A word on Lao buses

Travel guides issue fair warnings about the buses in Laos. It's common for them to break down mid-journey or get a flat tire from extraordinarily bumpy roads. One might feel a certain sense of claustraphobia on even the smallest of journeys. I'm not complaining- I'm 4 for 4 in successful journeys, although on 2 or 3 of the rides we passed broken-down buses on the way, handing them supplies and tools that I hoped we wouldn't end up needing ourselves. To say the roads are bad simply wouldn't do it justice. These supposed highways are often piecemeal roads, patching together dusty red-dirt roads chock full of large rocks with sparse paved portions. Sometimes only one lane squeezes between the ledge of a cliff and the rise of another cliff, leaving oncoming traffic to sort it out. For the majority of the ride, we bump along, holding on to whatever we can.

From Luang Nam Tha to Udomxai, I sat next to a dude from Winston-Salem (small world!). On the other side of me, a Lao woman sat in the aisle in a pink plastic chair. She didn't look me in the eye or otherwise acknowledge me, yet every time we rounded a curve (often), she grabbed on to my thigh so as not to topple over. I grinned like a child the first time she did it, partly because it tickled and partly out of surprise. In between curves, she rested her hand on my knee as if it was her own. At one point, we stopped to let a passenger out and she propped her elbow on my leg, leaning the weight of her head on her hand. Since it was so dusty, most of the windows were closed, making for a sweaty ride. I packed an omlet and sticky rice for lunch, but it would have been impossible to eat the omlet with one hand grabbing my seat for balance and my elbows constrained to my sides. I managed to munch on some sticky rice.

On my ride from Udomxai to Nong Khiaw, we packed 13 adults, 3 kids and one driver into a Toyota van. All our luggage and a mountain bike rode on top. Miraculously, the seat next to me remained empty the whole ride, meaning I could sit sideways instead of jamming my knees into the seat in front of me. The driver passed out plastic bags before we took off and the Westerners looked at each other nervously. Barf bags. It was a windy road, but no one threw up (thankfully). I quite enjoyed it actually. We stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break- into the woods I went. The driver bought some prickly bamboo shoots along the way and distributed them in villages we passed through. Three Lao men sat in the row behind me. I offered them soynuts and we all laughed as I tried to pour them into their hands while the van bumped along.

The four hour journey from Nong Khiaw to Luang Prabang was in the back of a sangthaew, a truck bed with two benches lining the sides. We had 15 people in there at one point and it was by far the most uncomfortable of my journeys so far in Laos. At least we had the wind blowing through our hair!

For my final adventures in Thailand, click HERE.

Pai

We thought we outsmarted the guards. But as we hugged the bank of the hotspring, naked, squinting into the beams of two flashlights, we realized we were wrong. Thai's value modesty, so being caught naked is probably one of the worst farang faux-pas (farang means foreigner, and not usually in a good way). First we tried to drive in on our motorbikes, but they wanted to charge us 200 baht each. Then we parked in the dark down the road, walked back and sneaked around the guard's station, trying not to laugh or make sounds as we tripped blindly over shrubs and roots. We still couldn't find a way in. Our last resort? Bribe the guards. The hotspring was closed after all, and charging us the normal price was proof they were looking to make some pocket money. By the time we made it back on our bikes, the guards were gone. We kept driving and settled into one of the hotter pools, only a sliver of moon and sparkling stars lit the water. We soaked for about 15 minutes before the getting caught; with the heat of the pool, it was just long enough. Instead of fining us, the guards seemed more interested in the contents of a nearby garbage can.

Five Americans and one German strong, we made quite the motorbike posse. I was too scared to learn how to ride amidst the curvy roads surrounding Pai, so Bonnie and others were kind enough to tote me around on the back of theirs. We took a winding road north through peaks of mountains and stopped at a viewpoint for stunning vistas, clean air and grilled sweet potatoes. We continued on to a cave, but couldn't afford the mandatory guide and bamboo raft. Two years ago, all the hotsprings and caves were either free or barely charged. Now, with a recent tourist boom, the natural beauty of the area often comes with a price. No matter, we made our way down a dirt road and then a narrow footpath (on our motorbikes!) in an attempt to get to the base of a giant cliff. Based on the reactions of grazing cattle, it didn't seem like many of the locals use motorbikes on that path. Eventually, muddy crossings and steep inclines prevented us continuing our journey on bikes. We parked and hiked up rough fields and through jungles of brambles and bamboo before eventually we couldn't get farther on foot. I was wearing flip-flops, so I went barefoot most of the way, caking my feet in mud, stepping on a few brambles and enjoying the Thai landscape passing through my toes. We passed bamboo shanties of farmers and they gave Bonnie and Steve a bag of something we haven't yet identified.

