Sixty One Degrees
An occassional journal of an Asia-overland adventure
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Phnom Penh, Cambodia
It was late afternoon and I was heading back to my hotel after spending some time by the riverfront and playing pool with the locals. As I approached the six lane road that runs by the river I was amazed to see an elephant calmly walking along in the outside lane, seemingly oblivious to all the traffic and mayhem.
I decide to grab a cyclo, a three-wheeled bike with the passenger in front, back to the centre of town. A likely candidate quickly appears, a price is agreed and I jump on board. Problem is, we're on the wrong side of the road. No problem for this driver though, he just turns around and, with me leading the way, bravely pushes in to the three lanes of oncoming traffic, weaving between the cars and motos that are simultaneously weaving around us. Somehow we across to the right side of the road without incident.
As the driver puffs and pants with the exertion of cycling I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for him, until I see a cyclo heading in the other direction with five passengers. I had to count them twice to be sure!
It's tough work for the drivers though. Most of them come from the country and don't have residence permits for Phnom Penh. They can't rent an apartment, even if they could afford it, so they just sleep in their bikes. Walking around late at night you see little pockets of them here and there, half-a-dozen maybe, grouped together with their bikes and a few chairs. By ten o'clock the city is asleep, the cyclo drivers along with it.
Battambang, Cambodia
My destination today was Phnom Penh. I was too late for the bus so I headed out on a moto to the pickup truck and share taxi lot. I was immediately offered a taxi by myself for $14 but instead opted for the outside of the pickup for $2.
It was already pretty full as I climbed on-board, under the big umbrella, at about midday but I'd forgotten the Asian philosophy of "there's no such thing as full". It was not under nearly 1pm before the umbrella was whisked away and we pulled out. At that stage the little Toyota Hilux had 32 people in the back, along with all the luggage and two chickens. There were a further eight or nine in the dual cab in front. In back there were 14 people sitting on the edge, 6 in the middle, 5 on the roof of the cab, and 7 on the lowered tailgate (along with my backpack). The only concession to the human cargo was a piece of 2x4 across the back. Other than that it was strictly as it rolls off the assembly line. Luckily an extra piece of one inch tubing runs around the outside where I was, normally to secure cargo but in this case it definitely improved the comfort of sitting on the edge.
We head off down the road, jammed in so tight you can't move. Hands were on neighbour's shoulders, elbows on thighs, knees in groins. If I got any closer to the guy next to me we'd have to get married.
After a time my legs start to go numb. I have to do something so I decide to stand up. A little precarious with my daypack on my back but my colleagues helpfully hold me a little to stop me toppling over.
Back down on the edge and my legs are going numb again. This time I'm so jammed I'm not sure from looking which leg is mine.
The whole experience is strangely enjoyable though. When the discomfort of one position becomes too much only a slight movement is required (or possible) to bring relief. An amazingly nice sensation when it happens. Somewhat akin to jumping in to a cool pool after a few hours in the hot sun.
The road is mostly sealed but there are still some dirt stretches. We stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant. Everyone jumps out and heads for the large washbasin out back, to wash off the dust.
Night has fallen as we reach Phnom Penh. I join my fellow riders in drinking some strange yellow whisky through a straw from an old water bottle. Tastes okay.
We finally reach the Central Market. The end of the line for the pickup. I shake off the moto and cyclo drivers and take refuge in a local cafe. One young kid there speaks some english and we talk about football. He tries to teach me how to say "coffee with milk". His mother and sister almost fall off their chairs with laughter at my attempts. Perhaps it's my look of intense concentration.
I finally move on and, after rejecting a couple of cell-like rooms for $3, settle on a quite nice place for $7. It even has hot water which I immediately turn off. As I step under the cold water rivers of dust flow from my hair.
After an extra-long shower I collapse in to bed. Having had, in the end, quite a remarkable day.
