Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw, Laos

In the morning, I packed all my bags in the dark so I wouldn't wake Alberto up. I had a glass of tea on the balcony and waited for my shuttle to the tranquil town of Nong Khiaw.

I didn't know a whole lot about Nong Khiaw when everyone had asked the the previous night. I had found it on an undiscovered Laos destinations travel blog and the limestone peaks looked absolutely gorgeous. When they asked what was there to do, I didn't have a good answer. I hoped it wasn't a heck of a lot because I wanted a bit of a break from the tourism circuit.

Alberto woke up anyway since he planned to take a ride back down to the falls again and get better pictures. I told him I'd let him know how Nong Khiaw was since he seemed interested. I didn't necessarily want to lure people to that small peaceful town because they already had so much on their plate to see. The Plain of Jars was a popular attraction, but mountains called my name just a little bit sweeter.

I got picked up that morning and by the time we got to the bus station to switch vans, ours was more than full. The driver was bringing his wife, which meant there weren't enough seats for all of us, even though we had all paid for a spot. If it were just me, I would have went with it and squished since it wasn't too uncommon. The price we had paid was quite high for Southeast Asia though, so I wasn't too content with it either.

The middle aged North American tourists would not have it. They all wanted the seats for which they had paid. When one woman offered to call the van company to request another van -- since there weren't enough seats -- the driver said his wife would stay here in the city and we'd all have our seats. He had been trying to pull the wool over our eyes. As per usual, it felt a bit frustrating. If his supervisor found out he'd likely get in trouble.

The drive was beautiful, down winding roads and through karst mountainous landscape. We followed a river on the way there. I still couldn't figure out if Laotian drivers were truly awful or if they just hated tourists that much. We drove at dangerous speeds, even around all the corners with flimsy guardrails. At one point, I fell asleep with my headphones in and my water bottle between my knees. When I awoke, my ear buds were hanging down off my lap and the bottle rolling around on the floor, thankfully still sealed.

From the Nong Khiaw bus station, I opted just to walk since the village seemed to be in sight. I miscalculated a bit and ended up walking thirty minutes in the scorching mid-day April heat. If you ever wondered which month was the hottest in South East Asia north of the equator, April was it.

The view rewarded each step with green karst giants surrounding me, and the beautiful Nam Ou river winding down below. There seemed to be a ton of tourist boats floating near the shore in the brown waters, but none really in use.

All the guesthouses on my side of the river were booked or expensive. The backpacker's area was on the other side, so I just kept trekking. I picked the first one I could find. When they showed me the room it didn't have a sink and I'd have to squat to use the toilet. But it was a riverside view, with a balcony and hammock. Who needs conventional toilets with those fine amenities? Plus, shower heads were just like really big taps.

A walk confirmed that the town was rather small, not much off the main dirt road other than guesthouses, restaurants and a few tour agents. I counted three or four total. I found a restaurant to sample some Okai: a lemongrass soup with egg. The dish didn't leave me feeling so hot.

The Laotian travel agent on this side of the river confirmed that there were not a whole lot of tours running in the off-season or things to do in this town. He did describe the caves and said they were a short enough walk away that I could easily do them on my own that afternoon. I asked him if it was work doing a tour the following day and he gave me a non-committal shrug. Self-guided then.

The walk only took about twenty minutes and went through what I would assume was the real town of Nong Khiaw with homes, small local food shops and eateries. It continued down that main road until I came across the sign. There was an entrance fee, but it was quite minimal. I crossed the little bamboo bridge and headed toward the Patok caves.

During the Vietnam war, planes would come over Laos and drop clusters bombs. It was actually the heaviest bombed country in the whole world, even compared with statistics of countries today. Many of the bombs did not go off and were buried, just waiting to go off if an unsuspecting farmer or child went near them. What broke my heart was that some of them were even designed to look like toys so children would want to play with them.

The Patok caves were the refuge for the residents in the area during those Vietnam war years. But even then, people were still killed in them by sprays of bullets, still embedded in the walls.

I explored the first two caves on my own, but a student, likely high school or university, offered to show me the third one. Shrapnel was still stuck in the walls and the bullet hole indents. Someone had written 'I love you' on the inside of the cave wall, clearly not a local but still a nice gesture. There was an interior section of the cave -- too dark to explore without a flashlight -- that served as a bank holding as much as six million kip at the time.

The caves were neat as there was such a lack of tourist infrastructure. Just the stairs leading up to one cave, and the small wooden admission stand that could have doubled as a lemonade one. It was refreshing and I only encountered a couple other tourists and a few local teens hanging out.  

I ran into an Austrian woman, Anna, back in town, who had been on the van earlier that morning. We laughed about how crazy it was. She was also travelling alone and looking to team up with someone to do tours. The more people, the cheaper, as it was a price share. Since it was low season, we were at the economic disadvantage.

We went into town and ended up booking a kayak and waterfall tour. That would likely be my only one as it was a high enough price. I appreciated that they did value sustainable community development and environmentally sound practise in their tourism. I just wasn't used to paying for it.

"My guesthouse is putting on a New Years ceremony. I think I'm allowed to invite people. Would you like to come? They'll have food and beer," Anna said.

"Sure!" I was a bit surprised that songkran hadn't wrapped up in Laos yet, but anything songkran related was good news.

Too bad I hadn't chosen to stay in a place like that. They apparently had Wi-Fi as well as real toilets. We walked to her guesthouse where a few other women my age stayed from Chicago and Holland. We sat an had some cold drinks until the family called us into their home for a good luck ritual.

There was a small gold shrine decorated in flowers, also holding bowls of soup and rice. Women were sitting on the floor and placing white pieces of string on long sticks. As they finished, they brought them over to the small table in the middle.

The whole room began to engage in a prayer where those seated around the table all kept a hand there and those outside that inner shoulder placed theirs on the shoulder of the person in front of them. We placed out hands on their shoulders to partake. We were given an offering to eat. Much to my delight, it did not contain meat so I could join. I would have felt disrespectful turning it down otherwise. Then we prayed again.

After, people came around and handed out handfuls of the white strings. One of the family members explained that we were to tie the stings on the wrists of the host family. We all went around from person to person, turning our many strings into good luck bracelets. Next, they tied the bracelets on us foreigners, bringing my total to at least a dozen between both arms. They were supposed to remain tied on for a week or two before they could be taken off. Flowers, donated money and food were distributed to those in the room that needed it the most.

Once the ceremony finished, we went back outside to the tent covered tables set up. I inquired why foreigners were even welcomed in such an intimate ritual and Anna explained that having new people there meant that in the year to come, more new faces would show up to their business. Seemed like a fair exchange to me, tilted in our favour especially since we got food and beer in return for our company.

I skipped out on the many fish dishes as well as the minced meat salad, larb, but could eat the sticky rice and crackers. I tried a little of the fish soup without the meat since it technically met my 'no morsels of meat' vegetarian requirement, if I strained out those bits. There were only five of us foreigners, at a long lonely table like we were contagious or something. There were around thirty Laotian people at the other tables. There may have been a language barrier as the one man would turn around miming and speaking in Laotian.

I replied, "Mai khao jai," the Thai phrase for 'I don't understand' and he roared laughter. Thai and Laotian were very similar languages to the point where I could pretty much count in both without learning Laotian. I probably messed up the tones though.

I felt a little bad that I probably consumed more beer than food, because one could only eat so much sticky rice and crackers. I went home with a slight buzz, thanking the hosts for their hospitality and Anna for this opportunity. Pure happenstance, but such a different look into Laos that I much needed and appreciated.