Southeast Asia Trip Part III: Don't Thai Me Down

The bus to Bangkok was a big, pink double-decker bus with the words “MYFRIEND TOUR” on the front.  There seem to be two types of buses in Southeast Asia: the regional transportation that locals take, and the tour-type buses that backpackers and tourists take.  While the more authentic bus experience tends to be cheaper and more frequent, the tour buses are often more direct, faster, offer hotel pickups, and aid in crossing international borders more smoothly.  Crossing from Laos into Thailand, we decided to take one of these “tour” buses.  As a result, what could have been a bus crowded with Laos men, was a bus crowded with high Aussies.  It was an overnight bus with reclining seats, and we expected to get into Mochit Bus Station in Bangkok at around 5:30am.

The border crossing went smoothly, and we got our Thai visas as we crossed.  Early in the bus ride, the air conditioner started making a high pitched squeal, and after several moments of mass frustration, I got up and gave the vent a nice hit with the side of my fist, which instantly quieted the noise.  The Aussies cheered and called me the Fonz, but after a few moments the noise started again, and was mostly incessant (despite repeated further attempts) throughout the ride.  To our surprise, the bus stopped at around 4:30am in the center of Bangkok, and the driver threw everyone’s bags out onto the street.  We poured out of the bus only to realize that this was most definitely not Mochit Station.  Instead, they’d dropped us off at Khao San Road, the main expat hangout in Bangkok.  A bit confused, Ariane and I strapped up our packs and started walking to try to figure out where exactly we were at such an early hour in Bangkok.

We sat down outside of an Israeli-run Tourist Café, and reorganized and settled ourselves.  Behind us, a woman rolled herself a joint.  Backpackers from our bus and others were trolling the streets, looking for hostels, drugs, internet cafes, or possibly all of the above.  On Khao San Road, a group of expats was sitting on the ground in the middle of the road, playing the guitar and singing.  Sleazy men were directing their hesitant-seeming prostitutes back to their rooms.  Cab drivers waited to rip off their drunk patrons.  Our plan had been to end up at Mochit Station, and to take a bus from there to Khao Yai National Park to do some trekking and see some elephants and waterfalls.  Ending up at Khao San Road instead of Mochit Station, we were not entirely sure of the best course of action.  So, we found an internet café, tried to find some information about the area, and then hopped a cab to Mochit Station.

I should first mention that cars drive on the left (wrong) side of the road in Thailand. I sat upfront next to the driver while Ariane was in the back.  Our driver started out going really fast, asking us questions in really bad English.  Were we married?  Why not?  Where were we from?  etc. At the first red light, he took a small white bottle out of his pocket, took a good sniff, and kept driving.  Faster and faster.  He started tapping his foot heavily to the music, massaging the shifter, and bobbling his head.  Every stop, another sniff.  He was high as a kite.  Ariane asked me what was going on, and I told her in Chinese.  We finally made it (alive) to Mochit Station, still dark outside, and went in to find our way to Khao Yai National Park.  We got bus tickets to Pak Chong, in the area of Khao Yai, and decided we’d figure things out from there.  In the meantime, we resettled ourselves in the bus station, were pleasantly surprised to see a Dunkin’ Donuts and 7-11 (neither of which can be found frequently in China), and had some bad coffee before boarding our bus as the sun began to rise.

When we finally arrived at Pak Chong several hours later, we got out and started asking people how to get to Khao Yai.  For the most part, people there were very helpful, and one lady eventually led us to the [[songthaew]] (two-rowed open air ‘bus’) headed for Khao Yai.  The other passengers were all locals, including a monk and his female counterpart.  We were unclear as to whether we wanted to stay overnight or take a tour.  (We’d heard that the elephants and other animals were best seen on night safaris.)  My indecision left us standing at the gate of the National Park, with our packs.  We managed to get student prices without having our student IDs, after I pulled the desperate student routine looking everywhere in my bag for my ID.  The man at the front gate said we should hitchhike to thse visitor center (since they have no free transportation available), and that he’d flag down a car for us.  He flagged down a pickup truck, and we threw our bags in the back, and hopped in the second row of the cab.  Our drivers were a middle-aged Thai couple, and the guard told them in Thai where to take us.  After 15 minutes, we saw the visitor center come and go, and not quite clear where they had been told to take us, we didn’t speak up.  Ten or so minutes later, still driving, we began to wonder if they knew where to take us, and looked through our guide book for any phrases we could ask to get that point across.  We would ask them “Khao Yai?” with a rising tone to indicate our question.  Of course, Thai (like Chinese) is a tonal language, and they simply repeated us, saying “Khao Yai”.  I was a bit hungry and tired, and not altogether with it.  An hour later, the car finally pulled to a stop, and we realized they’d driver us all the way through the park to the other side!  We emphatically expressed our desire to get out, and had the English-speaking guards at the gate explain what had gone wrong.  They had us wait and flagged down another pickup truck headed back the other way.  This time we hopped in the back with our bags, and enjoyed the ride back to the visitor center.  Monkeys lined the roads, hoping for snacks from tourists passing through, cyclists rode the way, but the park did not seem at all what we’d been expecting.  The flora seemed as if it were right out of North America, not jungle-esque in the slightest.

