Travelog
This diary tracks our progress along the Silk Roads, with episodes appearing in date order, most recent first. You can get to earlier entries by turning pages at the bottom of the screen.
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
We took an early morning boat from Pakse to the delightfully small and well-located village of Champasak arriving around lunch time, whereupon with our usual vim we took to our beds. It was seriously, mind-sappingly, energy-suckingly hot there and our brains slowed down to the level of Pratchettesque trolls until, round about 3 o'clock, we somehow managed to collar a passing jumbo and ride out to Wat Phu. In short, the place was absolutely mesmerizing: it was Angkor Wat minus tourist crowds and some size, incredibly atmospheric and imbued with all the exotic, mysterious spine-tingly earth-spookiness that they promote Angkor Wat with and which the notorious Tomb Raider tried to capture. Lingams abound in honour of Shiva, tall dark ruins of huge stone slabs now haphazardly perched atop each other, a stone yoni dedicated to Kali and tall steps of stone-carved snakes leading up the higher chambers.
I particularly enjoyed exploring the area behind the high temple, where few go beyond, and finding the documented 'crocodile stone': a carved rock with a cut-out shape just about right for a human body to fit into, adding weight to the popular idea that an annual human sacrifice took place here. Beyond that there was an 'elephant stone', at which point we realized we were the only ones left and our driver was probably going spare at the bottom, so we reluctantly returned sneaking into a closed-off rear chamber just behind the 'official' worship room in the high temple; needless to say that the main temple's mockingly smiling Buddhas were indeed concealing an area of quite some power, or so it seemed to me with my fertile imagination. Luckily our driver was a man of infinite patience and he delivered us safely back at our room in time for tea. The day had been quite wonderful and was certainly the highlight I had been hoping for.
Rising early the next day, something that is dangerously close to becoming a habit for us, we set off on the mammoth task of covering some 40 kilometres to the very southern point of Laos where we hoped to spend a day or 2 on Si Phan Don, an area of '4000 islands' in the middle of the Mekong which at this point has swollen to its widest point. The journey somehow managed to take exactly all the sunlight hours that the day could give us and involved an improbable bus that shouldn't have been there waiting for us at the beginning of the journey, much slow and complicated short hops, and finally a very nice man in a boat who delivered us to precisely the place we were hoping for - the northern coast of Don Khon. This island caught our eye as it had reputedly escaped the horrors of uncontrolled tourist development and more to the point was the best launch point for seeing endangered Irrawaddy dolphins.
Our journey through the islands took us first to the largest one, Don Khong in the north which seemed pleasant enough, then onto Don Det which didn't. It does seem to have given itself over wholesale to unregulated tourism, which is well understandable from the point of view of the local communities but which without the kind of excellent intervention from a responsible government that has been evident in many places we have been in Laos will lead to its decline both environmentally and as a desirable tourist spot. Arriving on Don Khon was a great relief as we landed in a village that, although certainly could not be said to be un-touristy, did seem to be well controlled and able to retain the original flavour of the place - a much more sustainable destination all round.
We went by car to a nearby waterfall that evening, and regretted the car bit. It just felt wrong to tear through the countryside in that way contributing to the noise, pollution, and disregard for the villagers. The waterfall was easily walkable and the trip served as a sharp reminder of how close we come sometimes on this journey to being part of the problem rather than the solution. The waterfall itself was not high but was ferocious and wide churning up everything in the area, and this was the dry season: I can only imagine the power of it after the rains come. The next morning we, well, we didn't do anything at all actually, and only really sprang into life at about 3 p.m. after some very welcome idling in hammocks gazing vacantly at the impossible beauty offered up by this tropical river-bound archipelago. The gazing was damn hard work in that heat, even with plenty of dozing breaks, but somehow we rallied and in the fading heat of late afternoon tramped off to a nearby beach to pick up another small boat. We went this way to the southern point of the island and beyond, to a rocky look-out point where we exhausted ourselves with yet more staring, this time into the mid-distance of the river to look for dolphins which I'm gleefully, jubilantly delighted to report are alive and well, at least in this part of the world. We spend a good hour watching dolphins arc through the water, not-jumping-according-to-Ellen-but-I-thought-they-were, frolicking and generally being as dolphinny as I'd always imagined, and it was for me a beautiful moment of connection with the river and the life it supports. It is strange to think that because of this trip then out of all the waterways of the world I probably have the strongest familiarity and understanding of the Mekong, a world away from where my blood and bones are from, such has been the river-based nature of our travels through Laos.
