Charlie and Steve's Excellent Adventure

June 4, 2015

Top 10 – Laos

After three weeks camping in Africa, two weeks hiking in Nepal and two weeks cycling in China we entered Laos in need of a rest and a return to a more casual style of travel. The border post into Laos was an open eyed blank canvas into relaxation and recovery; more like the first day of a holiday than the 243rd. We relaxed indeed but more notably we ate; Lao food punching right up there with its more famous neighbours, Thailand and Vietnam. So here’s our top ten from a short two weeks in Laos: five food and five otherwise in a balance that reflects our journey. Even more than most countries, Laos was about food glorious food.

10 – Baguettes: Luang Prabang

At home we refer to them as Vietnamese baguettes but Laos has a French colonial history to also donate this legacy to Lao cuisine. On a rickety table in an open air afternoon market we were whipped up two delicious baguettes balancing the texture of French bread with Asian flavours: delicious. Add these tasty treats to a very true local market feel and the eating experience became far more than just the food, it’s cultural fusion at its best.

9 – Tham Nuk Lao: Luang Prabang

Night number two and we were in the mood for a local jaunt, we hunted out a recommendation and for traditional Lao food in Luang Prabang one cannot pass Tham Nuk Lao. Roaring spicy tom yum soup, Lao larp (spicy minced dish) and a Luang Prabang salad knocked our socks off. Set in a grand colonial building our plates contained local flavour with European chic with a warm casual atmosphere, a simply gorgeous little girl dance around the restaurant all night just to complete the picture of locality and authenticity.

8 – Barbecue restaurant: Luang Prabang

From the refined heights of Tham Nuk Lao we got on our vintage ladies bikes and pedalled to the edges of town, where tourists dare not go. In a weird mix of Rural Aussie bowling club decor and vibrant Lao food festival our table was loaded up with hot coals and it was ready, steady, cook. Delicious meats, vegetables, noodles and herbs all got a dash of the sour spicy fish sauce as we dived into a food adventure far from any other foreign faces. A good friend of ours, Morgan famously said: there’s two terms that when put together get me aroused, locally and sourced. Can’t agree more.

7 – Morning Market: Luang Prabang

We don’t have eating disorders, we promise. Wandering the morning market was less about eating food and more about a window into how all this amazement is created. More food was alive and wriggling than ready to eat with goannas, fogs and fish still a long way from being food, the morning market is where it all begins with banana leaves laid out on the ground to house the never ending sea of colour and fragrant aromas far from a world of plastic packaging. Of course we did snatch up a small parcel of coconut sweet sticky rice wrapped in a banana leaf, outstanding.

6 – Slow Boat: Luang Prabang to Huay Xai

The mighty Mekong, what a river. Two days on a slow riverboat is the definition of letting your cares drift downstream and far far away. The smooth river slips by bubbling and whirl-pooling all the while as the long skinny boat flexes and bends on the subtly surging surface. Throw in riverbanks of wildlife, exploding jungle, caves, local life, cliffs and mountains shrouded in mist and it’s a slowly evolving picture show where stress doesn’t have a ticket to enter.

5 – Monks Alms: Luang Prabang

It’s still about food in Laos even when it’s not about food. Up at 5:45am we got into the local daily ceremony of giving alms to the monks on their procession through town. A tide of orange robes accepted the offerings of food with grace and appreciation granting us a glancing view into a new life. I’m not a spiritual person but a moving and beautiful opportunity was gifted to me. Maybe it’s the presence of the monks, maybe the selfless act of giving or maybe just low blood sugar levels; whatever the reason, we left feeling uplifted and warm inside. And hungry.

4 – Luang Prabang town:

What a town, grand French architecture meets elegant detailed Asian design. Crowded with leafy green trees and wedged into the nook of the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers Luang Prabang is chic, elegant, colourful and mystically beautiful. In the middle of it all is mount Phu Si, one hasn’t been to Luang Prabang if you haven’t climbed the spiritual heart of town. Commanding views, shrines and elegant staircases crawl over this mountain that the town swirls around. No wonder it’s essential for any Lao traveller.

3 – Bamboo Tree cooking school: Luang Prabang

Thank god, we’re back into food world and Bamboo tree tops the food experience in this very food heavy nation. Not just prepared to eat we jumped behind the burners for a cooking school set out on a deck over the river, an essential ingredient in this recipe for food immersion. Linda our chef was a guide and we were the hands to her five dish lunch, starting with stuffed lemongrass it reamins probably the best meal we has the whole time in Laos. Who’s coming for dinner?

2 – Kiridara: Luang Prabang

Travel is about challenging yourself sometimes in hard ways but sometimes also in just doing something different. It may sound trite but the uber luxurious Kiridara was in its own way a challenge for us, a challenge to embrace a bit of pampering in travel minds that so routinely crave edge of the road adventure. If we had resistance we didn’t stand a chance, Kiridara was everything great about a posh place without the tacky or soulless vacuum. We needed a rest and in three days Kiridara fixed us up and sent us on our way ready for the edge of the road once more.

1 – The Gibbon Experience: Huay Xai

It was hard to think of what could top Kiridara. Now it’s hard to see anything of this year topping The Gibbon Experience, the clearest number one of the 15 countries so far. We happily throw ourselves into new adventures like hiking, zip-lining, living in a treehouse, exploring national parks, swimming in waterfalls, wildlife spotting or immersing into a local lifestyle. What about three days of all of this in one? Childlike wonder meets grand hollywood fantasy, Red Bull style adventure and National Geographic scale jungle world. It wasn’t just an experience, that would be selling it short, it deserves a whole new category that it occupies on its own.

