Brown Town: Phonsavan

Phonsavan is what we like to call a ‘brown town’. No, there are not sexy tan South American or Israeli men here, the streets are just brown and so are the buildings. Phonsavan is undergoing some extensive road construction in order to become yet another Unesco World Heritage sight in the near future. In fact, the city is so muddy that at the entrance to the minibus station, we were asked to push the vehicle over the mud where it had gotten stuck. Welcome to Phonsavan!

Although dull in color, the highway strip of a city, boasts 70’s style Soviet architecture with an interesting twist. Many restaurants, homes and guest houses use abandoned military remnants as decorations and everyday use. At every turn taken we saw silverware, walkways and other miscellaneous applications of metal originating from bomb capsules, overtaken tanks and crashed planes.

Phonsavan is fortunate to host a Mines Advisory Group (MAG) office (www.maginternational.org), a unique NGO dedicated to identifying and safely deactivating bombs, left behind from the U.S. in ‘our’ effort to smoke out Vietnamese dissenters during the war. The effects of the bombs, even today, are devastating. Throughout the country, and especially in this region, Lao people witness unexpected explosions in the rural countryside fatalistically and/or disabling their families. During the U.S. ‘Secret War’ in Laos, 30% of missiles dropped have not yet detonated and continue to pose a threat. Learning this statistic we wonder how many people in the U.S. even know where Laos is geographically and what type of impact the U.S. continues to have on their livelihoods and safety. The MAG identifies UXO sights and labels those with red or white painted blocks, signifying threatening or safe areas, respectively.

Moving on to a more positive discovery, we were fortunate to visit the Plain of Jars, consisting of thousands of scattered limestone jars over 160 archaeological sights.  While the use and origin remain a mystery, experts suggest that the jars date back to 2,000 years and were used as funerary urns, due to bones found within some,  or rice whisky or rice containers. The largest jar weighs six tons. The jars, a source of historic pride for Laos, where extremely threatened by the Vietnam War. We both were shocked to see numerous bomb craters and fighting trenches surrounding the archaeological sights. We entered a cave which was used by the Lao president to hide out during the war against the U.S. which was never formally declared or publicized by our country.

In between archaeological sights, our guide enthusiastically led us through a tour of how Lao Lao is made, the local rice whisky, in an elderly woman's home. The guide explained how the flavorless drik was made from fermented stick rice as he filtered clear liquid from a yellow plastic car oil container. He then had fun observing us both finish off the bottle throughout the remainder of our tour.

Exhausted and hungry, we returned to the brown town for a quick snack before heading out to Vang Vieng.  Our tour guide generously offered us a visit to the local dog bbq. We and a new friend from Ireland enjoyed higher quality meat than previously tasted in Hanoi. The only disappointment was our visit after eating to the dog cages in the backyard. Here two dogs (we assume street dogs) are killed, bbq’d and served daily… you do the math. Despite the tastiness, seeing the live animals preparing for their demise, Lisa especially was disheartened by this experience and vowed never to eat dog again.  She also sends extended apologies to Coco. Gabi’s heart remains black as she looks forward to her next puppy kebab. 

Having done all the damage possible, we continued on our trek to central Laos. Walking past street dogs whose future we could now easily predict, we headed to the bus station for Vang Vieng. We’ve now adopted a habit of calling dogs lunch or dinner.

We Left our Hearts in Luang Prabang!

Sabaidee!

We arrived in Luang Prabang, yet another charming Unesco World Heritage Site set in central Laos. The city, with a population of 26,000, has been internationally awarded for it's ecotourism, Indochinese architecture and cultural and religious preservation. While searching for a hotel, we walked side by side local monks dressed in bright orange robes, passed numerous temples, and absorbed the beauty. Surrounded by the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, the peninsula is scattered with crumbling French villas and mesmerising golden-emerald wats (Buddhist temples).

We awoke early to a rainy morning and enjoyed a delicious crepe and local Lao coffee. Freshly caffeinated, we set out to explore! We visited numerous temples, each housing giant statues of Buddha, Ganesha, and hundreds of gods and goddesses from the Ramayana scriptures. Some of the temples date back to the 1500's and currently house novice monks as young as seven years old. Supported by Unesco, monks are taught skills to maintain Luang Prabang's temples, including woodcarving, gardening, painting and Buddha casting. Families of farming villages send their sons to Buddhist temples in order to receive free schooling. Monks are allowed to freely enter and leave monk hood at their choosing and are fully funded by alms.

