Laos Part III: Trek and Village Stay in Luang Prabang

Having crashed early on Sunday night, we were up early on Monday morning. We set off to find a place for breakfast and stumbled upon a vibrant morning/vegetable market. Organized on a small street, people had set up their wares on straw mats on either side of the street. The variety and colors of the goods available was quite impressive. From the market we wandered a bit more eventually settling in at a cafe on the Mekong.

After a quick bite, we headed back to the guesthouse, where we were to be picked up for our trek. On the way back, we stopped at a small wicker shop that had small rattan balls that are popular for soccer. Though we didn't buy anything, the wrinkled old men behind the counter were extremely friendly. If we hadn't already booked the trek we certainly would have accepted their invitation to visit their village and drink "lao-lao" (homemade whiskey).

Catching a van at the guesthouse, we left Luang Prabang town and headed for the countryside. The scenery changed dramatically within a few kilometers: we were suddenly in the midst of lush green limestone hills. After a beautiful and winding drive of half an hour, we were dropped off in a village, where we were greeted by a group of smiling kids in the cab of a truck. A short walk through some tall grasses later and we ended up on the banks of a small but swift river, which we crossed via wooden longboat. Once on the other side, we started our ascent, first to a Hmong village and eventually to a Kmu village.

On the way, our guide pointed out unusual insects and a plant that you could use to blow bubbles. It worked even better than most bubble wands that you buy for that purpose (believe me, I liked bubbles as a kid). Despite the heat, and the climb, the scenery was beautiful. Everything was incredibly lush, save the plots of land that were being stripped and burned for farming.

Side note: throughout the trip it was weird to see deforestation in the context that we did. Usually, when I think deforestation, I think of the big and powerful logging companies or individuals, and not the farmers who are just trying to eke out a living. As tough as it was to see so much barren land, it was hard not to feel at least a bit of sympathy for the people who worked tirelessly to clear it just for the sake of self-sufficiency and without realizing the negative impact that it has.

Just before reaching the Hmong village, we stopped for a delicious lunch: fresh spring rolls, sticky rice, steamed fish wrapped in banana leaves, and a good mixture of things that tasted a bit like salsa which we ate with the sticky rice. The Hmong village was very small and quite poor though nestled in a beautiful area of the mountains. We stopped at a stand where they were selling handicrafts, bought a few things, and chatted with the villagers a bit through our guide.

Moving on toward the Kmu village, we spent quite a bit of time hiking through dense, damp bamboo forests. At several points, we had to walk through the mud on rods of bamboo and, of course, I had a misstep which covered half of my shoe in my mud. Though unfortunate, I was far luckier than Shanti, who slipped off a piece of bamboo and got her entire shoe stuck in the mud.

Shortly thereafter we got to the Kmu village, a fairly large village with about eighty stilted wood and thatch huts in an incredibly serene setting. After wandering around the village, playing with some cute kids, we crashed in our stilted wooden hut with mattresses on the floor, mosquito net around us. I woke up before Shanti, so I took a journal outside and half started to write an entry and half played with the kids around me: a young girl in particular, who was shy but enjoyed playing hide and seek, and a baby boy, who was pudgy and adorable, especially as he splashed around in his wash bin. He was incredibly content in my arms.

We had a decent dinner of sticky rice and vegetable soup (definitely too many veggies for my liking) and then things got a bit weird. Our guide got a big jug of lao-lao (whiskey) and started passing shots around with a handful of the village watching, not unlike one would drink rice wine in rural Cambodia. Nothing too unusual about that. But when young boys, who looked like they were six or seven, were lured to the table with candy and all but forced to drink some whiskey, it made Shanti and I quite uncomfortable. At first, we thought it might be a cultural thing, so we didn't say anything. As a second round of shots started to go around and as our guide was calling on these young boys to sing we had had enough. We told our guide that we didn't think the children should drink, but he didn't seem to pay attention. I grabbed the glass after he placed it in front of one of the boys, taking the shot myself (I feat I repeated a few times), before I tried to offer some to our guide. He just looked at me, smiled and said "No drink, no smoke." At that, Shanti and I went to bed, assuming (rightly so), that without us around, the party would end.