June 3, 2015

While you were working – What’s in a Name, Chiang Rai, Thailand

The day today begins before the birds, before the morning breeze whistles and long before the sun rains down the first rays of the starters gun. It’s 4:30am when the guides are set to zip into our treehouse to start the early march beyond this new world we find ourselves in and out the other side back to our regular lives. From this height perched so high above the forest canopy the shadowy pre-dawn grants me a small world that exists just a few metres beyond the treehouse edges, beyond the bubble a world of cloudy grey mist as thick as marshmallow is my universal capsule. No movement and no cacophony of slowly rising sound thrums the tree-trunk to signal the arrival of the guides from beyond the marshmallow. The spongey barriers of my world remain impenetrable as I sit alone in the darkness.

A retreat back to bed reduces my world ever further, now bound within the mosquito net of my bed before the humming alarm begins its rise. Nearly vocal is the sound, a vibrating tremor imparted to the tree through the cables is felt before it’s heard rising to a potent audible wail. Time to get up, again. The marshmallow bubble begins to melt as the sun begins to call in the new day, bare silhouettes of trees take shape ghostly at first to more substantial at each passing minute. We zip into the spongy wall of cloud only to feel it melt at our approach, fine mist on our faces the only reminder as we fly within our own bubble of misty off-white. There is no up or down for a time as we rush to land we know is there but cannot see, the marshmallow bubble unbroken for a moment belying our rapid flight. I

To watch on YouTube.

We walk and we fly into a new day as we head for treehouse-7 and the best chance to see gibbons in the treetops. In truth we’ve barely thought about seeing gibbons, the small chance a bonus but not a distraction in this adventure into more than we could ever have imagined on our own. In treehouse-7 now we rest, it’s still before 8am and the day is waking up so rarely later than we have, we wait and we watch but the denseness of the jungle reveals little. There’s no gibbons for us today, just birds and butterflies to add a dash to the colour palate of the jungle. Maybe it’s a lesson from our time in Africa hoping to see lions so long and never realising the hope, or maybe it’s just an experience that needs no more highlights but I am genuinely unconcerned about not seeing the gibbons. For now just tasting this life seems bigger than a sighting, the cup is already full.

Our early start grants us weary eyes as it does time, we have a morning to fly around a complex series of cables, time to play. And play we do. On cables that nearly intersect we fly past and across each other like birds in flight, speed so unfamiliar grips us to accompany mid air greetings so equally foreign. We’ve walked, we’ve flown and all the while we’ve pressed into this new and exciting world in the treetops and greedily we’ve pressed on wanting to saturate ourselves as much as possible. The exit to this world we’ve tasted for such a short time is fast approaching but we deny it for as long as we can drinking up the wondrous existence while the offer remains. Deny as we may, after one final zip it’s time to take off our harnesses that have become so natural to us like animals moulting a skin we no longer need.

View from treehouse #5, Nam Kan National Park, Laos

And so it goes, we’re back to covering the ground on feet alone. This feels so inadequate. A residual buzz covers us all as the six strangers who entered the jungle emerge now a collective cluster of a single shared experience. A couple of tuk-tuks, a border crossing into Thailand and finding a grounded bed for the night swells to fill the empty corners of our near future while the sun rains down the last chequered flag rays of the day we don’t want to farewell. The day is nearly done as we begin the flavour safari that is Thailand. We’re bodily in a new country but for just a little longer we cling unspoken to Nam Kan national park and Laos, the life we have just left and wish to hold tight to as long as it can be imagined.

The Gibbon Experience, the name of the parallel universe that was our lives for a time, the name to which we clung to without much further idea of what we were really stepping into. What’s in a name they say; we lived like gibbons, we flew like eagles, we listened to the singing cables bellow in the concert halls of tree-trunks, we held out a hand to a genetic link to life high in the jungle and for a time that life held out a hand back to us. What’s in a name; The Gibbon Experience is as good as any other I can conjure but in truth it’s barely a hint, a suggestion. We’re miles away but until sleep takes us once more we’re still there, in the treetops living an experience that is so much more than the limitations of a name that lives beyond itself.

June 2, 2015

While you were working – The Raven, Nam Kam National Park, Laos

Three Swiss, two Aussies and a Brazillian walk into a jungle; sounds like the beginning of a bad joke with an even worse punchline but that’s exactly what’s happening today. My morning alarm came on the hushed whispers of Dennis and Charlie up early for a morning zip on cables strung around the jungle canopy, the best efforts at silence so immediately betrayed at the whining zing of the cable singing as one of them launches off the platform into hanging space. A moments pause, the encore song.

The slow ebb from slumber to a new day takes place in relative familiarity. A choir of birdlife, rising wind, animal chatter and running water forms the gentle chorus of life a step closer to nature. It’s familiar but not the same; bird songs and a whistling breeze are usually far above me, not confusingly around me in all directions. Mildly disorienting, this scene brings to mind the etherial journey of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem ‘The Raven’, rapping, rapping at my chamber door. In the famous poem the raven represents a persistent invasion to a mans world that he fights but cannot deny. The poetic similarity lies in that gentle relentlessness to which we all must face a world today that seems so discordant and foreign, overpowering a lifetime of senses now rendered so upturned. Life in the treetops is an abandonment of so much we spend a lifetime coming to know for sure, for a time to learn anew.

Watch video on YouTube.

