Kayaking Nong Khiaw to Luang Prabang

We arrived in Luang Prabang yesterday after three days kayaking from Nong Khiaw, first down the Nam Ou and then along the mighty Mekong, staying with ethnic Khmu families along the way...and drinking more than a little lao-lao.  In our defense, it was literally forced upon us. Tiny Laotian ladies just won't take no for an answer. 

 

We left Nong Khiaw on Christmas Eve while the fog was still hanging low over the river. Our co-kayakers were a Swiss couple and our guide, Tong. After all the heavy rainfall the river was higher than usual and we didn't really need to paddle too hard to cover the morning stretch to our first stop, a Khmu village which was bang in the middle of their annual new year festivities. Of course, the arrival of four falang (which originally meant French but now covers any western foreigner) was cause for much excitement. A crowd of children stood at a safe distance watching us eat our lunch and then trailed behind as we made our way over to the bamboo and banana-leaf party tent. It was clear from the state of the MC and most of the adults that the party had been going for some time. We were offered multiple shots of lao-lao and then...it was time to dance!!

 

After showing the villagers our moves and downing a few more shots of lao-lao, Tong decided we better get moving before we were too legless to paddle.

This is the face Lao people make when watching falang dance

Our next stop was a small village where we visited the local school and I got invited in to give the english students a taste of aussie english. Then it was time to paddle across the river to our homestay. 

 

The next morning (Christmas!!) we woke early to the sound of seven thousand roosters crowing, wood being chopped for the cooking fires and many Lao villagers hawking, hacking and spitting. Nice. 

Since we didn't have far to paddle that day, we took it easy, watching the villagers going about their daily routines and playing a bit of frisbee. Several ladies nearby were cooking rats over their fires and we squeamishly wondered if this was going to be a Christmas feast we'd never forget. Thankfully, we were served a bowl of innocent noodle soup. Phew. 

We had about four hours of paddling on day two which was mainly mellow and uneventful, until we hit a rock on some (rather tame) rapids and flipped the kayak. Luckily the sun was shining and our dry bags kept everything important dry so we weren't too fussed. 

Arriving into our second homestay village we could hear the music pumping and knew that we had a lot more lao-lao in store. We weren't wrong. If anything, these guys were even more tanked than at the first village and had a serious lounge room disco going. After an hour or so of shaking our asses and downing countless shots of lao-lao, Tong came and saved us by suggesting a walk around the village. This walk took us straight to the next party where we partied with the local teenagers...and then it was time for dinner, accompanied by a few more shots of lao-lao. Yikes.

 

The next morning we were all feeling rather tender. Then we flipped the kayak on some less-tame rapids and suddenly the hangover was gone, to be replaced by a healthy fear of the river and a bone-chilling cold. When the sun finally burned through the fog it was a cause for celebration and we stopped to thaw out on the banks of the river and eat the food we were all too hungover to eat for breakfast.

 

The highlight of our third day was leaving the Nam Ou and entering the Mekong River. It felt pretty cool to paddle along one of the world's great rivers, even if we only covered a fraction of it's 4350km.

We were picked up on the banks of the Mekong and driven into Luang Prabang where we plan to spend the next week indulging in countless steam baths...and avoiding lao-lao at all costs.  If there's a better way to finish three days of exercise than with a traditional Lao massage and an unbelievably awesome herbal sauna...I look forward to finding it. 

Love Laos; Fear Lao-Lao

Once the rain finally stopped here in northern Laos we realised it was freaking gorgeous!! We left Luang Namtha in the hope of finding drier, warmer weather and found it just 300km away in Nong Khiaw, on the banks of the Nam Ou. 

 

We spent a lazy few days here, enjoying blue skies, sunshine and the beautiful scenery of the surrounding countryside, before taking a boat upriver to Muang Ngoi Neua, a tiny village which made sleepy Nong Khiaw seem like bright-lights-big-city. 

After China, Laos seems overwhelmingly rural. The capital city, Vientiane, wouldn't even cop a mention on Chinese-scale maps, with a population of just a quarter of a million. Muang Ngoi was only accessible by boat until very recently, and so far as we could tell, the addition of a rough dirt road hasn't done much to increase the flow of human traffic. 

Muang Ngoi is the kind of place you could easily find yourself spending weeks in. Unfortunately we forget to stock up on cash before we left and with no way to access money in the village, we had to limit our time, and our expenditure somewhat. 

This curtailing of our spending somehow translated into a bottle of 15,000 kip (AUD$2) lao-lao (Laos rice whiskey). It made sense at the time; cheaper than beer and certainly, at 40%, more effective. 

