cave, to reach it I have to cross the river.

 

Only two other falangs made it to the cave this afternoon, a young

 

couple from Belgium. They speak Flemish, a language I don't

 

recognise, at first I think it is Hebrew. They are fascinated with the history

 

of the cave, and how for 6 years hundreds spent their days hiding

 

in it, and at night went out to work the fields. This was in the

 

good old times before smart bombs and guided missiles were invented.

 

 

 

Back in the village I go from one guest house to another, meeting

 

with other travellers. There are no strangers in Nong Khiaw, that

 

evening I must have talked with just about every falang there.

 

I'm a little unsure how to continue tomorrow. I'd like to go to

 

Phonsavan but information about transport is very inconsistent.

 

Supposedly there is a bus, the journey takes either 12 hours or

 

2 days, there is a change of bus involved at Nam Noen, sometimes

 

express buses appear which go straight to Phonsavan, but

 

not every day.

 

 

 

There is a French guy in my guest house who speaks fluent Thai.

 

He talks to the locals in Thai and they talk to him in Lao,

 

the two languages are so similar that they have no problem

 

understanding each other. What he is saying must be very entertaining to the

 

locals because they laugh after his every sentence. I envy him so much.

 

The lady of the guest house is stuffing some herbs into a bottle containing

 

some transparent liquid. With the help of the Frenchman we learn that

 

she is preparing lao-lao, a sort of local liquor. The herb

 

supposedly contains a substance that gives drinkers lots of energy.

 

We, the falangs, observe her with such interest that when she is

 

finishes she pours a glass of lao-lao to all of us.

 

 

 

I had a major lunch today so I am not really hungry. But I anxiously

 

wait for 6 o'clock because that is when the electricity comes on,

 

for 3 hours. This means I can get my daily fruit shake. In

 

one restaurant I spot a young female falang, sitting by herself

 

with an empty bottle of Beer Lao, and I join her. Her name is Bianca,

 

she is from Australia, and we share another bottle. She has been

 

living and travelling in Asia for some years. It turns out she is

 

going the same way as I tomorrow, and likewise is not sure how to

 

get there. We decide to go around the guest houses and try to find

 

anyone intending to travel our way, and to meet tomorrow morning

 

at 8 o'clock at the bus station.

[chilli13]

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