The slow release of a life we thought we knew for certain continues as the cables sing once more, breakfast comes flying past our house as dinner came last night. A community of people seem to move and live in the treetops reaching back into history and living a life linked to our genetic forebears; the gently rising and falling pitch of the cables song fast becomes a familiar piece of our sensory lives. In short order Charlie and Dennis follow and like a sixth sense we can feel rather than hear the movements of our friends through the singing of the cables. The treetops now so much closer to us are alive in more ways than we ever knew.

As predicted, today brings jungle and sweat in unfathomable volumes as the march takes us further and further into this inhospitable world, feet so firmly on the ground for a time. In just one day there becomes two lives for us: one familiar with our feet on the ground shrouded in dense shadows and sweat, the other so new lived in the treetops full of light and exuberant flight. It’s that latter life that we launch into again now so willingly for something so unfamiliar. Through a small channel sliced through the jungle growth a green tunnel ferries us to that second life bursting from our enclosed tunnel into open sky, the birds eye view. Where treehouse-6 yesterday was among the treetops, treehouse-5 today towers above, an impossibly tall matchstick of a tree presides over its domain at the head of a valley. In a royal court a king always sits above his subjects; in this case, tonight we are kings of the jungle.

Steve exiting treehouse #5, Nam Kan National Park, Laos

We play Swiss card games in the treehouse so casually as if it was our lounge-room at home, this life up high no longer a raven rapping on our chamber door; we’ve welcomed in the raven and the new world that comes with it. An afternoon zip around the canopy similarly drags us closer to this new world we hungrily sink our teeth into, foreign seems less foreign as each cable sings its song into tree trunks that hum the tune like acoustics of a grand concert hall. The grandest concert hall. Again a shower with a view, again dinner delivery comes on the vibrato song of a cable we can feel before we can hear; yes we’ve invited the raven in and this mornings weird new world now so rapidly seems like it’s been part of us all along. Maybe those links to our genetic past aren’t that buried after all.

On the waning day we are so far from the world we know in so many respects and so much closer to the the world we are journeying towards. A storm threatens our existence for a time as the guides zip in to evacuate us to ground, this tallest of perches nearly 60m up so vulnerable to natures forces. But royalty never abdicates on a whim, the storm passes and we retain our thrones for another night at least. Yesterday we spent the day journeying away from safety and the world we know always with a mind to return at this adventures end; what a difference a day makes. We will return to that world tomorrow but instead of turning back we’ll push on through this new world eager to launch further and further into it. An exit back to our old lives lies ahead, not by the same door through which we entered.

June 1, 2015

While you were working – Beautiful Lie, Nam Kan National Park, Laos

I’ve never been so excited to jump into questionable transport, we’re piled into the back of the tuk-tuk with the Swiss and we’re off. The English twins are venturing into a different section of the jungle for just one night leaving us to the three day option, just us, the Swiss machine (Fab, Dennis and Rino) and a Brazillian girl, Gabriele. Tourist families fluctuate so wildly with bonds so immediately strong for their too short lives. And so this adventure begins, we’re less than ten metres from the tuk-tuk and massive sweat patches are forming on all of us forcing an early farewell to comfort; we’re not even in the jungle yet but in this respect it’s reaching out to grab us, pulling us into its web. The jungle is breathing upon us we’re that close, a quick snack break calls a friendly cow over that rapidly turns into a frisky cow; best we move on to the ever calling green beast. This adventure is about to begin.

Sweat patches turn into pools, naive grins to stern cast facades and open space claws at us so suddenly from a forest that wont stay bound to a defeated cage. In truth our journey thus far is only a couple of hours, merely a few kilometres but civilisation already feels beyond reach such is the density and relentless of the jungle mass. Dark green comes in many shades and they’re all here, oversized foliage fans out at every space that an available drop of sunlight might hit, the competition is fierce and every plant has its go forming a dense blanket limiting our view to a matter of metres. We follow small but clearly worn tracks that channel us like docile animals to slaughter, we could not deviate from them if we tried. And just like docile animals we walk from safety and into a jungle that only gets deeper and deeper to wherever we’re led; and we follow.

Steve testing out a zipline over the waterfall, The Gibbon Experience, Huay Xai, Laos

The jungle is a benevolent soul: an oasis can exist outside of a desert it seems. before us lies a tranquil waterhole at the base of a small running waterfall, we can’t get anymore wet but we can get cool. We ring out our clothes leaving the pools of sweat to the jungle and jump in to dry off, we’re a few hours from the world but in this pool we could be days, no one can tell. As much as we want to we can’t sleep in this water, the stern faces of our march into nowhere are gone again as we get out of the water to re-saturate ourselves.

Nearing our stop for night one we haven’t seen any gibbons or monkeys but nor did we expect or hope to, that sort of sighting is not so easily granted, a further push into deeper jungle will be required for that gift. Crowded by the undergrowth we surge upward, our banished oceans of sweat so easily replaced in just a few minutes walk toward higher peaks and dancing light that now dares to pierce the canopy roof. Still we climb, the density relents to show us a perspective to replace the enclosed room that is the jungle depths; a narrow valley lies before us with an opposite slope hinting at no reprieve from the dense jungle march. Same same but different as they say here. The steep slope before us is mirrored by the opposite incline in a punishing climb down and up making the walk nothing but murder. So why walk? Lets just fly over to the other side; oh how many times have I said that on a hike?