Back in bed we talked about how uncomfortable we both were, how terrible it was that alcohol that was probably paid for with our money was going to children, and what we could have done differently and what we could do the next day. After a long, frustrating conversation, we went to sleep.

The village in the morning was beautiful, as the sun rose over the limestone cliffs in the distance and piglets ran about. We had a quiet, beautiful, and uneventful two-hour hike to a river where we caught a longboat back to where we were dropped off the day before. Our captains were both cute, toothless, cigarette-smoking old men who guided us down the river for another hour and a half or so.

As we caught a van back to Luang Prabang, I confronted our guide about the night before, asking him why he "No drink, no smoke." We also tried to explain that the happenings had made us very uncomfortable but our efforts were fruitless, largely because of the guide's mediocre English. Unsure if our experience was typical, we thought it prudent to talk to the travel agency we booked through (assuming that if it was unusual, they would want to know).

Our experience there, however, was one of the most frustrating imaginable. As we recounted our experience to the person we booked through and another guy, we got blank stares. We explained that the event made us very uncomfortable, that we abhorred the fact that our money went to purchase alcohol for children, and that this was in no way the kind of tourism we wanted to support. The guy we were talking to could see absolutely nothing wrong with our trip, even defending the actions of the guide and explaining that this was "part of their program." If it was part of their program, who enjoyed it? Were people just too timid to speak up about it? Angry, frustrated, and understanding that we weren't going to get anywhere, we stormed off resolving to do the only things we could: tell Shanti's influential friend in Vientiane, Jacqui, what happened, and encourage all of our friends that go to Luang Prabang to spend a few extra dollars on going to a travel agency that focuses on eco-tourism or community development. Though the bulk of our trip was quite lovely, we certainly would have shelled out a bit more money to have avoided the experience of the night before.

Laos Part II: Luang Prabang

First things first: I have finally found the time to post pictures from our trip to Laos. Now on to Luang Prabang...

Flanked by two rivers, the Mekong and the Nam Khan, and surrounded by lush green, and sharp limestone mountains, the setting for Luang Prabang is tough to top. In 1995, the town of about 25,000 became a UNESCO World Heritage Site, ensuring that its historic collection of temples as well as buildings featuring colonial French architecture would be preserved. That it is a World Heritage Site, means it has become very touristy, even in the off-season (I can't imagine it during peak time), but it has managed to retain an incredible amount of charm.

Anyways, on Sunday morning, Shanti and I caught a tuk-tuk from Jacqui's house to the airport to set off for Luang Prabang. After an uneventful, but bumpy flight on a small prop plane, we arrived. Taking a pickup into town, we dropped off our stuff at a cute guesthouse recommended by a friend, and began wandering toward our lunch destination, where we planned to meet my boss and his wife (also in town on vacation). We walked down narrow side streets, not even wide enough for cars, but vibrant with shops, people, and greenery. Though we found my boss, we were unable to find the restaurant (we later found out it was closed on Sunday). We did, however, end up having a tasty, if not slightly overpriced meal at one of the restaurants right along the Mekong.

From lunch, Shanti and I set out to try to figure out what we wanted to do for the next two days. Though Luang Prabang was wonderful, it is perhaps best known as a launching off point for trekking, village stays, trips to waterfalls, etc. After much debate, we settled on a two-day trek and village stay (more on that in my next entry) and continued to wander around Luang Prabang.