Siem Reap, Cambodia
For my third day visiting the Angkor ruins I decided to go further afield. The girls were staying closer to Siem Reap so Panna, the driver, unfixed the back of the tuk-tuk and took me out on the bike.
First stop was Banteay Srai, a very popular and ornate temple 32km from Siem Reap. A quick visit there then I prepared myself for the next forty km's or so of dirt road to Beng Mealea. I wrapped my Moroccan scarf around my head and put my sunglasses on. "Very handsome", said Panna as I approached. "You look like Osama Bin Laden".
About two hours later, covered in dust, we reached the temple. Beng Mealea is unusual in that it has been left exactly as discovered. I was hoping for a sense of what the original explorers must have felt, coming upon these temples in the jungle. I was not disappointed. The temple was quite large and a fascinating combination of ruined walls, covered in thick tree roots and ivy, and some almost intact sections. There were even roofed corridors to explore.
I managed to shake off the local kids, offering as always to be a "guide", by ducking down a dark corridor and hiding for a few minutes. Re-emerging I starting looking for some good photo opportunities. As I took my time setting up for one difficult shot I noticed a young lad quietly watching me from a short distance away. As I finished and wrote up the entry in my journal he came down to look at the writing. Photo complete I get up to move on. "This way", he beckons. Well, it looks interesting, I'll follow. Turns out he really did know a spot that I probably wouldn't have found. After that I assigned him to be my assistant. He carried the tripod and led me to many interesting locations. Always patiently waiting for the photograph.
After a couple of hours I headed back to Panna and the bike. We still had a fair trip ahead of us to get back to Siem Reap. Sure enough, about half-way along the dirt road the back tyre is starting to go flat. We're in the middle of nowhere and there's very little traffic on this road but remarkably we've managed to break down right outside a house with a small store. They've got a tire repair toolkit so Panna starts to work.
I'm idly standing around, trying to look helpful, when wandering out of the wilderness comes the nun that I was sitting next to in the share taxi three days ago. I can hardly believe it. She walks past and I see a hint of recognition in her eyes. "Weren't you in the taxi to Siem Reap the other day", I say. "Why yes", she says, "Where are your two friends?" "Oh, they're back in town today. What brings you out here?" "Oh, my monastery is over there a little way", she says indicating towards a flat expanse of nothing. Of course, all this is done without a word being uttered.
Panna soon has the tyre fixed and we're back off again. It's just hitting dusk as we reach the outskirts of Siem Reap. Panna knows a shortcut and we're soon flying along a wide new road in an area of new development. With all the bugs in the air we both have our sunglasses on which makes for some exciting driving with the approaching night.
We're still a few kilometres out from the town proper when we get another flat tyre. This time there are no houses in sight. There's nothing for it but to start pushing the bike (well, Panna pushes, I walk). After a couple of km's, with night well and truly settled, Panna sees a house a little way off the road. He goes to investigate and sure enough, they have the tyre repair equipment. We roll the bike over and a one-legged guy starts to work on the tyre by candlelight. A couple of other people come out of the house to help, having a bit of a chuckle when they see me. I soon find my eyes drifting towards the sky and the stars and am surprised to see a very distinct constellation of red stars low in the sky. Each point of light is exactly the size and brightness of a star, but they're red and very slowly drifting upwards. I count eighteen and ask Panna what they are. "Balloons", he says, "made of paper and bamboo with a little fire below". Just like a hot air balloon. They were being sent up by a distant monastery in some sort of celebration. My eyes dropped to the one-legged man fixing the bike tyre by candlelight, then lifted again to see the new constellation raised in the sky. I found the whole thing very moving in a quite unexpected way.
I wanted to stay and watch the lights all night but the tyre was soon fixed and we were off again, speeding towards Siem Reap. The hustle and bustle of the big city was soon all around but I found I couldn't forget the red stars in the sky, peacefully rising towards the heavens.
