Shedding

A blond, a brunette, and a red head are trespassing on a farm late one evening when the farmer returns home. They all quickly disperse, finding different hiding places throughout the grounds. The brunette hides behind a large group of cows; the redhead kneels behind a gathering of pigs; the blond ducks behind a large pile of potato sacks. Hearing noises, the farmer grabs his rifle and begins searching for farm for intruders. He first enters the cow stable, shouting out "is anyone in here?", to which the brunette replies "moo". Convinced it's just cows, he moved on to the pig pen. "Is anyone in here?" he shouts, to which the redhead replies, "oink, oink". No worries, the farmer thinks, just my pigs. He finally moves to the vegetable room, where sacks of potatoes are piled high. "Is anyone in here?" the farmer calls out, to which the blond replies, "potatoes."

Hanoi, Vietnam, 7/22/11

There is more stray fake hair lying around our hotel room than a salon floor. It's all platinum blond, like gold leaf decorating the linoleum tile underneath. It's on the counters, in the bathroom, hidden throughout my bed, clogging the drain. It looks like Cousin It's whole family went on vacation and went Charlie Sheen on the room. There is so much faux hair in the brushes lying around that it wouldn't be a stretch to think of the room as a special facility for grooming purebred golden retrievers.


We've been following the same route for weeks -- shimmied down the Vang Vieng slide together, cruised down the Mekong River for two days on the same slowboat, and partied together like felons in Chiang Mai. However, we had never officially met until I introduce myself when we land in Vientiane's airport.

Harriet, Lauren, and Becky are three early twentysomethings from Hallifax, England. They are all quite beautiful with long, striking radiant blond hair. Although it's absurd that they've brought duffel bags on a backpacking trip that requires endless ascents up stairs, buses, and ferries, it's even more ridiculous that they've brought enough fake hair extensions between them to clog an Olympic-sized pool.

Harriet is the tallest of the three and, despite being Caucasian, is actively trying to make a transformation. Currently, she has reached Native American classification. Part of Harriet's height is due to her enormous Snookie-like poof, which towers a foot over her head like a golden chinchilla. It's easily viewable above chairbacks and can even be seen from Google Earth. Becky is my height and possesses Harriet's same affinity for fake hair. She has a bubbly personality and the ability to drink vodka like water. Becky insists on arching her back, bending her knees, and contorting her arm into some uncomfortable position in each and every photo, no matter how candid. Her Facebook profile page looks like one image was cropped and photoshopped over 1,000 different backgrounds. She really should lay off those Britain's Top Model marathons. Lauren is the only naturally-coiffed of the trifecta, with strawberry blond hair and limitless freckles like stars at night. She speaks in a long, slow drawl and I have decided that her family must have migrated to England from rural Mississippi. Her drawl makes trivial sentences like, "I'm allergic to vodka yet still drink it" seem of the utmost importance.

Together, Lauren, Harriet, and Becky are like a hilarious untaped sitcom. Nearly everything they utter is pure comic gold. Some gems:
-"Other than the Indian and Pacific Ocean, are there any others? Are they all connected?"
-"How can anyone not like summer? It's the best season. [What's the best part?] I mean, you don't even need to pick out a matching jacket to wear with your outfit!"
-[Upon learning one of the rides at the water park is named "The Tsunami"]: "That ride must be new as the tsunami just happened in Japan"

The four of us are fast friends by the time the plane lands in Hanoi and journey into Vietnam together.

Highway to Hell

Vientiane, Laos -> Hanoi, Vietnam, 7/21/11

My friends Ashley, from the UK, and her boyfriend Yom, from France, took the cheap way out.

