20 - 27 april 2008


Farewell to Laos

Pakbeng is a fast growing village, situated in a curve of the Mekong in the north-western part of Laos . The last couple of years tourism is booming in this formerly deserted part of the country and the people benefit. Restaurants, shops and hotels are mushrooming everywhere. In four months, from August 2008, the village will be provided with around the clock electricity. At the moment power supply is from six until ten o'clock in the evening.
The first twenty kilometres north on road number 2 alongside the Nam Beng river leads through jungle and bamboo hamlets. We pass an elderly stooped woman with a thick green cigar in the corner of her mouth. She looks at us with an astonished expression on her face.
Just in time we avoid two tiny dung beetles, both rolling a small ball of goat dung to the side of the road. Then the landscape changes drastically: burnt jungle makes place for maize fields.
Under the stilted houses women weave at big wooden weaving machines, the land is cultivated by men, women and children.
It's hot, not only for us during the climb, but also for the local people. Men work half naked, children play nude in the river and grandmothers unashamedly walk with bare upper bodies in their gardens. Unfortunately for Peter the younger women are dressed decently, which is good otherwise he would cycle off the road.
In the village of Muang Houn we stop for the night. The old teak wooden hotel that has known better times, offers two stone hard beds, a lot of dust and no electricity. We eat foe, a traditional soup made from rice noodles and vegetables. Slowly we fall asleep, in the background there's the calming sound of a frog concert.

On our way to Oudomxai we peddle through fields of cassava, maize, pineapple, teak trees and melons. Many different tribes live in this area, of which we only recognise the Hmong and Tai Dam. Children greet us from far away with 'Sabaideee!' Women smoke small curved pipes, men are busy shredding tobacco leafs with their knives.
Dragonflies and butterflies whirl around us during the climbs, cicadas loudly announce our arrival.
We drink homemade juices with ice and the locals are great: they sit us down on their own chairs in the cooling shade.
Oudomxai turns out to be half Chinese; to our Laotian greeting of sabaidee people react with the Chinese nihao. Shops sell more Chinese products than Laotian. We're nearly in our next country.

In the local hospital we finally find a dentist to replace Peter's broken temporary crown. After paying the registration fee a nurse escorts us to the orthodontist, where for the umpteenth time during our journey fear cripples us. Two antiquated dentist chairs, no electrical equipment, no dentist lamp, no sterilizing machine, only some pliers and metal torture tools are at the disposal of the dentist, who seems to be as frightened to see us as we to see his practice. After a brief talk in broken English and shattered Lao we understand it’s not possible to replace the crown in Laos , because there is no laboratory. This means we have to wait until we reach the first major town in China .

In two days we cycle to Luang Namtha. Where for thousands of years wild jungle covered the mountains and hills, now vast plantations of rubber trees are standing, supplying the fast growing Chinese economy with rubber for truck tyres. This monoculture is a great threat to the ecosystem and causes erosion of the fertile land. In 2006 heavy rainfall, normally easily soaked up by the jungle, caused huge floods in and around Luang Namtha, and two people even drowned. The short term policy of fast financial rewards and satisfying the important northern neighbour has won from environment friendly ecotourism, where long-term results might be higher in the end.

Our first day off in Luang Namtha a heavy thunderstorm keeps the villagers and us inside. The streets are flooding and everything that's loose, and that's a lot in any Laotian village, flies through the air.
A bright green praying mantis escapes the drenching rain and takes cover next to our room. When we take a picture from up close, the insect right away assumes a defensive position.

The following day. All is quiet, the blue sky promises a bright and warm day. We decide to visit some of the authentic places before everything will be transformed into rubber plantations. Ten kilometres from new Luang Namtha is the old Luang Namtha, which was nearly destroyed during the Second Indochina War. Crossing red clay paths with a lot of stones we arrive at the famous old stupa that lies at the top of a hill. After climbing a long stairway we're a bit disappointed by the crumbling building, but the views of the village, surrounded by rice fields, is great.

After I've pulled a couple of stubborn leeches from my legs we cycle back to new Luang Namtha, where we take a right to Nam Dee. Three kilometres on a bumpy cobble stone road further we arrive at the village of a local Lanten tribe. Just like centuries ago they wear black and blue woven garments with colourful trimmings. The Lanten produce paper out of bamboo, by grinding the bamboo with water and stamping it to pulp. A woman smears the pulp on a large canvas stretched on a frame and hangs it in the sun to dry. She tries to sell us one of the readymade sheets of paper, but the thing measures one by one and a half metre. What can we use it for, make a sail for when we enjoy a tailwind?

It's about time to leave Laos , so we're on our way to China . The mercury is down, it rains and for the first time in many months we have to dig our raincoats from deep down in our bags. One downpour after the other slashes through the sky. The road is littered with newborn toads, smaller than a fingernail. We fully concentrate on zigzagging around them for three hours or so, to avoid robbing them of their ultra short lives. Still we wouldn’t dare to claim that we haven't accidentally killed one.

A yellow and black striped snake lies dead on the road and I perform my usual ritual: I cut off the less damaged part and take out the intestines in order to dry the beautiful skin. Peter doesn’t really appreciate that I actually perform the operation with the knife we also use for cutting bread and vegetables...

Twice we see two crying dogs stuck to each other, having problems separating after their joyful mating. While the lovely rain, yes indeed lovely, pours down on us we count the decreasing numbers of kilometres on the stone markers next to the road.
The Laotian border town of Boten is completely in Chinese hands. When we try to spend our last Laotian kips, the shopkeepers ask us to pay in Chinese yuan. A bit of hand and feet communication helps after which they finally accept the poor kip.

After 35 days and nearly 1,100 kilometres we say farewell to Laos . We cherish many good memories of this war-torn country and some less pretty concerning the money-junkies in Vang Vieng and all the jungle fires.
But, like always, the people are most important. How beautiful or ugly a country may be, when people are friendly, open and hospitable, the country is a splendid one.
And in the end, that is the way we will always remember Laos.