Siem Reap, Cambodia
The ruins of Angkor beckon. Spread over a very large area about the only way to get around is by moto. We'd decided to take a tuk-tuk with space for the three of us. The most popular spot for sunrise is Angkor Wat itself, the main temple. We decided to head to the less popular, and less crowded, Bayon. Sunrise is early in these parts, about 6am, so we asked our tuk-tuk driver to pick us up at 5am. Even for a Cambodian that was too early so he convinced us to start at 5:30am.
It was still dark as we headed out, my main regret was that I was travelling with these two very beautiful ladies and no one could see it! Oh well. We picked up our US$40 three day tickets for the site and headed to the Bayon.
It was still dark when we arrived. Our driver indicated the direction we should go and we started walking, soon hitting the outer walls. We continued in to the complex, breaking out the torches and finding ourselves in a building of multiple levels and many steps and corridors. We explored as well as we could in the dark, looking for a place that might be good as the sun rose. After half an hour or so we finally chose a spot and as the light began to appear on the horizon I was amazed to be surrounded by huge heads. The girls laughed at me as this is the feature for which the Bayon is most famous.
The chosen spot turned out to be excellent and we spent a couple of hours exploring all the nooks and crannies and taking photographs in the rising light. We finally headed down from the upper levels and looked at the huge and detailed reliefs running around the outer walls.
A late breakfast and then it was off to explore the rest of Angkor Thom, the 10 square kilometre walled city for which the Bayon was the main temple. Some seven hours after being dropped off we finally went looking for our driver who quickly found us and prepared for the next place.
We shot off down the road in our little tuk-tuk to take in the temples of the Little Circuit. A 17km journey in total. The most amazing thing about the Angkor ruins is how extensive the site is. At it's height the population of the region was probably around one million and the size of the site reflects that. The other thing that impressed me was how different each temple was. There were steep pyramids, single-story buildings, straight structures, twisty structures, some with pools, some without. Every one was unique and fascinating.
We finished the day with the hordes at the hilltop temple of Phnom Bakheng, known for it's sunset view.
Our second day started the same way, in the dark. This time we headed for Sras Srang, a large artificial lake facing the sunrise. Of course, the local vendors had beaten us to it and we had to run the gauntlet of offers of breakfast and postcards. "I don't want breakfast now, just the sunrise". "Okay, I leave you alone then you have breakfast". "Maybe". This back and forth maybe a dozen times until the sun first peeks out above the low clouds. "Sun has risen now, time for breakfast!", they triumphantly cry.
Luckily we were distracted by the quite bizarre site of an entire local village getting in to the lake a short distance away. It turned out they were clearing the water in preparation for, well, something. Whatever it was it was important because there were a couple of hundred people involved in great long lines.
After all that excitement we headed off to the main attraction, Angkor Wat. A huge temple in fantastically good condition. We spent a few hours exploring but at the end I felt strangely underwhelmed. I preferred some of the smaller, more overgrown temples.
And there were plenty more of them to see on the Big Circuit, a 26km excursion taking in a whole new set of temples.
We ended the day back at Angkor Wat, trying for a photo of the elusive orange-robed monks that still wander the grounds. Hard to get without the ubiquitous check-shirted tourist.
Kampong Thom, Cambodia
Apart from a couple of border guard bribes the switch from Laos to Cambodia was pretty straight-forward. Just cross the Mekong River. It cost US$2 to exit Laos. The Cambodian guards wanted three dollars. "Three dollars", I exclaimed with surprise, "It's only two in Laos". "Okay, two dollars", they say. Nice to see that everything is negotiable.
After a couple of boat rides down the Mekong and my first exposure to Cambodian roads in a minibus I find myself in Kampong Thom with Evelyn and Natasha. We're here to see the pre-Angkor ruins of Sambor Prei Kuk. A nice little warm-up to the main event of Angkor Wat.