After visiting a used bookstore to exchange for new reads, we went next door to Hive Bar to enjoy a fashion and hip hop show. The fashion illustrated traditional local tribe garb of over twenty ethnic groups with a modern twist. Although the college student models were innocently charming, Tyra Banks may not have been impressed. The following act included middle and high school aged break dancers with attitude, spunk and admirable strength.

The following morning we reunited with our sixsome and ventured to the Tat Kuang Si falls via a Tuk-Tuk (an open aired, covered seat add on to a truck). Due to the rainy season the falls were not their usual menthol green, instead they were a muddy brown. However they were impressively volumes and menacing. We climbed to the top and wading in the murky waters, daringly peered over the edge. Despite numerous leech and mosquito bombardments, this was the most impressive natural site we had seen thus far on our travels. We returned to our hotel, took a well deserved shower and ate a delicious meal at the local night market.

The next morning we awoke to sunshine and rented cruiser style bicycles with baskets on the front. Gabi proceeded to ring her bell at whomever and whatever she passed. Helmets were not provided...We ventured along the peninsula stopping at the U.S. Embassy funded library, multiple wats, the Unesco administrative offices, a French cafe, and a day market. After five weeks of travel, we decided to indulge in a one hour Lao style full body massage for 5 USD. At this point we were convinced that Laos had swooned us.

In a Nirvana state, we enjoyed a good night's sleep and awoke rejuvenated for our long trip to Phonsavan!

Luang Nam Tha: Bomb Pasta! (it rhymes)

Home free in Laos, we reached Oudomxay, a commuter town which would bring us new friends and take us to Luang Nam Tha the following morning. Bonded by our arduous journey from the border, our cohort of four added a Dutch couple, Kitty and Rickardt, who live on a houseboat in Amsterdam. Yeah, we'll be taking advantage of that invitation. With our new power of six, and amidst constant laughter, we found a hotel, visited a day market, followed by a night market and booked a trek for the following day.

Luang Nam Tha is known for its eco tourism companies who continue to pioneer in this industry for Laos. Still, eager to see wildlife during our three month trip, we set off for the Nam Ha Nationally Protected Area that is supposedly home to clouded leopards, gaur, monkeys, tigers and elephants. The tour agency's guide and a local  villager led us up the mountain, stopping to make us walking sticks of wild bamboo with their machetes.The muddy, vertical climb through drizzle was a blast, however due slippery slopes we lost two steps for every one gained. Amongst enormous fig trees, midway up, we reached a bamboo picnic table lined with banana leaves serving as plates. We each received a portion of sticky rice individually packaged in a banana leaf. Sides of beef, tomato-chili sauce, morning glory and squash were placed directly on the banana leaves in the middle of the table. We enjoyed the tasty meal with our hands and were re-energized to continue the climb.

The expansive view from the top revealed mountains and valleys of jungle and rice paddies. Our decent to the other side of the mountain ended in a farm of rubber trees leading us to a village. Our guides explained how the white sap from the trees was patiently funneled, collected and sold for the manufacturing of rubber products. Arriving at the small village, we were greeted by the village leader to whom we presented gifts of toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, seeds and Big Brother Mouse books. Big Brother Mouse is a widely accepted grassroots initiative to improve local literacy. We were proud to contribute to this cause. Although the trek was enjoyable, the only wild life we saw were swarms of mosquitoes and aggressive blood thirsty leeches.

The day prior, upon learning Eliza was an Italian chef, we impulsively requested a gourmet Italian feast! Hungry, we returned to a bag of produce purchased previously at the market. Our delicious and well deserved menu consisted of fresh garlic bread and pasta with tomato sauce. Simple, yet expertly executed, the meal met our gourmet expectations. So did the comedic company of our four new friends.

The following morning, not wanting to stop laughing together, we all ventured to Luang Prabang on a ten hour bus ride. Ironically we passed through Oudomxay, the same city where we had originally joined forces.

"International Border" Disaster

Sabaidee (Hello in Lao)!

We are happily writting to you from Luang Prabang, wine glasses of "Crazy BOB" in hand, after enjoying the most relaxing hour of our trip thus far. We each just received a full body massage that far exceded our expectations for just 50,000 kip (1 USD=8,000 kip). We have come a long way from what you are about to read. Upon completing this post, we hope you will join us in breathing a huge sigh of relief!!!

Let's take a step back...you need to understand that prior to crossing the Vietnam-Laos border, we responsibly did our research in several cities, asking, reading, and cross referencing the process and best route to cross by land, given our tight budgets. Little did we know all of this would be in vain.

Our bus from Sapa to Dien Bien Phu, a border town, brought us a new set of Italian friends who we would spend the following week with. Let us introduce the characters...da ta da ta (drum roll)!!! Eliza and Michele have been traveling together throughout Asia for 2.5 years after working in New Zealand and Australia for even longer. They are just two weeks away from the end of their travels; we were happy to be part of their last impressions.