Back at the visitor center, we had a quick lunch, stored our packs, and then tried to get information from an annoying Thai park guide.  He told us that the park had no transportation available, and that to go see any of the waterfalls we’d have to either rent a car or hitchhike.  We went to get information on the night safaris, and began asking the what it entailed.  Beside the desk, there was a bulletin board with pictures of the different animals one might expect to see on the tour.  Seeing photos of tigers and elephants, we asked them, “we will see tigers?”.  They responded, “No tigers.”  “What about elephants?”  They laughed, “sometimes elephants”.  Since the other animals, included only bears, porcupines, and deer, and the cost would be fairly high to do the tour and stay overnight there, we decided not to do it, and that we’d head home after hiking a bit and seeing some waterfalls.  So, we tried to hitchhike out to Haew Suwat Waterfall.  Unfortunately, every car that stopped for us, had no interest in taking us all the way out of their way to go to Haew Suwat Waterfall, except for an exorbitant amount of money.  Giving up on the hitchhiking, we went back to “rent a car”, which it turned out meant “hiring a driver”.  The driver, of course, ended up being our favorite annoying tour guide from earlier, and we were on our way for a fairly high price.  Upon our arrival, we were all but impressed at the medium-sized waterfall, but decided after spending so much money, that we’d enjoy ourselves and take our time nonetheless.

Back at the visitor center, we did some hiking before eventually trying to head back to Pakchong.  The park was closing, and no cars would stop for us.  When were about to give up and pay exorbitantly for a ride once again, an off-duty taxi (a guy driving his sister to Pakchong) stopped for us, and agreed to take us.  They were very nice, stopped to feed the monkeys, and brought us directly to the bus stop.  I gave them a bit more money than they asked, and we got out, finding an immediate bus back to Bangkok.

We eventually made it back to Bangkok, and then to Banglamphu (an area near the river), where we walked around looking for a guesthouse, getting more and more discouraged as one after another guesthouse was either too full or too expensive.  We finally ended up at the Mitr Paisarn Hotel, a seedy-looking motel-like hotel in the alleys behind Samsen Road.  It was hot and humid.  We put our stuff down, and then went to grab dinner outside down an alley.  After dinner we stopped at a 7-11 for water.  It is worth mentioning that 7-11s in Bangkok are like Blue Safety Lights on college campuses in the US—you can literally see at least one other 7-11 no matter where you are.  They’re everywhere, and it’s actually a bit ridiculous.  In fact, there are 1500 7-11 stores in the city of Bangkok itself, compared to the 5900 stores in all of the United States.  Who would have thought?

We walked around Banglamphu a bit, and tried to head down towards the river under a bridge.  Tuk-tuk drivers were asleep in their tuk-tuks on the side of the road, and as we reached the end of the street, we saw a few homeless men, guarded by a pack of stray dogs.  Sensing our approach, the dogs got up and headed us off, growling viciously as a sign to us that this was their place and we were not welcome.  Their “owner” tried to call them off, but they would listen.  A bit scared, Ariane backed off behind me, and I tried to calm the alpha dog as he got closer and closer.  When he wouldn’t back off, I threw some water at him, and then backed off slowly myself, my knife ready in my hand in case they attacked.  When we were comfortably distant from their territory, the dogs stopped growling and “escorted” us back out to the main street.  We called it quits, and went back to the comfort of our filthy, but air-conditioned room.

