Phonsavan and Vientiane, Laos

We proceeded southbound on a minibus for eight hours on an exceedingly windy road through a mountainous range (not for the faint of stomach) to the somewhat “wild-west” town of Phonsavan - the picturesque terrain one of the most beautifully lush landscapes imaginable.  Even with the hairpin turns, the scenery was so enjoyably pristine we loved the journey.  Unfortunately, the verdant forests were noticeably deforested with football field size swaths of barren mountainside.  Shout out Greg Schwartz, you were so right!

The Phonsovanh countryside contained several sites of large stone “jars” standing 3-9 feet in height, which served as burial tombs over 2000 years ago.  These ancient cemeteries, along with the surrounding rural areas, were bombed by the U.S.A. during the Laos Civil War (Secret War) with some 2,000,000 tons of explosives, of which about a third did not detonate and thus the people risk their lives unsure where the Unexploded Ordinances (UXO)’s remain.  (The Mines Advisory Group (MAG) is in the process of removing the bombs, but at the current rate it’s estimated to take 100 years to clear the country.)  Laos is the most heavily bombed country, per capita in history; the bomb craters pockmark the landscape and are a constant reminder of the country’s traumatic history.  

Sobered, we then journeyed on an overnight bus south to the capital city of Vientiane.  NOT to our surprise, the bus malfunctioned in the hours of darkness, extending an eight hour bus trip to more than twelve.  However, we were so fortunate as the bus was only half full (us plus twenty Italians) allowing us each a window seat and an empty adjacent seat, much improving our sleeping ability.

Reaching Vientiane safely we tracked down a Belgian bar recommended by a fellow traveller - shout out Fanny and Christina!  Ha ha, we had a Hoegaarden in your honor, you would have been proud.  The next day, we were feeling sluggish after beers and sausage so we bought day passes and forced ourselves to the gym - shout out CrossFit Calgary!!  See, we’re not totally hopeless.  Now off to Cambodia...

Long Yuck, Laos

A two hour truck ride on a dirt road followed by a six hour trek uphill through a teak and mahogany jungle to a remote village untouched by tourists.  Perhaps the most impoverished community witnessed, the minimum needed for subsistence provided through one annual rice crop.  Twenty flimsy bamboo huts built on stilts, the menagerie of livestock intermixed in the sea of dirt below.  The animals used more for ritual sacrifice than for food.  No roads.  No electricity.  No running water.  The men exhausted their days in the field only to spend their off day working in collaboration to build someone a new home.  The families shared a communal water source for showers; modesty impossible due to its location in the village center.  

   

Duck, duck, goose.  Hokey pokey.  Paper origami.  Crayons.  Children’s books.  Pure joy erupted from the hearts of Khmu village children from this universal entertainment.  Initially dirty faces concealed behind their mother’s skirts, unsure of the foreign visitors’ intentions.  Slowly slowly curiosity overcame shyness.  One by one they advanced, until en masse they encircled us peering into our magic camera lenses, giggling at our awkward pronunciations, and mimicking our English words.  Childrens’ eyes illuminated with sheer jubilation as they buried themselves in the books we carried.  Without question, the most fulfilling $12 we have spent in our lifetime.  In the school, no books or chalkboard, only rows of warped bench seating for 50 kids to their one teacher.  

The mountain fog rolled in, the household fires provided warmth and light.  Slept on a soiled mat atop plywood two feet above a dirt floor.  Our group could not fit in the shed provided, so Ken and I overflowed into the chiefs house.  Essentially the same accommodations except men slept together with the women separated upstairs.  Food cooked over wooden campfire on the floor of the house.  Mother nature’s call in the dark woods near the stream, no outhouse, no toilet paper provided.  Wild pigs scavenged.  Awoken by thunderous roosters at 5am, the original alarm clock free of charge.  An eight hour strenuous trek back to civilization.     

An experience of humanity more meaningful than we can describe.  A peaceful aura enveloped us... the joy of living a simple life a blatant reminder.  Such a striking contrast to city life, we were so fortunate to see the authentic Laos.  Words insufficient, their faces reveal the tale.

The kids were so enthralled with Ken's camera he handed it over to a seven year old villager and can you believe
this is the picture she took.

Luang Prabang, Laos

We celebrated my 30th birthday in Luang Prabang, a UNESCO world heritage site in northern Laos.  Ken bought me wild maroon Laos-style MC Hammer pants and Shelley found me a pink silk scarf and bamboo rice cooker at the sprawling night market.  Splurging at the fanciest restaurant in town (how often does a girl turn 30?), called the Blue Lagoon, the food was truly world class.  The waiters even put a flaming July 4th sparkler in my ice cream - definitely a fire code violation.  The food was so delicious, we had no choice but to go two nights in a row.

Strolling around the Mekong, we were struck by the number of practicing monks and all the funky colored doors, roofs, and signs.  We toured the various temples and climbed the “mountain” Phou Si for sunset.  However, thirsty for the “real” Laos, we parted the tourist ghetto and headed for the mountains...  

