Phonsovan & Plain of Jars, Laos

Travel notes

Two nights in Phonsovan & Plain of Jars. This area - about 300 sq. kmetres the site of heavy fighting 1960-1970; civil war between Pathet Lao, Royalists and Hmong mountain tribes led by Vang Pao, financed by CIA. N. Vietnamese, Russians and CIA intervened; Ho Chi Minh trail ran through here and tracks and trenches still evident. US bombed the trail but also used site as a dumping ground for bombers offloading before they landed. The result, we were told was the equivalent of 10 Hiroshimas in bomb tonnage a day for about eight years.

war evidence everywhere, bomb craters, scrapyards full of military weaponry, bags of bullets many still with gunpowder, grenades, cluster bombs and landmines. Defoliants, agent orange etc stripped the hills bare of trees. Crops growing again. People turning war artillery to practical use. Our hotel, the auberge has a stripped down bomb casing as an ashtray; wooden thatched homes use the shells to prop up fences and buildings and melt down aluminium for spoons. the Mine Action Group working daily and we saw the UXO guys out clearing round a house.

Amazingly, the numbers of people injured by still live war ammo/bombs is increasing - one estimate about 300 a year. People get money for war scrap and so are willing to search it out and dig it up.

Laos - US secret war. Involvement there only just admitted. While we were there, US military had taken over the Vansana Hotel. They had deputation dealing with Missing In Action soldiers - apparently 4-5,000 MIAs in Laos.

Plain of Jars the Plain of Jars runs through the war site. Jars fascinating up close - if not in pix. 2000-4000 years old. several theories about what they are four, although our guide claims most likely used for offerings to the gods/spirits to protect the departed.

Travel notes:

People:

Lynda and Gill: old friends from London and fellow Liverpool supporters. Both experienced travellers round the world. Have spent the last nine months volunteering in Cambodia, teaching English to orphans in the poverty school and in a shelter for trafficked girls and young women. They return to England early August.

Places:

The journey so far:
Bangkok (4 nights)
Taxi to Khao Yai – 2-3 hours north east of Bangkok. UNESCO heritage site. One day trek in the jungle with fab guide – pronounced Nine – spelt no idea.Saw gibbons, hornbills, scorpions macaques. Went to the famous waterfall used in the film The Beach. Managed not to crack my toe on the rocks there. Managed to crack my toe later coming out of our bathroom at the Jungle Lodge. The lodge – more rooms with character and some Thai karaoke thrown in late into the night. Woke up to see three elephants wandering past our door.

Public bus back to Bangkok. A few hours to kill before the sleeper train to Chaing Mai. Saw the movie Wanted in a cinema in one of Bangkok's many air conditioned huge shopping malls. The cinema arranged like a first-class airline. Big plush seats more comfortable than most of the beds we've had here. Air conditioning freezing – but thoughtfully they'd provided quilts to keep us warm. Drinks served throughout the movie. The movie – rubbish.

Overnight to Chiang Mai. disappointing place. A few temples, and a modern part much like a very reduced Bangkok – heaps of markets, street food and bars, and sex tourism. We stayed in more rooms with character at the Royal Garden Lodge. Reasonable price but more than the nice cool, clean hotel with free wi-fi round the corner. Young backpackers aplenty here.

Next day: mini bus through the mountains to Pai. Wonderful four days relaxing there. Gorgeous rooms at the Pairadise Guest House and Bakery run by a German woman Kathrin and her Thai husband Pin, who designed the place himself and created a pond and spring water swimming pool out of the old rice fields. Unbelievable price – about £10 a day for two.

Night bus to Chiang Khong at the Thai-Laos border. Speed boat up the Mekong to Luang Prabang the ancient capital of Laos. Still here and will be till 21st July. Plan an elephant trek, maybe some kayaking and a visit to Buddhist cave. Fab place, fantastic food – Lao and French. We both had Lao massages. Slightly strange experience – but invigorating. Staying in Sayo river Guest House. Good rooms, balcony overlooking the Mekong. $40 a night.

Next stop – probably – Plain of Jars, then Vang Vieng, down to Vientiane and maybe sometime in the south of laos visiting limestone underground caves – 7 k of them.

Bright idea: how about a travel guide for the 40-50 somethings? Lonely Planet often out of date and caters for a mainly young backpackers. Saga too old. We want adventure and comfort with a little bit of sociability and rooms with character thrown in from time to time.

