A lot has happened in the past week.
One of the things that Ricky and I decided is a must for the trip is a motorbike tour of Vietnam. (We have Top Gear to thank for that.) We were in Chiang Mai for a little over a week and decided that Vietnam was our next stop. But how to get there? Flying seemed to be far too expensive, and we really wanted to do the trip without flying at all.
Then it hit us. Laos. We knew there was a bus from Vientiane to Hanoi, where we wanted to start the tour, and going by bus would be cheaper than flying.
So after a 14 hour mini-bus (like a 12 person van) ride, we are here in Vientiane. Yesterday, we decided that our first item of business would be to get our Vietnam visa. As we walked to the embassy, it struck me how much I liked Laos, and this city in particular. We walked the streets that were familiar to us, yet everything was also so foreign.
We had traveled the same roads before, knew where the too-large shopping mall was, and that the green walking man never showed his face signaling the time to cross the street on foot.
We still don't speak the language, though, or recognize a lot of places. It's still possible for us to get turned around on the side streets.
And that is great!
When you're at home, you sleep in the same bed every night, eat at the table that is always in the same place, leave your keys in the same little dish. Traveling, though, everything is different. Your bed changes often (sometimes more often than your underwear), and you hardly ever have time to have any favorites in a town.
So when we returned to Vientiane, where we stayed for a week two months ago, it was amazing to have the two sensations at once. We are staying in the same hostel we stayed at before, but in a different room with different people. We've eaten at a couple of the same places as before, and found some new ones too. It's a lot easier to branch out this time and try some new things, because we're not so wary. We feel confident in this town.
The same can be said for traveling in general. I was just telling Ricky how I felt like such a noob when we first started in China, and everyone we met had been traveling for a while. Now, though, it's different.
Today is our 5 month mark for the trip. We feel pretty experienced as travelers and are confident in the way we do things. We've made a ton of mistakes, but we've learned from them. Every new country or city we visit throws something new at us, but we are learning to handle them better after having messed up in similar situations before.
We are excited to go to Vietnam, excited for the challenges, the new experiences. We know that there will be things that are very different from what we've experienced so far, but we are confident that we will be able to handle them.
A couple on a budget, taking on the world.
Showing posts with label laos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label laos. Show all posts
Top 10 Travel Apps (Even When You're Not Traveling)
When we left northern China on our great journey it took
quite a bit of time to decide what technology I wanted to bring with me. I had
just bought a new, very lightweight laptop just for the trip but once it came
to the crunch I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring it and risk it getting damaged
or stolen.
So I made a decision to bring an iPod touch instead.
Let me just say that I am not just recommending an Apple
product or the standard apps therein (such as the mail and Safari apps which
will also be useful for travel). I am recommending the third party apps created
by companies who make their profits through other means such as in-app
advertising.
Now, this might sound a bit strange as an iPod surely can’t
be worth more than a computer while travelling, can it? Well, funnily enough,
it can actually be better! Let me explain why….
-all apps listed here are completely free from the App Store at time of writing and some of them work offline without 3G, 4G
or wifi networks-
10.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4.
The second whammy is that I can also email pdf files to my
iPod and read those on the device. Why is this so great you ask? Well I
recently uploaded the Lonely Planet books I need, including maps, ratings,
suggestions, etc. from all over the world onto my little iPod and it all works
offline! A real prize winner.
3.
It is so up to date that recently while exchanging $100 into
Cambodian riel I had more up to date rates than the bank teller and in the
exchange I actually gained $3 thanks to this app!
2.
ALL. FOR. FREE.
Add a little Skype credit (similar to phone credit but all
done online) and you can call cell phones for less than the cell phone rates
actually cost. That means I can call my mom for less on Skype from the other
side of the world than if I called her from a cell phone while sitting next to
her! –Requires internet connection-
1.
1.Display recent maps at varying degrees of detail
2.Suggest sights
3.Recommend restaurants, hotels, bars and nightclubs (all at
different price ranges)
4.Show recent reviews of everything
it has listed
5.Display other users’ walking tours, as well as TA
recommended tours
6.Allows you to make your own walking tours
And way more.
ALL…OFF….LINE…
ALL….FOR….FREE!!!!
When in China Talia and I took a walking tour of the
forbidden city in Beijing and at the entrance we were approached by some tour
guides, looking for 30euros or so to give a tour. Well with this app we got a
self guided tour, with history and pictures of the sights, a map and
descriptions of everything around us all offline, in clear English and for
free. It really saved us a lot of money and time and it really doesn’t get any
better than that!