Our room for the night, Treehouse #5, The Gibbon Experience, Huay Xai, Laos

A harness grabs tight on our hips and the cable sings, years of hiking wishes are granted as we launch ourselves on a leap of faith from the high slopes of the jungle. The cable screams into our ears still but the world is not dark anymore, in a blink we rocket through a tiny window from the depths of the jungle and into the bright world above the canopy at the speed of a bird in flight. So abruptly the world drops away, a hundred metres or so introduces us to a winding river so far below. We chase altitude, open spaces and grand views by instinct but so rarely are they found directly beneath our feet. As fast as a rocket takes off the leaps of the faithful are honoured and 12 feet lie safely on terra firma so magically on the other side of the valley. A short walk and it’s time to fly once more. We rise like birds and we dance from treetop to treetop on singing cables; the name of this adventure partially makes sense now, The Gibbon Experience by name but a Gibbon can’t fly like this.

Left to our own devices we can’t resist the temptation to fly, restrictions aren’t a favoured thing in Laos so we lock up and set the cables singing, bursting from canopy to canopy on leaps as long as 500m. The sun wanes indeterminably, it seems so long since we’ve seen it through the canopy but the darkness of the jungle crowds ever deeper as we venture to our nights rest. On the cable for the last time today we sing across a short gap to a tree that is to be our home tonight as childhood fantasy, natural wonder and tingling adventure collide. Here alone with hard timber below our feet and thatch above our heads we’re more than 40m above the ground, our imaginations were never able to create what this day has become. Safely in our new home we’re out of the harnesses but still the cables sing. Zipping by our home is a lady carrying our dinner, the best dinner delivery service ever just adds to the list of ‘best ever’s’ that this place rolls out with ease.

The best shower in the world, Treehouse #6, Nam Kan National Park, Laos

We tuck into dinner with gusto, tasty vegetables, chicken and sticky rice are followed by fresh fruit; Charlie and I even manage a beer to make perfection a little more perfect. Wide eyes and astonished exuberance are the standard fare here, possibly the best feature of this place is the bathroom; never thought I’d say that on this trip. On a lower platform a shower rains down overhead only to fall tumbling to the earth like rain below our feet. We cast our eyes out from the treetops that are our companions and stare down to the river running wild below us barely carving a path through a jungle that wants to clamber over it from both sides. There’s no window here, just a cool breeze while we shower floating above the jungle: it’s not just another best ever, there’s surely nothing the equal to this.

When the sun rises we will again sink below the canopy to escape its wrath venturing further and further into this surreal existence. After this day of layered disbelief a notion of tomorrow lies beyond grasp as today did this morning, jungle and sweat are about the only things of which we can be certain. They call this The Gibbon Experience and finally the name makes perfect sense, we live like the gibbons owning the world from our treetops. Well it would make perfect sense if it wasn’t a lie, a delicious beautiful lie. No gibbon lives this good.

May 31, 2015

While you were working – On the Map, Huay Xai, Laos

The journey up the Mekong, our first boat leg of the adventure, continues on broken shackles of propriety. From a polite group silence of British propriety and Swiss bashfulness our chatter increases with the other travellers; British and Swiss ironically. We creep up to the front of the boat to dangle our feet over the sides and feel the wind whisk over our skin in the tropical heat as the town of Huay Xai leaps into view on a rounded Mekong bend. Beers are in order to celebrate our new family group, us being the oldest by far make for formidable parent figures among the gaggle of twenty somethings. We’re parental in age gap but not in measured responsibility, the English couple from Liverpool, James and Emma, pull out a rice wine with a cobra and ginseng in the bottle and we jump in on the juvenile fun; the Swiss don’t partake, this is only for the British and the colony it seems as the two other English guys jump in on the fun.

Student monks on the steps to the temple, Huay Xai, Laos

The gaggle that has committed two days to a boat journey from a calendar that is always governed with Swiss vigilance launches into a game we all play abroad, lets find what’s in this town. There’s the border crossing but that’s not it, this town is on the tourist trail and we launch into scouting about to find what we can find. Setting off with the Swiss trio of Dennis, Fabienne and Rino we venture up to a temple which seems to be the thing to do in Laos; as predicted the elegant design, intricate carvings and cheerful monks make the visit worth the trip up the imposing staircase. In three countries now we’ve met young monks full of the bold curiosity of youth, gone is the predicted aura of solemnity as monks seem to have none of the grave seriousness that accompanies the devout from other faiths.

View from the old French fort, Huay Xai, Laos

Ticking boxes all over the place, we’re off to an old French fort just a short walk up the hill to sweat through our clothing that seems to be pouring out more liquid than it’s absorbing. An old rusty gate sits swinging off its hinges and for the first time in Huay Xai we have a cultural diversion, the Swiss squeeze rebelliously through the gate and venture into the very closed looking fort, very un-Swiss. In through unkempt grounds that look unvisited for years we stake our places in this ghostly world and of course up the tower that looks like it’s crumbling. What a view, we’re at the pinnacle of the town and loaded with the naughty feeling of kids being where we shouldn’t. We take in the forbidden view from our crumbling fort; but the ever cautious Swiss did it first so we’re off the hook right? Good responsible parents we’re being.

The hours on the clock face run away quicker than we can load up adventures to have in this town, dinner sees the snake poisoners from Liverpool abandoning the party leaving it to us, the Swiss trio and the English twins Alie and Nick. Somehow the poms have scouted out a community driven bar restaurant so we’re off to take in views, beers and food while giving some love back to a small local organisation. We’re all very altruistic. Salads, grilled chicken and pizzas accompany a sunset that says goodbye to a day crafted from nothing in a town that has collected the most motley of crews.

