Two Rivers and a Pearl

I stuck my toes into the Maekhong in Thailand at Chiang Saen, near the Golden Triangle* and once again in lovely Chiang Khong before crossing over into Laos. The initial sight of the historic river from a slow moving tuk-tuk was reminiscent of seeing the Pacific Ocean or the Rocky Mountains for the first time.

A two-day boat excursion took us east on the Maekhong to Pak Beng for the night and on to Luang Prabang the next day. What a pleasant way to travel. Bring food and your camera. They sell cold beer. Pak Beng is a tiny river town that survives on tourism from these trips. Our clean comfortable room cost $10 and the food was quite tasty. The high point though had to be the service provided by 4 and 7-year-old wait-daughters who delivered the food to the tables and kept a cooking daddy on his toes.

Spending the evening drinking Bier Lao with fellow passengers from Belarus, Sweden, Japan, Malaysia, Portugal, Brasil, Austria and Argentina presented a spoonful of worldliness. A sort of demented sophistication emerged in an otherwise elemental spot at the bend of an Asian river, populated by warm, sweet people, happy to sell you anything from incense to canned ham.

The next afternoon we splashed ashore on the same great river at Luang Prabang, Laos.

If Luang Prabang wasn’t so inherently charming it could be perceived as overdone. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, it offers a real chunk of colonial Indo-China. The architecture and wide tree-lined streets are reminders of French occupation. The tribes populating the nearby hills are proof of powerful Tibetan and Chinese influences over the centuries.

The city pleases the palate with incredible food and introduces the adventuresome to Lao Lao, a white lightning, poteen derivative that can make the imbiber fly, according to local restaurateur Mr. Ha Ha, over in the next soi. He probably offers tours if you like that sort of thing.

Wats here are even more plentiful than flower markets but not by much. Wake up to roosters and motorbikes then breakfast on the river like Lao royalty before cruising the old city by bicycle. The traffic here is not so crazy, except at morning wake up, lunch, school’s out, parade times, Hmong Market opening, produce delivery days and evening rush hour. The sidewalks are pretty safe**** (for pedestrians) compared to Chiang Mai or Bangkok, and are pretty much rolled up by 11 pm. That’s when the alcohol stops flowing since the blue-nose Communist government doesn’t need drunks wandering around at night. The government, to its credit is allowing tourism to blossom, and in two weeks we rarely saw military or police presence anywhere in the country.

That night from my balcony I heard singing in the street. It was four young women riding their bicycles along the Maekhong serenading the neighborhood with giggles and a soothing song as the river snuck off to sleep.

Luang Prabang is named for the Great Pha Beng, the most sacred Buddha in Laos which was kept in Luang Prabang until the end of the American War when either the Chinese or Russians “borrowed it”, according to a persistent local rumor. Or the Great Pha Beng could be hiding in the Central Market or perched high above the Hmong Night Market. Maybe it is reclining near the river or out pep talking the water buffalo. With all the people, the life and the color anyone could just blend in.

I woke up to the sounds of drums at dawn calling the monks to gather alms. It was rather impressive except that the place quickly filled with mindless Westerners sticking cameras in every face before getting back on their hotel tour buses to go eat bacon and eggs. I went home disappointed that such a potentially spiritual exchange could become so diminished.

Stopping at a good coffee house on the way back to the hotel chanting Baw sai naam-taan, karuna (No sugar please) I spent half the morning trying to teach the resident parrot how to bark like an Irish Wolfhound but to no avail. Then I stopped and pay a formal visit to a small, compliant, shaggy mutt who enjoys attacking orange saffron-covered monks. He seems to like everyone else. Talk about metaphysical discrimination. What was he doing in a past life? Maybe he thinks they are Creamsicles. Although he keeps the streets safe from these peaceful Buddhists, he had yet to master the menacing bark of the wolfhound either.

Most of the monks are accountants and pastry chefs in real life and are only temporarily clerics anyway, sent on a sabbatical of soul searching. They are more plentiful than the wats, which are more plentiful than the flower markets but not the surrounding hill tribes. Our incredible host (and renown linguist) Yeng Cha Felix is Hmong and, in addition to lots of info on Luang Prabang, he fills us full of hill tribe culture, which dominates northern Laos. Hmong, Katu, Shan, Mien, Akha and Khmu villages stretch across Mayunmar, Thailand. Laos and Vietnam and the hill tribes are slowly assimilating to the Lao ways.