Well there you have it! We use all of these apps in some
shape or form during our travels and I would recommend all of them especially
the last few, which I would consider essential. Hope this post was helpful and
informative!
How to Ruin Your Border Crossing in 7 Easy Steps
Crossing the border from Laos into Cambodia was not the
easiest, or the most pleasant, of experiences. In fact, it was a downright
nightmare. For your convenience, we have decided to share our secrets of
misery. Behold the list of surefire ways to ruin your own border crossing. Pay
close attention.
1.
Believe everything you read on the internet
regarding transport of vehicles, especially motorbikes, across borders. It is
very important to get as much information as you can pertaining to this
particular situation. Check out Lonely Planet and various southeast Asia biking
websites. They will promise that you can take your bikes across the border, and
you will believe them. Soon enough, you will find out you cannot, no matter how
much bribing you do, because when you actually need border officials to be
corrupt, they won’t be.
2.
Return to town to sell your bikes. This will
ruin your plans for nearly the rest of your trip, or at least the next few
months, but really, what choice do you have? As a bonus, hordes of townspeople
will gather to paw at the bikes, twisting knobs, scratching at paint, smelling
the exhaust pipe, with no intention of purchasing them. You then have to deal with
false hope for a few hours. If for some reason your conscience is doing ok at
the moment, try promising the bike to someone, and while he is away to get the
money, sell the bike—for less money—to someone else. After all, you need to catch that tuk-tuk back
to the border now.
3.
Make sure to do all of the above in the
blistering heat of midday, without any lunch.
4.
When you arrive at the border for the second
time, do ensure that the man at the counter is the one you had a shouting match
with earlier in the day when he promised to buy both bikes, made you wait for
him to eat lunch, and then told you never mind. He will be ever so glad to see
you, especially after that comment about his mother.
5.
When said man stamps your passport and demands an
illegal $2 stamp fee, go ahead and pay it. You don’t want any trouble, and didn’t
need a bottle of water anyway.
6.
When you reach the Cambodian side of the border,
don’t forget to pay yet another illegal fee of $5 straight to the pocket of the
finally-corrupt official. He’ll give you a nice grimace for it. Oh, and on your
way out and you have to pee and don’t know where the bathroom is, ensure that
the only person you can find to ask is the official who told you to go away
after standing and begging at his table, waiting and waiting for him to change his mind and
tell you that yes, you can bring your bikes to the border. But he won’t. Instead, he will
see your face and roll his eyes as he attempts to ignore you. But you will
persist and demand his attention. Because you really have to go.
7.
Finally, once stamped and into Cambodia, you
will be lucky enough to find that your only option to get into town is a $40
minibus. After told this price you will be ever so grateful that you refused
the driver earlier who said that he would take you for $10, because that was
obviously a rip-off.
There you have it folks, the 7 steps to ruining your
perfectly planned border crossing. If all goes according to these steps, you
won’t have any surprises, and will be able to handle whatever comes up. As for
us, we’ll probably skip the steps next time.
To Pay or Not to Pay: The Ethics of Sightseeing
If there’s one thing that drives us up the wall, it’s
entrance fees. In China, the fees were massive, often for sites that aren’t
worth the price. The Terracotta Warriors exhibit, for example, was a huge waste
of money. We paid 150 rmb each (about $22) just to see the same stuff we saw on
the internet. As an added bonus, we got to be pushed around by hordes of
Chinese tourists with giant cameras and
body odor.
So you see, after a time, we became weary of paying these
fees. By the time we reached Guilin, we started refusing to pay entrance fees,
no matter how small. What’s that? You want 30 cents so I can look at that
elephant-shaped stone formation over there, because you have planted bamboo so
passersby can’t see it for free? No thanks.
A few bucks to see one of the “must-see” sights of the city? We’ll pass.
And parking? Well, everywhere requires a parking fee, even if you only want to
stop the bike for a minute to run into a shop. Too many times we’ve had to pay
for parking, only to find that the shop or market didn’t have what we were
looking for, so 25 cents is still too much.
But, as you can imagine, there are still things we want to
see, that have be paid for. We don’t want to fork over our hard-earned cash
just so some guy in a hammock can pretend to safeguard our bikes while we go
into a market for an hour. We don’t want to pay outrageously to see a natural
waterfall or mountain just because someone decided to put up a fence around it.