Sunset from dinner, Huay Xai, Laos

Farewelling each other before bed we also essentially farewell Huay Xai, a fun little town that sits bigger on the tourist map than it really should from todays adventures. But in truth it’s not really for this town we’ve all magnetised together despite todays efforts to make it more than it is. Tomorrow we’ll all board a tuk-tuk and get into the whole reason for throwing valuable days up the Mekong: Nam Kan national park. The site of devastating slash and burn farming and illegal gibbon poaching is now a protected forest where local villages make more from tourism than poaching and destructive farming. The Gibbon Experience is what we’re all here for, what’s drawn us to a place we’d all otherwise pass up. We all sleep with vague notions and hopes for tomorrow but we aren’t sure of much, a mystery lies at the end of the tuk-tuk ride. Tomorrow Huay Xai really gets to show what it’s on the map for.

May 30, 2015

While you were working – Dropping the Baggage, Pak Beng, Laos

The mighty Mekong, rising in the Tibetan plateau the Mekong cuts a slice through China, Burma, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam, safe to say it’s one of the worlds great rivers and the lifeblood for so many in this part of the world. The reddish brown slick that is the Mekong sits just a metre or so away from our faces slipping by with a fluid silence that just seems so fitting in this nation of tranquility. From a distance the surface is smooth, polished and passive; up close the serpent is awoken to whirlpools, eddies and blisters of up-rushing water to dispel any myth that the Mekong is a lumbering beast. All the action is below the water, a menace obvious but barely seen below a surface so rarely broken or torn to tumbling wash. The Mekong slips rapidly by as we power in the opposite direction heading to the Thai border, our long matchstick of a boat surges relentlessly against the tide of nations that washes down against us.

On grey fabric car seats quite literally ripped out of a small van and rigged to sit loose on a timber floor of wide painted panels we’re arranged in long rows down the boat, the long thin space more akin to an aeroplane than a water vessel. A huge motor roars open and exposed to the world in the back near the toilet farting out exhaust fumes into the rear of the boat driving us against this current that pours forth never ending. There’s a boat full of young tourists, the party loving south east Asian variety who love the cheap beer and easy thrills equally, and we’re in the midst of it barefoot like the rest, our thongs stashed somewhere at the front of the boat; we feel so old. Carved timber rails line either side below the oddly fine brocade trim to form a window view more akin to a window in an old English house than a wobbly boat in Laos. I content myself to write while Charlie contents himself with the view, the wildlife inside the boat as well as outside.

Our long plank of a boat that took us up the mighty Mekong, Huay Xai, Laos

As the long planks of the boat flex and bend over a waters surface that is more variable than it looks a jungle oasis passes by, the humid tropical world crawls with a density of plant life so uncommon to Australian eyes. So passive, so tranquil it seems from here but it wasn’t always so; we all know of the Vietnam war but the name is misleading, the war spilled over into the entire region more than most people know.

From 1964-68 a civil war racked the nation of Laos fought between forces backed by the US and Northern Vietnam until in 1968 when North Vietnam stopped backing the Pathet Lao and moved in themselves as the North Vietnamese army. After this the US ramped up their backing of their militias within Laos and the Thai army jumped in on the American side, so we have three groups going at it now. In 1969 Nixon began drawing down the war in Vietnam but escalated the war in Laos essentially shifting the same war to ravage a new country; cue more complication. In 1970, Cambodia Closed the port in Sihanoukville which was used by North Vietnam as a supply chain, Cambodia then also collapsed into war offering another log to the fire. Welcome to the party South Vietnam, in 1971 Thai forces attempt to fortify their positions and the US back an incursion from southern Vietnam, who knows how many logs are in the fire now. The North Vietnamese crush the U.S. incursion and took hold of more cities it had previously not attempted to take, Laos is not doing well out of a war that isn’t credited to this country.

View towards Pak Beng, Mekong river, Laos

In 1973 peace was sought somewhat as an afterthought to the conclusion of the Vietnam war, Laos became a welcome beneficiary of an agreement to cease a war it was never meant to be part of. Laos was never a focus of the Vietnam war but still 50,000 Lao civilians were killed in nine years of fighting. The fighting cost lives and damaged the country but the aftermath, some argue, may have been more damaging. Post war generals grew rich off corruption, drug dealing and prostitution rackets throwing the country into a corrupt mess, the regular roadkill discarded after greater powers have had their way. Add to this the newfound access to western media and culture and this quiet buddhist nation has never been the same, Laos and Lao culture as it was known was dented never to be repaired in full.

The halfway point of our trip up the Mekong is a tiny town of timber buildings clinging to the steep slopes that rise from the relentless water called Pak Beng. Dinner at the guest house restaurant is a complete failure, no one’s there until a guy comes in, possibly without pants but we it’s hard to tell when all the lights are off. Sure enough, on go the pants, yep, we basically woke up a nude guy; might need to head into town to find more food.

Unloading the baot, Pak Beng, Laos

After our restorative time in Luang Prabang to now sliding up the Mekong looking out at fishing nets hanging off bamboo poles beside goats and water buffalo roaming free it’s a little hard to imagine Laos being any more tranquil, traditional and peaceful. Appearances can be deceiving. So recently this nation along with its neighbours was thrown into war and left to rack and ruin. For whatever reason, however it happens, Laos from what we can see seems to have been able to rise from the ashes to reclaim itself making the aftermath a dent and gladly little more. Sincere people, lush jungle and the grand Mekong speak at volume to us of a place that knows nothing of war and violence. What a testament it is to Laos that the country that so few really know about has left that baggage so far behind, bravo.