It wasn't the duration of the thirty hour bus trip from Central Laos to Northern Vietnam that was necessarily painful. But rather, the endless fighting with the Vietnamese bus staff, who were rude, angry, and intentionally separated the European couple from adjacent seats for no apparent reason while laughing amongst themselves. Or maybe it was the fact that all the pillows and blankets went to the local Vietnamese, many of whom had two or three, while travelers got bubkis. Or maybe it was the unplanned five-hour detour in the middle of the night at a brothel, during which all of the Vietnamese men departed for a midnight snack, while the bus was turned off and sat dormant, sans-AC in 100-degree heat. Or maybe it was the fact that when people departed the bus to catch some fresh air during this nookie stop, they had the pleasure of shaking hands Vietnamese-style with several of the lovely young women of the house. I wouldn't call the handshakes typical, as the Vietnamese ladies used their hands, but instead of reaching for another palm, they went straight for the groin. I guess that's just the custom of Northern Vietnam. Fine by me, I guess, but not so much for 6-year old Johnny, who left the bus with his father and now needs to be taught a more traditional greeting.

Ashley and Yom arrive in Hanoi after 1.5 days -- bodies sores, reeking of cheap 7-Eleven perfume from the handshakes, and fully exhausted. It's really too bad they didn't join me on my flight. It was actually quite pleasant, only $100 more than the bus ($140 vs. $40) and just over an hour-and-a-half. So I arrive in Vietnam in style, nearly two days early, new friends in tow.

One Final Fish

Vientiane, Laos, 7/20/11

Vientiane is the capital city of Laos, but you would never know it. The town is beyond sleepy. I arrive in the pouring rain and spend thirty minutes searching for a cheap hostel. The most economical I can find is Youth Inn, which is quite expensive at 50,000kip ($6), but at least it has its own bathroom. Unfortunately, the bed is made up of a thin concave twin mattress as thick and comfortable as 2x4.

The rain briefly subsides which is perfect for an open-air lunch in a small cafe overlooking the Mekong River. Selection is easy: If I'm on the Mekong, I'm having Black Mekong River Fish. "Caught this morning" the waitress/cook proudly says. It's served alongside a large crispy rice ball that is crumbled into a pilaf of chilis, peanuts, scallions, and strands of pork skin which look and taste like transparent rubber bands. The pilaf and fish are accompanied by a large platter of fresh herbs: mint, coriander, lettuce, basil, and some terrible unidentifiable vegetable that looks like a parsnip but tastes like chalky dirt. No thanks. I combine everything else into little lettuce fish tacos, like Vietnam-SoCal fusion cuisine, drizzling on a small amount of the sweet vinegary chili sauce. The fish is beyond fresh and buttery and the whole taco is bright, spicy, and crunchy. The rain starts back up on the tarp above my head but I couldn't care less.

***

The following morning, I have a quick breakfast of hill tribe coffee, a pineapple fruit shake, eggs, and a cheese croissant at Vientiane's famed Scandinavian bakery (a cousin of the one in Luang Prabang). From there, it's goodbye Laos. I really fell in love with the country and wish I had more time to visit Kong Long Cave and Si Phan Don (Four Thousand Islands), eat more river fish, and fraternize with more smiling locals but that will have to wait for another trip.

Until then, Laos, khwap jai for the memories.

Around Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng, 7/17/11 - 7/19/11

Some food highlights off the beaten tourist path of burgers and chicken sandwiches:

Teresa at the rotisserie pork stand

Rotisserie pork. Slabs of marinated pork belly rotating over hot coals sold right in the middle of the street. Unctuous, moist, delicious.

Sweet and savory little spherical fritters. With the consistency of fried Cream of Wheat. Or maybe moist fried polenta. Made with coconut oil & milk, condensed milk, sesame and scallion.

En route to more food

"Super High Pizza Strong." Aka "Happy Pizza". Sold right on the menu next to dog meat and chicken sandwiches.

Easy Rider

Vang Vieng, 7/18/11

It's torrentially downpouring. The mud is so thick, I can barely ride. Let alone see. By the fourth motorbike crash, I'm really debating whether I should turn back. Or just pull over and wait out the rain. The bike is starting to make weird noises and is visibly injured. And that says nothing about my arms and legs, which are bleeding, but it's hard to tell due to the rain and mud.