So how do we get around it?
Well, quite honestly, we sometimes just simply, get around
it. We walk around the fence or enclosure or whatever until we can find a way
in. We go in the exit, we play dumb, we pull
the “I don’t understand” card and keep walking. Sometimes it works, but most
often it doesn’t. More often than not we are told by a gruff old lady “no no
no!” and we turn around. We’d often rather pay the fee than get into trouble.
Just the other day, in Pakse, we visited the ruins of Wat
Phu, an old temple of the Angkor era. We drove our bike into the parking area,
and as soon as an attendant walked over, Ricky took off and parked just outside
the fence, outside of the parking area. Bam. Free parking. Then, we ignored the
signs that pointed to the ticket area and walked straight ahead. Apparently, it
was the exit, so no one was there collecting tickets. We saw the whole
beautiful sight for free. (more on that in a future post)
But that brings me to a question. Is it ethical to do this?
Should we pay every man whose only self-given job is to take money to keep an
eye on our bikes? Should we pay exorbitant fees to enter a non-man-made sight, like a waterfall? Does one of
the biggest tourist attractions in China need to charge so much, just because
it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site? Do
we have the right to refuse to pay to see these sights?
Now, there are a few sights that we have seen and were happy
to pay for. Our visit to the Kong Lor Cave was pricey, but justified. Outside
of the ticket window there was a paper explaining, by pie-chart, where the
money went. 60% to the two guides, a few percent to the villages involved, and
some to tourist centers in the villages. We were happy to pay for our guides,
and glad to see that some of the money went to the village we visited and were
welcomed to so kindly.
It is true that most entrance fees, especially in Laos, mean
much more to the locals than to us. What’s $5 to us, when we have so much
compared to most locals? I’m sure that’s
what they think as well, which contributes to the exasperating idea that
foreigners are rich and willing to spend all their cash to see what the
third-world countries have to offer, in all their rustic beauty. Despite our
comparative wealth, we travelers are so often taken advantage of that it
becomes nigh to unbearable to hand over the cash so earnestly sought after by
gate-keepers of temples and caves. All
of those small fees add up, not only monetarily, but they also add up to an
exasperating game we have to keep playing—haggling, bartering, giving in,
giving up.
I understand that some of these entrance fees, like the one
for Kong Lor Cave, go to good causes. They are for the maintenance of the site,
or the small salaries of the locals who work there. This causes me to lament the
increase in tourism in places like these. When towns like Vang Vieng, well
known for its tubing activities down the river, accompanied by riverside bars,
become solely tourist towns, the locals are caught in the middle. They have to
satisfy the tourists and make money and the only way to do so is to claim they
have something worth seeing for a small price.
But the question remains. Do we have the right to refuse to
pay an entrance fee that we deem too expensive, or the sight not worthy enough?
Not every ticket office has a pie-chart explaining where the money goes. Is it
unjust to assume it goes straight to the pockets of higher-ups or those running
the mock parking lot? Where do we draw the line between taking advantage and
being taken advantage of?
Waterfalls and Villages: Unexpected Beauty
If you recall from this post, my bike had a bit of unexpected
trouble on our way to Pakse. Well, the bike was fixed by the time we got there
to pick it up the next day, and everything went swimmingly until a couple hours
later when I got a flat tire from driving over a nail. But other than that,
things went great.
Today was also a most unexpected day, in a good way. We
thought we’d go to a waterfall, because there’s nothing better than swimming in
delightfully chilly water on a hot day in Southeast Asia. We didn’t end up swimming, but what we did
get was so much better.
We hopped onto Lady Stark (who, if you didn’t know, is my
lovely green motorbike. She’s feisty and quick.) and headed out, semi-blind.
There were no road signs to point our way, and we weren’t sure what road we
were on, or if it would lead us anywhere. We stopped and asked for directions a
couple of times, using our limited Lao, and the miming techniques we have all
but perfected.
We arrived, much to our surprise, and as we entered I read
the sign and realized that this wasn’t the waterfall we had planned on going
to. Well, at least we got somewhere.
The entrance fee was surprisingly cheap, and the place had a
nice atmosphere about it. There were signs
pointing the way to ethnic villages and caves, but we headed straight to the
falls, ready to jump into some cold water. We were a tad disappointed when we
saw that the path led to the top of the falls with no way to get to the pool
below, so swimming wasn’t really an option.