We spent a little bit of time going to a couple of Luang Prabang's thirty-two wats (temples), some of which date back to the 1500s. At one of the wats, we even caught a young monk by surprise as he was doing a headstand. Before I could snap a picture though, he darted off with a sheepish smile. As the sun began to set, we headed up Phu Si, a hill that rises 300 feet above town and offers fantastic views of the surrounding area. Some 250 steps lead to the top of the hill through forest and flowers and past various temple structures. The view was indeed amazing, not only because of its sheer beauty, but because of its lush color and apparently pristine state. After Phnom Penh, it was so refreshing to be somewhere replete with natural beauty, yet also equipped with an appreciation for that beauty.

Traversing down the other side of Phu Si, we came upon the other side of Luang Prabang along the Nam Khan. It was decidedly quieter, less touristy, and more authentic feeling than the Mekong side of town. We sat for a few minutes, watching young children fish and swim in the water, and an older man shape the frame of a wooden longboat.

Heading down an alley past food stalls and families enjoying the cool early evening, we emerged in the middle of Luang Prabang's night market as it was being set up. It was so clean, organized, and spacious (both in terms of size and ease of walking down the aisles) that it made Cambodia's markets look quite deplorable. The variety of the goods available, as well as the range of colors, was simply remarkable. Because everything was so beautiful, particularly the silks, we wandered back to our guesthouse a bit slower than anticipated, but vowed not to buy anything until after a short rest and shower.

Cleaned and refreshed, we set back out for the market, which was now basking in the light of paper mache lamps and other bare bulbs under red tents. Everything was so vibrant! As we were wandering through, we stumbled upon an alley with small food stalls. We passed steaming piles of sticky rice, fresh and fried spring rolls, and a variety of soups and meats. Starving, I grabbed a few spring rolls (they were a bit greasy, but quite delicious).

Once we had collected a few gifts and souvenirs, we treated ourselves to a Lao-style massage. It was kind of an odd time to get one, about 6:30pm, but we were ready to enjoy the fact that we were on vacation. The one hour massage, $4, was incredible and we stumbled back outside somewhat disoriented and ready to go to sleep. Though we had planned on going out for a nice dinner, we were too beat from the massage. So as we left the market, we stopped at a row of sandwich shops and got one of the most delicious (and cost effective) meals of our trip: a baguette filled with grilled chicken, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, a bit of mayonnaise, and a healthy dose of sweet chili sauce, all for just over $1. It was so good, we grabbed the same thing on our way to the airport when we left Luang Prabang two days later.

Laos Part I: Vientiane

On Friday evening Shanti and I landed in quiet but quaint capital of Laos, Vientiane. We were met at the airport by a friend's taxi driver who took us immediately to her house, a few miles outside of town and ideally located right on a bend in the Mekong. It was a beautifully remodeled traditional Laos house made completely of wood and decorated with wicker furniture, woven baskets, and so on. Even better though, was the view west, perfect for sunsets, across the Mekong and into Thailand.

Though our friend, Jacqui, (in actuality she is someone that Shanti has worked with) was not around, we were met by her cook/maid, San, who greeted us quite warmly and rather humorously, assumed we were fluent in Laos; she just rambled on while Shanti and I looked at her bewildered. Even once she came to realize we didn't understand what she was saying, she'd rattle things off at a mile a minute and once finished, would inevitably chuckle.

Before dinner, we walked down the dirt path along the river in either direction for a bit and, because it was late afternoon, there were a good amount of people out exercising. It felt safe, it was clean, and just seemed so much more put together than so much of Cambodia. We returned to the house by dusk and were greeted with an enormous traditional Laos meal, a mushroom soup, a salad, and a delicious lemongrass chicken dish. After a bit of reading and relaxing, Jacqui came in and we caught up a bit and crashed for the evening.

We awoke the next morning to an absolute downpour. Not the ideal weather for biking around town as we had planned. We tried to wait it out, but it just coming, so we shared a tuk-tuk (a brilliant concept that should be adopted in Cambodia) into town to rent bicycles anyways. We ended up with bikes perhaps even cooler than the one I had for my ride in Kampong Cham: mine was neon yellow and green and, of course had a basket in the front and Shanti's was so rusted that the color was unidentifiable.