May 29, 2015

Gluttony Expedition – Gods, Luang Prabang, Laos

This whole time in Laos we’ve been in the most real of reality TV shows eating everything on offer, today though we’re metaphorically the ones in front of the camera and cooking up a storm. It’s cooking school time. First up is our trip to the market to be introduced to Lao food and ingredients, most of which we already know and use, our host is surprised to find out. The market boasts anything and everything laid out simply on mats or roughly erected benches of some sort or another. Given that we’re cooking this food today I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved that not much of the food is still wriggling as it was in the morning market, apart from the congealed blood we could be in a rougher version of an Asian market at home.

We’ve chosen our dishes and now it’s time to heat the woks; lights up, cameras rolling we’re cooking Lao style. In Luke Nguyens TV show he cooks local delicacies of this region often with the simplest of implements in the most stunning of settings: a tiny canoe, a marketplace or on the beach and it all comes out amazing. We’re not quite balancing in a tiny canoe but we are standing at a basic bench out on a deck by the river, the genius of Lao food is how simply it’s made versus the results gained. No exotic expensive ingredients, no imported goods, no fantastic machines; that stuff is all for those that don’t quite have the genius of a Lao chef. We have a knife, a mortar and pestle, woks, a basket and a pot to create our magic.

At the Bamboo Tree Cooking School with Linda, Luang Prabang, Laos

As we chop, slice and prepare all our vegetables, spics and herbs Linda, our chef, is also a little surprised that we’re familiar with some of the cooking methods and gives us the option of foreigner or Lao intensity food. I think we’ve found the most redundant question of the trip. The sticky rice is in the basket steaming and we’re off, sticky rice is a defining element to Lao food, used commonly instead of regular steamed rice it’s is always eaten with fingers, this is non negotiable. A mix of Galangal, ginger, garlic, lemongrass, kaffir lime and chilli is in a hot wok for a minute and then into water with some soybean paste, fish sauce and tamarind. In about three minutes we have most of the hot sour fish soup done, it seems too simple to be true.

We’ve stuffed some lemongrass with pork mince and Charlie whips up the chicken for the lap. Along with beans, lemongrass and herbs the secret ingredient comes out: toasted sticky rice, kaffir lime and lemongrass is toasted and pounded to a powder and it’s the flavour we’ve tasted so far but haven’t been able to identify. Light bulbs are going on all over the place. At our stations Linda obviously feels confident, she declares she’s not cooking today, with our matching green aprons we laugh at ourselves, could we look any more homosexual? No need to answer that. Linda asks us to taste and we insist on more chilli here, more sour tamarind there and more fish sauce in everything, apparently this is how she eats her food but doesn’t make it this strong for the restaurant, compliment taken.

Buying congealed blood, Phu Si Market, Luang Prabang

Weirdly it only takes a little over twenty minutes and we have five dishes all done and we’re heading over to take our seat on the deck for our very own lunch. So simple, so fresh, so clever; the food that is, we’re pretty happy with ourselves too. This is the best meal we’ve had in a long time; with a few woks, a pot and a steamer basket Linda shows us true Lao genius. It’s all the flavours we’ve fallen in love with but without the subdued foreigner alteration, again we think of Vietnamese or Thai food a lot but Lao food, albeit similar, has little presence at home. Criminal.

After a food-coma nap induced by our inability to stop eating all that sensational food it’s up mount Phu Si, apparently you haven’t been to Luang Prabang if you haven’t climbed Phu Si. Plonked in the middle of town the mountain is more like a sharp hill separating the main street from our riverside end of town, a series of winding stairs weaves its way up the steep slope clambered with jungle to the stupa at the top. Grand serpents form the handrails as we climb and descend stairs winding our way around the mountain in a real life game of snakes and ladders. There’s a huge buddha footprint, a cave shrine and more buddha statues than you can imagine and all the while the grand vista of Luang Prabang town reveals itself layer upon layer.

Phu Si, full of temples and great views, Luang Prabang, Laos

Grand elegant roofs arch their backs jutting over the canopy of trees as this grand old town lives within the jungle rather than dominating it. A world of bursting green life mixes with the violent red of flame trees in full bloom to form our pocket windows through the jungle to grand views beyond, it’s a spiritual place for believers and even these non-believers are uplifted by a majesty as unavoidable as it is uncomplicated. Cresting the hill we’ve rolled the wrong number finally and the climb stops, we’re catching a snake all the way to the bottom again, but not before a pause to take in the view. The Mekong winds its way through the jungle, a clay coloured serpent scarring the landscape alive with motion unlike the carved serpents around us. Again through the allowed windows of the jungle we gaze upon grandeur, there’s something up here for believers and non believers alike in equal measure I think; but I guess we’re all believers in something Phu Si has to offer.

From choosing one thing to adore and praise to another, like junkies needing another fix we’re back to the, it still shames me to say it, Aussie sports bar to watch our beloved Waratahs. In what is our closest thing to a place of worship the Waratahs take the field to win the game played in heaven and for a moment we get our own little rush. The bar serves only western food so we take our elation to a nearby bar, a burger and wedges is just not an option today. We ask for a drink recommendation and our young waiter suggests that we have two ‘Pink Gays’. Ahem, well we did ask. Give us two pink gays thanks waiter. Maybe he saw us at cooking school today.

Boat on the Nam Khan, tributary of the Mekong, Luang Prabang, Laos

Over sticky rice we now eat with our fingers and more tasty Lao food we reflect on another day of experiences. Again we’re startled, we’re in the definition of a tourist trap bar and tasty healthy food seems just the norm, I think we’re going to get really fat in Asia. In a day of worship we’ve cooked to the food gods, climbed to look at other deities, viewed divine nature, cheered on the rugby gods and even tipped a glass to the beer gods. Good god there’s a lot to worship in this town.