The next day we had a flight to [[Phuket Province|Phuket]] in southern Thailand.  Phuket is Thailand’s largest island, located on the west coast of the [[Kra Isthmus]] in the [[Andaman Sea]].  Our bags came out soaked, and we realized it was pouring outside.  Fortunately, the next day proved nicer.  After some research and advice from our guesthouse, we decided to go to [[Ko Lanta]] by ferry, another 4 hours south of Phuket, and somewhat more secluded.  We found a small, family-run resort with cheap bungalows, and enjoyed the beautiful uncrowded beaches, the warm blue water, and the complete peace and company.

A relaxing time, another ferry, one flight, and a taxi ride later, and we were back at the Mitr Paisarn Hotel in Bangkok.  I’d ripped my favorite shorts trekking, and we dropped them off at a tailor to be repaired.  Then we spent the day shopping, visiting sites, and exploring Bangkok.  We met my friend Pat for dinner.  He is a Bangkok native, and took us to a popular modern Thai restaurant.  Then, Ariane and I excused ourselves as we had tickets to a Muay Thai boxing match.  We’d purchased reasonably pricy ringside seats, and showed up fashionably late in time for the main event.  I grabbed us some beers and we sat and enjoyed the matches, trying to understand the rules and pick our favorites.  All of the boxers were very young (some even young children), and when we had the opportunity to have our photo taken with the champion after the match, I towered over him.

After the match, we wandered into a rather chic night fashion market, and Ariane went shopping crazy, as I got hungrier and more overwhelmed.  After several hours of haggling for clothes and accessories (for Ariane), I needed a break and some food.  No street food in sight, and the Thai restaurant closed, we ended up at an Italian place where I got a pizza.  It had been a long day, and we headed back to the hotel to shower and crash.  Despite recommendations to the contrary, we’d purchased “tour” bus tickets from Bangkok to Siem Reap in Cambodia for early the next morning.  We woke up and headed to the travel agency where we’d purchased the tickets for our “pick-up” to the bus.  The “pick-up” turned out to be a woman with a clipboard waiting for our arrival.  She asked us where we were going, we showed her our tickets (which she took), and then handed us a different ticket, and told us to follow her.  After a few blocks, she stopped and told us to wait there while she figured out someone else’s tickets.  After a few minutes, a man shows up, looks at our “new” ticket and tells us to follow a second lady.  We follow her for a while to a few stopped coach buses on the side of the road.  They took our ticket and told us to get on the bus.  Fortunately, I asked them if the bus was heading to Siem Reap, just to make sure, to which they replied that it was not.  It was heading to Ko Chang.  A little confused, we told them we had tickets to Siem Reap.  Of course, we no longer had our tickets.  They told us we did not have tickets to Siem Reap, but to Ko Chang.  At this point, I’m beginning to yell, and tell them that I don’t care how, but they better figure out how to get us on the bus to Siem Reap.  Finally, after a bit more mutual yelling, and the man who’d taken us there claiming he’d never seen us before, they told us to go back around the corner.  I made sure they weren’t just getting rid of us, and we went around the corner to find the bus to Siem Reap waiting.  A bit relieved, we boarded and were on our way.

I’d also mention that at some point during this whole business, I’d stopped at a 7-11 and put 1 Thai baht (about $0.03 USD) in an electronic scale, which subsequently showed my weight to be about 10kg (22lb) lighter than the previous month, and about 20kg (44lb) lighter than when I’d left for China.

The bus took many hours, and stopped at a restaurant just before the Thai-Cambodian border to switch buses and prepare our visa forms.  At the restaurant, we met a 23 year-old local Thai guy named “K”, who had been released from the Thai military 4 months prior, and was waiting for the regional UN Security Station to open to find a job there.

He told us about being a soldier during the ongoing conflict in southern Thailand, and told us an interesting story.  His job, in part, had been to escort monks individually every morning from their residences to their monasteries, protecting them from potential attacks and explosions.  It is illegal for Thai citizens to carry their own arms, and the Thai military offered this escort service to keep the peace.  One day, however, he saw a monk walking alone in the streets, and upon K’s approach, the monk seemed scared and reluctant to speak with him.  K asked him what was the matter, and if he was ok.  The monk, a bit afraid, but not enjoying being dishonest said “if I tell you, can you promise to not get me in trouble?”  K was a bit concerned, and told the monk that he’d better explain the problem.  The monk lifted his robes, and around his neck was an AK-47, which he was carrying for his own protection.  Despite it being a major infraction, and worthy of a severe penalty, K confiscated the weapon, and told the monk not to carry his own arms ever again, but that he would meet him every day to escort him.  You have to imagine, when even the monks are carrying AK-47s, the conflict has gotten pretty severe.