We set off with no particular destination in mind (not the best plan in a downpour) and after five minutes and a thorough soaking, we ended up in front of the Lao National Museum, the perfect rainy day destination. The size of the museum was rather small, but it's scope impressive: from dinosaur bones found in Laos to modern day. The contents were mainly focused on 500AD to about 1200AD, though there were significant exhibits on the colonial era and on modern history (mostly deploring the "American imperialists and their lackeys" and extolling the virtues of communism).

Though the rain showed no signs of letting up, we continued on our way, going to a few of the temples in downtown (a term I'm using very loosely for a town with a few big streets and no traffic). Most dated to the 18th or 19th century and were fairly well maintained as well as absolutely beautiful. They were not dissimilar to Khmer temples, except that they were cleaner, in better shape and featured a drum tower, usually a few stories tall, which Khmer temples do not.

Temporarily templed out, we stopped for lunch near Nam Phu, a trendy and touristy part of town with narrow side streets and tasty cafes. By the time we finished, the rain had all but stopped and we went to the impressive Wat Si Sisaket, the original home of the Emerald Buddha (which now resides in the Royal Palace complex in Thailand). What made the temple so interesting was that there were hundreds of niches built into all of the walls, each of which contained at least two Buddha statues, leading to a total of several thousand statues.

From Wat Si Sisaket, we headed for Patuxay, the Arc de Triumphe of the East on the Champs d'Elysee of the East. From afar, Patuxay and the surrounding gardens are gorgeously out of place, appearing to belong in France or Italy. From closer up, though, it is possible to tell that the monument was never finished and it takes on a kind of ugly cement appearance. We paid the $0.35 to climb to the top nonetheless and it was well worth it. We had a fabulous view of the "city" and the surrounding hills from seven stories above the ground (it is quite possibly the tallest structure in Vientiane).

While walking around the surrounding gardens and snapping a few pictures, we were approached by a young Laotian guy eager to practice his English. He asked how we were, how long we had been in Laos, where else we were going and so on. The highlight of the conversation though, and the only reason this story is worth repeating is that in the middle of our chat, he pointed from Shanti to me and back and asked, with a curious look, "Love you? Love you?" apparently asking what our relationship was to one another.

Setting off on our bicycles once more, we rode up to That Dam, a historic monument extremely important to Laos, but wholly underwhelming as a tourist attraction. We promptly left (after paying a premium to get in), returned our bicycles and wandered through the nearby market. The market, unlike those in Cambodia was clean, well-organized, and with wide enough walkways that you rarely had to push past anyone. The beauty of the silks (and the variety) was simply overwhelming.

We had some delicious Shanti-made gnocchi for dinner and, exhausted, called it quits for the day.

On Sunday morning, our last bit of worthwhile time in Vientiane, we walked with Jacqui along the dirt path for a few kilometers, passing beautiful wooden homes, fish farms and a few temples. The tempo, as with everywhere else in Vientiane, was markedly more relaxed than almost anywhere in Cambodia. After our walk and breakfast, we set off for Luang Prabang and northern Laos.

The Dog-Friendly Java Cafe

Just a quick side note folks: I'm going to be in Laos for the next nine days, so I won't be posting, but I hope to have some good stories upon my return.

This little number is going to be a two-for: a description of Java Cafe as well as a little anecdote related to Java.

Java Cafe, located just off of Hun Sen Park on Sihanouk Boulevard is an expat oasis. I learned about it early on in my time in Phnom Penh when I was looking for a job; several recommended it as a place to hang out, check e-mail (wireless Internet), and, in fact, many of my networking-type meetings were held at Java.

Unless you know exactly where it is though, it can be tricky to find, as it's down a small alley and up a somewhat hidden set of stairs. Walking up the stairs, you emerge onto a lush terrace, cooled by ceiling fans and shaded by a roof. There are plants hanging over tables and adjacent to the roof of the driving school below. The few outdoor tables are highly coveted and the frequent Java-goer knows to make a reservation in advance as, during lunch time, a table is hard to come by. Stepping past the outdoor tables and a magazine and newspaper rack, you enter the cafe itself, complete with fairly open spaces, comfortable wicker seating, and an ever-changing art exhibit adorning the walls.

