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Whiskey or Death

Another long, winding, mountainous journey -- a trademark of bus travel in Laos -- brought us from Vang Vieng to Phonsavan. But not before a motion sick kid gave Heather's backpack a little extra flavor. Mmmmm.
 
In town, we rented a little Chinese motorcycle with a Janky back brake and carefully made our way to the Plain of Jars. Nobody knows who made the Jars, or why they made the Jars, but two theories have captured the minds of most. At first, I thought the Whiskey Jar theory held some wisdom. After all, the Lao people do call whiskey: Lao Lao. Once we actually arrived at the site, I sobered up. You just don't need that many different sized jars to ferment rice. Any drunk knows that. It did, however, seem plausible that a 4 gallon urn made for an infant or poor villager, would be placed further down the hill from a 10,000 gallon vessel fit for a King.
 
All the mystery made us strangely thirsty.

 

Spring Break

Vang Vieng is a young traveler's paradise. Endless opportunities for outdoor adventure, warm sunny days and a vibrant nightlife make for the ultimate party scene. Fortunately for us, our bungalow on the far side of the river provided a peaceful escape from the kids. But we took in more than our share of adventure while the sun was up. We spent a day climbing the vast limestone kirsts, hiked to a serene blue lagoon straight out of the movies, explored a truly massive cave -- where a nimble spider the size of a grapefruit made me think twice about where I put my hand -- and of course, did as everyone else and tubed down the river.
 
The tubing adventure totally blew away our expectations. The top half of the river is lined with makeshift bars that pump out music. Some have raging bonfires. Almost all of them have giant swings to launch you high over parts of the river that have been dredged deep. One even has a super water slide. It's a great recipe for whiplash. Heather drew some mighty applause with a head first slide that she skillfully converted into a near perfect dive, many others failed... painfully. At the very first stop we bumped into an Aussie couple we met in Muang Noi. We laughed our heads off and soaked up the sun all day long. They made sure we headed down the last stretch (90%) of the river in time to get our tube deposit back. But by then the water and air temperature was wreaking havoc on our bare skin. It was a chilly hour and a half we won't forget.
 
Every night we relaxed at the Organic Farm Cafe. Feasted on homemade mulberry wine, fresh spring rolls and a split pea soup that would make me slap my mum. 

         

Ques-que Ce?

It's downright barbaric for one nation to impose their will upon another country. Unless you leave a trail of baguettes and tasty baked goods behind.
 
Luang Probang had a smooth blend of Laos-French culture and gifted us with a refined break after roughing it in the north. We lounged in cafe's, learned about silk, and lounged in cafe's. It was a marvelous little city. We even forgive the Derriere who stole our hiking boots.

 

The Way It Was

Laos is incredibly poor. The majority of people live in simple bamboo huts. Almost everyone needs to farm in order to eat. And a huge percentage of land is contaminated with bombies (unexploded cluster bombs) that were dropped by the U.S. during the secret war from 1964-73. A problem which makes development of any kind, slow, expensive and  risky. It's one of the happiest, most peaceful places I have ever been.
 
We started our journey up north in the Nam Tha province and trekked in one of their largest Nationally Protected Areas. It was gorgeous forest and jungle and we had the privilege of eating much buffalo. The jerky we smoked all night was tops. We we're even lucky enough to avoid skin contact with the leeches that were left over from the rainy season. Unfortunately, according to our young guide, all the tigers moved to China many years ago. He said they were afraid of the people, but I think it was the heart stopping power of the icy waterfalls that did them in. 
 
        

By the time we made it to Muang Noi, a small village only accessible by boat, we had already picked up more local language than in any of the previous countries. Here, we stumbled upon a guesthouse called @moon that had an herbal steam sauna. It was powered by a little woman, a large fire and an even larger cast iron pot. They had the only hot water in the village. A true treat, because Muang Noi gets downright cold when the sun slips behind the mountains.

One afternoon we got an invite to sit with the guesthouse owners at lunch and eat traditionally. Along with a bunch of funky veggie dishes, we had tasty pork laap -- a mildly spicy ground pork dish made from a pig that graciously gave his life at 3am that morning. Needless to say, we weren't the only ones eating pig. Tradition dictates you cannot eat pork laap without beer. Only here, everyone shares the same glass and there is a designated pourer, usually female, who puts between one and two shots of beer in the glass and waits for you to down it. I'm guessing the tradition started to keep imbibing husbands under control.
 
Wanting to experience even more basic Laos life, we took a hike to Ban Na -- 122 people strong. The journey there was beautiful as we passed through a rice valley surrounded by towering green mountains. If you've never seen a 6 year old girl herd cattle and buffalo, I suggest you put it on your to-do list. Aside from a few extra bamboo bungalows for travelers, Ban Na is pure, life as it was village. Only better. Because our hosts, who hung out with us all night by the fire, had picked up enough English to share wonderful stories.

   

For Tom