[Well, that’s it for the third installment.  The next post will discuss at least our time in Cambodia, and possibly Vietnam and crossing back into China as well.  Also, Happy Lunar New Year or Spring Festival to all.  I’ll talk next time about the fireworks and festivities!]

Southeast Asia Trip Part II: The Many Sides of Laos

Time for part two.  When I left off with the previous post, Ariane and I had just spent a ridiculously long day crossing from China into Laos, and finally after 20-some hours, making it to our first international destination of Luang Prabang in Laos.

We awoke the next day in our guesthouse to find that it was situated quite nicely right along the Mekong River.  The Old Quarter of Luang Prabang, where we were staying, is settled on a peninsula between the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers.  The small streets are lined with guesthouses, French-influenced cafes, bakeries, creperies and fruit shake stands, nice clothes and gift stores, and a few fairly impressive temples.  The town it seems is fairly laid back, with a great balance between the comforts of a somewhat touristy “resort”-like village and the allure of a French-colonial Lao town.  An 11:30pm curfew has kept the bars and clubs to a minimum, and explains why everything was closed upon our late-night arrival.  Luang Prabang is far enough afield that it has avoided corner mini-golf and other kitschy attractions, but still panders to adventurous Western travelers in need of a break from their adventures.

Still a bit cramped from the previous day, we spent the morning enjoying an extended Luang Prabang-style brunch outside by the river.  It was prix fixe, and included dried riverweed, fried to a crisp with sesame seeds, a delightful chili paste to spread on top, buffalo sausage, a stew of pork and greens vegetables, salad, onion soup, steamed sticky rice, a fruit plate, and black Lao coffee.  While the majority of coffee coming out of Vietnam is  Robusta, Lao coffee seemed to be mostly Arabica or a mix of the two.  Usually served with a heaping serving of condensed milk, it was a constant challenge to get my coffee actually black.  Still, the condensed milk at the bottom of Ariane’s coffee made a delicious dip for the bananas in the fruit plate, and we got a second helping of both.

When the sun sets in Luang Prabang, the main streets of the Old Quarter are transformed into a night market of ethnic handicrafts, Lao-style clothes, knick-knacks, and delicious snacks.  We spent some time looking at clothes: a sarong for Ariane and Lao pants and a shirt for me.  The market, while quite enjoyable and laid back (in typical Lao style), has suffered the influence of thick foreign wallets with little regard for or knowledge of how to haggle properly.  This influence made it difficult to haggle for good prices, but we tried anyway.  A “trick”, which the locals have quite intelligently taken advantage of, is to ask prices in US dollars rather than the local currency, Kip.  This held true in Cambodia as well—it’s easier to ask for $2USD than 17,000 Kip, and harder for the customer to haggle the price down.  The question then is for only $2USD, why bother haggling at all?  Well, that depends on what you’re haggling for, and how much it “should” cost.

In any case, we enjoyed the night market, did a bit of shopping, and really enjoyed the street food.  We shared a Lao sandwich, some grilled spring rolls, pork sausage, and a delectable lemongrass-stuffed fish, grilled on a bamboo kebab.

After Luang Prabang, it was time for a change of pace.  We hopped a mini-bus south to Vang Vieng.  We’d heard some rumors about Vang Vieng, but weren’t entirely sure what to make of them.  The first rumor involved Vang Vieng being a vacation paradise for Australian college kids on break.  The second rumor involved some sort of phenomenon regarding the TV show Friends, which we didn’t really understand.  And, the third rumor was that Vang Vieng was surrounded by truly spectacular natural beauty.  The mini-bus ride confirmed the first rumor quite well.  We shared the “van” with three college kids from Melbourne, who were very excited to take advantage of Vang Vieng’s primary attraction: a several hour tubing ride down the Nam Song—a true lazy river, with makeshift bars all along the way.  Lonely Planet warns, “People have died on this trip, so don’t go too stupid with the drink and drugs.”

