Luang Prabang is a charming town that we loved in north central Laos. Situated at the confluence of the mighty Mekong and Khan rivers, it was the seat of power for ancient Lao empires.
Our first day in Luang Prabang, the first of two guides named Ai (prounounced "eye") ferried us across the mighty Mekong to an abandoned hilltop Buddhist temple that was littered with gigantic decomposing scorpion carcasses.
Back on the mainland, we encountered a group of tipsy Lao gentlemen drinking láo láo whiskey, which is, as far as we can tell, a potent home-brewed rice liquor. The men gestured to us to join them, which at first seemed like a trick, but before long we were all teaching each other words for barnyard animals, dancing to (awful) local pop music, and drinking tiny shots of the Laotian moonshine out of a plastic water bottle, which made the encounter reminiscent of a high school dance. After cocktails and hors d'ouveres--peanuts with lemongrass, bits of pork, and pickled tree bark--our merry band got Lao massages. Andrew's masseuse called him "kopkai" which means gecko. He is still not sure if that was a compliment or not.
From Luang Prabang, we embarked on a two-day trek. The trek began with a boat ride up the Nam Khan, followed by a strenuous hike inland and up a mountain, across rice paddies and thick jungle to a Hmong village. We met many Hmong Hill People, including two boys who had a frog on a string that they had just caught and proudly displayed to us. At first, the frog futilely tried to hop away, but was later subjected to such egregious slapping, dangling, and ground-thumping that its chances for survival were quickly erased.
Our trek guide was also named Ai. Clearly this lead to many hilarious jokes and confusions--
"Who made this lovely fried rice?"
"Ai did."
"No you didn't. Ai made it."
"Exactly."
Ai was the man and we grew quite attached to him. He told us several jokes, giving us an introduction to the weird world of Laotian humour. One classic example:
Ai: "What kind of fruit says, 'I'm a papaya'"???
Us: "We don't know."
Ai: "A crazy apple!"
Trekking during the rainy season is perilous; mud sloshed up to our knees as we slipped and slid up and down the mountains. To mitigate slippage, we stepped in elephant footprints, where our pachyderm pals had packed down the slimy red clay. We spent the night in a remote Khmou village that occasionally hosts intrepid Western trekkers such as ourselves. The evening's entertainment was Rattanball, which is a game like 3 v. 3 volleyball but played with every part of the body except for the hands; the melon-sized ball is made out of hardened palm fronds. Given our complete lack of experience and coordination, Team USA (Avorn, Cohen, Ting) performed remarkably well against the Khmou masters.
We awoke before dawn the next day to the lovely racket of ca-crawing roosters and ca-rying babies, and began our journey back toward the more developed villages. We hiked all morning until we arrived at a glorious series of waterfalls, where we bathed and frolicked, scrubbing off 24 hours of collected mud. Then we rode in longtail boats for a few miles, until we reached Ai's village where he had stored kayaks for the last leg of our journey back down the river to Luang Prabang. Some of this leg was through rapids threatening to dump us overboard, but we impressively (and somewhat disappointingly) managed to stay dry and afloat.
Back in LPB, we girded our loins for the mystical, magical journey ahead: tubing in Vang Vieng.
Our first day in Luang Prabang, the first of two guides named Ai (prounounced "eye") ferried us across the mighty Mekong to an abandoned hilltop Buddhist temple that was littered with gigantic decomposing scorpion carcasses.
Back on the mainland, we encountered a group of tipsy Lao gentlemen drinking láo láo whiskey, which is, as far as we can tell, a potent home-brewed rice liquor. The men gestured to us to join them, which at first seemed like a trick, but before long we were all teaching each other words for barnyard animals, dancing to (awful) local pop music, and drinking tiny shots of the Laotian moonshine out of a plastic water bottle, which made the encounter reminiscent of a high school dance. After cocktails and hors d'ouveres--peanuts with lemongrass, bits of pork, and pickled tree bark--our merry band got Lao massages. Andrew's masseuse called him "kopkai" which means gecko. He is still not sure if that was a compliment or not.
From Luang Prabang, we embarked on a two-day trek. The trek began with a boat ride up the Nam Khan, followed by a strenuous hike inland and up a mountain, across rice paddies and thick jungle to a Hmong village. We met many Hmong Hill People, including two boys who had a frog on a string that they had just caught and proudly displayed to us. At first, the frog futilely tried to hop away, but was later subjected to such egregious slapping, dangling, and ground-thumping that its chances for survival were quickly erased.
Our trek guide was also named Ai. Clearly this lead to many hilarious jokes and confusions--
"Who made this lovely fried rice?"
"Ai did."
"No you didn't. Ai made it."
"Exactly."
Ai was the man and we grew quite attached to him. He told us several jokes, giving us an introduction to the weird world of Laotian humour. One classic example:
Ai: "What kind of fruit says, 'I'm a papaya'"???
Us: "We don't know."
Ai: "A crazy apple!"
Trekking during the rainy season is perilous; mud sloshed up to our knees as we slipped and slid up and down the mountains. To mitigate slippage, we stepped in elephant footprints, where our pachyderm pals had packed down the slimy red clay. We spent the night in a remote Khmou village that occasionally hosts intrepid Western trekkers such as ourselves. The evening's entertainment was Rattanball, which is a game like 3 v. 3 volleyball but played with every part of the body except for the hands; the melon-sized ball is made out of hardened palm fronds. Given our complete lack of experience and coordination, Team USA (Avorn, Cohen, Ting) performed remarkably well against the Khmou masters.
We awoke before dawn the next day to the lovely racket of ca-crawing roosters and ca-rying babies, and began our journey back toward the more developed villages. We hiked all morning until we arrived at a glorious series of waterfalls, where we bathed and frolicked, scrubbing off 24 hours of collected mud. Then we rode in longtail boats for a few miles, until we reached Ai's village where he had stored kayaks for the last leg of our journey back down the river to Luang Prabang. Some of this leg was through rapids threatening to dump us overboard, but we impressively (and somewhat disappointingly) managed to stay dry and afloat.
Back in LPB, we girded our loins for the mystical, magical journey ahead: tubing in Vang Vieng.
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