After being told by multiple sources that the border was either broken, or the bus was full, as a cohort, the four of us decided to skip the 5:30am bus and get a taxi at 8:30am. We arrived at the Vietnam exit point and had our single entry visa's terminated. There was no going back... Acording to the Lonely Planet and other sources, we should have been able to take a motorbike taxi over the 6km dirt road with all our luggage. Upon arrival, there were no vehicles in sight which the Veitnamese border patrol seemed to find hilarious. After tromping through the mud in no man's land, each carrying two backpacks, we arrived victoriously to the Laos border, US dollars and passports in hand. The visa paperwork went smoothly...and then we were asked to pay... Despite our seemingly flawless preperation, we discovered the prices were higher than anticipated and collectively we were missing 11 USD. Our two available ATM's were back in Vietnam or 250km deep into Laos (two towns, two buses, a boat ride, and 12 hours). Panic ensued...

Four hours later, after extensive pleading, arguing, and general commotion with various passing vehicles, we recieved a donation of 12 USD from two foreigners entering Vientam. Victoriously, our visas were approved! At this time we had 0 USD to get to Laos, and once again panic ensued...

We exhausted all possibilites. Michele was forced to drive a borrowed moped back to the Vientnam exit to meet his Australian friend who exchanged 100 USD for a personal check from Lisa. Money now in hand, we began to offer all vehicles entering Laos copious amountes of money to take us to the next ATM (250 km away). Very few vehicles were headed to Laos that day and we negotiated with a semi truck carrying pipes in an open bed, a minibus carrying stinky caged chickens, pigs, and dogs, and a plethora of mopeds. Flabbergasted, we realized no one was enticed by our offer, or pittied our situation, or had good karma. At this point, we were in for yet another homestay experience, this time with the military personel at the Laos border.

Our only option was to order a round of BeerLao, the official, and most delicious local beer. With no infrastructure for "guests," we were confined to the visa processing area and three shacks housing a communal bed, a small resturaunt, and the "bar", no bathroom included. We passed the time by consuming the only menu options; noodle soup, fried bananas and BeerLao. Michele tried to hang up his sopping sweatshirt to dry and was told by the head guard that visible laundry was not permitted at an "international border". Complying to instruction we observed men playing football amongst free roaming chickens, none of which were dressed in "international border" uniforms. Sunset ensued.

On the top of a mountain, surrounded by jungle, we needed a place to sleep and got creative. Realizing the processing offices had been abandoned by the staff for a game of soccer, we secretly explored them for a covered place to sleep. Gabi and Eliza returned with thier arms covered in visa acceptance stamps, but no place to sleep. After setting up camp under a cement stairwell protecting us from the windchill, seven guards entered our "bedroom" and physically removed us while threatenting to put is in handcuffs and send us back to Vietnam. Mind you, our single entry visas were now expired. Realizing we had taken photos, they proceeded to snatch our cameras from our bags and after deleting the incriminating photos, returned them to us. The head guard did not want us under a roof. He had bad karma.

As soon as the head guard had gone to bed, the military personel invited us into their shack bar. A minivan with a driver arrived to our exitement, however after one hour we realized he had only come to the Laos border for the "shack bar" and was too drunk to drive us. He even went as far as inciting a fist fight with the military personel. With no other option, we joined the party enjoing free BeerLao, courtesy of the Lao military, and even finding women (wives, cooks, and cleaing staff) to start a dance party.

Graciously, two of the military personel offered us space on their communal bed in the neighboring shack. Scheptical, yet exhausted and desperate for warmth and a place to lay our heads, we accepted the offer. Five hours later, the four of us huddled together for warmth, awoke to rats and fleas and a man standing in our doorway staring at us sheepishly. We went to the resturaunt for a second round of noodle soup and instant coffee, freshly energized for a new day of adventure.

Four hours into our day, we sighted a bus on the horizon of no man's land approaching the Laos border. We cheered and without hesitation sprinted to the vehicle. Thirty skeptical western travelers watched as the bus charged us four times the amount they had paid for the same bus ticket to the next town. After extensive arguing, we laoded the overflowing bus and found our seats on the ground. Our mumpy, muddy bus ride through flooding rivers depostited us at a boat taking us across the river to our first village...still no ATM. The four of us had just enough to buy yet another bowl of noodle soup, a shared bottle of water and a bus ticket to the next town. When the bus stopped at the ATM the foreigners aboard cheered, to the confusion of the Lao passengers. Thirty-six hours later, covered in a layer of dirt, sweat, utter shock and with unbrushed teeth, we had reached an "international ATM!!!"

