Travelogue

Laos was a real kick. I rented a Honda 250 Baja dirt bike, which was quite good on the road as well. The roads in Laos range from smooth but windy to packed dirt with holes to trails with mud. From Vientiane, I headed north to Vang Vieng, then northeast to Phonsavan, toodled around that area for a while, then back toward Vientiane the long way, over small roads and trails. In all I rode a little over 1,000 km (620 miles), anywhere from 4 to 9 hours a day. Which raises the question: what the hell was I thinking? This, as it turned out, was way too much time on a bike, especially on the dirt roads, and my body is still complaining. Mainly the seating area. Since I was wearing sunglasses, I look like a negative of a racoon (historical note: negatives are what they used before digital cameras). And my hands are sunburned to the first knuckle, while the rest of the fingers are white - picture how you hold a handlebar. But fun it was!

From Vang Vieng, the road rose and twisted between the limestone karst formations, and was quite chilly and moist. Then it turned mountainous, with beautiful twisting roads and great scenery. The only down side is that you never know what's around the next twist. Could be a truck coming the other way in your lane (though there are no stripes per se), a herd of cattle, a tractor, or even a bus stopped in the road for a rest. At one point, I encountered a truck that had run partially off the road, blocking one lane, and a truck that was acquiring it's cargo in the other lane.

Phonsavan is the city nearest the Plain Des Jars (or PDJ), which are both interesting in their own right, as well as being the focus of some of the most persistent battles during the Lao war. Which is why I passed an UXO (UneXploded Ordnance) operation about 500 meters from a jars site. More on that later. If you're not familiar with the jars, they are indeed big stone vessels, a few hundred of which litter this area of rolling hills, mostly in clusters. There is no good evidence on when they were created, by whom, or for what purpose. Legend has it that they were for holding rice wine for a victory celebration, and archaeologists have some evidence that they may have been burial funerary vessels. Anyway, they're pretty neat to look at and walk among, and try to guess why some folks would carve them up and then lug them to the tops of hills.

During the war, more bombs were dropped on Laos than on Germany in WWII. I've heard that it was on the order of 2,000 pounds for every person in the country. Besides making a mess at the time, about 1/3 of the munitions were duds. This is not a quality program to be proud of! And to add further to the problem, a large about of them were cluster bombs, which open up on the way down and scatter hundreds of tennis-ball sized bomblets (or "bombis" to the Lao). This renders vast areas of farmland unusable, until it is cleaned meter by meter. This is still being done, 30 years on, and it's no where near finished. The bombis don't rust very fast, though when they do come apart the central explosive core is still fused and highly unstable. I spoke at length with a British fellow who was managing a local team for Mines Advisory Group (MAG). I had seen MAG markers at one of the sites, but didn't know what they were for. Now I know that they marked the safe paths, and that I had strayed from those paths. One of the sites was rather picturesque in it's own right - to get there you park, cross a few rice fields, avoid the water buffalo, skirt some old bomb craters, and walk up a small hill, where the jars are clustered at the top.

Discarded weaponry is visible everywhere, from a sign made out of a wing tank, to shells used for fences, to other bits used for decorations. Local metalworkers make everyday items out of old shells as well. The guest house I stayed at used mines for candleholders.

I explored the idea of traveling south and then west, skirting the Saysomboune restricted area on a trail that is no longer used. Locals said that it was very pretty, and that I might encounter elephants and the such, but that the road was not passable by any 4-wheel vehicle and that there were "bandits" still active in the area. "Bandits" is Lao-speak for Hmong resistance fighters, who have effectively maintained this area as an independent region for the past 30-something years. I decided against it, not because I was worried about the Hmong (hey, I'm on their side!), but because there would be absolutely no other travelers in the area. Since there was only one of me, any breakdown, flat tire, or whatever would be troublesome. I felt rather the wuss for not doing it, and wondered whether age was improving my judgement. Anyway, I've now identified the theme for my next visit!

On the way back, I took my time and stopped often. Except for the cities, this area of Laos is still not often visited by foreigners. When I rode through a town, even on the major roads, the kids (and often adults) would wave and yell "sabaidii" (hello). It got to be a hassle, waving back all the time, but cool nonetheless - how often do we get to be a celebrity? Sometimes I'd stop to talk with the kids, who were often very wary of this guy who actually stopped to interact. Had a good time with a bunch who were at a swimming hole, and others who were herding oxen, as well.

I did get into a bit of trouble, becoming hoplessly lost on some paths and then finding nothing but mud. Some mud is sticky, and some mud is lubricious - this was the slick stuff! Crossing one puddle the bike went down in an instant, which was not so bad, but every time I tried to pick it up I got it about half way and then my legs would squirt out from under me. Couldn't hardly stand up in it - sort of like ice. After about 15 minutes I figured out a way to triangulate myself and the bike, and we made it out. Covered in mud, of course. Fourtunately, there was a stream nearby.

As it turned out, my "better judgement" regarding the solo trip through the jungle was prudent, because the bike started to run poorly just north of Vang Vieng. I suspected dirt in the carb, and tried to nurse it to town, but it died completely about 20 km short of there. We hitched a ride aboard a passing truck, and they helped me get it repaired. So I ended up spending another night in Vang Vieng, my last choice of accomodations. So off I went to the row of restaurants, where I had my first-ever ginger, chicken, and chili pepper pizza, accompanied by a Beer-Lao and a small side plate of a local dried herb that is a well-known accompaniment for pizza. All for under $3, of course.

Lots of other interesting adventures along the way, but I ended up back in Vientiane rather late in the evening. I don't find this capitol city that interesting, but I did find stuff to do and hung around through the next day when I found a bus back to Thailand.