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| Pha That Luang stupa, Vientiane |
After four days, the fever broke; I was recovering, it seemed, and I dared to venture out. While applying for new visas at the Thai consulate, we met a nice couple: a German guy called Michael and his Thai girlfriend, Porn (yes, really; though, it is probably spelled 'Phorn').
We all met for supper one evening, but halfway through my Thai-style papaya salad I started to feel really ill again. I stood up and mumbled something like, "I have to go home", before pretty much collapsing on the floor. I was nauseous and giddy and couldn't get to my feet -- every time I tried to stand, my head started swirling again. By some fluke, Phorn had a small container of natural eucalyptus 'smelling salts', and after a sniff or two, I managed to stand up. I was helped down the stairs by the restaurant staff, feeling old and frail and not at all well.
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| Bamboo grubs for sale, Vientiane |
Another few days in bed and normality seemed to have returned, so we headed off on a bus with no clutch to speak of (all junctions were taken in 2nd gear) through pleasant green countryside to the not-very-exciting town of Vang Vieng. Here everyone, it seems, goes to float drunk down the Mekong in an inner tube, buy a vest that says 'In The Tubing, Vang Vieng, Laos', and sit drinking in bars watching fading videos of Friends. The town did have one thing going for it though: a stupendous backdrop of classic karst (limestone) peaks that stick vertically out of lush green rice fields. It sure was pretty.
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| The boys in a rice field, Vang Vieng |
We wouldn't have stayed another day, but I promptly got ill again. A blood test at the local hospital (after a 10 minute wait, which rather puts Euro healthcare in perspective) revealed what the doctor already knew, I had dengue, and was told to drink a lot, or to come back and get put on a drip if I couldn't get enough water down. Luckily we were in the lovely Maylyn guesthouse over the river from the town, which had a large flower garden full of many kinds of butterflies. It was a great place to recoup, though I came to despise the taste of orange-flavoured rehydration salts.
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| Butterfly at Maylyn Guesthouse, Vang Vieng |
As I moped in our room, Maja discovered that there is lots to do here besides tubing, and took the boys out cycling to nearby weaving villages, shrine caves and waterfalls. They were having a great time. I was seriously concerned one night, though, when she and the boys hadn't returned from a more distant cycle to a waterfall an hour or so after dark. The guesthouse owner, Joe, a Brit ex-pat with a local wife, said "I would drive you off to find them but I think I'm too drunk." So off I peddled and soon found them cycling merrily back through town after they'd made their way along several kilometers of muddy lanes in pitch blackness. What was I worrying about? Silly me.
After a week at Vang Vieng, I was better at last, so we took a variety of minibuses and, er, megabuses to weave our excruciatingly slow, winding way across to dreamy Luang Prabang on the mighty, muddy Mekong river. Ariel got travel sick (all over Maja) and I got ill too (though, luckily/sadly, not over Maja), in what I suspected was dengue's parting two-fingered gesture.
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| Maja and the boys at a Luang Prabang temple |
Luang Prabang is a lovely town. Its people are kind and friendly, its has a well-developed local cuisine that included such delicacies as insects, bamboo grubs, frogs, small river crabs, river weed (quite like Japanese nori), and leggy jungle birds all trussed up on bamboo slivers. We especially loved the more conservative tastes of the sticky rice, which is served in little cylindrical baskets, the cooked bamboo dishes, and the tremendous spicy sausages.
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| Strange catfish in a Luang Prabang market |
There's also a thriving traditional Buddhist culture in Luang Prabang, and across Laos: monks still walk the streets at at 5am collecting alms, and many of the population will spend at least some months of their lives putting up with the hardships of the monastic life in the town's sublime temples and monasteries. These guys have to beg for their food every morning, eat just rice for breakfast and another meal of rice and veg at 11am. After that, they starve while doing chores and praying.
Luang Prabang is that rare thing: a calm enough city to cycle around with a family, so we took the opportunity. Ariel sat confidently behind his mum on the luggage rack and Aron sped along on his own mean machine as we meandered along beside the river, past lovely period buildings, interesting markets and stylish European-style cafes. It was a Paris in the tropics... kinda.
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| Boats on the Mekong, Luang Prabang |
By now, we figured, the boys were old enough for their first proper trek. So we took a long boat trip through yet more striking karst scenery and over some quite scary rapids, up the Mekong and finally its tributary, the Ou, to arrive at the small town of Nong Khiaw.
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| On the slow boat to Nong Khiaw |
The plan was for a two-day walk (17km each way) into the hills to visit the Hmong people who live there. Once arranged (at some considerable expense), the trek started badly, with out guide demonstrating how, if you rub teak leaves between your hands, it produces a blood-like dye. He then proceeded to cause Ariel considerable upset by rubbing the juice over his hands. It took half an hour to calm him down enough to get him walking again. The guide redeemed himself however, by cutting rice stems into clever little two-note clarinets (one hole, covered or not/the reed made from a skillful slice down the tube-like stem) and cutting sticks to keep the kids happy as they walked the whole day through rolling countryside and occasional clouds of butterflies.
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| Ariel's new coat - it was all we could afford |
After a warm reception at the Hmong village, astonishingly, the village chief, Mr Phao, made our beds and chopped food for our pumpkin and fish curry supper, before plying us with local whisky. I can't imagine that happening anywhere else. True hospitality. The next day he dressed in traditional clothes and let us record him playing the kairn -- a kind of large bamboo harmonica [see video below].
I was also somewhat astonished to have got up at 6am and missed all the important village chores being carried out, such as paper making from pulped mulberry bark. By the time I was up they were all off to the fields to tend the crops. Man, these guys start early! And then, off we strolled: back down the hills, splashing in waterfalls on the way, and onto the boat that waited to take us back to town.
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| A waterfall both cools and thrills the boys on the return trek |
So, after a brief foray to cycle around some more lovely tribal villages at Luang Namtha (which was only a tempting short drive north to China), we bussed our way back south to Thailand and crossed the Mekong by ferry boat near Chiang Khong, heading for the much-recommended town of Chiang Mai.
I have to add this: What a lovely country Laos is. Its people don't deserve their useless government and awful poverty. Let's hope things improve for them without the incursion of China and its desire for paper pulp plantations and factories, and huge hydro schemes that will flood beautiful valleys to earn some hard currency by providing power for richer neighbours. I also hope the US gets its act together and properly funds some big schemes to remove all the unexploded ordnance that still lies over large swathes of the country, and regularly blows people's limbs off.
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All images copyright Maja Kardum or Daniel Palmer
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