The boat rolled down the calm river as we played all manor of parlour games on board. I would have done everything to escape the hard wooden seats, as it seems would most of the passengers. On occasion, some people would would turn away to take a photo of the jungle. It seemed this happened more and more as we got deeper and deeper down the river. It was obvious to every dreamer on that boat,that this was going to be their true jungle experience and every preconception they had of what dense, prehistoric rainforest should be was now right in front of their eyes. This was the same for me. I had always envisioned the rainforest as and entanglement of vines, vibrant green trees and lost villages made from bamboo. This is what I beheld as we cruised further.
We were on our way to a town called Pakbang. The boat master said it was about six hours ride from where we embarked. The heat was getting to me now as the mid April sun bore down on the scorched Earth. April and May in Laos are the hottest months by far, they are the dry months before he monsoon starts. Temperatures can reached up to forty five and before a storm it can be 100% humid. During this time of year the old crop are burned to make way for new growth during the monsoon. This leads to the region being engulfed by a thin veil of smoke for the duration of the burning period. Afterwards, like a green phoenix rising from the ashes, the whole of Northern Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam and the Southern Chinese province of Yunnan erupt in a sea of green agriculture. This region is where most of the worlds’ rice is grown and it is evident in the tiered hills and valleys.
I decided to open my bottle of $3 Lao Lao whiskey and have a silent toast to making it this far from home. I didn’t know anyone from back home who were even aware of Laos existence, let alone visiting the country. I think that is a crying shame. First of all, Laos is a country of magnificent beauty and the calm solitude of it green mountains are a sight to behold, each one juts above the jungle canopy in different shapes, with a seemingly impossible geology, the rock struggling to escape above the tree line. I believe Laos is a forgotten natural treasure. Places like Ecuador and Indonesia are always heralded for this, as are Costa Rica and New Zealand. Laos deserves to be up there with these stunning countries with it’s awe-inspiring landscape. The second reason people should be aware of Laos is that the human race has not yet figured out how to travel backwards in time. Having always been fascinated by the ancient orient it would be convenient if someone could kindly do so, but anyone wanting to experience how people lived in Asia hundreds of years ago need only set foot in Laos. I am not saying that Laos is a backward country, just a simplistic one. Most of the economy is based on agriculture and the farming methods are old fashioned at best. All manor of vegetation and crops are grown in the rich soil here, as is evident from the fresh fruit and vegetables available in the markets. The mangoes are a special delicacy in this part of the world. At a few points on the boat trip, I saw elephants, yes elephants, ploughing the steep fields!This will bring me nicely to where the modern world interjects into this peaceful scene.
The boat rounded the last curve before Pakbang, as we pulled into port I realised we would be climbing one of those steep Laotian hills as it approached in the distance. I could see a small, man made island where i assumed we would dock. As we pulled closer I saw dozens of children eagerly anticipating our exit from the boat. We landed and I gathered my bag and jumped off onto the tiny blue floats where all the other tourists were standing. I noticed the children, far from being interested in the tourists, were grabbing at the bottles and crisps and other items in everybody’s bags. A word to the wise when you are travelling through places like this. Don’t assume that these people have never seen westerners before, they have. It is a foolish middle class tale of those who go travelling on the backpacking routes around Asia and run into people who have never seen a white person before; in this day and age there are not many places where that is still true. So in places like Pakbang, who get one shipment of bewildered tourists every couple of days, people will make you feel welcome, but also they need your money. Don’t begrudge them for this attitude,after all you don’t see boats full of rich Laotians on Oxford canals every day. After giving away the rest of my Coca Cola and crisps (I was highly amused at the enthusiasm with which my Coca Cola was received) I followed the boat master to my room. Walking up the hill was a drag, in the midsummer heat I was swimming in my clothes as it was. We came to the top and me, JB (crazy Aussie) and Neils (Danish Genius) were ushered into a gated hotel. I say hotel in the lightest sense of the word. The whole thing was constructed from plywood and bamboo. There was a bar further back which opened out on to a terrace looking out over the Mekong and the rolling hills beyond. My room consisted of a weak fan, a bed and a mosquito net, but I have to say the deprivation was made up for by the location. Pakbang itself was a tiny little village in the middle of nowhere. It was only accessible via the river so the location was definitely remote. Even so it was not difficult to see the influences Western culture exerted in this place. No sooner had we left the small hotel complex than we were approached by a young guy, around fifteen, offering an array of narcotic delicacies. Everything from weed to opium, LSD to ecstasy it was all on offer. We politely declined the drugs and ironically swigged the bottles of Mekong whisky we had. I guess that was the acceptable poison for the evening.
It was getting dark by the time we got hungry. The smoky sun set over the chocolate river, melting it away into darkness and the silhouettes of the ragged hills. As it got darker, the human life of the town seemed to fall into a slumber, whilst the smaller creatures woke to life. Chirping, rustling, hooting and buzzing were the soundtracks of the evening. If you listened closely you could pick up the distant shriek of a howler monkey swooping through the canopy. We walked towards the main street of Pakbang via the uneven dirt road. An occasional moped flew by accompanied by one, two or three passengers. They seemed very curious of us, crudely walking down the street holding a bottle of whisky. We must have looked pretty bewildered, this being the most exotic corner of the planet either one of us had ever strolled into in our young lives. I don’t think any experience will ever again breach as far into my memory. It was a totally alien world when you stopped to look around. Where I come from greyscale is the predominant colour scheme, with smatterings of green where the council can be bothered to maintain. Here the soil was red and fertile and the overarching trees hung like reapers in the night. Although the town was populated, the area was barely touched by humanity and any battle that was happening for territory was clearly being won by nature. But there was a calmness to the town, a stillness that seemed undisturbed even with the arrival of modernity.