Most of the river-boats in Laos, while still being of the shallow, long, hollowed-out tree type design, are now fitted with motors and this is clearly not good news for the dolphins, already endangered and so reliant on echo-location: clearly these new-fangled motors are totally disruptive to their navigation and communication systems and cannot be aiding their plight. However I do not feel that in this instance it is all bad news: firstly the number of boats on the Mekong is in sharp decline as roads get built and surfaced (road travel is inevitably cheaper and faster), and in Don Khon the dolphin-watching is really well managed: the guides take all tourists to the same rock (despite plenty of complaints, and bribes I'm sure) and this rock is some way away from the dolphins' zones, close enough to see faintly but far enough away to not be actively intrusive (apart from the boat motors of course). For once this is one endangered species I have had the wonderful opportunity to see where I think maybe, with a fair tail-wind and continued sensible governance, my bones may rot before theirs.
- Details
- Written by Andy Stone
- Category: Travelog
- the smallest cube that's also the sum of three cubes
- the sum of a twin prime
- the number of days since I last had a cigarette (and the number of nanoseconds since I last thought about having one)
We are currently in the delightful Southern Laos town of Pakse on our way from the capital to the most southerly point of Champasak province (and thus Laos), Si Phan Don (4000 islands in the widest point of the Mekong). The journey down from Vientiane has been pretty slow as the only form of long-distance travel here is bus, and we have chosen local buses mostly. This has made me realise that when viewed from the inside, a country's size is relative to its transport infrastructure: this way Laos becomes equal in size to China in terms of time spent crossing end to end and goes part way to explaining why we will have been in each country for approximately the same amount of time.
The trip has been great despite not everything going to plan, as moving again after so much time in one place has been like a breath of fresh air to me. Our first stop was at a town called Tha Kaek, where we discovered a 4 day motorcycle tour ('the loop') that we could do which would get us off the beaten track and into some pretty remote villages, not to mention a renowned 7 kilometre long cave that we would kayak through. With some trepidation on both our parts, but a mitigating unbridled enthusiasm on mine, we set off on a glorious day through some spectacular karst scenery. However while I have had plenty of experience falling off bikes during a mis-spent youth The Boss has not, and after a couple of Ellen-road-interface incidents (nothing broken I'm happy to report) we decided to head back before she gifted me a big payout on the life assurance policy. On reflection maybe an unassisted 4 day ride along rough dirt tracks was not the best or fairest introduction to her biking career. 'No shit, Sherlock' I believe the saying goes. Actually this did me a huge favour as the day after I developed a pretty energy-sapping cold that would have made the remaining 3 days biking pretty tricky.
Next stop was Savannahket, a town that I have been looking forward to since we knew we were headed south lured by descriptions of faded French-colonial grandeur, a hint at what the capital was like before more modern development, and laid-back petanque games by the side of the Mekong. Needless to say from the moment we arrived it didn't feel at all right and much to Ellen's exasperation we stayed 1 night before hitting the road again. I don't know why it was like this for me: certainly the town itself seems lovely objectively speaking. Maybe it was my cold; maybe it was the size of the place (unexpectedly substantial); maybe it was the pretty impersonal room we found to stay in (I'm getting old when a bit of freshly laundered crisp white linen can seriously affect my opinion of an entire town! Oh dear.); either way I have at least begun to trust my instincts even when I don't understand them and so moving on was easy, especially as we have really outstayed our time in Laos as it is if we are to return home at anything slower than light speed.
And so here we are in Pakse, my cold subsiding a little, the linen quite crisp and fresh, the town manageably small and altogether delightful enough to reassure us that we made the right decision. We have had a splendid day pottering around one of the local Wats (and combined monk school) and tramping around a huge edge-of-town market where I was able to acquire another giggle-inducing 'Vietnamese gardening hat' (conical, wooden, you know the thing). This afternoon we took a jumbo (Laos' answer to the tuk-tuk) to a nearby weaving village where this seemed to be pretty much the sole (cottage) industry, with every family owning their own loom and other assorted weaving related gadgets. Many families were really friendly and took the time to show us how weaving happened, mostly I think because Ellen wore her sinh (Lao skirt, not unlike a sarong) which they loved. I was amazed by the weaving process, which I'd never really considered before, and of course computing analogies were obvious: dying the weft multiple colours in a particular way is essentially like writing a program: when it is loaded onto the shuttle (compiled) and fed through the loom (processor) an amazing pattern emerges that is wholly depended on the dyed thread, which itself gives up no clues about the eventual pattern to the uninitiated. It is a highly skilled art and very, very cool indeed. Go and see traditional weaving if you ever get the chance.