The food, though a bit pricey (especially at night), is delicious. The salads, the burgers, the dinner entrees, everything that I've had there has been quite good. With some kind of a shake or a smoothie, it's hard to imagine a better or more idyllic meal. Because of the locale and the tasty western food, Java serves as an excellent escape from the hot, dirty, and often stinking streets of Phnom Penh. It is order in a country that is so often chaotic.

Now on to the anecdote. As I mentioned earlier, with our house sitting gig, we inherited a pet dog: Einstein. Being a progressive, western-style cafe, Java allows well-behaved dogs on the terrace and, as a result, Einstein's owners often bring him along for dinner or a drink. Our first night of house sitting, the house (and Einstein) owners took us out for dinner at Java with Einstein. Still back at the house, as soon as he heard the word "Java," Einstein went nuts, jumping around and eagerly running toward the door.

Arriving after a walk over, Einstein paraded upstairs like he owned the place. In a lot of ways, it seemed like he did. He received a warm greeting from the staff, who knows him well, and just as good service as any human patron. Water was promptly delivered for us as well as Einstein, and after ordering a round of drinks, we ordered dinner. With everyone ordered, the waitered sort of smiled and asked, "And the usual for Einstein?"

A few minutes later and Einstein's ears and eyes perked as a plate of bacon was brought over. Breaking the pieces into smaller bites, his parents fed him bit by bit, telling him to "take it easy" with every bite. While certainly an amusing spectre, on some levels we felt a bit guilty that, in a country in which not everyone can afford to eat meat on a regular basis that a pet dog was getting restaurant-made bacon. Despite the guilt, Shanti and I brought Einstein back to Java this past weekend to enjoy an afternoon of reading, iced tea and coffee and, yes, bacon.

Steve Goes to the Circus (Sort Of)

Three weeks ago I was in Boston for the weekend and the Barnum and Bailey Circus was in town. I joked with a few friends that it would be a lot of fun to spend a few of my limited hours in town at the circus. Now back in Phnom Penh, the circus is in town, and I’m going.

Cambodia’s “National School of Circus” (yes, that’s actually what it’s called) was performing in Phnom Penh. Our friend Pat, who I work with and who now volunteers at Aziza, suggested we check it out. For 3000 riels ($0.75) we really couldn’t go wrong.

Meeting our friend Wes, we tuk-tuked to the Chenla Theater in the western part of Phnom Penh which, ironically, is not an area that westerners tend to frequent. We arrived at a surprisingly attractive theater about twenty minutes before the show began and made our way to the ticket booth. Ready to fork over a few thousand riels for the tickets, we were shocked to find that the show was sold out. We skeptically added our name to the wait list and did just that, surrounded by a healthy mix of foreigners, Cambodians, kids, parents, and twenty somethings.

Ten minutes after the show began and still waiting outside, my name was called and we were finally able to purchase tickets. Unfortunately, we missed the “Opening Parade,” the “Solo Contortion” and most of the “Balance Act.” However, we were seated by the time the clowns came on. Let’s just say that it was a uniquely Cambodian clown performance (i.e. physical comedy in its most basic forms). The premise was that the clown was in fact a dentist and had a patient with a sore tooth. For the first few minutes of the performance the clown did everything but actually come near the sore tooth – he stood on top of the patient, chased him around with a drill, and even played proctologist, inserting an oversized hypodermic you know where. Makes sense for a circus geared towards kids, right? After much tomfoolery, the clown was able to extract an oversized sore tooth with an oversized wrench. While the Cambodian audience was eating it up, the ex-pats were either dumbfounded or horrified.