We doubled back found a group tourists wandering aimlessly,
trying to make sense of the many signs and arrows and paths. We followed them down a path paved in tree stumps,
and found ourselves in the middle of a village of wooden huts with thatched
roofs. In the center of everything was a blue tarp covered in drying coffee
cherries. Take a look here for a 360
degree photo of the village.
We walked past a small hut with a local family sitting on
the porch taking pictures with a couple of the tourists. I think they thought
it would be a great idea to get a picture with natives AND white people, so
they beckoned us in, and I sat with them as Ricky took some pictures. I was a
little hesitant to join because I prepared for the day thinking we would go
swimming, so I was wearing short swim shorts and a tank over my swimsuit. I was
afraid I would offend them being so scantily clad, but they were friendly and
didn’t kick me out of the village.
We soon found ourselves at a tree-top “bachelor cabin” and
then under a small hut with a tiny old man who was definitely the highlight of
our visit.
He was standing at a sort of woven bamboo table covered in various musical instruments. Ricky asked if he could pick up the boxy guitar-shaped one, and he and the small old man jammed for a while, and I had a go at some pipes and an oboe sounding instrument made from a single bit of bamboo.
He was standing at a sort of woven bamboo table covered in various musical instruments. Ricky asked if he could pick up the boxy guitar-shaped one, and he and the small old man jammed for a while, and I had a go at some pipes and an oboe sounding instrument made from a single bit of bamboo.
We were in no rush to leave the man or his instruments, because he was such a jolly fella, and I think he saw that clearly enough. He brought out a few toys for us to play with. They were more like puzzles, made of bits of bamboo and string. We sat for AGES trying to figure them out. He showed us multiple times how to do them, but we just didn’t get it for a while. When he showed us how to do it, he would tap a finger to his temple and give us a little grin, meaning that he knew the trick, the clever old man. Eventually, though, we figured them out. And of course we bought them, because we like toys.
We finally left the man and found ourselves at the place
where we came in. Beyond some trees was another waterfall, which confused us a
little, because the water was flowing the opposite way of the other waterfall.
We made our way along some rocks in the stream right to where the fall was,
only
slipping a few times and enjoying the cool water on our feet. Here is the 360 picture.
 |
| The waterfall we found. |
 |
| Woven bamboo bridge is probably the safest way to go across a raging river. |
 |
| The view from the waterfall after crossing the river. |
We couldn't believe that we had found this place, and it was
so inexpensive and so beautiful and authentic. It was definitely one of our
favorite attractions so far, and made for a beautiful day.
Arachnophobe vs. Huntsman: The Showdown
So one of our readers asked us recently about the spiders
here in Laos, and I figured today would be the perfect day to tell all about it.
Let me explain why.
Just over a week ago we were in the Kong Lor caves in
central Laos and if you guys would like to click the link…
…you’ll see that’s where the world’s biggest spider is from
that cave.
Now, let me say, that we didn’t SEE that spider, nor come
into contact with it while we were there. Also, I am a serious arachnophobe and run for the
hills when any spider bigger than an ant is nearby or in the room, and I’m sure
many people could corroborate my story! So it’s a good thing we didn’t actually
see that spider.
What DID we come in contact with? Well,
I try my best to avoid looking for them or even seeing them by accident, but
today (the same day Talia almost crashed the motorbike, making this even more
of a rather shitty day) I saw one.
A big one.
One of the biggest ones in fact, a
huntsman, the little brother of the biggest spider in the world. I walked into
our guesthouse room earlier, turned on the light, turned back around and there
was a huntsman spider sitting on the bed looking at me, waiting for me to make
my move.
Well…… I made my move. I ran leaving
the door open and screamed at the top of my voice “TALIA! THERE’S GI-F*CKING-GANTIC
SPIDER IN THE F*CK*NG ROOM, PLEASE DO SOMETHING, PLEASE!!!”
Talia here. When I went into the room, the spider wasn’t there, so I
entered cautiously. All of a sudden a blur ran across the floor and up the
wall. The next second the blur was on the floor again, running to Ricky’s
shoes. The thing moved so fast that I thought there were two of them. Instead of attempting to get at it myself, I
opted for getting help from the guesthouse owner, who promptly smashed the
spider with his shoe and flicked it outside. He checked the room and bathroom
for more spiders. The room was empty and the man left without a word.
 |
| The spider pictured is from the internet and is not ours. The spider I saw was slightly bigger than this one. |
Now I have to go and never sleep
ever again.
