Laos

Laos was a harder traveling experience than our others, especially after the ease of Vietnam. We got off on the wrong foot as soon as we reached the border, where we were shaken down for extra money on top of the visa fees. It was an extra two dollars here and an extra dollar for this fee and meanwhile the border patrol just smiled. There isn’t a whole lot we could do; you can’t go back into Vietnam, which requires a pre-approved visa to enter. We piled back into the “bus” which was actually a minivan packed full of people and luggage. A row of 4 seats would hold 5 people, the status quo for Laos buses. It took us 27 hours to get from Sapa (Vietnam) to Luang Prabang, and when we arrived it was nighttime. People were barbecuing and the remnants of the night market were cleaning up. We couldn’t see the charm of the city until the morning, when we admired the Lao architecture mixed with the remnants of French colonial buildings. Sprinkled throughout the city are temples (Wats) in various states of scarlet or golden glory. The palace is beautiful as well, with the furniture left almost exactly as it was left by the royals when they were forced to leave.

Mod and I have had a lot of experiences during our travels that we hope to bring into our every day lives back home. But during this trip the most obvious effect to our current daily lives started in Myanmar and only intensified in Vietnam; Mod had developed an insatiable hunger for noodle soup of any kind. He was still missing the Shan Noodles from Hsipaw, the spice of the southern Vietnamese Pho and the savory meatiness of the Pho of Hanoi.

In Laos, there are a couple noodle dishes, but it was Lao-style Khao Soi that stole Mod’s heart and stomach. Every day, this was the desired breakfast. Anything else was just filler. Now, Thailand has a delicious, coconut-curry Khao Soi, but that has nothing in common with the one in Laos. The primary flavor is from fermented soy beans, which gives Korean Doenjang-jigae or Japanese Miso its taste. Add minced pork, garlic, chilies, oil and a crazy amount of MSG, some broth and sticky noodles, and you’ve got the salty deep flavor of Mod’s favorite Lao breakfast. Luang Prabang had an amazing Khao Soi lady with a street-side shop, and you’d see us there every morning.

And in the evenings? Well, there was a beautiful vantage point from the center of the city. Every night, a main street would close down and a handicraft market would pop up. This was the most peaceful night market we’ve been to, as people don’t call out to you to buy things from them; you can just look at your leisure. There are lots of textiles and beautiful scarves at this market, as the women here do a lot of weaving. You can even sign up for a day class to learn to weave and dye your own silk. We drank cocktails and ate street food snacks in between noodle soup hunts.

Even though Luang Prabang was warm, I felt like the cold of Sapa never really left us. So we took off for Vang Vieng, a small town previously notorious for its party scene and river tubing. The road between Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng is gorgeous; the roads remind us of an inland Halong Bay. The first day we arrive, we take a motorbike through the green and vibrant countryside to the blue lagoon, which has been overrun by tourists. The water is a milky turquoise blue due to the minerals of the earth, and there’s a tree with a platform for you to climb and jump off into the water. There’s also a cave you can climb into which is completely natural, with no lights or real paths. We go in a bit before heading down to the water, laying in the grass to dry off and play cards while sipping beer.

The next day, we go tubing, taking time to hit up the bars along the river. There are only a few left, since most were shut down after many tourists drowned, but the bars that are left feel like an eternal American frat party. Dub step is blasting, people are playing drinking games, teams are playing volleyball and everyone is having a great time. When it gets too hot, we jump back into the river to the next party. It was the dry season, so it took us 5 hours total to get down the river, and we were shivering when we got out. We scampered back to our hotel, cleaned up, and ate some local food before checking out the bar scene. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were back in college again, with the blinking lights, the awkward dancing, and the energy.

We skip back to Luang Prabang for a hot minute; most of the hotels are booked because it’s Lunar New Year and the Chinese seize this holiday to travel a bit. Since we can’t get a room, we eat some more Lao Khao Soi and then make our way north, just shy of the Chinese border, to the mountains of Luang Namtha. We’re doing our last trek (so we think) and we want to explore the Nam Ha National Protected Area, home to ancient trees, the remaining wild tigers and bears in Laos, as well as many hill tribes.

We go on a trek through the forests. We have two guides with us each day; the English-speaking one is with us all the time, while the guides from the tribes we visit only stay for a few hours. Their participation in the trek is how we are able to visit their villages. The first day, our guide takes us to the market, buys some ingredients for lunch, and then in the middle of our trek builds a fire, cuts some bamboo skewers, trims some banana leaves for our table cloth and we have a delicious meal together. You eat with your hands, pressing the sticky rice into scoops to pick up vegetables, fish and sauces. Tonight, we sleep in a Khmu village. Our guide strongly identifies with the Khmu, and talks easily with the people, though it’s not his village. He makes some spears to go fishing with at night while we explore the village. We look at the machines for separating the rice from the hull, watch the kids play with the many dogs wandering the road, and admire the neat gardens full of cabbage and other vegetables. There’s a party going on in the evening and rice whisky flows freely — some men are helping to build a neighbor’s house and so each night, the neighbor thanks them with dinner. At night, the young adults gather together to study after their daytime work, learning to write what the teacher says to them.

In the morning, we wake up to violent squealing; some villagers are tying up a pig for slaughter. We leave the village with all its hopeful dogs behind, and our guide tells us about shaman, and the unique power they hold in the animist belief shared by many tribes in the area, including his own.

“Shaman if he is good one, can take a leaf in his hand and make it into a bird. Or he can make your belt into a snake. You buy a chicken at the market, you come home and cut it with a knife, and it’s a leaf! Oh, the shaman somewhere is angry with you,” our guide explains. A good shaman can bring health to the sick or kill you within a few minutes if you anger him.

How do you find a good shaman? According to our guide, you ask the people; the reputation of a shaman who can cure people is known throughout not just his own village, but neighboring ones as well. Also, a good shaman is not married, does not walk underneath the space of his home and does not like to be touched.

We stop by another Khmu village, which was similar to the place we stayed. The next stop was different as it belonged to the Lantan tribe. The Lantan village seems to focus on selling things to the market as a primary source of income as there are many pigs running around, as well as indigo crops to dye cotton with. As our hike winds down, Mod and I decide that we’d like to see more hill tribes, and resolve to drive out to Muang Sing, the central hub for many tribes off the beaten track.

The people built big hotels in Muang Sing, but the tourists never came. At some point, Muang Sing was on the map, but no one was here when we came. The restaurant we went to was more like a family house, family members sat around gossiping and watching the T.V. while we (the only customers of the day) drank a beer. We took our motorbike around several different villages, but they were more cold to outsiders than we had experienced before. The exception was the Hmong village we saw, who waved and said hello. The Hmong have had a particularly difficult life since the secret war, and while many escaped to Thailand begging for amnesty, others suffered through labor and re-education camps.

The next morning we woke up and went to the market at 6 a.m. It’s the biggest local market, and many tribespeople come to sell their goods and food. We had the best dish of Khao Soi at this market, and the owners of the little stall were so pleased at how quickly our bowls emptied. It was our last bowl in the country; after this, Mod wouldn’t eat another one since he wanted to end his noodle journey in this country on a high note. The man has a point.

All pictures: https://goo.gl/photos/JbRpNGPRtD6biXLg8