The next morning we woke up with severe lao-lao induced hangovers. They were so severe that we didn't get out of bed until midday, thus helping our budget immensely by skipping breakfast. More money was saved throughout the day as we lay prostrate on the lawn, recovering. 

Thankfully after a lao-lao free night, we were good to go. We took a stroll through rice paddy fields and forest to the nearby villages of Ban Na and Huay Bo where (like us) the locals were recovering from some kind of village fiesta from the day before.

 

We stayed for lunch, enjoyed the tranquility and watched the teeming population of puppies and small children playing and fighting in the dirt. Laos is a young country- 60% of it's population is under 25 and the animal population seems to echo this demographic. It's like one giant baby-animal petting zoo with hundreds of puppies, kittens, chicks and piglets competing for our adoring love and attention. Just one more reason to love Laos.

Now we're back in Nong Khiew, dry bags packed and ready to head off on a three day kayaking trip down to Luang Prabang. We'll be spending Christmas in an ethnic Khmu Lao village, eating spicy food and enjoying our Santa-sponsored trip downriver. Merry Christmas everyone!!!

Meanwhile, in Laos...

I'm writing this from the comfort of our cozy room in Luang Namtha, listening with a certain satisfaction to the rain which has been pounding down relentlessly for the last 18 hours or so. We are supposed to be hiking through the Namtha Protected Area even as I write this, but we cut our trek short and came back to town yesterday, having been all but washed away by torrential rain.

The Namtha Protected Area is a swath of jungle in northwestern Laos, up against the Thai border and home to elephants, tigers and monkeys (amongst myriad other, lesser exciting species such as leeches and malarial mosquitos). We had booked a 3 day trek which was supposed to involve a night camping in the jungle and a night at a local homestay in a remote ethnic village. Having poured with rain for the entire night before we were supposed to leave, we were somewhat hopeful when we awoke to grey clouds, but no rain. As it turns out, our optimism was completely misguided. The rain started as we were driving to our trailhead and didn’t stop for the next three hours as we slid and slipped down the muddy trail.

 

Of course, being in the rainforest, you expect a certain amount of rain. I even enjoy it from under the canopy; the sound of the drops making their way through dense foliage to the forest floor is quite soothing. It was only once we arrived to our camp that we realised the rain might be more of a problem than we’d anticipated.

Our camp consisted of a flooded banana-leaf structure surrounded by sucking mud. It did not inspire confidence. Even after Sing, our guide, had chopped down more banana trees (ahhh, eco-tourism indeed) and covered the old, soggy leaves with new ones we were skeptical and rightly so.

  

At around 4pm, the rain started up again. We ate a delicious dinner of pork and pumpkin curry and settled into our still-dry sleeping bags early. The rain fell continuously. By 2am it became apparent that our banana leaf floor was leaking water. By 4am the floor, the sleeping bags and sleeping bag occupants were soaked. We waited in earnest for daylight and by the time it finally came there was sedition in camp. The small stream we were camped beside had become a fully-fledged river; the trail was a nightmare of boggy mud. With everything already saturated and no break in the rain we decided to turn back.

At the time I felt a bit lame for quitting but now I just feel warm. And smug. In fact, as I think of myself trudging knee deep in mud in the pouring rain, I’m feeling rather self-congratulatory. I might have a nap to celebrate. 

Thanks, but no thanks.

There is a Chinese saying that dictates: 'Anything that walks, swims, crawls, or flies with its back to heaven is edible'. Of course, edible doesn't necessary mean desirable. 

Much as I love Chinese cuisine, there are a few aspects of the Chinese kitchen that I find extremely hard to stomach. Here's a few local specialties that won't be finding their way past my lips. 

1. Dog

Admittedly, there is a lot wrong with this picture...but the smoked dog (far right) takes the cake

Ok...maybe, MAYBE if I were invited to someone's home and served dog meat I would eat it so as not to offend the host. But I will never order it voluntarily and dog-carcass-jerky remains one of the most disturbing things I have seen in China. 

2. Turtle

There are lots of horrendous things that are done to turtles in China. Street vendors sell keyrings of live baby turtles in plastic bags...

And turtle soup makes an all-too-frequent appearance on menus around the country. At least it's nigh on impossible to mistake this for chicken:

3. Anything involving penis

T-bone? Rib-eye? Porterhouse? Nah, fuck it....I'll have the penis thanks. I hear it's good for virility. 

4. Anything I've petted on the way to my table

Like these poor bastards. I can't read their neck-tags but it doesn't take a genius to know their day is done. 

5. Flat Pig Face

I'm not really a fan of pork at the best of times. This is just grotesque. 