Near Death on Route 13
Having done all of what Savannakhet had to offer (a scantily
filled dinosaur museum and the monkey forest) Ricky and I decided that we would
leave today. We filled up the bikes and
the spare gas can (which took nearly all the money in my wallet, which wasn’t
much) and paid our bill for the room (which took nearly all the money in
Ricky’s wallet, which was quite a bit more). We still had money, because we
never leave a town empty-handed. We had enough for a couple of food stops and
more gas should we need it. This was to
be a long ride, and we thought we were pretty prepared for it. We had water,
money, toilet paper, all the essentials.
Well, we weren’t really prepared.
See, since our trip to Monkey Forest, my bike had been
feeling a bit wobbly, like the steering was a bit loose or something. We got out onto the road and things were
fine. After about an hour or so, my bike started feeling a bit looser still, so
I slowed down from 80 km per hour to about 70, thinking I was just going a
little too fast. Ricky was still going fast, so distance grew between our
bikes.
I had just crested a hill when disaster struck. All of a
sudden I lost absolute control of the bike. The front and back wheels seemed to
be fighting for control and I swerved out into the middle of the road. It felt
as if some unseen hands were pulling the handlebars back and forth while
someone else pulled the back tire in the opposite direction.
I was going about 70 km per hour still and didn’t know what
to do. If you recall, I’m fairly new to the motorbike scene, having learned to
ride them just over a month ago. I didn’t really know how to handle this. My
hand was off the accelerator, but I didn’t know if I should brake, and if I
should use the front or back brake, so I think I may have eased both of them
on. To be honest I don’t really remember. I remember saying “oh no oh no oh no
oh no” over and over as I swerved out of control. All of a sudden I was at the
side of the road, unharmed but in shock. I pushed myself off the bike and
immediately burst into sobs.
I turned to face the road as I saw Ricky’s bike climb a hill
and disappear over the top. I knew he would turn around as soon as he saw I
wasn’t behind him, but all I could do was shake and cry as I waited. Eventually I saw the glint of the silver
front of Betsy Black, and then Ricky was parked behind me.
Before he had properly dismounted the bike I was on him,
still shaking, holding onto his neck while he attempted to disentangle himself
from his headphones. He looked over me for scratches and asked if I had fallen.
All I could say was a simple no, and keep holding on.
When I had composed myself a bit, I told him what had
happened, and that my steering might be loose. After a short inspection,
however, the truth became clear. About 6 or 7 spokes on my back wheel had
snapped off, which had caused all the wobbling. The wheel was frighteningly
loose when we tested it; it was amazing that I hadn’t gone careening off the
road and fallen off.
We tried to figure out what to do. The bike was all but
undrive-able, and we didn’t know where we could go to fix it. We also don’t speak Lao, so we also had that
against us.
Ricky flagged down a man on a bike and mimed that we had a
problem. The man pointed the way we had come, so Ricky hopped on the bike and
was led to a repair shop. Or repair shack.
He came back and I took his bike to the shack while he drove mine. He
ended up having to push it (uphill) because the back tire soon got flat with
all the wobbling. He arrived drenched in sweat, panting from the exertion and
the heat, ever my hero.
 |
| The repair shack that luckily wasn't too far away. |
After some work and a little more miming, I ended up with a
new wheel and tube. The price came to 175,000 kip, about double what we
actually had with us. I was cursing
myself that I didn’t go to an ATM before we left. The nearest ATM was in
Savannakhet, the town we had just left. We had already had a late start on the
long drive, and adding a couple extra hours would leave us arriving well after
dark in Paxse. And after the fright and the trouble, neither of us wanted to do
much more driving. Instead, we told the repairman, and half the village that
had come to gawk, that we would go to Savannakhet, sleep there, and return in
the morning with the money.
 |
| My old wheel with the broken spokes, next to the tire. |
 |
| Pictured: Instant Death |
They agreed, and we left them working on the bike and put
our huge backpacks in another building as collateral, and also because we
couldn’t take them with us back to town with only one bike.
 |
| My new wheel leaning against the bike. |
So here we are, back in Savannakhet. The lady at the
guesthouse was surprised to see us, but gave us our old room, without even
making us re-check in and told us to relax.
We took her advice and will depart for take two of the drive
to Paxse in the morning. Wish us luck!
The goings-on
Ok, so here’s the DL.
