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!]
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