leaving NK

It's our last day in Nong Khiaw, and we're very sorry to leave. Marc was up early enough to go to the market, and successfully bought four little puffy rice pancakes. When he brought them back to the room, they were still warm and soft and delicious, fragrant with coconut. We bought four more later but they were cold and much less delicious. We also bought a couple of pieces of fried dough -- sopaipillas, beignets, freeform doughnuts, whatever you call it, it's always good.

He also shot a great video of the market, but the file is too big so when I get home I'll edit it and post it.

After breakfast we walked back into town and well before we got to the market -- which is next door to the secondary school -- we heard music over a loudspeaker. We've heard a lot of music here in Nong Khiaw, both recorded and people just singing. As we got closer I realized the music was coming from the school, so we stood and watched the school kids dancing to what we think is traditional music. Their hand movements were graceful, fingers held tightly together and bent slightly backward, thumb folded into the palm, hands swaying up and across, and down, coordinated with simple foot movements. Boys and girls were both dancing, and some kids were giggling and goofing around a bit, and some girls were serious about it -- just like school kids everywhere.

The street was quite crowded with kids, more than we'd ever seen here. We have no idea where they all came from, and we didn't know why they were so thick in the street. As we were watching the dancers, I saw a young teenage boy pass by with a scythe on a long bamboo handle, and thought that was a little strange. We'd also passed crowds of kids, some of whom held brooms and most held long sticks. When we noticed that some were dragging big bags of trash, we decided it must be a day when the kids clean up the town.

very busy main street this morning

And sure enough, we turned to walk along the river, behind the main street, and came upon huge crowds of kids -- most were watching, but some were hacking at the vegetation, clearing it away. There were fires burning here and there. Some kids were looking at cell phones, some were chattering, some watched us but most ignored us, and the teachers watched from a distance. I couldn't figure out how they decided where to clear vegetation; it seemed almost random. But then again, it seemed almost random that anyone did anything, because most were just standing around.

some work going on, but lots of talking

It's very hard to leave this beautiful town. Very hard. The Mandala Ou, where we're staying, will be for sale in a couple of years. Nick moved here and built the place with the intention of selling it. It's already booked for a year ahead, and it's top rated on TripAdvisor, so we lightly entertain the fantasy of buying it and living here. It's very strange to find myself sad to leave for Luang Prabang, a place I dearly love.

both flags fly everywhere -- Laos, and hammer and sickle

a beautiful house on main street

one last walk by the Nam Ou, with a wistful heart

another beautiful house -- flowers, a satellite dish, and chickens.

the poorer part of town

O how we will miss this place. We'll be back.

messing around in boats

Kenneth Grahame's Rat said, "There is nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." I read The Wind in the Willows in fourth grade and remember that line so clearly, even though I was never once a "messing about in boats" girl. Nor was I a "messing about in boats" adult, until Marc and I started traveling together when I was 47. The most memorable times in each of our trips were in a boat, somehow, and now it's something we plan for.

Our boat trip today in Nong Khiaw was on the Nam Ou, one of the most important rivers in Laos. It's actually a tributary of the Mekong. We hired a man to drive us up the river to the village of Ban Sop Jam, and then back down the river to stop at Muang Ngoi and then a return to Nong Khiaw. The trip took us about six hours, and it was absolutely spectacular. Again, the photos don't begin to show just how beautiful the trip was.

It was very cold when we started, as it always is in the mornings this time of year. But the scenery was just so beautiful it really didn't matter (much).

So cold and windy I wrapped my scarf around my head. Poor Marc just shivered.

Unbelievably beautiful. Sheer mountains at the river's edge, covered with rain forests.

That's our sweet driver.

Water buffalo everywhere, and also lots of wild pigs.

so beautiful

and clouds clinging to the mountains

tall mountains

such distinctive shapes

There were places where the river was very fast, white water. When we were going out in the morning we were going upriver, against the fast current, but on the way back there was one patch of water where it seemed like the driver had a hard time controlling the boat. We slipped and slid and scraped over rocks. It was great fun.

At Ban Sop Jam, a tiny traditional village along the river, we got out and walked around the village. They are traditional weavers, so I enjoyed that a lot since I used to weave, and had a big 45" 4-harness floor loom. Their looms were handmade, many with 8 harnesses and string heddles. Amazing.

We just loved this little village.

Drying rice. This IS the village -- the main (and only, we think) street.

We bought silk scarves from this woman

Weaving and winding bobbins

Need a seesaw for the playground? Got plenty of bamboo? Problem solved!

Just such a lovely little village.