Pak Beng, Laos

We planned to depart Chiang Mai at 10am on a minibus to the Laos border, but the company overbooked so we had to bide our time until 8:30pm that night.  The dreary day lagged on, so thankfully Tim, our favorite bartender, supplied us a room to hold our bags.   We wasted the day away: a blind man gave Ken a massage, I toured the bookstore for hours, and then we sat drinking chai tea at the Starbucks dreaming of our future.  For dinner we ate Mexican food (Ken’s burrito almost did him in, that’s what you get for trying to eat western food in Thailand) and then finally we boarded the minibus for a five hour night ride to the border.  The arctic blast air conditioner was in full effect so we shivered while Ken tried to cuddle under a strangers blanket.

The hotel that night left much to be desired, so we were happy to get out of there asap.  We hopped in the back of a pickup truck and made our way to the Mekong River, where we took a tiny boat seating six people across the river to Laos. 

Onlookers from the shore of the Mekong

We queued up at Laos immigration for over two hours; the sight was pure chaos.  With little organization to be had, aggressive tour guides cut in line at visa processing and tourists huddled en masse trying to get their passports back from unscrupulous (and from my arrogant opinion, sloth-like) officials.   

As a gentleman would, Ken asked the official for my passport when his was returned to him.  He pointed to the only other American passport in the pile of hundreds, assuming it would be mine.  The official (in front of 30 swarming foreigners) held up the passport of a burly bearded man and proclaimed, “what, this your wife?”  Ken, as if on queue, replied “she look better at 2am.”  The crowd cheered with laughter so the passport official dug through the pile to find my passport.  The humor didn’t prevent him though from charging Ken an extra $2 “Sunday fee” aka a bribe for his pocket. 

We took another truck ride to a spot downriver and then boarded a 60 passenger slow boat (which they overloaded with 100 passengers)...it was a boat like nothing we had ever seen before.  The thing was about the length of half a football field and filled to the brim with people.  The first day was less pleasant because we sat near the roaring engine and were crammed for elbow room -- but the views of the scenery more than made up for it.  That night we stayed in a tiny hillside village before another full day of boating.  The second day was much more enjoyable, as we queued up early to get a good seat.  Plus, Shelley got me a shot of Lao whiskey (part kerosene I think) and a bunch of kids sang me Happy Birthday!

Photo taken from boat looking down the Mekong

Chiang Mai, Thailand (continued)

Climbing onto our rented scooters, we headed north out of Chiang Mai to experience the countryside.  Sorry moms, but it wasn’t exactly our safest decision -- what with the taxi cabs swerving through all lanes, trucks reversing into the streets without tail lights, and manic scooter riders (up to 4 people on one bike) disregarding the use of traffic lanes or blinkers.  Ken confirmed we would have been safer on the 405 in Los Angeles, but we escaped town and found quiet country streets.  We came upon a national park called Doi Suthep where we trekked up to a pristine waterfall.  Great decision for the beauty and exercise, bad decision for the lack of mosquito repellant.  If we come down with dengue fever or malaria, we know where we got it.





The locals convinced us to check out Thai boxing, a combination of kicking, elbowing, punching, and kneeing - all to the rhythm of the insanely loud shrieking clarinet and drums.  At the door, they offered a free glass of liquor from a big pot (some kind of jungle juice) but we thought better and declined the unknown free drink.  We entered the “stadium” which consisted of an indoor ring surround by liquor stalls and picnic tables on all sides.  The first three rows of chairs were the ringside VIP seats for $18, but we sat in the fourth row (the cheap section) for $12 per ticket.  One could say the experience was “cultural”... but mostly it was a bunch of kids kicking the crap out of each other.  At one point seven boxers were in the ring simultaneously.  The referee blindfolded each one, and then after the bell rang, they proceeded to punch blindly -  even the referee got in the action.  

Here’s a clip of the madness:  

Chiang Mai, Thailand

After lounging at the Millennium Hilton for a day (best buffet breakfast on the planet), we hopped a Thai Airways flight to Chiang Mai (Shelley and I morphed into business consultant mode and insisted on usage of the Star Alliance lounge -- the major perk turned out to be the all-you-can eat free Asian dumplings... of which Ken ate ten).  

Chiang Mai, the largest city in northern Thailand, was easily navigable with its walled quarter and laid back attitude.  We were more than thrilled to find a nice hotel room for $10 / night (hot water, A/C, and everything!) on a windy alleyway within the old walled city.  The bar across the street was owned by a guy from San Diego - and he happened to make strong cocktails and juicy hamburgers (a deadly combination).





We signed up for a day-long cooking class, where we learned to make traditional Thai dishes (curry, coconut soup, cashew chicken, spring rolls, pad thai noodles, papaya salad and mango sticky rice).  First the group stopped at the local market for ingredients.  Our chef toured us through the nuances of Thai ingredients like rice, coconut milk, peppers, oils, and yes we even sampled fried insects (tasted like sunflower seeds).