Pak Xin
Paxxan
Paksan
Pakxan
Paksane
Pakxane
Pak sin
Or Paxxane
Between road maps, street signs and what have you, I don’t
know how to spell it. Our journey here
to Khoun Kham was uneventful but very interesting. We stopped off on the road
to have a look at the “limestone forest” which was in all honesty, very
beautiful.
Hello future self.
Dusty Roads, Dusty Faces: Getting to the Country
Well, friends, we’re back, after a long and dusty road
of…dust. Seriously. That’s about all I can recall from our last couple of
drives. We left Vientiane, having done all that city has to offer (like seeing the
abandoned water park and trying to find the zoo that mysteriously disappeared
at some point), two days ago, apparently a Tuesday. We never really know
anymore.
 |
| The long road ahead |
 |
| Getting a drink of water before heading on again. |
We drove to a small town called Paxsan, one of those places
where if you blink, you miss it. And we pretty much did. When we got close to
the town we saw a guesthouse and decided to get a room there, as opposed to
driving on and trying to find another one. The room was cheap, which was fine,
but I’ll get to the not-so-fine stuff in a minute.
We dropped our things off, and headed back on the road to
find a place with internet and food so we could do a little blogging. We drove couple
kilometers and the small wooden buildings became ever more sparse so we had to
pull over and ask each other if we had passed the whole city. We had, so we turned
around and drove through the two or three streets of the actual town. And
apparently the whole town is internet-free, so we satisfied ourselves with
overpriced drinks at a bar outside of town, not blogging. Meanwhile, a few feet
away from us, the ladies that run the place were sitting on the floor watching
TV, while pulling wings off of giant bugs that they would later eat.
 |
| Ladies hard at work. |
 |
| The final wingless product |
We ended up going back to our guesthouse where I debated
taking a shower, but I decided against it. To do so would require me to stand
against the toilet, over the flush-bucket (a bucket full of water and a scoop
to dump water into the toilet when you’re finished. Also doubles as back-side
wash water after a healthy number two), and far too close to a huge cockroach
carcass being carried away by hundreds of tiny black ants. Instead, I took a
nap, covered in red grit from the dusty drive.
When I woke up, Ricky
and I went for dinner at a karaoke place where no one was singing and there
were 3 whole tables of people. I ordered “fried fish with basil.” What came to
me was undercooked, boiled fish with onions and carrots, whole leaves of basil
on stems, and sliced peppers in an unbearably spicy sauce. By the third bite I
felt like even my teeth were on fire.
Now, there are a few things I really dislike: snow on my
face, overuse of the word random, Crocs. But needlessly spicy food is at the
top of the list. Everything from my gums to the back of my throat were tingling
with some sort of mutant-power chili spice.
I had to take a break every couple of bites so I could down some more
soda, and by the time I was finished (and given away the mushy uncooked bits to
the begging dogs around my feet), I was so grumpy and in pain that I demanded
we stop to find ice cream on the way home, which we did.
Today we got up and headed out of the guesthouse, once again
not bothering to shower. The roach was gone, but when Ricky tried to rinse his
hands off in the shower, the shower head fell off. So we hit the road, not caring how dirty we
were, because we knew we’d just get dirtier. And did we ever.
Now, I sweat. A lot. And here in Laos it’s incredible the
way my sweatstache reappears just seconds after wiping it away. So when I’m
covered in sweat and then driving on sometimes-unpaved roads, I get real dirty real
quick. Take a look at this pic. That’s not tan. That’s dirt.
Here's a better view of the karsts behind us.
And an even better one.
We also had to drive through veritable clouds of white
butterflies. Now, butterflies may look delicate and sweet, but when you hit them going 80 km an hour, they feel like rocks pelting you.
Of course, the glory of my super clean and shiny skin didn’t
last long, because the power shortly went out, so Ricky and I played cards by
headlamp in the main building, while small children chased puppies in the dark
and somehow did not fall.
So now the lights are back on and I am typing this while we
wait for our post-dinner dinner. The Lao boy next to me is playing World of
Warcraft and there’s a moth fluttering on the floor. I have to admit that the
last couple of days have been pretty strange, but sitting next to this kid that
thinks he’s a warlock is pretty cool.
The Day We Became Fugitives in a Foreign Country
Today started off as a normal day. I woke up quite late
because I couldn’t sleep. Meanwhile, Ricky was on the bunk below me, giggling
to himself while watching Top Gear. At
about noon, we got out of bed, had ourselves some cereal and prepared for the
day.