Corn plaster report: my rashes have mostly gone, face clear. Cracked toe almost better. Jenks' hearing a bit dodgy from day to day. Did something like a sprain to her arm sitting in the jacuzzi in Bangkok Marriott. Corn plasters – still carrying loads but amazingly have not needed to use them yet!

Top picture: our place in Pai
Bottom picture: the four of us (Lynda and Gill right) Buffalo Bar, Pai

Apocalypse Lao

am Luang Prabang, from our balcony. We arrived Monday up the Mekong by speed boat. It was six hours in the boat and for much of that time we seemed to have the Mekong to ourselves. Just mile after mile of mighty red river with an endless landscape of steep densely wooded hills on either side. For long stretches there was scarcely any signs of human life, just the occasional fishing canoe or tiny thatched hut hamlets.

It probably sounds romantic. We have called the trip Apocalypse Lao. We had been repeatedly scammed, fleeced for more dollars at every turn since we arrived at the Lao border after a 9 hour mini bus ride from Pai. The bus journey was standard; packed, a driver who went slow on the straights and like a maniac through the mountain hairpins; a drunken Irishwoman who never stopped talking until the valium kicked in and her friend who stopped the bus a couple of times to throw up. I managed some sleep only to wake to hear Gill whispering that the driver was 'drifting off' at the wheel. We arrived at Cheung kong at about 6 am, at the Thai border We'd booked our ticket all the way through from Pai to Luang Prabang. But of course, not so simple. our so-called guide dumped us down by the river – had to pay to take the ferry to Heuy Sai and Lao immigration – and just hope that once there the guide's 'sister' would take us to the speed boat pier.


The Lonely Planet guide warns that the Lao government has tried to stop speed boat trips for tourists. No wonder. The Mekong must be well over a 100 metres wide in places, currents are fast and sometimes flow in opposite directions, and it's dotted with eddies and whirlpools and rock formations that sometimes extend half the width of the river. Even before you get on the boat you have to negotiate what it is laughingly called the ferry pier – extraordinarily steep steps, at times with no hand rail, and then a wooden gang plank over the water to the jetty where aout half a dozen Lao locals and a lonely Japanese tourist had already been waiting for two hours. The speed boats will only travel with at least six passangers we were now told, and we were just four. We stared in disbelief. The boat was a motorised canoe,with a colossal Toyota 1.6 litre outboard engine. There is no way in god's earth you can pack six in there with all our luggage. For $45 dollars more Lynda manages to negotiate a boat for just the four of us.

We crammed in. The mangey life jackets brought no more protection than the crash helmets which threatened to strangle us if they didn't fly off our heads first. The boat set off at the speed of a Thorpe Park thrill ride. J and I were in the front part of the boat, and for the first hour cramp threatened every muscle below the waist, as despite Lynda's efforts a Lao man appeared out of nowhere to jump on board and hitch a ride. There we were squeezing limbs wherever we could find space, sitting virtually on the waterline, numbness spreading from bum to toe, calculating the chances of swimming to safety should the inevitable happen or if it shouldn't, how we could survive at least six more hours of this.

A few minutes later we arrive at a floating bar, where unbelievably Jenks decides to stand up in the boat and have a fag. Off we race again and then another stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The hitcher jumps out muttering something about monkeys and miming camera actions. And then a group of children appear from thin air – we give them a few baht for some tatty cloth bracelets – and they hang around the boat, a little boy tugging at our anchor and threatening to cast us adrift. The driver had disappeared, we had no idea how long we would be left there, we had no way out and nowhere to go. Jenks and I started humming the Deliverance banjo twang.

At long last the driver returned, minus hitching passenger – and we set off again Nearly two hours of breakneck speed, bouncing hard on the wash, skating between rocks and floating branches, before a lunch at a wooden way station on stilts in the river. There is no way Lynda, Jenks or I will eat anything. Amazingly Gill orders a bowl of noodle soup – and it looks delicious, accompanied by a plate piled high with fresh herbs.

A little later, and after the inevitable loo from hell experience we are back in a boat. Changed boat, and changed drivers – and a new passenger. This time a young Lao student who tells us he has a US embassy scholarship to study humanities in the university of Wyoming. We believe him because why would you make that up?

This time the boat speeds on without stopping all the way – almost – to Luang Prabang. We are starting to enjoy the ride. In fact we are now loving it. We have got used to the speed, the concrete hard bangs as the boat bounces, even the occasional sound of propeller scraping rock as the driver cuts it fine. There is very little margin for error on his part, but at least if we are now to die, none of us would have missed this experience.

