Apocalypse Now country

The Nam Ou hotel was a ramshakle affair, taking on the air of a backpacker's hostel, without the 'hostel' bit if you see what I mean.  It was laid back and comfortable, almost, but not quite, an oasis from the chaos of the river bank. 

I awoke at 6.30 am to usual sounds of Laos village life, similar to the previous morning - listening out for cocks crowing, birds tweeting, the chatter of women against the 'pock, pock, pock' of mortar against pestle grinding chillis, mango and spices into aromatic sauces.  I hear children playing, babies crying, the odd motorbike and adults coughing.  Not just any old cough, but a male voice choir of hawking, retching, gobbing and spitting stringy strands of spit and goz in long glutinous lobs in the direction they happened to be looking into at the time. I cannot get used to the way Asian's clear their lungs in the mornings.

I did not have the gumption to work the shower, so I had a cat lick in cold water, packed my bag and presented myself for breakfast.  What a start to the day!

After a stroll through the town, picking our way through the mud and gobs of spit, we arrived at the pier in search of our boat for the final leg.  

We met a couple of student backpackers from Switzerland who informed us that the boatman wanted $20US each and that they could not afford that price.  When Dave and I enquired, the price was the same.  The students could not see the logic in charging the same price for more passengers, so they started to haggle.  Dave and I stood back and watched a skilled haggler perform a master-class in driving the price down to $12US each.  Very impressive.

Meanwhile, there was huge entertainment in watching the ferry boat cross over from the far bank.



The huge floating pontoon carried trucks and cars and was kept from floating downstream by a tug.





The current was deceptive and at one point it seemed likely that the float would escape, but the boatman knew every inch of the river and skilfully guided the platform onto the ramp just below where half the population of Muang Khua had gathered to witness.

The vehicles rolled off and relieved drivers continued on their way to China on road 2E.

Although the movie Apocalypse Now was based in Cambodia, about 600 kilometres south, my imagination often wandered with visions of 'Charlie' lurking on the banks ready to snipe at our vulnerable boat chugging upstream.

My day dreams were brought into sharp focus as we boarded our vessel.  Today we had the 'comfort' of being protected by a armed guard who took position, with his rifle, on the stern.  I convinced myself it was a hunting rifle, but all of a sudden the prospect of meeting Colonel Walter E. Kurtz seemed a little bit too real for my liking!

The river was becoming narrower and there were less signs of villages, fishermen and boats, but more bird life, especially kingfishers.  The boat was full and the seats were even harder than the previous two days.  

At one point we stopped and picked up three young men and six pigs.  Two of the pigs were small enough to put inside bamboo baskets, the two medium sized pigs were apparently trusted to sit quietly in the back, but the two big ones had to be trussed (presumably to stop them running all the home - wee wee wee wee!)

The pigs obviously objected and fought and squealed as their captors bound their legs together.  It did look distressing as they bundled them into the back, but this is the way of the world in these parts.

We arrived at our destination, Fong Sali, around 5pm.  We were about 25 kilometres east of the Chinese border, 25 kilometres west of Vietnam and about 40 kilometres south of the northern border with China.  It was very remote and a far cry from the 'hot spot' of Luang Phrabang.

As I disembarked, or rather unfolded my spasmed body from the near foetal position it had fossilised into, I managed to spike my hand on a rusty nail.  As I did so, my reaction caused me to do the splits over the side of boat, resulting in dragging my crotch and associated body parts on the rails.  I was not sure what hurt the most, but the bleeding hand needed attention.  Later I discovered the other area needed the attention of a Savlon antiseptic wipe as well!  

However, the immediate need was to negotiate a bus ride to the town to find a hotel.  Being older and wiser than our Swiss co-passengers, we left them to negotiate the price.  

There was a stand off as the driver smelt US $ in our pockets, but there were six locals who wanted to ride the bus as well.  It became obvious we were subsidising their fares and they would not be going until the price was agreed.  

Eventually the Swiss compromised, and although we had to share the back of the bus with the pigs, we were at last on our way.

As we climbed onto the back the bus, the pigs were tied onto the tailgate!  It had a bad day for the pigs, and tomorrow would be worse as various bits of them would be sold at the market.

We found a hotel in the town and after a meal with our Swiss bargain hunter friends, it was an early night to work out how to find a bus for the long journey south to Oudomxai.