![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mattbellI met a Scottish woman in Laos who is also blogging her trip around the world. We spent a few days together exploring Luang Prabang along with her friend Ambreen.
Now I can be lazy and quote her since she wrote up our shared experiences before I did.
You can read her various writings at miriam-thisflighttonight.blogspot.com . Apparently I'm in a polyamorous cult.
Moving along. Friday, me and Matt intended to rent a motorcycle to explore the forest around Luang Prabang. Much more difficult for tourists to rent a moto here than in Thailand or Vietnam, and much more bloody expensive, but we did our research the day before.
After getting supplies at the market, we went to a place down the road which featured a litter of kittens and another litter of puppies wobbling around the garage. We hired a bike for 15 USD, removed several kittens from the helmets and hit the road.
We got as far as the next block when we realised that neither the fuel gauge nor the speedometer worked. We went back, informed the lady at the garage via hand gestures and wild miming actions. She gave us the other bike, which took us as far as the town limits before it inexplicably refused to start. By then it was late morning and hardly worth the money, so we took bike #2 back to garage, got our money back and observed the kittens and puppies a bit more.
Plan B involved bicycles. There's this little town across the river from Luang Prabang that was rumoured to be tour-group backpacker-free (much like the hotel Sara spotted in India that advertised itself as 'infection free"). We rented two from a place by the market and headed for the dock, where we got a lift across the river by a very nice bloke in a Tintin t-shirt for 30,000 Kip.
The vibe on the other side was immediately different. There were no tourists at all, and the roads weren't paved. We could've done with proper mountain bikes since the paths out of the village and through the forest were rough, but we managed.
After exploring a strange burned and abandoned house in the forest, we came to a working monastery, where we met Oo, a 10yr-old boy who held the key to the caves along the path. We bought tickets from him and left our bikes with his friend (I know, this is sounding dodgy but it works out fine, you'll see). I got a complimentary pink flower to stick in the random assortment of hair knotted on top of my head ("Booo-tee-ful!", said one of the kids.), and Oo, armed with a torch, led us to the caves.
The cave entrance was surrounded with crumbling stone carvings, and contained the remnants of ancient Buddhist sculpture salvaged from the sacking of a temple. There were several partially smashed Buddha statues, including a headless one, and in a lower cave a group of statues rescued from the fire which resembled a row of charred corpses.
We left Oo with a firm handshake and a large tip, and headed further along the path, where we found the remains of a monastery in a forest clearing. The place had a distinctly Blair Witch feeling, silent with bundles of twigs lying around, and orange robes hanging in the trees. The main wat was covered in elaborate art, inside as well as out.
When we collected our bikes from Oo's friend and returned to the shore, our boat guy spotted us and zoomed across in his longboat to give us a lift home. We handed him the bikes on the other side, and he went looking around for the little gang plank so I could get out. I told him not to worry about it and stepped into the few centimeters of water (or as Matt put it, I just had to prove to the guy that I didn't need to be all first-world about it and use the gang plank), and immediately sunk to my knees in Mekong mud. Got out though, so it's ok.
We cackled over my intimate acquaintance with the Mekong while wandering through the night market with Ambreen. The night market is beautiful, perfect bundles of scarves, baskets, clothes and carvings under red tents. The activity of the place is set against an unusual silence. Lao people don't raise their voices or make much noise, and I think the fabric muffles the noise even further.
I've shared a room with Ambreen and Ann for the last three nights, and we've dispersed today. It's Ambreen's 35th birthday, and I'm meeting her and Matt at L'Etranger this evening, a bookshop/cafe on the other side of the market which does some very nice Lao-with-everything fusion food.
Now I can be lazy and quote her since she wrote up our shared experiences before I did.
You can read her various writings at miriam-thisflighttonight.blogspot.com . Apparently I'm in a polyamorous cult.
Moving along. Friday, me and Matt intended to rent a motorcycle to explore the forest around Luang Prabang. Much more difficult for tourists to rent a moto here than in Thailand or Vietnam, and much more bloody expensive, but we did our research the day before.
After getting supplies at the market, we went to a place down the road which featured a litter of kittens and another litter of puppies wobbling around the garage. We hired a bike for 15 USD, removed several kittens from the helmets and hit the road.
We got as far as the next block when we realised that neither the fuel gauge nor the speedometer worked. We went back, informed the lady at the garage via hand gestures and wild miming actions. She gave us the other bike, which took us as far as the town limits before it inexplicably refused to start. By then it was late morning and hardly worth the money, so we took bike #2 back to garage, got our money back and observed the kittens and puppies a bit more.
Plan B involved bicycles. There's this little town across the river from Luang Prabang that was rumoured to be tour-group backpacker-free (much like the hotel Sara spotted in India that advertised itself as 'infection free"). We rented two from a place by the market and headed for the dock, where we got a lift across the river by a very nice bloke in a Tintin t-shirt for 30,000 Kip.
The vibe on the other side was immediately different. There were no tourists at all, and the roads weren't paved. We could've done with proper mountain bikes since the paths out of the village and through the forest were rough, but we managed.
After exploring a strange burned and abandoned house in the forest, we came to a working monastery, where we met Oo, a 10yr-old boy who held the key to the caves along the path. We bought tickets from him and left our bikes with his friend (I know, this is sounding dodgy but it works out fine, you'll see). I got a complimentary pink flower to stick in the random assortment of hair knotted on top of my head ("Booo-tee-ful!", said one of the kids.), and Oo, armed with a torch, led us to the caves.
The cave entrance was surrounded with crumbling stone carvings, and contained the remnants of ancient Buddhist sculpture salvaged from the sacking of a temple. There were several partially smashed Buddha statues, including a headless one, and in a lower cave a group of statues rescued from the fire which resembled a row of charred corpses.
We left Oo with a firm handshake and a large tip, and headed further along the path, where we found the remains of a monastery in a forest clearing. The place had a distinctly Blair Witch feeling, silent with bundles of twigs lying around, and orange robes hanging in the trees. The main wat was covered in elaborate art, inside as well as out.
When we collected our bikes from Oo's friend and returned to the shore, our boat guy spotted us and zoomed across in his longboat to give us a lift home. We handed him the bikes on the other side, and he went looking around for the little gang plank so I could get out. I told him not to worry about it and stepped into the few centimeters of water (or as Matt put it, I just had to prove to the guy that I didn't need to be all first-world about it and use the gang plank), and immediately sunk to my knees in Mekong mud. Got out though, so it's ok.
We cackled over my intimate acquaintance with the Mekong while wandering through the night market with Ambreen. The night market is beautiful, perfect bundles of scarves, baskets, clothes and carvings under red tents. The activity of the place is set against an unusual silence. Lao people don't raise their voices or make much noise, and I think the fabric muffles the noise even further.
I've shared a room with Ambreen and Ann for the last three nights, and we've dispersed today. It's Ambreen's 35th birthday, and I'm meeting her and Matt at L'Etranger this evening, a bookshop/cafe on the other side of the market which does some very nice Lao-with-everything fusion food.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-28 05:49 am (UTC)You don't seem to be denying it ;-)
Oo
Date: 2009-02-28 07:19 am (UTC)Perhaps when he's the Prime Minister of the SE Asian super-nation of the future we'll try to get an appointment by reminding his secretary's secretary's secretary's receptionist's assistant that we gave him a rather nice tip that time.
I meant to save the flower that the little girl gave me, but forgot it in my haste to leave that awful guesthouse.