Northern Cambodia is littered with Angkor ruins. Unfortunately there are no roads to get to them. We'd just travelled on one of the most important roads in the country, leading from Phnom Penh to Angkor Wat and on to Thailand, and it was a mess of tar, dirt, construction and destruction. The relatively minor roads in the north would be far, far worse.
Even so, the temptation of seeing almost impossible-to-see ruins was very great. I knew that I could make a long loop to Angkor Wat via the almost lost temple of Koh Ker. It would involve a day by truck north to Tbeng Meanchey, then hiring a moto to take me and my pack west to the temple. The roads here are so poor only motorbikes can make it. The 100km or so trip would take a day so we'd have to overnight at the temple. Then it's another similar day to Siem Reap. Then the driver would have to return. It all added up to significant expense and pain but oh, it was so tempting. The alternative would be to join the girls for the relatively painless eight hours up the highway to Siem Reap.
In the end I just couldn't make up my mind so I decided to leave it in the lap of the gods. I'd go to the bus station early in the morning and just take the first thing that left, either to Tbeng Meanchey or Siem Reap.
Well, it turned out that Siem Reap won the day, a pickup was half-ready to go. After grabbing some breakfast and some munchies we decided to go luxury class and travel "inside" rather than the cheaper "outside". This meant that the three of us plus a nun were jammed in the back seat of the dual-cab. We were squeezed in so tight that I ended up nursing the nun's little travel bag.
A short eight hours later, after bouncing along one of the best roads in Cambodia, but one which wouldn't even be open to traffic in most countries, we found ourselves in Siem Reap. The usual gaggle of moto-drivers crowded around the truck waiting for us to get out. They're initial offers to take us in to the city were way above the mark so we started walking. Sure enough, three follow us and soon offer a price that's a third as much. My driver shows his skill by managing to crash us in to Natasha's bike during a left-hand turn. We just sort of bounce of each other and nothing more is thought of it. Happens all the time in these parts.
Ban Kong Lo - Don Det, Laos
I've quite a journey ahead of me. I'd arranged with a few friends to meet up tomorrow in Don Det, at the very southern tip of Laos. There's not much that I planned to see on the way so I don't mind a few long bus trips.
The journey starts with a sawngthaew at 7am from Kong Lo to Ban Na Hin. It's the only one of the day. Two bumpy hours later I switch to another sawngthaew to the highway junction. I take the lead from a fellow traveller and ride outside on the back. Much more comfortable and a great view.
From the junction it's just a short wait to flag down a bus heading to Savannahket. I'd expected to have to stay overnight here but turns out there's a late bus leaving at 4pm for Pakse, the most southerly major town. The bus finally leaves at 5pm but we're only on the road for an hour-and-a-half before we stop outside a small diner in a non-descript town. The usual meal-stop I assume. Not being hungry I stay on the bus as the other passengers file off. I'm kept company by three young women whose english mostly consists of "I love you. Do you love me?". To which I of course reply, "Yes, I love you".
After a couple of hours it becomes apparent that we aren't going anywhere. Soon after though another bus pulls up behind us and our, half-full, bus starts to file on board. After seeing my bag safely stowed somewhere other than in the engine compartment I'm about the last to get on. I discover that the new bus was full when it arrived and, what's more, there's a Honda 125 motorbike in the aisle. As there's nowhere else to sit the three girls in the front seat suggest that I sit on the bike, which is facing backwards. I do and find myself facing a jammed busload of Laotians staring back at me. I smile and give them a wave and they all smile back. A little while later I pull out my camera and hold it up to great amusement before taking a photo.
The bike is surprisingly comfortable and I'm happily bouncing down the highway until we stop again at about 10pm. This time in the middle of nowhere. The driver and his attendant hangers-on (there's always two or three) all get out and walk around to the drivers-side front wheel. In the moonless light they peer intently at the large wheel nut by the light of a cigarette lighter. As someone goes to rummage through the tool-kit I return to the cabin to fetch my torch.