We found a small restaurant which was the only place left open in town. I had deliberately turned my phone off to lose track of the time so I assumed it was late. I was given a menu by the sweet old lady running the place. It looked to me like she would be cooking too, so I gave her an extra big smile to make sure she liked me. Looking through the menu I noticed “Laos Buffalo Curry”. Wow. I had never tried buffalo before, so I ordered. I must say buffalo meat, although very gamey, is succulent and delicious. I’m not sure whether it was the way she cooked it in the curry but the meat seemed to melt in the mouth. I was a fan. We paid and were about to leave when the sweet lady came running out holding something. When she opened her hands to reveal chicks I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, because my friend had just eaten their mother I think. It was chicks. I’m not sure why she wanted to show us, but it was entertaining nonetheless. When we left the restaurant we were again confronted by drug dealers, this time pushing their product a little more aggressively than before, sometimes following us down the street. I’m sure this is a typical annoyance that foreigners brought to the town, as the sleepy village didn’t seem like a pushers paradise.
I rounded the crest of the hill and the hotel came into view. At this moment, something became clear, well two things. The first was the reason for the gate in the hotel. I had seen it before I left, but wondered why it was needed in such a small village, but having seen who was around at night I had a different outlook on the residents’ security needs. It was clear that gangs run things around here. The second thing I realised was that the gate was in fact closed. This was an obvious hitch in my plan to get a good nights sleep so I set about solving the problem. It was covered in spines that ran its’ length so climbing over was not a possibility. I could see to the right a tree, which started on my side, but hung over the other. This was my chance! Now, the option I should have chosen, in hindsight, was to call out to the hotel guard, however, Mekong whiskey plays tricks on the mind, hence my conclusion was drawn. I shimmied up the tree and slowly but surely made my way over the gate. I could not fall now, if I did it would be a disastrous end to my travels. It didn’t help that I hadn’t climbed anything since I was in school, but again the whisky was some aid in distracting from such thoughts. I was nearly clear of the gate, just a couple more shimmies and I’d be able to drop safely a well deserved rest. It was at that point I felt a burning sensation on my hands. I wasn’t sure whether the whisky was accountable for this, or the climbing, but it was getting worse. I climbed further until I had a good grip on the tree, then wrapped my legs around it and then pulled my hand away to investigate. There were no street lights or lights in the hotel, but the moon and stars provided enough luminescence to see what it was on my hands, spreading to my arms. Ants. Big red ones. Evil, biting red ants. I was just clear of the gate so I leapt from the tree and landed safely in some bushes inside the hotel. Amusingly, the hotel bar was still very much open, so again, in hindsight, I didn’t really have to crawl through a stream of heaving warrior ants to get in, I could have just waited a few minutes. It’s moments like that when hindsight prepares you for future foresight. Having dealt with this ordeal, I went to get some sleep, I had a special event to wake for in the morning.
I woke in my bamboo hut early, it was far too hot to sleep when dawn arrived. It seemed as if the jungle had awoken too, the birds were especially active. But there were bigger creatures I was hoping were awake. The night before, I had been sitting in the bar with JB and Niels, talking all kinds of nonsense. We were having the kind of conversations that you only hear when you’re travelling. Musings about our individual countries and our observations of the world we had seen in Laos. Deep subjects like physics and politics, it all goes hand in hand with your own discovery of the planet. Whilst we were talking the subject of Asian elephants cropped up. Having all come from Chiang Mai, the subject was, unsurprisingly, fresh on our minds. A middle aged couple overheard our conversation and said that the hotel owner had mentioned some elephants were in the area and we may be able to see them at dawn by the river So there I was,waiting. A curious thing about the middle aged couple is that they were from Birmingham, where I am from. Very strange to be so close, yet so far from home. They joined for the show of course and we didn’t have to wait long. Breakfast of rice and Chinese cabbage had just arrived and everyone was waiting intently, eyes focused on the river banks. Suddenly, out of the trees, two men emerged, and surely enough, so did three elephants. They are majestic beasts, every movement slow and meaningful. they exert a kind of serenity that only a wise and ancient creature could. Unfortunately, elephants are also naïve. They are constantly harassed by humans, tortured and beaten, yet they still do not resist or attempt to escape, because they’re fed. In a way elephants are similar to Laos. It is an ancient and slow moving country, wise in its’ ways and old fashioned in lifestyle. Yet it is attempting to modernise, the pull of Western capitalism is too strong, no matter what the cost is to their way of life. Gangs, drugs and poverty are a way of life in Pakbang, but I can’t help but feel back when money wasn’t involved and the town was agrarian communist, these things just weren’t an issue. If you were to read up on Laotian history in the West, you would hear the same stories about communism, the same figures on poverty and the same bias. But we forget these figures for poverty are based on money alone, many people live without money in Laos, but still have food to eat. Yet Laos wanders naively into the clutches of money, just as the elephant wanders blindly into the clutches of man. This was a sobering thought, so I decided to just sit back and enjoy the view.
tkavtalk 