We walked around for a bit and then got back in the boat to head back down the river to Muong Ngoi, which seems to be a popular spot for backpackers. We had a so-so lunch and a bit of walking around, but it was a hard place to be because of all the unexploded bombs displayed around the village. One big bomb at the restaurant, with bomblets placed on top. Our country dropped hundreds of tons of bombs on Laos -- and we weren't even at war with them -- and since we never admitted we did it, we certainly didn't go back to help clean up the mess we made. Laos is the most heavily bombed country IN THE WORLD. There were 580,000 bombing missions (or a bombing mission every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day, for 9 years); more than 2 million tons of ordnance were dropped on Laos. People are killed and maimed by the unexploded ordnance everywhere. Shameful and disgusting. And the Lao are such gentle, soft people.

the food may have been ordinary, but the setting was gorgeous

horrible

more bombs

Muong Ngoi's wat

main street, Muong Ngoi

The boat trip was undoubtedly one of our best times on the water. It was so hard to capture the real beauty of the river, so at some point all we could do was just look around and be there, soak it up with our eyes.

Our last night in Nong Khiaw, so hard to leave. We'll just have to come back, that's all.

NK monks

In Luang Prabang, the morning alms round (tak bat) for the monks is showtime, although of course it's personal and private too. There are 32 wats left standing today, after the wars; there were 66, and still people in the countryside routinely send their sons to be monks for a period of time. The monks wear brilliant orange robes, and walk the street beginning at 5:45 every morning. Women line the streets with pots of rice, to feed the monks. It's one of the few ways women can earn merit. So everyone wins: the monks get their daily food, the women earn merit, and tourists witness this beautiful ceremony. It's silent except for the motorcycles passing through. If you listen, you can hear the monks' footsteps as they pass by.

In Nong Khiaw, the scale is smaller, obviously -- everything is smaller here. We've seen one wat that was in use, and one that seemed to be abandoned. There may be others, but we've only seen those. We hadn't really seen any monks until we were out this morning for a walk in the gorgeous misty morning. Our mission was to see the market again, and to find breakfast somewhere other than the hotel. We didn't expect to see monks on their alms round, at all.

monks coming, woman kneeling on the road holding up rice

I saw the monks first, such a small contingent, and only saw the woman kneeling when the monks slowed down. Instead of tiny pinches of rice in each monk's bowl, she put a fistful -- perhaps the bulk of the responsibility is on her to feed the monks, since we didn't see anyone else out to feed them. As the first monks passed her, they stopped to wait. I assumed they were just waiting for the last monk to get his rice, but that wasn't it. When they had all received their rice, they started this loud buzzing chant, the assonant kind of sound that seems mysterious to my western-chorded ear. She turned in a kind of mudra, her left hand against her cheek and her right hand down next to her knee, with her body turned slightly toward the monks. The air was chilly and damp. We stopped to listen, with our bodies turned away, and I didn't want them to stop chanting. It felt so much more special than the big spectacle in Luang Prabang.

The market was busier today than yesterday

look at that mountain -- straight up into the sky

we keep trying to catch the beauty here but the photos fail miserably

Lao coffee is wonderful -- thick and gritty and black. This was not that. And that's all I'll say.

The tuktuk picks us up in 30 minutes to take us to the boat dock. The scenery is supposed to be incredible; we'll pass through a gorge with these enormous straight-sided mountains on either side. It's like the rural SEAsia version of New York City -- the only way to see the sky is to look straight up. Post and pictures tonight.

Gosh. How lucky are we. I feel lucky to know the different kinds of tuktuks -- different here than in India, than in Cambodia, than in Vietnam. I feel lucky to understand a tiny bit about tak bat. I feel lucky to know the different rivers of southeast Asia, and now to know the early morning view of these misty mountains and how different it is at 2pm. I feel lucky to know the different kinds of coffee in the different countries. I feel lucky to have favorite markets -- the one in Galle, Sri Lanka, was probably the most beautiful, but this one here in Nong Khiaw is lively and busy and we love it, and the one in Luang Prabang is more leisurely, and the ones in Hanoi, and the crab market in Kep.....how lucky. How lucky to have the desire and curiosity and heart to travel AND the ability to travel. Sad to have one without the other, lucky to have both. Lucky me, lucky us, lucky mud.

Nong Khiaw

For the last four years, I have daydreamed about Luang Prabang. It's one of my favorite places we've been, ever, alongside Hanoi. When the plane dipped down out of the clouds and we started to see the mountains and that deep brown, winding river, my heart leaped into my throat. Luang Prabang, there it was. The visa line moved fast enough, the immigration line moved quickly, our suitcases were there, the driver was there, check check check. We pulled out of the airport and within minutes were recognizing corners, buildings, landmarks. "Oh, I remember that!" "There's that one wat, remember that?" "Now I know where we are -- we go around this curve, remember how we stopped in that shop?" Such a lovely feeling, familiarity in a surprising place.

The last time we were here we stayed in a great little place on the other side of the river from everything, and while we loved the hotel, it was not all that thrilling to me walking across that high bridge in the dark. The middle of the bridge is reserved for motorcycle traffic, and pedestrians are relegated to the outside walkway. The boards are loose -- sometimes 3 boards wide, sometimes 4 -- and some boards are warped, there are random nailheads sticking up which require me to keep my eyes on the boards, which means seeing through to the muddy river far below. All at once it will get to me and I am nearly paralyzed.