By the light of my torch they now discover that they have no suitable spanner so someone goes to work on the wheel nut with a small chisel and a chunk of metal, knocking the chisel against the flat of the nut. Needless to say this just about destroys the nut but they do get it off. They then start to stare intently at the wheel bearings. If they don't have a wheel spanner in the tool kit then I'm pretty sure they don't have a spare set of bearings. A few more puzzled examinations and some more bashing of various bits of the wheel and they then all congregate on the other side of the road beside the bus. A couple of them collect some rubbish and start a fire. I think we are staying here for the night.
I head off into the nearby field to search for one of the small sheds that are so common. Common everywhere but here it turns out. As I head back to the bus another bus rolls down the road and stops. This is quite incredible as buses hardly ever travel at night in Laos. With a couple of other passengers I quickly jump on. Most stay behind as this bus is from a different company and so another fare must be paid.
On the new bus we finally arrive in Pakse at about 1am. A Laotian guy who speaks french explains that we can just sleep on the bus. Sounds good to me. The next morning we head across to the other bus terminal and I grab a sawngthaew south towards the ruins of Wat Phu Champasak, a pre-Angkor temple complex.
The sawngthaew drops me at the side of a river and I take a small ferry across then pick up a tuk-tuk for the 8km trip to the ruins. The driver waits for me whilst I wander around. It's a pretty good fare for him and worth his time. He then takes me back to the river, another ferry across and a jumbo back to the main road.
After a half-hour wait a bus heading south to Ban Nakasang, the jumping off point for Don Det, turns up. I'm sitting next to a guy who's returning from Pakse with his wife and newborn child. It's an all day trip to his home. I hope the child isn't sick in the future.
As we zip along the good highway I notice that the driver has a tendency to veer to the left, across the centre line. Not too bad until we encounter a truck coming in the other direction with the same predeliction. At the last second, as I brace myself for impact, both swerve back to their own side, but not quick enough to prevent their load from hitting our wing mirror. With a loud crash the mirror is destroyed. Our driver slows down a little and sticks his head out the window to look back and see if there's any more major damage. Apparently satisfied he speeds back up again and we continue on our way.
We finally reach Ban Nakasang late in the afternoon and I walk down to the river to take a boat across to Don Det. The Mekong River at this point spreads out over a wide area and is dotted with hundreds of islands (the region's name of Four Thousand Islands is, I think, a bit of creative hyperbole). Don Det is one of the more low key ones, with no cars and no electricity.
With a couple of other guys from the bus I look around for a suitable bungalow. Most are the same: bamboo hut, hammock on the balcony, overlooking the river. We find one with space and check in, at the princely sum of 10000 kip a night, about US$1. I settle in to my hammock and watch the sun set over the Mekong. After about 36 hours of travel on 13 vehicles it's nice to relax.
Ban Kong Lo, Laos
After a relaxing morning reading and cleaning my camera I head off on foot for the village of Kong Lo. This time I'm going to follow the small track beside the river for the eight or so kilometres.
Turns out to be a very good choice. Whilst I saw very little on the road yesterday, today I pass village after village. Mostly the pattern is the same: a few moments after entering the village one or two children see me, they quickly duck back in to their houses to tell their brothers, sisters, and friends. Before long one has the courage to come a little closer then suddenly I'm leading a whole crowd of them through the village. Even the adults are in the act, picking up their small children to show them the strange visitor. As I leave the village the children stop at the fence but continue to call out "saba di" which I return until I'm finally out of earshot.
After a few hours I reach Kong Lo and head for Mr Khoummy's place. He takes me on a tour of the village, culminating in a proud showing of the school and hospital. "Where is the doctor?", I ask. "No doctor", he says. But at least they have the building.
We return to his house and I head back out by myself. Again I attract the attention of the children and we're soon playing various games much to the amusement of the adults, who I think have never seen such a thing.