On to Nong Khiaw

Due to the damming up of the Nam Ou River one can only float parts of it north of the Maekhong confluence and up toward Phongsali. This time the benevolent Chinese government is building the dams with a smile.** Despite these changes the town of Nong Khiaw still welcomes the morning fog and suns itself until the mountain takes the light. It is burn season around these parts and the smoke is visible, especially if one climbs the 2 miles up to the summit view for a peek.

The town of Nong Khiaw from across the Nam Ou River

If you do this hike make sure to leave at dawn and bring water. The jungle can be forgiving in the later hours. Do take a hiking stick as descent can be more challenging than the ascension. Cold water tastes great after this pleasant ordeal.

“Two bottles of cold water, please.”

“Twenty-five thousand (Laotian kip).”

“But I paid twenty yesterday.”

“Oh, you pay attention…Twenty.”

It’s a little game the merchants play, as both sides in the international exchange/balance mass sums worth at least 75 cents. If a visitor pays attention he is seen as human. If the buyer is willing to pay more he is seen as a rich, stupid tourist. Yes: The price varies, smiles abound and globalization is right there on the horizon: You want fries or chips with that chicken-fried water buffalo?

Bring a backpack full of little presents. Crayons, balloons, colored pipe cleaners, small stuffed animals and books in Lao are, as one might imagine, big with the children. It is proper etiquette to give the gifts only to the parent to give to the child so as to curtail the dreads of begging. One family with four kids wiped us out one afternoon but we know where to get more.***

Perhaps the most enchanting part of Nong Khiaw is riding a bicycle through the mountains to the nearby villages. On the way one passes the Pha Thok Cave where residents hid from the bombs straying from the nearby Ho Chi Minh trail and aimed at Pathet Lao soldiers operating in the region.

Deep in the Kingdom of a Million Elephants

the people ran to Pha Tok Cave

at the roar of the American bombers.

Few could spell Communism.

Many did not make it.

Arriving in tiny Ban Huey Lek we were invited to the family house of a beautiful girl named Bouachan, a 22-year-old resident, who had taught herself English. The food was superb and so were her linguistic abilities. We met for lunch the next day at traditional Lao cuisine place that offered the same delicious menu as the last place. While diversity may not be the calling card, quality and creativity awaits the hungry at every little table. Try the sticky rice with Lao sausage accompanied by mounds of fresh greens and mango slices.

Our lodging, called Lao Sunset, consisted of a shaved wood and paper cabin hanging off a cliff directly above the river. It had all the basics with a beautiful view, great porch, perfect bed, big bathroom and mosquito net for $120/week. The staff, comprised of young chatterbox girls, warmed up to us once they figured out we didn’t expect them to do anything. Since our Lao is limited and they did not speak any English we spoke Spanish to them and we all laughed a lot. One of the ladies even said Hasta Luego when we departed.

But the big news around our soi today is that some Parisian lads have bought a baby monkey. It’s over at their boat booking office, which they appear to operate at times. Monkeys have always liked me. This one was no different. Once I sat down she scurried up my legs and arms until she sat on my shoulder. Then, yawning crawled into my lap and went to sleep…for thirty minutes! “Hey monkey, what do you think this is? I have things to do today.”

Nong Khiaw qualifies as another exotic paradise on a planet that is blessed with endless beauty. The rivers, the mountains, the way of life just now changing from what had been for centuries a river dependent culture. The river is eternal. We are only here for a short time. Who wouldn’t like waking up in the fog and going to sleep with the sound of one lone riverboat still plotting its way along. Perhaps tomorrow the flatboat will go to Muang Ngoi or all the way up to Phongsali near the Chinese frontier.

Leaving on the boat back to Luang Prabang there is only one thing wrong: I forgot to say goodbye to the monkey. I guess I’ll have to return to visit Nong Khiaw after she’s grown up a bit. I just hope she looks both ways when venturing out into traffic.

*Golden Triangle Opium Museum nothing more than a lot of specimens in glass cases. Don’t see anyone sampling or reclining with the possible exception of a Buddha or two. Not particularly recommended although countryside is splendid)

**After the Pathet Lao took over the reigns in Vientiane the Chinese called in their markers. In return for support during the war they took most of the old growth forests of Northeast Laos back to China. Although the forests have returned with a force, a sense of foreboding remains as the 21^st Century closes in on what were pristine, primitive river communities that have thrived here for centuries. Everyone is not all too happy about the dams.

***It is not always clear what these kids have and do not have. For instance we really didn’t know what something like crayons represented. Had they seen them? Do they want to use them? Do they have drawers full of crayons from the last travelers who came through town bearing gifts? It is likely that, when given in a cordial mien, the recipient’s parent will be receptive and the children will get some fun loot.

****There is virtually no violent crime here and theft is minimal.

Photos by DeLinda Austin