Tomorrow we go further south, this time by boat to the town of Champasak primarily to visit the nearby ruins Wat Phou. It was a Khmer temple very similar in style (although smaller in scale) to Angkor Wat in Cambodia with the advantage of being much less visited, and as we have decided we don't have time to visit Cambodia this could be a real highlight of our Southern Laos journey.
As for coming home, we have reached a bit of a crunch point with the journey route and our future all hangs on whether we can scrounge a lift on a cargo boat from Thailand to India. If we can we shall travel India, Pakistan, Iran, Turkey (these are the southern silk roads). If we can't we shall go back through Laos to China, up to Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Iran, Turkey (the northern set of silk roads). Its all a bit scary and exhilarating at the same time, but either way fun and adventure are guaranteed. It is a real pity that if we get to explore Pashtun culture in Peshawar we shall certainly miss the madrasahs of Samarkand (and vice versa), but as dilemmas go this is not a bad one to have. Not bad at all.
- Details
- Written by Ellen Winter
- Category: Travelog
1) Anything can be carried on an unadapted moped. This includes: up to 5 people, huge sheets of plastic, bundles of 15ft bamboo poles, 50 litre gas bottles (full), babies in arms (while driving), dogs, and up to 8 cubic metres of retail goods.
2) Which side of the road you use is a matter for your own discretion.
3) Ditto stopping at red lights. Vientiane has about 6 sets and 2 roundabouts.
4) It is perfectly acceptable to get into a tuktuk, negotiate a fare to where you want to go, and then find yourself on a route involving a short stop at your driver's English speaking mate's house so he can find out where you want to be taken.
5) Coats should be worn backwards on mopeds.
6) If it is bigger than you, it has right of way, except if there is a gap...
7) Pavements are for parking, streets are for walking.
8) Beware open sewers and chickens.
- Details
- Written by Ellen Winter
- Category: Travelog
We have been on a two day trek in Phou Khao Khouay National Protected Area about an hour away from Vientiane. It was really easy walking, and we had a great time ambling around the forest while our guides pointed out things of interest. But the walking wasn't really the point of the exercise.
By 4pm we had to be back at our lodgings for the night, well before sunset at about 5.30pm, because the wildlife gets a bit lively around those parts at night. We were staying about 4km from Ban Na village, where we had been earlier in the day to pick up our local guides and start the trek. We were staying the night at the wildlife observation tower on the edge of the protected area, owned and run by the villagers.
Soon after we got back to the tower we started to hear sounds of wildlife feeding some way away from us. It was very quiet and the guides had to tell us what to listen out for. The guides do not (in theory) feed the local animals from the tower, so the behaviour is pretty natural and sometimes animals come and sometimes they don't. What we could hear in the distance, not knowing if they would drop by, was the main thing we had come to see. But after dark the guests of honour decided to join the party....
- Details
- Written by Ellen Winter
- Category: Travelog
(The relevent photos will be coming soon!)
We spent a lazy last few days in LP. My new friend, Tai Dam trader NaTing and her family had gone to Vietnam for New Year, although I still had plenty of invites to sit with the other Tai Dam and 'chat'.
One afternoon I dropped into Big Brother Mouse to play with the kids, stacking building blocks and practising English. I also went to the Mouse offices and bought a pack of books to give to someone somewhere. Wandering on, I found several fascinating places we had overlooked before, including Tamarind and OckPopTok. Jo from OckPopTok hails from Esher near where I grew up, which was a little weird. I was especially excited about Tamarind, as they did a specialised Jeow tasting plate, which I knew Andy would like, and a market tour, which sounded ideal for us.