Some of our plans fell through, so we decided to go for a
little drive and see a couple of sights.
We headed toward a huge golden stupa in the distance, and as we neared,
we saw that what separated it from us
was a massive empty parking lot, the kind you put a traveling carnival in. As
soon as we scooted in past a mostly closed gate (which should have been our
first sign), Ricky got a devious grin on his face.
“This is going to be fun.”
We drove around the lot for a while until we came to one end
and he challenged me.
“Naught to fifty to
naught.”
So we backed up to the curb, counted down and took off. Much
to Ricky’s surprise I stayed right with him, and when I looked down I was
nearly at 55 kmph and slammed on the brakes.
My tail snaked around me, but I stayed upright, much to my own surprise.
Well, it was so much fun that we decided to go again so we
headed back to the start. Right behind us, however, were the coppers.
I smiled at them as they headed toward us, despite my fear
that I was about to be arrested, because I heard that was the best defense
mechanism for Lao police, and offered a cheerful “Sabaidee!” (hello)
They didn’t speak English, but sign-languaged their way into
telling us that we can’t be here and that we have to leave. We apologized
profusely, told them we would exit right away, and thanked them with a smile.
Before we had put our helmets back on they had driven away.
We were pleasantly surprised, because we had heard some
horror stories about foreigners being locked up or forced to pay outrageous
amounts of money.
Well, our time would come…
Later in the evening we met a couple from Spain and an
American girl they were traveling with. We sat and chatted for a while, then
went off for dinner. After dinner, Ricky suggested that we burn some cash.
Literally.
See, in China, they sell fake 100 RMB bills for people to
burn in huge piles on the street. When they burn, the ashes and smoke go
upward, toward the person’s ancestors in the afterlife. There, they will be
rich.
Ricky had bought a stack of the money in China but we had
never gotten around to burning it. So we got the money and headed down to the
shores of the Mekong River to make an offering to our ancestors.
We sat in a circle, taking turns tossing bills into the
small fire, as we said who each one was for. Grandmothers, grandfathers, great
aunts, everybody. It was actually quite nice to take a moment and think of the
ones we had lost.
We had just burned the last bill and begun talking about how
we felt (awww!) when trouble came.
The police came to bust up our party. There was one who
seemed to be in charge, and a few lackeys.
The conversation went something like this.
Police: You, no here.
Us: What?
Police: You, no here, after 9. You mistake.
Us: Oh yes, mistake! We made a mistake, we can’t be here
after 9! We’ll just be going now!
Police: Stop! You, Thailand *swimming motion*
Us: No sir, we didn’t swim over from Thailand. See? We’re
dry
Police: Passports!
Us: Sorry, we don’t have our passports with us.
Police: You, mistake, no here. Follow me, police station.
Us: What? Why? We’ll leave now. We didn’t know. We’re very
sorry.
Police: Passports! You smoke?
Us: What?
Police: You smoke (something no one understood)?
Us: No, sir, we don’t smoke that.
Police: Bag! (pointing at Ricky. He then proceeds to go
through the contents of our backpack. He was
very suspicious of one pen.)
Police: You follow me police station. Give mistake money.
Us: Well, how much?
Police: (counts us) Ah, 5. Ah, $200 each.
Us: What? No way! We don’t have that! We’ll just be going
now.
We began to walk away, ignoring a weak “Stop!”
We walked faster, feeling like fugitives escaping the law,
and when we were brave enough to look behind us, we realized they weren't following us. We walked fast anyway and hurried through the marked and out the
other side, back to our guesthouse where we caught our breath and thanked our
ancestors for helping us out, which was nice, after all that money we sent
them.
So now we’re here, safe in our tiny dorm room, with a cement
floor and a window that looks out into the indoor stairwell, basking in our fugitive glory.
The Lao police probably aren’t hunting for us, and that’s
probably for the best, but being a fugitive for those couple of minutes today
sure was exciting!
7 Reasons Why Traveling as a Couple is the Best Way to Go
Most of you
know that Ricky and I met while we were teaching English in China, and have
been pretty much inseparable since. We planned our travels for months before we
actually left, working on the details of what to pack, what route to take, how
much to spend, all that jazz.
 |
| Ricky and I when we first met. |
And now
we’re out, traveling around, having a blast.