May 28, 2015

While you were working – Out of the Trenches, Luang Prabang, Laos

From the near coma that was our last few days recovering from a punishing travel schedule, yes there is such a thing, today we’re peeping our eyes above the trenches, braving the world yet again and ready to change the guns. Being brave again in literal terms means gathering all the piles of stuff, yes stuff is a thing and it needs organising; we need to organise stuff. So boring. We’re planning a few days boat ride up the Mekong towards Thailand, that’s one pile of stuff; then there’s the cooking class we want to do, breakfast, checking out, second breakfast, checking in before another meal. So much stuff. Surprisingly, like so much in Luang Prabang, it’s all pretty easy and in no time there’s beautifully arranged piles of stuff everywhere. Must be time for more food surely.

Main street of Luang Prabang, Laos

Lo and behold, it is time for food, who could have possibly predicted that? Laos is rapidly feeling like we’re in a series of Luke Nguyen’s greater Mekong cooking show but this time we’re not reduced to just drooling at the images on a screen, this is truly reality TV. Plonking up at a table in a fairly un-noteworthy restaurant smack bang in the middle of a touristy main street is so often a venture fraught with danger best left to those with the taste palates of a spoilt child, but this is Laos. True to form the yellow curry is hot, smooth and balanced so perfectly it punches us in the face with no trace of any single flavour dominating another. There’s another pork dish that demands eating but we can’t determine exactly why it’s so good, it adds more sweat to our bodies already soaked in the tropical sheen but if this is a chore then I’ll take two thanks.

All these piles of stuff organised and now full bellies we have an hour or so to kill before needing to be fed again so it’s back on the tourist wagon we jump. Past buildings which mash together facades of French colonial grandeur with rustic Asian antiques, jewellery and arts we stroll a main street that may at other times be a bit too loaded with tourists but now carries us with calm and charm in equal measure. Just a hundred metres or so up the road we’re in the small window of opening times for the royal palace museum which simply must be gawked at; in we go.

Top of Pha Bang temple, Luang Prabang, Laos

Before the museum though there is the small matter of another outrageous temple, it feels like we should be done with these things by now but we can’t not look. Mixing fantasy theme park outrageousness with historical merit and artisanal craftsmanship the temples of Luang Prabang are impossible to avoid and equally enticing to be near to. Similarly the royal palace opens up as a work of art more than a museum, gilded timber carvings, delicate gold adornments, swords, fine brocades and all manner of treasures make this museum more art gallery than historical musing. There’s even a boomerang gift from Australia on show. In the midst of this spacious elegant building it’s impossible to avoid realising that Laos is far more than I had ever paid mind to before visiting. Similar to Ecuador and Botswana it has more famed neighbours but this little country is punching above its notoriety as a place to visit, unexpected surprises are always the best ones.

After all the gushing, the soaking up of food and local vibe there is a dark shadow in the corner we cannot avoid any longer as a sort of shame awaits. We have spied, I hate to even say the words, an Aussie sports bar complete with a boxing kangaroo banner draped gaudily over an otherwise cute timber building. Foul is the thought if retreating to the life vest of a bogan version of home we avoid even when we are home, the resignation of any failed travel. But there’s rugby on so with the self excusing mantra that we’re only popping in for the rugby we take a deep breath and plunge in sadly a little excited to be hearing the familiar voices of the commentators and feeling the usual excitement of the pre-game coverage.

Monks walking towards the Royal Palace Museum, Luang Prabang, Laos

After scurrying out at the sound of a full time whistle it’s unsurprisingly food time again, amazing. Perched on a balcony over the river the broken record skips back into its well worn track: spicy, balanced, clever, healthy and most of all plate lickingly tasty. The rain does come down as we scurry back into the guesthouse to finish our meal on the coffee table of a reception foyer. It’s an odd setting but the sincere warmth of the waiters makes us feel completely at home, we could be staring at the fire in our living room. Tonight we have no infinity pool to retreat to, there is no apartment sized room or big granite bathtub, we’re in a nice little place in town closer to all the piles of stuff we need to get sorted, out of the trenches and into the breach of travel once again. I hesitate to use a sobering wartime metaphor, this food, this place is not exactly charging at guns; if it were though sign me up and send me over the top.

May 27, 2015

Gluttony Expedition – Spiritual, Luang Prabang, Laos

The food-fest that is Laos continues but there’s something completely wrong, so horribly wrong. I have a tray of sticky rice and some sort of interesting little treats wrapped in vine leaves but I can’t eat any of it, it’s arrayed in a wicker basket for me to give away, yes give away; the horror. It’s five minutes to six in the morning and a woven mat cushions my knees from the worn pavement footpath that hides centuries of stories, plain sticky rice never looked so good but I dare not. From my left a surging rage of calmness presses forth and past me in a never ending stream of orange, my fingers pinch a ball of sticky rice from my wicker basket and still I restrain somehow. A young monk, just one of the orange tide glances down at me, this boy of no more than fourteen opens the drum at his hip strapped over his shoulder to receive my alms. Gratitude pours from his eyes leaving nothing for a voice to do.