We had lunch there the next day and booked the market tour, which turned out to be a fascinating explanation of all the various strange and wonderful ingredients that make Laos food distinct. Check out the photos for the padaek; the yummy 'Water Buffalo Lower Intestine Juice' and and the 'Coagulated Blood Blocks'. The vegetables and snacks got their fair share of time too, so now I know I can eat the 'Mysterious Looking Bamboo Tubes with Stuff In', but I need to be wary of the 'Cute Little Banana Leaf Parcels Tied up with Bamboo String'.
One afternoon I wandered around a Wat overlooking the Nam Khan river, and was captivated by the drum and gong session being performed with great savoir faire by some young novices. If you want the video (for the sound) let me know an I'll email it to you - I can't put video on Darkfox. It was utterly spellbinding, but when it was finished, the novices instantly and coolly wandered back to their sweeping as though they had just been washing up. I later read it was the full moon drumming, performed for 3 days a month.
Laos has turned out to be like Japan for the quality of cultural and arty things kicking around. So after all the previous nights 'window shopping' we spent an evening in the night market buying more things than you can shake a carved stick at, and then a small fortune posting it all back to the UK. And in between relaxing, doing all this, and playing Munchkin on our balcony, we fomulated A Plan.
We've been off the beaten track again. Instead of taking the comfortable tourist bus from Luang prabang, stopping off at Vang Vieng en route like you are supposed to, we decided to go a more awkward way. Andy asked in a travel agents for details of buses to Sayaburi, but she said she didn't have a clue, and no-one had ever asked her before, so that confirmed our route.
We headed out to the bus station on the appointed day, and, while all the other falang were being loaded onto the VIP bus to Vientiane, we hoisted our backpacks onto the roof with the ducks and squeezed among the locals on the Sayaburi rattler.
What can I say? We watched authentic Laos go about it's daily business from market to school and river to hilltop. We passed though villages where all the houses were traditional wood and bamboo design on high stilts, with wide shady verandahs, and small indoor areas. We saw 'old' ladies in siin squatted by the road waiting for someone to buy their goods, chatting and smiling. We crossed the Mekong and had our passport details taken by a very courteous official at a checkpoint, while the bus and all the faces at the windows looked on. Near Pak Lai we saw locals in conical hats bent over in paddy fields sparkling with reflections of the hills, planting out the silky green new rice plants in a scene out of time.
We waited for a couple of hours at Sayaburi South Bus Terminal (see photo) for our sawngthauw connection to Pak Lai, and ate sticky rice with amazing bbq pork and homemade jeow for Andy, and with a huge papaya for me, while the locals watched with benign but continuous curiousity. We bumped off on a 3 hour dusty journey with a few Lao for company. We stopped at a roadside market, and heard the whisper "falang, falang" like a rustle in the trees, with smiles and shy Sabaidee. Eventually we reached Pak Lai where we spend the wallet-busting sum of $4 on a double ensuite room, before a brief dinner (I never realised egg fried rice could go that wrong!) and bed.
The negotiations for the ferry tickets in the morning were complicated by the conflicting information on prices we were given. One of the locals was keen to 'facilitate' communication with the lady in the booth, and suggest that she would charge us 180,000K each. As our guide book said 1/3 this price, we were reluctant to believe him, and while Andy was negotiating with an English speaking monk, the official ticket office opened in the next room to what we thought was the ticket office, with, magically, the price on the wall - 'Foreigners 120,000K.'
Once on board we were treated to a trippy Buddhist video on the laptop of the senior Buddhist monk - pretty surreal for anywhere but Laos. The journey was 7 hours of sliding past green hills and river rocks, with big whirlpools in some parts. Ripping down some rapids to, sorry, Bohemian Rhapsody on my MP3 player was magical - the sound of the big diesel engine largely precluding conversation. We stopped pretty frequently to load and unload. At one point we stopped to load some freshly made solid wood furniture, most of which went on the roof, but a couple of boathands got a lovely bench seat right up the prow, like old ladies on a cruise, keen not to miss a moment!
We arrived in Vientiane (pronounced Wieng Chan; blame the French!), to the sound of a glorious tropical sunset reflecting in the Mekong, and found ourselves a room in a converted villa in the west of the town for $12 a night, before heading to the Taj Mahal for dinner. I am thinking of renaming our blog to 'In search of the real Taj Mahal - travels among the Indian restaurants of Asia". But it still did the best gulab jamon I have ever had!