With little time and little interest in Australian “Spring Break”, we opted to take advantage of one of Vang Vieng’s other draws: caving in the great karst cliffs around the town.  Ariane had been bugging me for days to agree to rent motorbikes or a car to do some of the travel on our own.  With the sun quickly setting, it seemed like the ideal opportunity to give in to her wishes.  Motor bikes seemed like a great way to get out to the caves and back before the sun went down.  So, we walked around the town and haggled with a couple places for rentals, deciding between manuals and automatics (quickly realizing we should probably ride automatics).  We ended up with two motorbikes/mopeds, and headed out across the airstrip to a Shell station to fill each bike up with 3 liters each.  After complaining about wanting to ride motorbikes for so long, it seems that Ariane wasn’t exactly a natural.  She had trouble starting, couldn’t turn, got scared, and couldn’t brake either. (Sorry, Ariane!)  After a little bit of practice on the airstrip, and switching bikes, we headed out towards the karst hills beyond the river.  We stopped at a bridge to pay a toll, and I started heading over towards the other side.  When I heard a sudden vroom, followed by a bang, the frightened cursing of a Lao man, and laughter, I turned around only to realize that Ariane had started her bike up right towards a squatting Lao man, who, shocked that he was about to be killed by this small foreign girl on a moped, had leapt up and out of the way.  His buddies found the incident a bit more amusing than did he.  Across the bridge, we agreed to keep going and try again.

Ariane a little shaken up, we took it slow (actually passed by a few bicycles), and made it to our destination just as the sun was beginning to set.  We parked our bikes, accompanied by a small Lao boy, and followed him up a steep ascent to a cave.  As we approached the entrance to the cave, we realized that both of us (like idiots) had gone caving without flashlights!  Fortunately, our Indiana Jones-style kid guide (like Short Round from the Temple of Doom) led and lit the way, and showed us some cool rock formations that made noises like a xylophone when struck.  Back out of the cave, the kid asked for money.  I looked at Ariane to see how much I should give him, “1,000 Kip?” I asked.  Ariane replied, “eh, give him 2,000,” thinking we were being quite generous.  I handed it to the kid, who looked a little disappointed, asked for more, and upon my refusal, rushed back down the mountain, leaving us to make our own way as the sun went down.  It was only later that we realized that 2,000 Kip is only about 23 cents (oops).  Back down by our bikes, we heard a thunderous boom in the distance.  Not sure exactly what it was, we waited cautiously until we heard it again.  The thunderous boom turned out to be… thunder.  So, we quickly got back on our bikes and started heading back towards town in dusk.  The way was a bit rocky with puddles of mud, lots of bugs in the air, and fading light.  So, I can maybe possibly understand how a motorbike coming the other way (though not too close) caused Ariane to lose control of her bike and crash into a big puddle of mud—maybe.  I stopped, and went back to help her up.  Fortunately, she was already being assisted by a group of local boys (one of whom was very naked), pointing at the mud on her bike to let her know that it was dirty.  She knew.  We cleaned off the seat and handle bars, and started going again.  Like I said, I can maybe understand how this incident happened.  BUT, I’m not entirely sure how she ploughed into a bush on the side of the road a few moments later.  :)

Anyway, we eventually made it back to town in the dark, took showers, changed, and cleaned the bikes up.  A little concerned about further incidents, I returned both bikes one at a time, and then met Ariane for dinner.  After dinner, we walked around for a bit.  The town of Vang Vieng is literally an Australian “spring break” paradise.  Each street had tens of internet cafes, bars, and gift shops selling t-shirts proudly announcing to the world that the wearer had weathered the hardships of the Vang Vieng drunken tubing experience.  (Everywhere we went in Southeast Asia, we saw Australian college kids sporting these shirts.)  As for the Friends phenomenon I mentioned above, it is absolutely, 100%, shockingly true.  Every corner in the town boasts open-air cafes and restaurants showing reruns of Friends.  A few cafes had decided to break away from the norm, and were rebelliously showing reruns of Family Guy.  How did such a phenomenon begin?  I have absolutely no idea.  What’s more surprising, however, is that wherever there is a TV showing these reruns, there are several to many foreigners sitting their glued to the screens.  My only guess is that a nice helping of happy pizza, followed down by a happy shake, and a joint on the side, merrily caps off a hard day of getting high and drinking in a tube floating down a river, AND necessitates an episode of Friends.

We found a place called the Organic Mulberry Farm Café (linked with an actual organic mulberry farm just outside of town), and enjoyed a mulberry shake and an apple-mint shake, before indulging in some of the delicious snacks around the town (probably available to cure severe cases of the munchies after watching Friends).  Our pleasure was a “crepe”  filled with Milo (a chocolate substance made by Nestle), honey, bananas, milk, coconut powder, chocolate syrup, drenched in butter, and topped with a sinful drizzling of condensed milk.

