More on the Boat Ride
When we were floating down the Mekong River yesterday, we almost passed up Luang Prabang altogether. Full of literary allusions and stories of old explorers, we expected to see the golden spire of Wat Chieng Meng and alight on the tip of the peninsula that forms the city. But by our fourth day on the river, and lots of paddling, we'd decided to have a few drinks of Laolao to celebrate finishing our trip. Our boat made pinwheels on the mighty Mekong, swaying in the current. We passed many golden spires before paddling hard through the current to shore, only to find ourselves to far downstream. We had to paddle against the current to dock against one of the Mekong freighters.
It was a fitting way to end our journey in a boat named "Seeker" in Sanskrit. Back in Nong Khiaw, we used Zander's knife to carve out the symbol and then christened it with a spray of Laolao.
Our boat was long, narrow and swift, and apparently a hot item now that the big rains are about to come. The fishing is going to get good and everyone wanted to buy our boat. Nobody could understand why two crazy farang would buy a fishing boat and take four days to paddle to Luang Prabang when we could have made the bus ride in 8 hours.
Our first day on the river, a motorboat pulled alongside us and an energetic young schoolteacher named Cham boarded our boat and insisted that we stay in his village. The people who live along the river are naturals at boating and fishing, and Cham could paddle faster with his sandals than we could with our oars.
My memories of that first night in his village: the game of takraw outlined in the dirt between bamboo huts, Cham's parents crouched by the cooking fire, twenty schoolkids and adults huddled by the light of a small kerosene lamp examining our pictures. We ate Lao family-style with Cham, his parents and his older brother. Bamboo soup, spicy jeow, sticky rice, boiled chicken and fried water buffalo, a real treat. Afterwards, a half dozen men stopped by to partake in the Laolao.
Our friend Marco in Nong Khiaw had strongly encouraged us to take the Laolao, and now I realize that it acts as a strong social lubricator. We all took our customary two shots, and afterwards, Cham took us by the local cinemas.
In a town this small, where very few people have electricity, there are three 'cinemas', houses with TVs where villagers pay a 500 kip (5 cent) entry fee to watch television.
The voices of Cham's family lulled me to sleep under the mosquito netting. I woke up in the witching hours needing to pee and found myself bewildered by the bamboo bars holding the front door shut. I finally managed to stumble out to a tree and then back to bed. For many, the undergrowth near the river is the local toilet.
Our first two nights on the river were homestays and it was a great way to stay with families and learn a little of the language. We've been incredibly fortunate to get off the beaten path in this way. It's very strange to be in Luang Prabang now. As beautiful as it is, even in low season all of the restaurants on the main street are full of farang and so are all the internet cafes.
It was a fitting way to end our journey in a boat named "Seeker" in Sanskrit. Back in Nong Khiaw, we used Zander's knife to carve out the symbol and then christened it with a spray of Laolao.
Our boat was long, narrow and swift, and apparently a hot item now that the big rains are about to come. The fishing is going to get good and everyone wanted to buy our boat. Nobody could understand why two crazy farang would buy a fishing boat and take four days to paddle to Luang Prabang when we could have made the bus ride in 8 hours.
Our first day on the river, a motorboat pulled alongside us and an energetic young schoolteacher named Cham boarded our boat and insisted that we stay in his village. The people who live along the river are naturals at boating and fishing, and Cham could paddle faster with his sandals than we could with our oars.
My memories of that first night in his village: the game of takraw outlined in the dirt between bamboo huts, Cham's parents crouched by the cooking fire, twenty schoolkids and adults huddled by the light of a small kerosene lamp examining our pictures. We ate Lao family-style with Cham, his parents and his older brother. Bamboo soup, spicy jeow, sticky rice, boiled chicken and fried water buffalo, a real treat. Afterwards, a half dozen men stopped by to partake in the Laolao.
Our friend Marco in Nong Khiaw had strongly encouraged us to take the Laolao, and now I realize that it acts as a strong social lubricator. We all took our customary two shots, and afterwards, Cham took us by the local cinemas.
In a town this small, where very few people have electricity, there are three 'cinemas', houses with TVs where villagers pay a 500 kip (5 cent) entry fee to watch television.
The voices of Cham's family lulled me to sleep under the mosquito netting. I woke up in the witching hours needing to pee and found myself bewildered by the bamboo bars holding the front door shut. I finally managed to stumble out to a tree and then back to bed. For many, the undergrowth near the river is the local toilet.
Our first two nights on the river were homestays and it was a great way to stay with families and learn a little of the language. We've been incredibly fortunate to get off the beaten path in this way. It's very strange to be in Luang Prabang now. As beautiful as it is, even in low season all of the restaurants on the main street are full of farang and so are all the internet cafes.
posted by Franz K at 6:56 AM
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