Dancing with the Dong

The Dong are one of the numerous ethnic minorities in China, famous for their carpentry skills, singing and rice wine. We had originally planned to coast through the region on our way to Hunan province but once our visas were extended and we found ourselves with an extra 30 days in China, we decided to stop off and see the Chengyang Wind and Rain Bridge, completed by extremely talented Dong chippies in 1912. 

 

Like all the local houses, the bridge is constructed entirely of wood which is ingeniously slotted together instead of using nails.

The five villages (Ma'an, Dong, Da, Yan, and Ping) are so close to each other they could be mistaken for one, but all have their own Drum Tower which forms the central part of cultural life in the village and is where locals perform music and dance for enthusiastic Chinese tourists (and us!). 

 

Actually our attendance at the show almost upstaged the local musicians and dancers. Being in China is like being a B-grade celebrity. People stare (a lot), ask to have their photo taken with you and then back away giggling. 

Unlike their woodwork, which even an imbecile can see is amazing, Dong music is an acquired taste. Like a lot of music we've heard in China it seemed to involve a lot of off-pitch discordant singing. Still, gotta love the girls headdress... 

Having tested two out of three Dong specialties, it was time to move on to the third! So far we've had a mixed experience with Chinese rice wine- a couple have been good, most barely drinkable and one truly vile. Most of the stuff labeled wine could send a rocket to the moon but this was a much gentler version (lucky really, since it came in a enormous jar). 

Apparently the Dong also have a Bull Intestine Eating Festival. Happily we'll be long gone by then. 

Confucius say...two wheels better than four

We've spent the last three days exploring the insanely picturesque countryside around Yangshuo-. Unfortunately the weather has been rather average, so our photos don't really do justice to the extraordinary scenery, brilliant green landscapes and lovely rural settings that we've cruised past. 

 

If Confucius had chosen to elaborate on two-wheeled transport he probably would also have said that two wheels mounted on a petrol-driven motor are even better than human-driven pedal power!!! After an unsuccessful attempt to cycle shitty Chinese bikes to Xingping yesterday, today we wised up and hired a scooter. Fixed gear bicycles are simply not cut out for hills...take that hipsters!!

 

The People's Republic of China Digital Detox...THWARTED by Martijn

We're ba-ack!! Take that internet censors!! I guess it probably should have occurred to us earlier but it seems that for every firewall the Chinese government has thrown up in the face of morally corrupt sites like Blogger and Facebook, there are 7 million dorks who've posted ways around this online! Thanks online tweens!! And thanks Martijn for taking the 2.5 minutes it took to Google our troubles away...

Mongolia in 11 days, 2000km, 2 Russian vans and a shitload of mutton

Day One: Ulaan Bataar to Kharakorum (365km- 8 hours)

We are thrilled to discover that our vehicle for the next 11 days is a seriously cool Soviet era former army vehicle. The six of us pile in, stash our vodka bottles and settle back for the long drive to Kharakorum, once the capital of the Mongol empire. We stop at our first ovoo after lunch, a kind of shamanistic cairn where travelers add rocks, ribbons and small offerings and circle three times for a safe journey. Judging by the overwhelming number of empty vodka bottles that litter the side of the road, anything which may contribute to the safety of your journey seems like a good idea. We circle. 

  

We arrive at our first ger camp just before sunset. Our driver, Shichiree, is from Kharakorum and invites us to his family ger for a delicious dinner of dumplings, mutton and airag (fermented mare's milk that isn't as disgusting as it sounds but is by no means something I want to try again). 

 

Day Two: Kharakorum to Orkhorn Valley National Park (170km- 5 hours)

In the morning we visit the oldest Buddhist monastery in Mongolia, Erdene Zuu Khiid, which was mostly destroyed by the Communist forces in 1939 as part of a nation-wide purge. It is beyond cold and we feel sorry for the mini-monks with their shorn heads and inadequate-looking robes.

 

We leave the paved road and bounce like mad over pot holes that could swallow a smaller car. Our van (who I have named Ivan) is already making some rather alarming gear box noises. We arrive to our next ger camp late afternoon- a beautiful spot nestled in a valley beside a freezing cold river partially iced over. 

 

Day Three: Orkhorn Valley National Park

Our horses are saddled for us and we set off for the Orkhorn Waterfall. Baina, our guide, assures us that Mongolian horses are 'so gentle, so calm'. My horse turns out to be feisty, has a crazed look in his eye and likes to snap at other horses. It's a beautiful, sunny, wind-free day. The waterfall is only partially frozen and stunning. We climb down into the ravine and explore, and then return to our horses who are noticeably happier when we head for home. 

 

Everyone else values hygiene and bathes in the river. I decide to ride out the filth and stay warm. I will come to regret this decision in a few days. 