It was dark on the way back, and I forgot to pack warm clothes. My teeth chattered, especially downhill. Tilman cut the engine and we floated downhill without a headlight, through curves and almost into some cows chewing in the middle of the road (unflinching, of course). The sun had set over the mountains and a pink glow hovered above them. Amazing. To get the chill out of my bones, I went straight to the herbal steam sauna when I got back to Pai. The smell of licorice filled my lungs, steam seared my face, it was a perfect end to a beautiful day.

The next night we celebrated Tino's birthday by sending off a couple of lanterns. We sent fireworks after the second one, trying to shoot it down. It floated high enough to appear the size of a star.

In the three hours in took to drive from Chiang Mai to Pai, we rounded 762 curves. Don't worry, I planned ahead and took a Dramamine- didn't feel a thing! The heart of Pai consists of a handful of streets filled with shops, restaurants, and guesthouses. The streets transform into a market each night, with souvenirs, black sesame pancakes and chrysanthemum tea at every turn. I stayed across the river in a bamboo hut, overlooking fields, mountains and spectacular sunsets. I spent plenty of time in my hammock and had to huddle in blankets at night to stay warm. I splurged $6 for a traditional Thai massage that ranks in the top 2 of all time. I followed it with an herbal steam sauna- just thinking about it makes me relax.

Reluctantly, I left Pai after 8 days. I made my way down to Chiang Mai for 2 nights and then on to Chiang Khong, a border town set on the Mekong River. From here, I crossed into Laos.

Here's pics of Pai:

Pai

If you missed my account of lovely Chiang Mai, click HERE.

Chiang Mai

Khao Soi is a traditional northern Thai dish consisting of rich coconut curry soup, thick noodles, mushrooms, tofu (or meat) and crispy noodles on top. It's eaten with chopsticks, lime, fresh sprouts and pickled greens. Some eat it with whole cloves of garlic and hot peppers as well. I had my first introduction to the dish at Pok-Pok in Portland, and ever since then I've wanted to try the real deal (if you live in Portland and order Khao Soi at Pok-Pok, it would be kind of like you and me having dinner together across the world. just sayin').

Chiang Mai is a popular place for foodies both because of the top-notch cuisine at stellar prices and also the culinary schools where you can learn to cook authentic Thai food. Vegetarians rejoice at the options here. It's easy to find real coffee, grown in the nearby mountains.

Chiang Mai has an old city, where most of the Wats (temples), restaurants and guesthouses reside. It's a popular place to visit, so it took me a while to find a guesthouse with an empty room. Everything in Chiang Mai can be had for less than Bangkok. Getting around is best done on foot.

I spent 9 slow days in Chiang Mai, long enough to develop favorite spots and recognition from the locals. I settled into a nice routine, spending most of my days writing, walking, visiting Wats, reading and exploring my thoughts over fruit shakes. I took roughly 3 cold showers each day and usually couldn't fall asleep before 2 0r 3am due to the heat. My favorite breakfast consisted of boiled rice soup with tofu and poached egg. Wat Phra Singh, in the heart of the old city, quickly became one of my favorite places to write. It's home to several temples and a luxurious garden full of shade, tables and wooden Buddhist sayings nailed to the trees. It is ever so quiet, aside from the occasional high school student wanting to practice English. They ask impossible questions, like "What do you want in future?" or "What is touristic in your country?" It's a big country, I told them, but mentioned Yosemite and New York so we could move on to the next question. "What do you know of Thai people?" they continued, as a group of them crowded around to watch. "What do you know of political situation in Thailand?" Maybe you could tell me about it, I suggested. She didn't know anything about it. The worst part is, they recorded the conversation and took my picture. There is a record- a record!- of all my awkward responses to their much too broad questions.Each Sunday night, the streets transform into one of my all-time favorite markets. Stalls hawk traditional handicrafts from nearby hilltribes, modern crafts from local city-dwellers, and tasty street food. Although it's called a "walking street," the crowds force more of a crawl. I thought all my senses might explode as I took in all the creative energy. Additionally, there are two nightly night markets- one sells cheap food and the other is a full-on craft bazaar that sprawls over several street blocks, malls and shopping centers.
On my last night, I met up with Tilman, a friend from Bottle Beach. We hopped on his motorbike and rode to the nearby Wat Suan Dok to watch the sun setting on the golden stupa.

I hated to leave Chiang Mai- I could live there!- but I knew another paradise awaited me in the mountain town of Pai.

If you missed the journey from the islands to Bangkok, click HERE.