On the first dirt road, then on water
Trip Start
Jan 09, 2009
1
7
44
Trip End
Feb 23, 2009
Luang Prabang, Lao Peoples Dem Rep
Friday, January 16, 2009
I ambled along Sisavang, Luang Prabang's main street, and checked out the activities and prices from one tour operator, thinking it would be a more independent option and an alternative interest from Mac and Cissy's itinerary which was not to go trekking, elephant riding, kayaking or any such thing on some benign river. This element of 'further exploration' was easily laid-on, given at the point of delivery, easily churned out like a loaf of bread. An assistant consulted a map, placing his finger at the ready:
"In the morning we transport you to here by minibus. Then you go to here, ride on a elephant, visit the Pak Ou Caves, finish the day kayaking, back to L P." Just like that.
"How much is a day's tour?
The assistant took a calculator and immediately totted up the total:
"Two-hundred and ninety thousand Kip." About thirty-five dollars.
"I'd like to think about it."
You could also do multi-day trips involving visiting the 'Infamous Plain of Jars' which didn't sound that exciting.
I decided to pass it up. You could take the slow boat to the Thai Border at Huay Xai, other slow boats to Nong Khiow, the fast boat involving seven hours, although the speedboat option was not recommended due to the hazards involved. I thought Laos was supposed to be a laid-back, take-your-time country. It is only a small one, after all. The visa authorities give you thirty days grace. The rush to do things is supposed to go against the grain here. Besides, as 'everyone else' was doing these things, their unique value felt considerably reduced.
We checked out of the guest house, not without some fast tumultuous confusion involving the deposit fee, about mine and Cissy's room key, then hurriedly threw our packs into the boot of Mac's car.
We drove Cissy to the Chinese Luang Prabang to Kunming bus terminus which also provided levels of accommodation. She checked into a room and booked a ticket on the bus departing the next day and left her there, not before we sat round a restaurant table playing a silly card game called 'Guess who's the Murderer' if you had the joker.
While Mac played at being chauffeur and Loman the navigator, we drove to the famous 'exciting' Pak Ou Caves and boasted, because of the car, that we could visit them independently which would cost us far less than if we accompanied some tour group.
Mac had considerable difficulty avoiding the pot holes, dips on the dusty dirt road, and at one point we lost our bearings. Along came a minibus packed with Western tourists who'd been kayaking with the Green Discovery agency:
"Just follow that road ahead, the guides instructed us," using more body than verbal language.
We didn't realize the actual boat crossing is at the actual village. Instead, we ambled off to the river bank where we messed around on a dried muddy sandy bank of a tributary river, totally confused trying to find a boat service or a fisherman who'd take us across to some extraordinarily beautiful and impressive limestone cliffs towering above the other side. A solitary boatman used body language to say that we needed to retrace our steps back towards the village to find a suitable vessel.
"I'd like to eat first," interposed Mac before Loman bounded off towards the boats.
"OK," he relented.
We all thought Laos more expensive than China, so decided, after the waiter told us the prices: 15,000 for this, 20,000 Kip for the other, to pass up on most of the fare. Mac settled for a standard bag of crisps:
"But there are just a few," like half a bag full, Mac informed Loman as he decided to buy one. I didn't bother. It wasn't the quantity that was the problem, but that you could buy a bag of the Pringle variety for the equivalent of less than half a dollar in China. Here, they wanted over a dollar.
There was something less than the soul in the Laos people when it came to prices and buying things - no, or not much, bargaining!! Everything was inflexibly etched on menu boards - hard to rub off. I suppose, though, that this is understandable in one way, particularly when you're from a relatively poorer underdeveloped country.
An overweight tourist in sunhat with his camera strapped around his neck, and with his wife, stepped off the comfortable boat. 50,000 Kip per person was too much. Three boatman offered a cheaper option by a simpler boat:
"Thirty Thousand Kip return trip," announced Loman.
Ten thousand each was a better option. The assistant clad in the usual flip-flops set to work accelerating the boat in which the engine petered out near the opposite shore. Unsuccessful attempts at using a rope to get the wheel up and running had him paddling the last few meters.
The twenty thousand Kip entrance fee was a waste of money: the bottom cave was too dark, the upper cave, although housed a few Buddhists artifacts, wasn't that inspiring. Once you've seen one cave, you've seen them all.
Having to pay another ten thousand to use a torch got up Loman's nose. I suppose it was the straw that broke the camel's back on his Laos trip. Even some kids who lurked on the steps could only sell us trash:
"One dollar, one dollar," a girl held out some nic-nacs as she shifted in front us, then flimsily letting us pass.
The boat continued its gremlins on the way back. Another boat came along into which we clambered. It worked perfectly.
What else 'worked perfectly,' was the view of that limestone mass: a romantic setting that cost us nothing, and was far better than the Caves, but everyone goes running....although not to the view. If Laotians had any sense about what is worthwhile and what isn't, as a sightseeing place, they'd start charging to view the cliffs. Better not say too much. But again, it's understandable when you're from a rich Western country and they're from a poor Asian one.
Coughing up the ten thousand each, we headed back to Luang Prabang. On the way we caught a guy guiding some elephants in which we couldn't resist a few pictures as we jumped out of the car.
Mac wanted to say goodbye to Cissy at the Bei Xing, not only to her but embraced all of us!! It was all a bit of a pretentious farce, but I felt a surge of independence as I and Loman decided to share a cheap grotty room for 35,000 Kip, but where I also had a welcome shower courtesy of Cissy.
Loman, Cissy and I walked the town, when Cissy blurted out her recriminations about Mac to Loman, but she was also worried that he'd come looking for her. She also intimated her feelings for Loman whom she regarded as a "nice" foreigner akin to her age. If Mac could see them now, he'd be spitting fireworks!! Her attachment got a bit personal at a restaurant by the Mekong where you could order the cheapest Beerlao in town at 7.5 000 Kip a big bottle. 'Unbelievable,' the notice read.
Leaving Loman and Cissy to their tet-a-tet, I ambled back along the black unlit roads like a loner to the guest house where I hit the sack, ready for the off to V V (Vang Vieng) on the morrow.
