My third failure There are several highlights to any journey to Luang Prabang. Have you seen the Buddha Caves yet? Yes, this morning. The waterfalls? There are several, but the question always means just one. Yes, yesterday. (The pictures I showed you in an earlier post.) One barely needs to mention the most important however. The daily procession of barefoot orange robed monks walking single file down the street with their begging bowls. At 6 am. I didnt make it Monday morning, the one block from my guesthouse, because I was a little tired from traveling and I had a whole week left. I didnt make it Tuesday because, you may recall, I had slept the night before at another guesthouse to avoid arrest for violating curfew. (If you missed that story, check it out). Today was my third failure to get up. And its because of another late night at a club. Tuesday was just a small club with a live rock band. Last night it was a massive light show DJ pounding dance complex with nearly a thousand quiet, polite, submissive young Laos busting out of their model minority archetypal character. As my friend who has been showing me the other side of Luang Prabang and I walked in, I was stunned that this place would exist here. As midnight neared, I made sure we left with plenty of time to get back. I wondered about all these kids, though. How can they still be here if its midnight? Double standard? Corrupt cops paid off by club owners? As long as Im inside in time, its not my problem. This was just the second activity of the night, however. My friend - and how is this for terrible... I cant remember his name and I cant ask after all this time! - took me to a barbecue joint. Lao style. On the back of his scooter, we rode across the narrow one lane bridge to the other side of town. The side no tourist would ever see. Call it East Luang Prabang. Not unsafe. But, for example, it is clear the municipal government doesnt spend as much money on streets here. So the restaurant is a yard with several square concrete tables and benches, way too low for my legs. Each table has a big hole in the middle. That fact wasnt obvious to me until I saw the glove-clad waiter carrying a big metal bucket of hot flaming coals toward us and placed it in the hole. Then he brought a metal contraption shaped sort of like a hat that sat precariously on top of the bucket of hot flaming coals. Finally he came with a plate of thin strips of raw meat and plastic bowl of various greens and an egg. And a pitcher of water. Not to drink. My friend had BeerLao, of course. Me, another 7 Up. To make a soup. The meat is placed on the top part of the hat to fry and the greens are placed in what is now boiling hot water, around where you would find the brim. The diner has to do the hot smoky cooking for him or herself. Fortunately one spices the meal to their own preference. Ill take mine German Dakota, please. It was good. The experience of it fantastic. Throughout my trip I have found people willing to share their lives with me in such gracious and hospitable ways. And then there are the others. Last night I walked the few blocks over to watch the sun set on the Mekong, the other side of the narrow peninsula of LPB from my guesthouse veranda which is situated over the Nam Kahn River. Both riverbanks are lined with one outdoor restaurant after another. Some with wooden chairs and cushions serving top end French cuisine and some with flimsy plastic chairs catering to the palate of the local crowd. But at least everyone gets the same fantastic view. All day long tuk tuk drivers and boat operators will yell out to get your attention, seeking to offer their services for a good price, plus a discount just for you. Depending on my mood, I may say no thank you or just walk by. It gets old fast, but they are making a living in a tight low season market, right. And sometimes that works to our/my advantage. The problem is, if you engage and actually ask how much, it is nearly impossible to walk away without great offense. So the very definition of a jolly fellow walked up to me as I stood admiring the view. Would I like a 30 minute private cruise on his boat? I looked at it and the other people out doing the same and thought, sure, why not. The price wasnt too bad. And it was enchanting to be on the water, cool breezes flowing, looking up at the diners on their terraces. It is a really beautiful river, sunset perfectly backdropped with the picturesque mountains. This jolly fellow with an excellent command of English - I agree with those who have observed that tuk tuk drivers often speak better than those employed for their language skills - asked me what I was doing tomorrow. The caves. Oh, I can take you. I knew that would be too expensive no matter how many discounts, so I said I was just going to join a group. You join my group, sounding oddly Russian. He did have a really comfortable boat. Nice seats. Toilet on board for the two hours up and one hour back. We haggled and I got a fair price, I thought, based on what I knew of going rates. I laughed at him when he first suggested a price. I had to really race to get ready and eat breakfast before meeting him at 8. It occurred to me that I didnt want to rush. I was still tired from the night before. I could in fact just blow him off. I can go at my own pace any time. But I felt bad thinking he might be standing there waiting. So I scarfed down my freshly buttered toasted baguette with homemade preserves and the crepe and juice and coffee and parfait glass of fresh fruit. Did I mention the food in this town is superb? I rushed and made it just at 8 am. And there he was smiling joll-illy. He asked so I handed him my money and he told me to wait by the dock while the other passengers arrived. I waited 30 minutes - Remember Im in Laos PDR (please dont rush). Finally he called to me from up on the street to come up there. He smiled and told me that the gentleman standing next to him would be taking care of me. There were no other passengers. I went and got on the mans scooter and it occurred to me, I paid the other guy. Yes, yes, all taken care of. He drove me a few blocks to the public ferry service and bought me a ticket - a ticket that cost 65,000 kip. I paid 150,000 for a boat with comfortable seats and a toilet. This is for one of the boats with child sized school chairs nailed to the floor and a piece of carpet for comfort. Mr. Jolly made off with the difference, which my butt and back paid for dearly. Oh, but where would the story be without it? And because of it, I had a lovely ride with a couple from Boulder who are moving to Capitol Hill in Denver next month and a young Thai man traveling on his own, a fact that bewilders his friends and family. We had a good time in our little impromptu group. And the caves. Im glad I did it. There was nothing particularly spectacular about it. It is terribly crowded, seeing that all the public ferries leave at the same time. But it was a peculiarly interesting place to say I have been. So whats on for tonight? Hopefully nothing that will make me a four time failure. Ive got to see this procession!!!
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 11:09:26 +0000
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