The clown was followed by a magician who, despite his nice suit with gold sequined trim, was mediocre at best. He did fairly standard scarf-in-hand type magic, though he did manage to pull a few chickens out of his hat (I don’t know that there are many doves in Cambodia…). The magician was succeeded by a hula hooper, who, in my opinion was the star of the show. She could flip hula hoops up from the ground and send them up and down her body, do six to eight at a time on various parts of her body (knees, hips, chest, arms), and concluded by spinning at least ten hoops around her waist at once, looking a lot like a slinky.

After the hula hooper and a team of jugglers, there was a “circus drama” performance depicting Khmer mythology intertwined with gymnastics and contortions. The story was that of Hanuman, a white monkey general who tries to rescue a princess by building a bridge across the ocean. The performance was fairly light, but certainly both captivating and entertaining. All in all, it was a great, cultural way to spend a few hours and not a lot of money. If they come back to town, I would definitely spend another evening as an audience member.

As Good As It Gets

A week ago Shanti and I moved into a new house. Don’t worry, we’re still paying rent to His Excellency, but we’ve got a temporary gig house sitting for one of my senior level coworkers while he and his wife go on leave to the U.S. It took little convincing to get us to agree to such an appealing favor.

The house is located on a quiet side street a block off of Sihanouk Boulevard and just a two minute bike ride from my office. Though it takes a skilled and steady hand to undo the lock on the gate (reach through a roughly cut hole in the metal gate up to your shoulder and fiddle with the padlock), those that can are rewarded handsomely. A stone driveway opens up to the house, surrounded by tropical looking plants and trees, including a mango tree that is now bearing fruit.

Entering the house, the lower floor is very open and largely unfurnished, save a couch and a worn pool table. The large and modernly-equipped main kitchen is down here as is the washing machine and some storage rooms. Walking up the cool, stone stairs, the first room you come upon is the main living area of the house. It is very well decorated with a mix of African and Asian art and beautiful and comfortable wood furniture. To the immediate left is a dining room table and straight ahead are two couches, two chairs, and two coffee tables. The room is beautifully lit with tall, silk lamps and dim overhead lights. It is an incredibly relaxing place to dine, work on a laptop, or curl up with a book (the selection of which leaves the book lover bewildered for lack of time). Just off this room is a small terrace replete with various potted, tropical looking plants which we have yet to take advantage of.

Turning left at the top of the stairway, you pass an office, a guest room, and a second kitchen, which serves more as a bar and snack center than a kitchen. Moving onwards and there is the master bedroom, with a tremendous amount of space despite large bureaus and a four post bed.

And then there is Einstein, the Ethiopian part dog, part wolf, all pet. At first glance, he is very intimidating: large, husky-like, ears pointed, and large teeth. Despite the menacing appearance, he is really sweet, following Shanti and I around the house, waking us up in the morning by jumping onto the bed and subsequently us, and greeting us warmly with a circular tail wag when we return home.

Even better than Einstein is the staff. Chandy is the cook and, along with one of her sisters, the cleaner for the house. She loves to cook and it shows. Since we arrived we have eaten like a king and a queen, with a mix of Khmer and western dishes ready for us when we come home for lunch or dinner. Her son, Visal, who accompanies her to work, is one of the cutest kids that I have ever seen. He’s eleven months old and has an incredibly expressive face which immediately recognizes me with a silly looking smile. He often reaches his arms out towards me asking to be held. I could sit and watch him for hours on end. Thea, the guard, is an interesting fellow. He’s probably just a few years older than Shanti or me, and very sharp.

Already, it feels like every day is a vacation to an extent. Most of our meals our made for us, the house is cleaned for us, the laundry is done for us (including ironing, thank goodness), and we’re left simply to enjoy. For all of the above reasons, the next five weeks are going to be simply delightful. Shanti even jokingly suggested that we cancel our trip to Laos to be able to stay put here. Are we a little guilty about being so young and having it so good? Of course. But are we going to take advantage of it while we can? Definitely.