River of Dreams/River of Nightmares

Vang Vieng, 7/17/11, 7/19/11

There was a knock on the door the following morning. "It didn't end well," Nathalie said in a voice both somber and quiet.

Towards the end of the previous day, Nat and her boyfriend David got broken up from the group. David cut his foot on a sharp rock while swimming down the Nam Song river, after losing his innertube. The alcohol muted the pain so he didn't realize the magnitude of the injury until the following morning, when the bed was covered in blood and there was a long vertical gaping hole going down his foot. Luckily the hospital was nearby, so he was quickly stitched up. But not before the doctors began cleaning his foot and pulled out a large tapeworm from inside the wound.

Bus to Vang Vieng

Luang Prabang -> Vang Vieng, 7/17/11

The VIP bus is sold out as is the minibus. This is going to be a fun night.

My local bus from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng takes 3.5 hours longer than planned. It's packed to the brim -- tourists in the uncomfortable seats, locals in the aisles and packed next to the driver. I'm in the aisle seat, but it may as well be the middle seat as I have two aisle neighbors, one in front and one in back. Both are conveniently using me as a footrest for their knees. I mean, they could have bought me a drink first. My window seat third neighbor falls asleep and proceeds to spend the whole trip bobbing back and forth towards my crotch and drooling excessively.

Bathroom breaks on the local bus consist of pulling over to the side of the road and getting out. Sorry ladies. The bathroom breaks are so short and the bus is so cramped that I'm convinced we leave people behind at each rest stop.

We arrive into Vang Vieng at 3:30am. I share a tuk-tuk into town with several Brits who keep bemoaning the fact that they're pre-booked and not staying in Spicy Laos hostel. Well, they should know I never book accommodation prior to arrival. And their glowing review is enough for me. Plus its located next door to their hotel. It gets even better when I enter the hostel and find a dozen travelers still up drinking and exchanging stories.

Before & After

Mount Phou Si

Luang Prabang, 7/15/11

Right before we all depart, Chris, Jen, and I climb up 300 ft of stairs to reach Wat Chom Si, a large golden shrine at top of the unfortunately named Mount Phou Si. The mountain is right in the center of Luang Prabang's Old Town, on a peninsula bordered by the Mekong and Nam Khang Rivers. On the way up, we pass Wat Tham Phou Si, a collection of small Buddhist temples and shrines, including one in a dark cave. The stairs to the summit are decorated with ferocious black dragon sculptures and golden Buddha statues.

 

 

Wat Chom Si offers stunning 360-views of Luang Prabang and the bordering rivers. In the foreground, we can see the city's French colonial architecture: Small houses with auburn and brown triangular tiled roofs. And beyond we can see the mountains and forest that surround the city along with small golden temples hidden within their shadows.

Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

Luang Prabang, 7/15/11

Second day, second waterfall. This time Kuang Si Falls, Luang Prabang's largest, over 300 ft. at the summit. After collecting twenty new friends and engaging in some furious negotiation, the Treehouse Seven has chartered its own slowboat to visit the falls.

On the way up the falls, we pass a wildlife reserve housing thirty black bears, which would seem to be more at home in the Adirondacks than Central Laos. The bears roam a large pen where they dance, hug one another, play on tire swings, and recline in hammocks. Funny, that's quite similar to my past month.

The bottom of the falls is an emerald green pool with enough rope swings and cliff jumping points to occupy an entire afternoon. I swing about a half dozen times, each jump getting more and more elaborate. By the end I'm beginning to think I'm Tarzan. During my final jump, however, I get a bit too fancy and the rope ends up returning to whip me across the face. So maybe I should be a tad more humble.