Day Four: Orkhorn Valley to.....random nomad family (about 130km, 10 hours)

We're supposed to be driving to Ongiin Khiid ruins but it soon becomes apparent that Ivan's problems are multiplying. Our pace slows to a crawl, punctuated with frequent stops where Shichiree gets out his tools and fiddles around with the engine. It takes hours to get up a gently sloping hill. 

 

We finally make it to the tiny town of Khujirit, stock up on vodka, and continue on, no one very optimistic about making it to the ruins. Finally at 5:30pm we spot a family ger and ask if we can stay with them for the night. Amazingly the family agrees to let 8 strangers eat and sleep with them in their tiny four person ger. We crack open a bottle of vodka to thank them. They are happy. 

 

Day Five: Random nomad family to Ongiin Khiid (about 150km- 10 hours)

We get up very early to make up the time we lost but Ivan is not having any of it and after four hours we've only traveled about 30km. We limp into Shant at 2pm, buy beer and watch as the town's male population speculates about what could be wrong with Ivan (everything). 

Two hours later, we're still there. Baina tells us there is good news and bad news. We have to ditch Ivan and Shichiree and change to a rather more disappointing and uncomfortable van....Shichiree looks sad and we feel bad for him. But Shant is a shithole and we are happy to leave. We finally arrive at Ongiin Khiid late in the evening, drink vodka and pass out.  

Day Six: Ongiin Khiid to Khongur Dune Camp (330km- 8 hours)

After visiting the Ongiin Khiid monastery ruins we drive four hours to the Flaming Cliffs. The landscape turns slowly from the familiar flat expanse of steppe to sandier, drier desert. The Flaming Cliffs are red-tinted pinnacles carved out by wind erosion and they are a welcome change from hours of unbroken desert landscape. 

 

After lunch, we jolt along for another five hours to the Singing Sand Dunes in the northern Gobi Desert. Arriving in the dark, we can't see past the end of our ger but are assured the dunes are spectacular. 

Day Seven: Khongoryn Els Sand Dunes

We wake up. The dunes are indeed spectacular. Today we are going to ride camels. They look angry and we feel trepidation. Our guide chats into his mobile phone as we set out across the desert. Mongolia's mobile network is proving rather impressive. 

 

Our camels have pretty faces and are docile and smelly (though no worse than we are at this stage). We plod back to camp for lunch and then hike up the 300m sand dunes to hear them sing. The views are insanely expansive and beautiful. An evening sundowner with our German ger neighbours turns into a bottle and a half of vodka. 

 

Day Eight: Khongoryn Els to Yolyn Am (190km- 7 hours)

Today's drive takes us through the Gurvan Saikhan Mountains to reach the Yolyn Am gorge.  Our driver looks like he is starting to regret taking on the job as he squeezes his van through the narrow gorge. We hike through the Valley of Vultures to see the year round ice field. It is brutally, painfully cold but beautiful. We drive to our ger camp to find that a bus load of Mongolians has invaded our ger and are drinking vodka and singing national songs. We fear another night on the floor but they eventually run out of vodka and leave. 

 

Day Nine: Yolyn Am to Baga Ghazryn Chuluu (? 300-400km and 10 long, long hours)

We depart early for a long mornings drive to white and red tinted cliffs where we stop briefly to scoff fried dumplings. Everyone is sick of the car. In the afternoon we hit the first strip of paved road since the first day and it feels like heaven on our jarred spinal cords. We breeze along at a staggering 60km an hour. At Mandalgov we leave the highway and bounce another 60km to our camp, located at the base of the Baga Ghazryn rocky mountains. We all stink and are fantasizing about showers. Baby wipes are a poor substitute for water and soap. 

 

Day Ten: Baga Ghazryn Chuluu to Terelj National Park (350km- 8 hours)

We hike around the rocky crops in the morning. It reminds me of Australia (only much, much colder and with better mobile phone coverage). 

 

Another long, long drive though mostly along paved roads. We arrive at Terelj National Park in the evening, within spitting distance of Ulaan Bataar and a shower. Everyone is happy. We have Mongolian bbq for dinner which involves a few token vegetables and vast quantities of mutton. Baby wipes don't really cut the mustard against mutton grease. 

Day Eleven: Terelj N.P to Ulaan Bataar (50km- 2 hours)

Morning hike around the area. Much daydreaming about a hot shower and a cold beer. After lunch we drive to the Chinggis Khan statue. It looks kind of out of place but the many Mongolian tourists are clearly proud. We drink a vodka in Chinggis' honour and talk about showers. Late in the afternoon we arrive back into Ulaan Bataar, possibly the world's ugliest capital city. Cold beer is procured, showers are had. We eat Korean food and marvel at the absence of mutton.