We relax and enjoy the magical views, the sense of almost pre-history as we speed through miles and miles of forested hills most of which have never seen human habitation. Signs of life – and even modernity emerge more frequently as we near Luang Prabang. More boats, larger and better built villages, children playing on the river banks, villagers panhandling the river for what I don't know, maybe iron.

Disembarking was no easier than embarking. A bamboo jetty which sunk under our weight as we all stood on it. A clamber through mud to yet another set of dismayingly steep steps – for a couple of dollars are packs were carried for us. At the top, we were told 12 kilometres to Luang Prabang and 16 dollars for the tuktuk. Exhausted and fed up with being scammed for yet another bit extra, we got out and walked. At last we bargained a sensible price and arrived here in Luang Prabang.

Luang Prabang. The place is a jewel in the middle of nowhere. It is a world heritage site with ancient temples and pagodas and heavy French colonial influence. It is a beautiful and calm little town – and according to Australian tourism development worker I met yesterday it has become a tourist mecca in remarkably short time. Hardly any cars, just bikes in the town, plenty of cafes, a couple of excellent markets and loads and loads of little travel agencies offering elephant treks and white water rafting.

This is where Jenks and I will stay on for a few days and we part company with Lynda and Gill. They will be flying to malaysia in a few days and want to see a bit more of Laos first. We have learnt an awful lot from them about travelling, negotiating borders, finding decent fair-priced rooms, and bargaining in markets. They've left us pages of notes about Vietnam and Cambodia. Now we will take some time to plan the rest of stay in Laos – and our route to Vietnam – by plane I think – and avoiding land crossings where possible. But there is something abut the Mekong. We're already thinking of the fast boat to Cambodia.
Lots of love
Maggie & Lesley (jenks)

WHIZZ, BANG, FIZZ

Pai, North West Thailand July 8th

this is the third time I've started this blog and finally Ive found some peace and space for it lying on a hammock. Strangely it is perfectly fit for purpose.

while the several re-starts are spookily reminscent of work, the reason this time is better. We have been whizz bang fizz since we arrived in Bangkok a week ago. Just eight days actually and this is the fourth location and the sixth bed we have had in that time. In Bangkok for four days, then two nights in the jungle at the Khao Yai national park, one night in Chaing Mai and now we are up in the mountains in the north of Thailand in a beautiful spot called Pai. Eight days and already it is an adventure.

Gill and Lynda are built for speed. They leave packing to the last minute, while we set aside a couple of hours, and still they beat us to the bus, train, taxi, tuktuk – whatever transport it is we are using. They stride boldy across the teeming city roads and the cars just avoid them. We stare at each other – consult the map and hope we can plan a route that does not actually involve dicing with death.

Talk of dicing with death brings me back to transport – Jenks would not sit in the front of the taxi for the 2 and half hour ride to Khao Yai. I invoked Zen for the duration. It was for the best since the cash machine had swallowed my card earlier that morning, I'd spent 20 minutes trying to get thru to the bank hotline in Leeds finally to talk to real person – Richard – who was a little slow grasping the international dimension. Back to the taxi – let's say health and safety is not big in Thailand and non-existant on the motorways. Overtake inside, outside, any which way, up as close to the vehicle in front as possible. Anyway I had Zen-like calm which I maintained even after the taxi dropped us off 35 k short of the park and outside a guest house straight out of Rocky horror. Rocky horror lodge wasn't cheap either.

If I'd managed to write this a couple of days ago I would have entitled it 'rooms with character'. Beware rooms with character, or any Lonely Planet descriptions that include the words 'authentic', 'homely' and sociable. Read distressed paintwork, peeling lino, hairy brown blankets and towels, if there are any, that have serviced a thousand sweaty backpackers..

our lodge in Chaing Mai had character as well. Jenks' choice obviously. I was double dosing on antihistemines as soon as I walked thru the door.

now I'm in the hammock at Pai. Have found a truly delightful place, little bungalows set round a fresh water swimming pond, nestling in the mountains. The rooms fabulous. Pai is a small town that used to be on the hippy trail. I wonder if John came to places like this. Some of the older travellers have stayed opened bars, restaurants and guest houses. the place is seriously relaxed; it is at last the place to hang out in bars and cafes and watch the world.

We are starting to feel less like tourists and more like travellers. When we set off from Wales each with a backpack and carry-on we wondered how on earth we could live out of these for seven months. Now we wonder how come we have so much junk in our bags. A few days here and then we take the speed boat to Laos,our first crossing of the border.

enough for now..... Jenks is also keeping a daily diary of all the places we've been and people met, and as far as I can tell details of every meal we've eaten. More follows

Much love

Magz