Now, it’s not all a bed of roses, but it’s definitely an amazing and
eye-opening experience. So here’s a list of why traveling as a couple is
awesome.
7. It’s cheaper
Everything is
cheaper when you travel with someone else because you share a lot more. Food is
cheaper, hostels are cheaper. It’s also handy to have someone there to keep you
in line with the budget you’ve set. Of course, there are those times when you
both want to splurge on something, but that’s ok, as long as you’re both aware
of how it will affect the budget.
It’s also
wonderful to have someone with you when shopping at markets. Haggling is a
must, and it’s fun to play the good customer/bad customer card. Sellers offer you a “special price,” which of
course is far too high. One of you thinks it might be ok (which of course it
isn’t), and then the other puts on a grumpy face and refuses the price until
it’s lowered (which of course it will be).
It’s team haggling!
 |
| On a tea-boat in the river, Chongqing, China. |
6. Less shopping pressure
Like I said,
markets can be an intimidating place to shop. Fun, and exciting, but
intimidating. People are shouting at you
from every direction. And it’s
impossible to browse. As soon as you show a tiny bit of interest in something,
they are there in your face, showing you how much it costs, what it’s made of,
etc. When you have someone with you, you can just talk to them and avoid the
hassle of trying to communicate in a language you don’t speak when you’re not
in the mood for it.
 |
| So excited to have visitor passes for the International Financial Center in Hong Kong. |
5. Better packing
There are a
lot of things that we need to carry with us. We have a first aid kit, complete
with medications we may need for everything from headaches to bowel problems,
flashlights, rope, guidebooks, a laptop, lots of hand sanitizer, and so much
more. All of the stuff that isn’t our personal clothing we split up between us
so our weight is more even. I can’t imagine trying to cram all of that into
just one bag, and having to carry it all myself. When you travel as a couple,
you pretty much share everything you take with you, which lowers the weight
that one person has to carry.
 |
| Time to dye our hair blue! |
4. More Food!
Yep, we like
food. A lot. We like trying new things at interesting places. When there’s more
than one of you, you can order 2 or 3 dishes you want to try without having
leftovers you can’t take home. And then
there’s always someone to eat the stuff off your plate that you don’t like. (I
usually end up with an excess of mushrooms.)
3. More adventures
I’m sure you
know that Ricky and I are doing a motorbike tour through Laos now. Before two
weeks ago, I’d never driven a motorbike, and was somewhat less than steady on
the two-wheeled beast. But now, here I
am, having driven on upwards of 200 kilometers through the jungle. I never
would have done this if it weren’t for Ricky and his ideas of adventure. And
I’m loving it! I can’t believe how much I would have missed out on if I had
been traveling alone, and I don’t know if Ricky would do it either.
 |
| Time to get on the road! |
2. Companionship
 |
| Outside the war museum in Beijing |
Yes, this is
kind of obvious, and perchance a tad mushy. My apologies. But yes, when traveling
you need companionship. Well, maybe you don’t, but I do. There are days when
we’re tired or worn out or stressed or annoyed and we just need to stop and
relax. It’s times like that when I’m
especially glad that I have someone. We
can stay in the hostel all day, watching reruns of Parks and Rec or Top Gear,
playing spider solitaire together despite the fact that it is “solitaire,” only leaving for food.
And it’s
nice to have someone there to bring you a sandwich, make sure you have enough
water, and spend the day reading without a complaint instead of exploring the
town while you’re sick in bed.
1. Someone
to share with
I don’t just
mean food here. I mean a deeper kind of sharing, the kind of sharing that can
only be done standing on top of a hill looking down on an amazingly lit
skyline, or looking in wonder at giant pandas, or swimming at beautiful
waterfalls, or exploring massive caves.
 |
| Amazed by the giant Buddha in LeShan |
But there’s also someone to commiserate with during the times that
aren’t so great. There’s someone there to share the times when you’re both
suffering on a crowded hard-seat train for 20 hours, and when you’re lost
somewhere in a huge city.
 |
| Forget those silly pandas--look into my eyes! |
 |
| After swimming at the Kuang Si waterfalls in Luang Prabang, Laos. |
It’s the
kind of sharing that makes traveling—and life—better.
Like I said,
traveling together isn’t all smiles and happy-go-lucky skipping through fields
of flowers. Sometimes it’s hard—really hard. But the good times outweigh the
bad, and I can honestly say that there’s no one else I’d rather live this
experience with.
 |
| Hong Kong skyline. |
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