Dinner was simple but tasty and was capped off with some Lao Lao whisky (home-brewed of course) shared with some of Mr Khoummy's friends. By 9 o'clock the village was asleep and we were too.
Sala Bin Houn, Laos
I awake in Sala Bin Houn to a delightfully warm and clear day. Destination today is the four kilometre cave through the mountain. I hire a bike for a dollar from the guest house and head off for Ban Kong Lo, down eight kilometres of rough road.
I arrive to find a quite substantial village. I use my usual technique and wander around for a while looking lost until someone comes to help me. Turns out to be Mr Khoummy, a 55 year old french speaker. He directs me to the river and before long I'm off with two boatman heading towards the cave.
The cave itself was not spectacular in terms of formations but the experience of floating through darkness for such a distance in such a large chamber was quite intriguing. After an hour we emerged on the other side and stopped by the river for lunch.
After lunch I visited a nearby village with one of the boatman. No-one, including the boatman, spoke a word of english so interaction was limited but he seemed to know a few people and there were smiles all round.
Then it was back through the cave once more and back to the village, where Mr Khoummy was patiently waiting. Is it possible to stay in the village? I asked. Why yes, he said, at my house (well, actually, "moi maisson"). Some more broken french and it was agreed that I would stay tomorrow night, arriving sometime "apres midi".
With that I cycled back to Sala Bin Houn. The bike was much too small for me, I was wearing my bright Aussie boardshorts and my boots, and was waving frantically at all and sundry. It occured to me that I must look just like Krusty the Clown.
Arriving back at Sala Bin Houn as I head to my candle-lit room I notice that the staff quarters has a satellite dish. We each desire the others world.
Nam Hin Bun, Laos
I've heard tell of another cave. This one is four kilometres long and goes right through a mountain. I've got to see that. It's a little off the beaten track though so it's going to take a bit of effort to get to.
First stage is easy, a bus heading south out of Vientienne. I take this for about four hours until I reach a junction in the road. I'm the only foreigner on the bus and no-one speaks english but I manage to get to my stop okay. Next stage is a sawngthaew (a small truck with two benches in the back) for about an hour to a small village. Part-way along the road the driver stops and comes around the back and motions for me to get out. I dutifully pick up my backpack and start to get off when he indicates that I should leave the pack behind. Ever obedient I do so and realise that he wants me to climb a small hill on the side of the road. I do so and see the most stunning view. A couple of photos later I'm back in the truck and thanking my fellow passengers with a few biscuits for waiting for me.
We reach the village of Ban Na Hin but now I need to get to Ban Na Phuak. It's now after two o'clock so no regular transport will be going down the rough road. There's nothing for it but to charter a jumbo, a sort of small three-wheeled sawngthaew that uses a motorbike engine. I find a driver and we're soon off, stopping to pick up his mate who brings along a machete. Hope that's not a bad sign.
After an hour we reach Ban Na Phuak. The road from here is pretty rough so the driver suggests I take a boat the rest of the way. I had that in mind anyway so we track down a potential captain. The suggested price is 150000k, about $10. Pretty expensive in these parts but the captain explains that it's a four hour trip. Two hours there and two hours back for him I'm thinking. Seems fair enough. We agree and he grabs his outboard motor from his small house and we head down to the river.
His young son is coming with us also and he fetches the boat. Sort of a long canoe. Only room for two or three passengers at most. I'm expecting to get wet so I take off my boots and socks. Sure enough, before too long I'm in the water helping to push the boat through some shallow water. It's getting towards the end of the dry season so all the rivers are low.
The trip was pretty entertaining. Lots of riverside villagers waving as we pass. Plenty of opportunity to get wet as we hit lots of shallow water. We've travelled for about two hours, sunset is approaching, and I'm wondering if we're getting close. The captain speaks no english so there's no chance to ask him.