Joyious celebrations ensued...please join us in a sigh of relief.

Despite our tumultuous entrance, Laos would soon swoon us with its laid back nature, friendly people and breathtaking scenery.

Goodbye Vietnam

After leaving Hanoi, we were excited to reach the long awaited Sapa, a town in the highlands of Northwestern Vietnam. In true Seattleite fashion, we were relieved that the temperature was tolerable and even a bit drizzly. Women clad in traditional dress from both Hmoung and Zao surrounding villages roamed the streets smiling, yet desperately trying to sell us their array of handmade crafts. At times the ratios were 5:1, with a group of women following us cheerfully for blocks. We were instantly intrigued to learn more about the lives of the hill tribe people.

We heard it was both cheaper and more of a cultural experience to do a home stay with a local family than to book one through a guesthouse. With this we headed straight to the bustling market in attempts to meet a lucky lady selling handmade textiles in order to convince her to invite us into her home for a night. Smiling partially toothless women, teeth burgundy from chewing on beetlenuts, greeted us warmly eager to sell their goods unaware of our intentions to impose upon their families. One woman began explaining that she had married an American and after noticing her Obama t-shirt poking out from her Hmoung dress and showing us photos of her wedding in New Mexico, we knew we had found a winner. Her husband, Martin, arrived just in time. Just over five feet tall, with a long gray ponytail, sporting mixed Hmoung and American attire, the 53 year old greeted us warmly, maybe a little too warmly. He took us to a Zao friend, also selling crafts in the market, who had married a Frenchmen and Martin offered us her home for the following night. We were set.

Later that night, we found ourselves at Martin's modest hotel for a homemade feast, made on their bathroom floor, with his wife and the Frenchmen. We learned that there are nearly 30 tribes surrounding Sapa, two of the largest being the Black Hmoung and Zao. Each tribe is distinct in dress, agriculture, customs and education but they hold full respect for one another. Both wear beautiful handmade clothing that is equivalent to a winter parka.

The next day we set off on our trek with the Zao wife and mother-in-law of the Frenchmen. Together we trekked 14 km high into the mountains, passing rice paddies and cornfields. We were impressed to learn they do this four hour commute between Sapa twice daily carrying goods on their back in a giant basket.

At the peak of the mountain, one boy and two girls, ages five, seven and nine, greeted us with shy smiles in front of their two-room wooden home. The inside was lined with woven mats and a dirt floor on which were two beds, two fire pits and a slippery kitchen. The backyard held a chicken coup and four pigpens with pigs, chickens, roosters playing chaotically among the giggling children. We gave the kids gifts of coconut bread, fresh peanuts, and no battery flashlights. All were put to immediate use.

Our hosts impressed us as we watched them cook over a fire a simple yet delicious feast of tofu, many vegetables and rice, all of which they had grown. Each family in this region cultivates acres of rice, all of which is solely for personal consumption, feeding each family member three times daily. The rice was delightfully unlike any other we'd had before. Our tired bodies were gratefully rewarded with an herbal bath set in a handmade wooden tub. The herbs were freshly collected from their garden upon our arrival.

After watching shooting stars and the Milky Way in pure darkness, we slept on a bamboo mat under a mosquito net. We awoke to roosters and yet another delicious homegrown breakfast and tea. We were sad to leave such generous and humbling people but Laos was calling our names.

Exhausted and dirty we returned to our bags and hanging laundry held by a hostel. Realizing she was missing a white t-shirt, Gabi asked the clerk if they had seen it. Blushing, she pointed to the white t-shirt she was wearing asking "You mean this one?" Incredulously, Gabi confirmed it was hers as other traveling onlookers laughed in disbelief. The worn shirt was returned just hours after Gabi had paid to have it washed.

The next morning, in pouring rain, we ran around town trying to recover Gabi's forgotten passport which was being delivered from Hanoi on the night bus. Only as it was received did we realize the hotel from that same morning still had Lisa's passport. Meanwhile our bus to the Lao border was waiting. We recovered both and embarrassed we border the packed minivan soaking wet. The apologies flowed.

After 45min in the minivan the eight foreigners in the back seats gathered from the 12 Vietnamese in the front that this was not a ride to the bus station for our sleeper bus... We were in for a ten hour ride in this uncomfortable vehicle with multiple stops due to flooding and mud. While one boy puked loudly and continuously in the front seat, a local man insisted on leaning on Gabi's cramped legs. We were relived to reach Dien Bien Phu after dark in preparation for our border crossing the following morning. Little did we know what we had in store...