Slow boat to China ... sorry, Laos

Readers of previous posts, and those who have known me for a while, will remember that I'm not a big fan of boat journeys. Traumatic memories of being dragged, kicking and screaming, as a child onto river cruises still haunt me and although I have been on a mediterranean cruise, I suspect it was the copious amount of white wine that I consumed that got me through it. So those days in the itinerary of this trip that involve getting on a water-borne craft are marked with a big red circle, in my subconscious at least. And two whole days spent doing nothing but sailing got a few red exclamation marks as well.

But it turns out I had nothing to fear. While the 'slow boats' that ply the Mekong river route from Huay Xai to Luang Prebang are often jammed with locals and tourists, taking on more passengers than is comfortable or safe, our group were lucky enough to have one boat all to ourselves. As well as being a tourist carrier, these long boats with covered roofs, bathrooms and kitchens, are also the homes of the families that operate them. So were asked to be respectful, to remove our shoes and not put our feet on the seats, especially as in this part of SE Asia pointing your feet at anyone is considered very rude.

And the river Mekong is a pretty smooth ride most of the time, although the wash from a passing speed boat (doing the same journey in half the time but in much more dangerous style) occasionally set us bobbing a bit. The boat had old car seats screwed in place for the passengers and tables where we could spread out, read and eat our lunch cooked on board.

At first the route downriver put Thailand on one side and Laos on the other but we had soon headed inland and left Thailand behind. The lush jungle on either side of us was pretty thick and often came right down to the water so there wasn't much action on the banks. Occasionally the jungle would clear away to a sandy slope where we would see locals doing their washing or checking their fishing traps. But it was quiet, with little human or animal life to see, as, we were told, most of them take refuge higher up on the hills of the jungle that spread out beyond the river banks. We got an opportunity to see this for ourselves when we stopped at a small hill tribe village. In part it was a step back in time with wooden and wicker huts on stilts providing most of the accommodation and work space. Goods are moved by hand, or more correctly head, with bags and baskets carried on straps that let the forehead take the weight. Villagers work in the immediate area around their homes and there's little movement outside of their small group. But there are also modern conveniences - electricity cabled in from generators for lighting, television and radio and the ubiquitous mobile phones.

While seeing the village and the lifestyle was fascinating I also felt like an interloper, a voyeur, gawping at the locals as if they were animals in a zoo. I took some photos but not very many and all of us asked people if we could snap their picture before doing so and showing it to them afterwards. The children seemed to love the attention and were happy giggling with each other and gawping at these strange foreigners, but the adults were clearly less happy with the intrusion. And I can understand why - swap the situation to Europe and how many of us would be happy for a bunch of unannounced strangers arriving in our home towns to take pictures of our children? It all felt very uncomfortable and even if great photo opportunities were missed I, and I think everyone else, was glad to return to our boat and leave the village to return to normal.

The Mekong meandered on through jungle and limestone cliffs before bringing us to Pakbeng. This was our stop for the night as the Mekong is too dangerous to sail after dark and all boats pull in to this half way house. Our accommodation was, shall we say, basic and the town was nothing more than one street filled with guesthouses and shops but it had a frontier feel about it and is not the tourist trap hell you'd expect from somewhere that everyone has to stop. We had dinner in an Indian restaurant which wouldn't have been worth mentioning apart from two things. First, it gave me my first taste of 'lao lao' the local rice whiskey which tastes closer to grappa than sake and is enough to set your throat on fire. So I downed mine pretty quickly. Second, even travelling half way round the world doesn't free you from facing stereotypical 'Brits abroad' behaviour. A group of English lads sat on a table near to us and proceeded to get drunk, swear loudly and call out rudely to the staff. It was embarrassing and horrible and I felt the need to apologise to the non-Brits in our group for the awful behaviour. The people from these regions are very quiet and shy (in a sweeping generalisation) but these lads had no respect for that or for the sensitivities of the local population. Shame on them and, sadly, by reflection, on us.

We tried to restore some sense of pride in ourselves by heading to the one and only karaoke bar in town where one small group of local lads were quietly enjoying drinking beerlao and singing romantic numbers. Quite what they thought of 7 foreign women storming in and belting out a rather stirring rendition of 'I Will Survive' is impossible to tell. (Don't judge us for the choice of song, it was the only English one they had).

The next day it was back on our boat for a full day of sailing the second half of the Mekong. We sailed pretty much straight through for a full nine hours but it was much colder on the water so everyone was bundled up in coats and blankets trying to keep warm. Near the end of the day we stopped at the Pak Ou, or Buddha, caves. A couple of riverside grottos filled with old or damaged buddhas, placed there by local villagers when they are no longer any use. It would be bad karma to throw them away so the buddhas are stored at the caves and, every New Year, some are selected for respectful cleaning. It makes quite a sight to see hundreds of gold, silver and bronze buddhas lined up in the cave's various levels, some barely visible in the gloom.

And then it was disembarking time at Luang Prabang - a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1995 and a city with an old heart that is filled with French-Indochinese buildings, reflecting both its French colonial past and its Lao roots. More of the city itself in a later post but that evening held some treats of its own. First, our best accommodation to date at Thongbay Guest House. Set some way from the city centre, the Guest House is made up of individual wooden bungalows on stilts, set around a lush tropical garden and with river views for some. This is the sort of Indochina bedroom I wanted - large beds draped with mosquito nets and a balcony to sprawl on to enjoy the serenity of the location. Perfect. There wasn't much time to enjoy it though as we were soon off again for dinner at the local market. Here you really eat as the locals do. In a narrow alleyway large tables heave under the weight of a panoply of dishes - duck, chicken, wood pigeon, tofu, spring rolls, noodles, vegetables - you just grab a plate and dive in. One plate costs the same no matter how much you pile it up! When you've buried your plate in food you grab a seat wherever you can find one in the many that line the opposite wall. No problem if the table is already partly occupied, just smile at your fellow diners and wade in. It was a brilliant insight into local life and the food wasn't half bad either (although part of me was wondering if it might come back to haunt me).

So we're settled in Luang Prabang (I just love saying that name) for now and there are tales of night markets, dodgy monks and elephant rides still to come. Stay tuned.

Photos below: Slow boats on the Mekong, Lao children at a hill tribe village, on our slow boat, buddhas at the Pak Ou caves.