The next day we had another mini-bus south to Vientiane, the capital of Laos.  The city was not as clean as I’d expected, but still quite interesting.  By the river, there are (like in Luang Prabang, but not quite as quaint) French bakeries, shops, restaurants, etc.  We walked around a bit, did some shopping, visited the patuxai, a Lao version of l’Arc de Triomphe (in Paris), which ironically signifies the Lao struggle for independence from France, and which was built using cement donated by the US to build an airport, giving it its nickname: “the vertical runway”.

From Vientiane, we had planned to go directly to Bangkok.  Trouble booking a train, left us with tickets for an overnight bus.  When we realized we had a bit more time than we’d thought till the bus departed, we decided to go get massages.  We found a reputable-looking place and looked through their “menu”.  Ariane opted for a Lao Foot Massage and I went for the Traditional Lao Massage.  They began by soaking our feet, then continued with Ariane, while they sent me upstairs to change into Lao garb in a private room.  The masseuse was a young Lao lady, who tried to speak with me, but I didn’t really understand her broken English.  She started on my feet and calves, with me lying on my back.  Working my legs up my inner thighs, she came up between my legs and stopped, putting pressure on both legs with her hands just below my waist.  I waited, not entirely sure what a Lao massage entailed, and not wanting to insult her.  Seeing my non-response, she continued down my legs, massaging each thigh, one at a time.  As she came up my thigh, getting closer and closer to my genitals, it became clear what she was getting at.  Unsure of how or when to tell her that I did not want sex, just a massage, I waited and she, seeing that I was not excited, continued on the other thigh.  Unfortunately, some things are unavoidable, and when she did the same on the other thigh, and did notice a response, she proceeded to grab it and ask, “massage?” to which I responded, “no”, and she replied, “yes?”, “no”.  All in all, the massage was not bad—40,000Kip (about $5USD) for an hour, full body, and no happy ending.  This was my first massage experience, and I don’t think she used enough force for me.  Next time I’ll have to have a big Swedish or Russian guy do it—at least that way I won’t have to worry about getting offered sex (I hope).

Well, that’s all for now.  More to come, I promise.

Southeast Asia Trip Part I: Over Land from China into Laos

It’s been over a month since my last post, and my what a month it’s been.  I spent the end of December in Beijing dealing with some research leads and spending time with friends.  My friend Ben flew in from New York, and I played tour guide in my free time (along with his uncle, who also lives in Beijing), taking him around to most of the major sites.  It was cold, and our trip out to the Great Wall was very brief due to the bitter cold biting winds.  On Christmas, I went out for brunch at a western restaurant with friends, and then spent time with my friend Ariane, planning our trip to Southeast Asia.  With so much to see, and a limited period of time for our out-of-country leave, we needed to set our priorities and make a temporary itinerary.

In January, we flew down to Kunming, and made the final arrangements for our trip.  We would head south over land from Kunming to [[Xishuangbanna]], from there cross the border into Laos, then down to Bangkok and southern Thailand, followed by a trip to see the temples of Angkor in Cambodia, and finally up to Hanoi and Halong Bay in Vietnam, before crossing the border back into China.  We would take a few flights to fit it all in, and leave plenty for the next time around.

With all of the recent construction and development in Kunming, things in the city have been moving around a great deal.  After a bit of hassle, we realized that the bus station that we needed was a ways out of town.  We had a sleeper bus down to Jinghong, the capital city of [[Xishuangbanna]] (the southernmost prefecture of Yunnan), and upon arrival immediately made our eventual arrangements for the trip to the border town of Mohan to cross into Laos.

In the meantime, we explored Jinghong and rented bicycles to travel out to some nearby villages.  Xishuangbanna is a [[Dai people|Dai]] autonomous prefecture, and Dai food, language, and culture abound in the city of Jinghong and the surrounding region.  With our road bikes strapped up and a very basic map in hand, we rode through the city towards the [[Mekong River]].  The new bridge, however, it seemed was closed for construction, so we asked a group of school kids how to cross the river.  They pointed us upriver, and we rode back through the city until we saw a line of truck and moto traffic, which was clearly heading towards a bridge.  We crossed the river, and started heading southwest towards the village of Menghan or Ganlanba, stopping several times in the city for directions from resting motorcycle riders.  What should probably have been a two or three hour ride took us around four hours on our fixed-speed bikes, including a significant amount of time stopping to take photos.