Chris and I climb to the top of the falls, getting progressively faster as our excitement rises with the ascent. We reach the top, 300 feet up, and try to make out our friends down below. We stand behind a rickety wooden gate at the highest point, our toes gracing the edge, cold mist in our faces. Frigid water rushes past our feet, beckoning us below. As it passes beyond the falls' edge, we can hear the water thundering onto the ground below, which is barely visible from such a high altitude.

Jumping down would probably break every bone in one's body. I ponder taking the plunge, but remember I realized a similar sensation two months ago on my last day of work. The fall was unplanned and the push came from behind, with a quick twist of a sharp dagger.

***

Upon returning from the falls, the Treehouse Seven spends one final night together eating Mekong River Fish and drinking Beer Laos before splitting up the following morning. We say goodbye amidst tears, promising we will reunite in a couple weeks in Cambodia or Bangkok. The farewell is bittersweet, as the memory of our group will live on forever in our dreams and in the snake and vermin-infested treehouse that we called home for those precious three days.



Note: Some photos from Jen and Teresa

Addicted

Luang Prabang, 7/15/11 - 7/17/11

I'm completely addicted.

And I crave more and more every day.

Each hour I'm apart, I feel my blood boiling for just one more hit. One more trip into that world of bliss.

It would be an easier habit to break if our whole group wasn't perpetually high, spending the days yearning for one more fix.

We get high in a dark, dirty, cramped alley, filled with Lao locals who speak no English. We're all packed together like sardines under plastic tarps, while rain spatters down.

The supply is cheap, fresh, and completely pure.

I watch as my friends consume each hit with a slow zest, eyes rolling backwards in their heads.

I'm on a Boat

Banana chips that look like bacon but taste better?

Check. 42 cans of Beer Laos' in giant Styrofoam coolers? Check. Chicken sandwiches on freshly baked baguettes hinting to Laos' French colonial past? Topped with cucumber, carrots, tomato, onion, and chili aoli? Bought from a smiley local women whose sign reads, "cheap, cheap for you, thank you."?

Check.
Playing cards?
Check.
Teddy bear and flower-covered pillows for uncomfortable seats?
Check.
Sunglasses?
Check.
The Magnificent Seven still intact and kicking?
Check.

Huay Xai -> Pa Bang -> Luang Prabang, 7/12/11 - 7/14/11

After the grueling hikes, thrills, and near death snake encounters of the Gibbon Experience, all seven of us (sometimes the "Magnificent Seven" other times the "Treehouse Seven") are practically family. We're gathered together taking a two-day slow boat trip from Huay Xai in Northern Laos to Luang Prabang in the center. The wooden boat has about eighty other passengers, gray comfy seats lifted out of old minivans, and its roof is doubling as storage for motorcycles and bikes. Tourists sit in the auto seats while locals sit on the floor and bow.

After last night's meal, we're quite full. We sat riverside in Huay Xai and consumed a seven-person feast the center of which were two large Laos barbeques (sindaths). The sindaths are large metal barbeques, the bottom of which is a moat filled with broth, the top is thin pyramid-shaped dome with small slits to let in the heat. You put vegetables, egg, herbs, and noodles in the broth and raw meat on the dome. Combine everything together and you have a heady Laotian soup. We also pass around green curry, fried beef strips which taste like jerky, steamed calamari with wasabi dipping sauce, shrimp and garlic toast, fresh limeade, and Beer Laos'.

The boat ride is the perfect way to take in Laos. It's a breezy, lazy tour with stunning views of limestone cliffs, fjords, rice paddies, and fisherman. We pass by many gold panners, bending down right at the Mekong's edge, performing the back breaking sifting work for hours for what amounts to a meager amount of gold flake, netting roughly $100/month grand total. The tour is down the Mekong River, Southeast Asia's version of the Mississippi, which runs through Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia.