On we go, the sun sets, the stars begin to appear and the boat captain produces a strong torch that he attaches to his head. His young son has a smaller one for checking shallows at the front of the boat. Okay, this is getting interesting now. At this point the journey alternates between tranquility, as I lie back and look up at the stars above, and frantic activity, as we all jump out to push around various obstacles and shallows. Made much more tricky in the dark.
The thrill of it all is really beginning to wane when a light appears in the distance. Could this be Sala Bin Houn? My destination. Indeed it was, four hours after starting. When the captain said four hours he was talking about one way. I struggle up the steps from the river and across to the guest house restaurant. Do they have a room? I haven't booked and I'm stuffed if they don't because there's nothing else out here. They do, and it's with some relief that I shout the captain and his son a can of coke for their efforts. They can't stay long because they have a four hour journey (at least) back home tonight. My thoughts were with them as I lit a candle in my room and settled in to my warm bed.
Vientienne, Laos
I like Vientienne but I'm about the only person that I've met that does. For most of my travelling companions it was dull and boring but for me it had an attractive sort of decay.
It may be the capital but you can pretty comfortably cross the street in the middle of the city and I'm sure property prices are cheap. There are abandoned, but still servicable, french-colonial buildings right opposite the Presidential Cabinet building and a vacant seven story office building right in the centre of town. Tells you something about the economy.
Vang Vieng, Laos
Heading further south I stopped in at the town of Vang Vieng. Once a small and sleepy town it had become a bit of a travellers destination due to the sensational scenery and large number of caves. Never one to turn my back on a dark and dangerous exploration I headed to the town with enthusiasm.
The next day I headed north a little way with a guide. We started at a small village reached by a rickety bamboo bridge. The bridge is rebuilt every time the river floods. Several times a year. Apparently the village was getting electricity in just a couple of days but the villagers seemed to be containing their excitement over this momentous event.
In light rain my guide Peng led me to the first cave, full of large chambers and some quite good formations. The rain was a strange experience. It was only the second time it had rained on my trip so far (the other being in the jungle in Malaysia).
The next cave was a large, long tunnel. Probably more than a kilometre. We finished at a T junction with a river. The river once flowed through the tunnel but had since made a new path and the tunnel was now dry. We waded up the river a little way then sat in the dark and talked for a while.
The third cave was the exit of the river's new path. Normally it's explored by floating in to the cave on inner-tubes but the inner-tube guy had decided to go home. Not to be defeated we stripped down and swam in instead. We had just one light so it was pretty dim but a lot of fun to explore.
The next day I decided to stay on and explore a different area by myself. The place is riddled with caves so it was no trouble to find a few quiet and undeveloped ones to rat around in. The rain had stopped by there was a heavy low mist which made the steep mountain-sides look very dramatic. I think I went a bit crazy with taking photos.
Heading back to town there's a wide stretch of river to cross. The bridge here has a toll of 1000 kip. About 10 cents. An American girl I met on one side of the river suggested we might take off our shoes and wade across to avoid the toll. I figured I could afford it.
Not yet satiated I stayed yet another day and explored a bit further. The scenery was just magic and it was easy to walk along the quiet road on the other side of the river past a number of small villages. At the first village a bunch of young but street-wise kids came up to see if I'd like to take their photo. I declined but they then started up a chant of "kip, kip, kip, kip", sounding remarkably like small birds. After a little bit of this the six-year old leader would wave his hand and they'd all go quiet. A few more moments of no reaction from me but a smile and one of them would tentatively start the call up again and soon the "kip, kip" cry would be back in full swing. It was so funny to hear that I almost succumbed.
Luang Prabang, Laos
The return to Luang Prabang was an interesting experience. When I first arrived a week ago from Thailand I was struck by the town's slow pace and peaceful atmosphere. It was very relaxing.
Now, after my time in Muang Ngoi it suddenly seemed busy and hectic. I had to look when crossing the street and the sound of motos was everywhere. What a difference a week makes.