After arriving to the farm about 30 minutes outside Chiang Mai, they donned us with red aprons and ridiculous hats -- we strolled through garden rows as our chef described each plant.  Twelve of us assembled into a large open air room, each with our own cooking station.  Our chef was about 4’8” in height - a striking contrast as she stood next to Ken.


Thai cooking went something like this:

Chop up a bunch of fresh vegetables and meat

Put them in a boiling pot

Add some coconut milk and spice

Voila!  Perfect meal and perfect day!  

After our Day 1 of bliss in our new city we decided to make day two even more exciting.  We signed up for a beginner rock climb course.  We thought we’d spend the morning on a fake climbing wall in the indoor gym, but no, they took us directly to Crazy Horse Buttress (one of Thailand’s best developed crags) just outside Chiang Mai.  Suited in ass-binding harness, toe-binding shoes, and ugly helmet (not an attractive look) we each climbed two to four times up a vertical wall 80 feet in height. 

If you look at the speck on the top you will see Ken

No man-made handholds were to be had on the slope, only juts of rock slab to grip.  Balancing on one toe, reaching the other leg up to the waist, grasping with one free hand, and sweating sunscreen into our eyes - it was a huge feat for us beginners to reach the top (we concluded more mental than physical strength was required).  Ken reached the summit the most (three out of four times).  We each experienced our moments of failure (aka falling backwards off the mountain) before we realized the person on belay wouldn’t allow us to fall (too far)... we had a blast aggressively climbing once we registered this safety.

In the afternoon we climbed to the mountain top and then descended 400 feet into a dark cave while belaying ourselves (so if we fell to our death, we had only ourselves to blame)... very Indian Jones meets window washer.  Shelley showed her leadership by volunteering to go first into the black abyss as Ken and I frightfully peaked over the edge.  Ken had such an awesome day that he might go for intermediate training! 

Koh Phangan, Thailand (Thailand)

Before the rains came pouring down

I rescind my previous statement regarding “dry season” - this was clearly an inaccurate characterization.  For the past three days we experienced monsoon downpour day and night; we spent our time stranded at the hotel’s restaurant veranda.  Yes, we tried everything on the menu (breakfast, lunch, and dinner x three days + limited menu = exhausted culinary options).  Ken mastered the art of “correct fundamental swimming” as he calls it (shout out Patty and Andy aka the swimming trainers); Shelley perfected the daily trifecta of massage / sleep / read; while I practiced meditation (I can handle the  rain, I can handle the rain).  The rain restricted us from seeing much of the island, but from what we did witness the island was probably one of Thailand’s best.

We boarded a giant slow ferry at 5pm to escort us to shore (Surat Thani).  Snacks for the trip included stinky fish jerky and questionable pork product from the convenience store; Ken and Shelley were not amused but thankfully had emergency Snickers in their possession.  Arriving in the dark and rain, mass chaos ensued as hundreds of kids tried to locate their correct bus (of course the busses weren’t marked so we had to enquire at each in the downpour).  Finding our seats we realized the “VIP night bus” was built to Thai height standard (aka no leg room).  Hoping the bulkhead seat would be slightly better for 6’2” Ken, we didn’t consider the implications of a crying sick baby in the adjacent seat.  Anyways, the long ride north ended at 10AM the next morning as we happily arrived to Bangkok.  Shelley offered up frequent flier points, so we’re back at the luxurious Millennium Hilton for two nights.  We’re so excited for air conditioning and comfy beds!!

Koh Phangan, Thailand

Stepping onto the bus to Surat Thani, we quickly realized why we avoided Phuket-proper.  The bus, which we instantly named “the party bus,” was filled with sunburnt bikini-wearing 20-year olds, shirtless Palestinian body builders in neon short shorts, and blaring club music (which would have been fine except it was 10AM and we had hoped to sleep on the five hour ride across the peninsula).  

We then sat for two hours in the scorching heat.  Next, we loaded onto a rickety school bus with drunk singing musicians before arriving to our overloaded party ferry (drunk college kids en route to the infamous full moon party).  Thankfully, Ken snuck us into the air conditioned VIP section of the ferry where we were spared the pre-party madness.

Landing in Koh Phangan, an island in the southern Gulf of Thailand, the entire mob headed east, while we taxied north to a secluded beach (and by “taxi” I mean a pickup truck with seats in the back... you know it’s a party island when all the taxis can be hosed down at the end of the night.)  Our ocean-view bungalow was perfect, that was until a rat climbed through our rafters (note to travelers: a bamboo-constructed bungalow is NOT the same as one made of concrete).  

We rented scooters and explored the west coast of the island (this is Ken at the “gas station”),

swam the picturesque waters,

and hiked to a water-less waterfall (dry season, I guess).

While 30,000 people danced the night away with glow sticks to techno music, our new years was low key as we opted to avoid the crowds and ring in 2012 on our quiet beach.  It’s going to be hard to top 2011--- what a memorable year!

Sold Hillary’s condo

Quit our jobs

Got married

Packed up our belongings and ...

Visited Hawaii, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Brazil, Italy, Belgium, Holland, Austria, Hungary, Turkey, Tanzania, Kenya, Rwanda, India and Thailand