The river is home to the world's largest catfish, some stretching up to 20 feet and weighing up to 600lbs, with whiskers the size of forearms. Every April, fisherman gather on this section of the river to try to catch the famed beasts. Sadly, we don't spot any, which is unfortunate since riding a giant catfish to Luang Prabang would be more scenic and eco-friendly than the boat. Plus I would be happy to share my beer with Mr. Whiskers. [images from Google]






Our boat stops for the evening in Pa Bang, a sleepy commuter town. Although dinner takes an hour to arrive, when it does, it is quite worth the wait. I have the Lao national dish of Laap, a salad of minced fish/chicken/pork/beef/duck, with fish sauce, lime juice, mint, coriander, chilis, basil, scallions, and shallots. It's refreshing, spicy, and light, perfect for the humid evening. Especially when spooned onto lettuce leaves and rolled up. Breakfast the next morning is a crisp crepe-like pancake stuffed with bananas and covered in condensed milk. It resembles the surface of the moon, except light yellow and more delicious.

***

Forty-two beers down, the Treehouse Seven arrives in Luang Prabang the following day. The small city is a beautiful UNESCO World Heritage site, positioning right on the Mekong River. We're staying in the old quarter, a small peninsula in the north of town replete with classy guesthouses, riverfront restaurants, outdoor bars, a terrific hill tribe craft market, and dozens of temples on hill tops. The architecture is distinctly French colonial, showing the city's roots. Every morning, dozens of orange silk-clad monks line up at sunrise to accept their alms, or daily food donations from the town locals, as they are not allowed to exchange money. (I try to get up and watch one morning, but quickly fall back asleep).

With the local street vendors

Like most of Laos, the town has a calm, slow pace, with locals leisurely walking the streets or taking time to read the newspaper while savoring a coffee. Speaking of, Jen and I immediately drop our bags and head off to nearby Saffron Cafe for a superstrong hilltribe coffee. Jen runs into a Danish friend who she studied abroad with in Scandanavia. It's quite unfortunate she's not single, but no worries, as I'll probably see her in Sports Illustrated in a couple years.

Our clothes smell like gibbon droppings which, though a potent aphrodisiac, has become mundane after five days. So they get tossed in the laundry and we make our way over to Utopia, a large river-adjacent bar and restaurant owned by a friendly Aussie. There's a big pavilion with low tables surrounded by pillows, volleyball, board games, hookah pipes, a grotto, and colorful lanterns. We listen to a terrific request-taking guitar player who breezes through Wonderwall, Satisfaction, Summer of '69, and Mary Jane's Last Dance.


We share an appetizer Mekong River Weed (crispy like fried seaweed) with a fiery and smoky maroon-colored water buffalo chili dip. I share Teresa's umami-rich mushroom melt. After the owner and menu keep hailing Utopia's burger as "the best in Laos", I finally cave and owner my first Western food of the trip. The gamble pays off -- it's a big, beefy patty on a soft homemade bun with onion, tomato, lettuce, bacon, and wasabi aoli. Perfectly medium rare, it's a delicious taste of home, while the wasabi still keeps my mind in Asia. The best burger in Laos? Hell, as it's the only one I've tried, I will gladly proclaim it the best one in Southeast Asia.

Amen.

The bars in Luang Prabang close at 11pm, which means it's time for late night bowling, oddly staying open well past the curfew. Someone should really tell the two Jens they're supposed to hit the pins, not the sides, as neither of them break double digits in ten frames. I shockingly have a really great game and should really bowl in Laos more often.

***

The next morning, I grab a quick breakfast at the local Scandinavian Bakery: Pineapple shake, strong hilltribe coffee with warm milk (nice touch), and a toasted twisted cheese croissant, layered like lasagna and flaky like Kate Hudson. Chris, Jen, and I rent mountain bikes and spend the afternoon hiking waterfalls and trying not to pass out due to the heat, mud, and rain. When we make it back in the evening, I look like I spent all day in the sauna.

 

Note: Some photos from Jen and Teresa