The highlight of Ganlanba is a section of town, traditionally inhabited by Dai people, which has been turned into a sort of tourist park.  After paying the student rate for entrance tickets (which we managed to pull off without student IDs), we got a mediocre Dai lunch, walked around, and then found a Dai family to house us for the night.  The room was very simple with thin bamboo walls and a surprisingly comfortable mat on the floor in place of a bed.  As it began to get dark, we rode our bikes back out of the park to explore the town.  Despite what we’d read, the town was not overly interesting at night.  A few KTV places, open-door rose-lit brothels, and a smattering of fruit and juice stands seemed to occupy the large percentage of the nightlife.  I spotted a fireworks store, and bought a couple boxes, which we lit off right in the street, the locals encouraging us to buy more.

We headed back towards the Dai park in pitch black darkness, which despite making it very difficult to find our way and see where we were going, provided a spectacular opportunity to see the stars.  I had to tell Ariane several times to look where she was going rather than up at the sky.  The Dai park, in darkness, was unexpectedly large and labyrinthine, and it took some intuition, guessing, and probably dumb luck to find our way back to the particular Dai home where we were staying.  (All the homes there look alike, the people all dress alike, and the family portraits on the walls are all eerily similar—maybe there should be a Desperate Dai Housewives.)  All the Dai homes are elevated, with living quarters on the second floor.  We parked our bikes under the house, waking the dog up in the process, and then went back out to look at the truly amazing array of stars.

The next morning, we started back towards Jinghong on our bikes, not overly enthusiastic about the long ride ahead of us.  To make matters worse, the chain on Ariane’s bike popped off.  We fixed it, and kept going, but it popped off every five minutes or so.  After about the tenth time, we decided enough was enough.  I flagged down a truck, and the driver agreed to take us back to Jinghong.  We threw the bikes in the back on top of sacks of some sort of mineral or fertilizer, and joined the driver in the cab for a relatively short ride back to town.  When we got to town, I offered him money, which he refused.  (Payment is often expected for hitchhiking in China, but many people are too proud or overall too kindhearted to accept it.)  I put the money in his cup holder, and he didn’t complain.  We rode back through the town, and to our hostel, where we negotiated down the rental on the bikes.

We had an early bus the next day to the border of Laos, where we intended to go through the visa procedures and find a bus to [[Luang Prabang]], a town in Northern Laos.  At the second stop in Jinghong, an middle-aged American couple got on.  They were fairly loud and obnoxious, especially at such an early hour, and the bus got on its way.  On the bus, it became clear that it was heading into Laos, beyond the border, to a town called [[Louang Namtha|Luang Nam Tha]].  We discussed our options, and decided to ride with the bus, past the border to Luang Nam Tha.  After Mohan, the bus stopped at the China-Laos border, and we all got off to go through Chinese exit procedures and Lao entry procedures.  Ariane, myself, and a Danish girl named Eva, were the last three to go through, and it took us a significantly longer time than the rest of the bus.  Encouraged by the rest of the bus, all waiting for us, the middle-aged American couple ran back, not to tell us to do our best to get through as quickly as possible, but to warn us rather obnoxiously that if we didn’t get there NOW that they’d all leave without us.  We got through as quickly as we could, a bit miffed, and literally ran down to the bus, which proceeded to drive 5 minutes down a hill and then stop for lunch.

A few notes on [[Laos]]:  The name of the country is pronounced Lao, rhyming with ‘how now brown cow,’ without an ‘s’ at the end—the French added the silent ‘s’ to denote that the country had been made up of several kingdoms.  The adjectival form of Laos is not ‘Laotian’; rather, there are Lao people, a Lao language and culture, Lao development, and a Lao economy, etc.  The Lao people are, on the whole, fairly laid back, although with a quick view into Lao history or a visit to the Laos National Museum, it quickly becomes evident that there is still a bit of anti-colonial and anti-American sentiment.