So this time we chose a hotel on the side of the river with all the stuff there is to see. The hundreds of gorgeous wats, the restaurants, the Hmong night market, the shops, the riverside walk. It seemed more filled with tourists this time than last, but maybe I'm not remembering correctly. By the time we got to the hotel it was around 3pm and we'd spent the last 26 or 27 hours getting there. After a change of clothes and getting settled in, we headed out to walk around the town. We'd already made a reservation for dinner at 7, at Tamarind -- a restaurant we ate at last time, and coincidentally next door to our hotel.

The pictures in the previous post followed us around town, down to the river, in the streets, to the restaurant. We were pretty shattered, and at 6 went to the restaurant for dinner. We were asleep by 8pm, deeply exhausted and looking forward to our trip to Nong Khiaw the next day.

Lao breakfast -- Marc's noodle soup (L) with fixings (middle), and my rice porridge (R)

We set off in a big van that could've held 10+ people, but it was just us and the driver. Even though the trip from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw is only 59km, we were told it would take 3 hours and we couldn't figure out why. We still can't, but it did. We were often going 40km/hour, but still it did take 3 hours. And I was as carsick as I've ever been. The road was often potholed and sometimes there wasn't a paved surface, but instead a pile of rocks -- and granted, I was lying down trying not to vomit so I didn't see too much of it. Marc wasn't at all sick, it was just me, but that was a terribly long 3-hour trip. I was never so glad to arrive anywhere as I was to arrive at Mandala Ou.

And SO BEAUTIFUL it is, too. Our room has a porch that faces the Nam Ou and some giant mountains that are just otherworldly. When we arrived it was sunny and just looked for all the world like a movie. We ate some lunch -- a vinegary green papaya salad -- and we swam, though the moment we decided to jump into the small infinity pool at 3:30, the sun slid behind the mountain and it was cold. We were in and out of the pool pretty quickly, and while we were drying off, another guest slipped into the pool and looked at up us. Marc said, "It's cold, isn't it!" and he said in his chipper British accent, "It's refreshing!" We all laughed through chattering teeth. My stomach still wasn't great so I rested a bit while Marc explored. We wandered into town, crossed the bridge under the night sky, and ate Indian food at Deen's - $6 got us channa masala, chicken tika masala, rice, and garlic roti. We were asleep by 9pm.

But this morning, oh this morning. The first morning light was astonishing. Soft soft soft coming over the mountains, and low-lying mist everywhere.

the view from inside our room

gorgeous just around the bend -- that's the yoga studio with the blue banners

if only the pictures could capture it

Before breakfast, Marc took a little walk into 'town' and came back grinning from ear to ear, talking non-stop about the little market, the feeling in the quiet little town, how much he wants to move here, how easily he could live here, and asking if I would walk with him very early tomorrow morning. Which of course I will.

the security gate at our hotel. yep. bamboo. big gaps.

walking toward the market

this is the corner -- turn right at the umbrellas

oranges? limes? RATS? and um, no idea what the thing at the top is but check out those teeth.

the market materialized and was gone a couple of hours later

I wonder if people get there early to get a particular woman's stuff because it's extra good.

peppers, everyone has peppers

After breakfast -- totally nondescript toast and yogurt and coffee....not even the thick Lao coffee -- we walked into town and stood on the bridge over the Nam Ou. HOW I wish I could catch the feeling of the place. It's very different in the misty morning than it is around noon when the sun is bright. We just kept standing there saying stupid stuff over and over: Gosh, can you believe it? This is so beautiful, can you believe it? It's unreal, I can't believe it, can you believe it? Look over there -- did you see that? Can you believe it? Neither one of us could believe it.

the view from our breakfast table

walking to the bridge.....can you believe it? I can't believe it!

standing on the bridge looking toward Vietnam, I think

on the bridge looking the other direction. that's the boat dock, obviously.

i don't know. i just can't believe it. it's too beautiful for words.

We came back to the hotel to recover from all the scenic splendor -- too bad! It's scenically splendiferous here too! So I took myself down to the yoga spot where I could hear the river running past, and birds singing. Marc lay in a hammock while I did my thing:

OH did that feel good. Excuse the hammock.

Marc's view

All good things end with a bit of a corpse pose.

Then we borrowed bikes from the hotel and rode into/through town, up to a small wat on the hill, had a bit of lunch, rode back, swam in the hot sun for an hour (but boy was the water cold...) and listened to some radio program Nick, the owner, was listening to. Paul McCartney got some kind of lifetime something award? So it was all his music, Beatles, Wings, one gorgeous song after another. On a sunny November day in Nong Khiaw, in mountainous northern Laos.

Tomorrow morning we're getting in a boat for a ~6-hour ride up the Nam Ou, where we'll stop in some small villages that are only accessible from the river. We'll poke around in some caves -- karst landscape is brilliant for caves. And once again, it will be us in a boat on a river in southeast Asia, which is certainly one of the best places to be.

Yeah, we just want to stay here. Skip Luang Prabang, stay here until it's time to go to Hanoi, come back here again and again and again. Live here. But the hotel is booked and I do want to eat in that alley in Luang Prabang again, so our only solution is to come back here another time. Gosh this place is so beautiful. I can't believe it.