Upon our arrival in Luang Nam Tha, it seemed that we might get stuck there overnight.  Two [[tuk-tuk]] drivers told us the next bus to Luang Prabang was on the following day.  We approached the ticket window, attempting to buy our tickets.  It was an odd feeling to have to communicate in broken English to get what we wanted, so used to being able to communicate in Chinese.  After a few frustrating moments (for me at least—Ariane claims to have understood fine), it became clear that there was a bus leaving right that very moment to Luang Prabang.  Amazed at our luck, and how smoothly things were going thus far, we quickly got our tickets, threw our things on the bus, and grabbed two seats in the back row.  Outside, a man was curled over vomiting on the ground.  He and his friend boarded the bus, and tried to sit next to us, but we directed them to the seats in front of them instead (a little afraid he might have to vomit again).  His eye was bandaged heavily, some lacerations on his face, and we suspected he’d recently been in some sort of accident, fight, or undergone some sort of operation.  In any case, he was shaking from the pain.  So, we offered him some Ibuprofen and a bottle of water, both of which he immediately grabbed and consumed without the slightest hesitation.

The bus ride was long, hot, crowded, and bumpy.  Picking two seats in the back row proved to have been a horrible decision as the bus hurled around curves in the darkness.  The bus had filled up, and sacks of rice and luggage piled the aisle.  In the five-seat back row, one seemingly well-dressed young Lao guy spread his legs and slept in two seats, leaving two older Lao men squished into the one center seat, pushing right up against me.  With all of the bumps and the heat, having another man’s leg pushed right up against mine, sweating, was just one more factor of my overall discomfort.  Ariane didn’t have it much better, and we were both fairly irritated.  Out the window, it seemed as if jungle went on in every direction, as endless as the bus ride itself.  At every stop, we asked “Luang Prabang?”, to which the Lao men gave us a sign of affirmation.  We stupidly grabbed our bags and lugged them over the rice sacks off the bus, asking the driver, “Luang Prabang?”, to which we got an initial sign of affirmation, then a hand waving ahead down the road, signifying that “yes, we are indeed on the way to Luang Prabang,” but that this was not it.  We got back on the bus, and after several more hours of the hellish ride and several more false alarms, finally began to  see colonial-looking houses, and realized we were actually getting close.

The bus stopped at 2:30am and emptied into the station, which it turned out was in fact Luang Prabang.  We had been on a bus nearly nonstop since 6:30am the previous day, 20 hours prior.  We were tired, hot, sore, and, on the whole, irritated.  A man approached us, offering a tuk-tuk.  I was at first a bit hesitant, as one should be when offered a taxi or other local transport in a station, but our options seemed limited.  We got on his tuk-tuk, and told him the name of a hotel.  He said we had to pay 100,000 Kip upfront.  Unfamiliar with the currency, I still knew that we were probably getting ripped off.  I started to haggle with him, and completely tired and irritated, Ariane gave me a look, and said “is it really the time to haggle?”  So, we paid the man, and went on our way, not realizing at the time how much we were actually getting ripped off.

The tuk-tuk dropped us off at the guesthouse, which it seemed was closed.  As a matter of fact, it seemed that everything in town was closed.  We knocked on the door, but no one answered.  A little confused as to what to do, we looked back at our tuk-tuk, which immediately took off, leaving us at the closed guesthouse, strapped with all of our luggage and backpacking gear.  So, we walked through the town, stopping at each guesthouse, each which seemed to be closed.  Down an alley, we found one guesthouse with a sign that read, “closed door at midnight, customers inquire at door to the left with reception.”  To the left, we found no reception, but tried the door anyway, which was locked (and turned out was a guest’s room).  By that door, however, there was another sign, which read, “please knock on door to the left with window-Thank you”, to which I responded, “It’s a riddle!”  Ariane, looking around, spotted a door with a cloth flap-covered window.  We approached it, and I said, “here?”  Looking up, we saw another sign that said “HERE”.  Then, in true Wizard of Oz style, a tired Lao man popped is head through the window and said, “helloooo…”.  Ariane asked if they had any rooms, and he responded, “ohh…  no, we full…”.  We looked at each other, and then asked if there were any other places around there, and he said he’d call his friend, which he did.  Unfortunately, his friend did not answer, but he gave us directions anyway.  We got to his friend’s guesthouse, knocked on the door, and another tired Lao man answered.  It looked like a nice place, but we agreed that after such a long, uncomfortable day, and with few or no other options, we deserved it.  The room, as it turned out, was only slightly more expensive than our overpriced tuk-tuk ride, and we showered and went to bed.

[Since this is only the very first part of our trip, and I’ve already written far too much, I’ll call it quits for now, for your sake and for mine.  The next segment will come later.  I’ve already posted photos, and by the time I finish writing about this trip, I’m sure there will be something new to write about!]