And so the procession marches on this day like all others in Luang Prabang, this spiritual town akin to Kathmandu exudes a calm passivity to replace the fervent vigour of Kathmandu’s clamour. There’s more temples than one could poke a stick at and this means there’s monks by the orange robe-full. While in Asia I’ve been mulling over where buddhism places in my own negative bias to religion and indeed if it’s a religion at all. One defining gripe I have with religion is the heavy sales pitch of the big monotheisms, in my line of work there’s a saying: if someone’s selling they’re selling a better deal for them, if you’re buying you’re buying a better deal for you. The religion or non-religion debate is a circular quagmire best left for drunken pointless debates with no hope of a resolution, getting to the crux of my bias though Buddhism in three countries and through many examples doesn’t sell. Turn up if you want, buy it if you want, give if you want but no one rains down fear, obligation or pressure.

Steve giving alms to the Buddhist monks, Luang Prabang, Laos

In this simple act of alms giving I wanted to do this to have the experience, I had to seek out how to do it, to pay for it; the monks are available and I am choosing to buy. When I’ve unloaded most of my tray to the endless stream of thankful eyes I pick up the remainder of my givings and leave not with judgement at my back but stubbornly persistent gratitude. From more traditional churches who sell a useless equivalent of spiritual travel insurance all he way to televangelists who outright strip the livelihoods from people who often can’t afford it there’s always some form of sales pitch, a better deal for them. From giving alms I’m not necessarily spiritually uplifted, I haven’t found a higher plane but I leave feeling genuinely warm inside from a beautiful experience and a wordless interaction that speaks so loudly and lingers so long. I bought, and in crass terms I got a good deal, I guess we all did. Buddhism for me edges carefully ever further away from stigmatic theism.

Now I’m all about generosity but this whole ‘food food everywhere but still bloody hungry’ business is just pushing it a bit. If there’s a place where buzz and calm are the same thing it’s the morning market of Luang Prabang, more food hops, swims, squirms and clucks than lays still in this narrow lane come market. Mountains of fruit and veg nestle in among barbecued meats in both forms; post barbecue on skewers and pre barbecued often still on skewers but still wriggling. What a visual feast and still not a grain of rice has passed my lips, the helplessly hopping frogs or the bound goannas don’t dent my appetite as I buy a parcel of black sticky rice wrapped in banana leaf, this madness has to stop. Sweet coconut flavour mixes with pandan leaf to make a breakfast triumph I’m not happy about sharing but Charlie isn’t one to let his half go by as we all know; but giving food has always been a show of love.

Frogs for sale, Morning market, Luang Prabang, Laos

Back on the bike, you’d think we had enough cycling in China but no, we’re off into town for a poke around and a baguette. With French colonial history croissants and baguettes are a tradition here and although we always call them Vietnamese rolls at home here it’s a little same same, a necessary gluttony tick-box. From a rickety street market stall more like a primary school fete we collect our Lao and chicken with egg sandwiches to accompany the ginger and mint juices. Light fresh flavours of coriander, chilli and lime burst to life combating the relentless heat; they are slightly different to the Vietnamese ones we have at home but every bit as delicious. So often street food is the true pulse of a culinary culture and from this tiny stall this little piece of magic gets replicated the world over and it’s easy to see why, who needs a big kitchen when you’re a genius?

After correcting the food version of driving the wrong way down a one way street it’s back to luxury heaven before absolutely needing a beer, it’s a need not a want. Beer over the river again and a cheeky gin in a cool pocket bar creates the guiltily spirited mix of new place experience with a home town ease, soaking up the sights and tasting them all is just so simple in Luang Prabang. When it comes to soaking up sights in this town the temples can’t be ignored, elegant curved roofs tier upon one another sweeping close to the ground wrapped in more ornate gilding than seems possible. Not just impressive visually these temples have centuries of stories to tell as they take their place as an integral part of this town that seems so effortlessly unique.

Buddhas in Wat Wisunarat, Luang Prabang, Laos

Wat Wisunarat dates back to 1513 while Wat Xieng Thong, merely build in 1560, is more like a complex of breathtaking structures formed with impossible detail. Again the religious comparison, there’s no doubt that the grandeur of the buildings forms as a branding exercise for the spiritual sect, in this respect Buddhism does replicate religion as we know it. However where as the grand churches of the world take up whole city blocks or more in imposing huge architectural wonder these temples are often little bigger than a small suburban house. In place of quarries worth of marble, pure gold and massive fresco’s here there are hand pained stencil patterns, tile mosaics and timber carvings. The result is no less impressive but wholly without the hypocritical show of power and wealth, I started this trip feeling that Buddhism was well and truly a religion but the pendulum continues to swing as I continue to miss the sales pitch. And I’m a salesman.

I have no idea now how we ever survived latin America, it’s barbecue time in this world that needs no clocks, we just need to know which of the six or so meal times it is. In a humble open air space that feels a little like a lawn bowls club at home we have our table centre loaded up with glowing hot coals and the dome grill has some pork belly chunks placed on the crown to ooze down the sides for our cooking oil. We have no idea how this all works so we collect vegetables, slices of lean meat, crumbed fish, noodles and whatever else we can find and as long as no one stops us we start cooking. Heaven is not a temple or a church, it’s eating in Asia as more of the food we see goes correctly into our mouths than elsewhere as this day goes on. Add the fishy, hot, sour sauce sitting on our table and everything is delicious, we ride home satisfied but not bloated from all this flavour that doesn’t come at the cost of being healthy. We’ve given food, we’ve eaten food, we’ve felt spirituality all in one day and I can only apologise for the tautology, food is a spiritual experience as we all know.

May 26, 2015

While you were working – Eating Cake, Luang Prabang, Laos

There’s a certain hypocritical elitism found in many basic travellers where one shuns the easy options of package tours, expensive hotels, guides and airport transfers. We all know the type, the type we find ourselves somewhat similar to but desperately attempt to steer clear of jealous spite. Welcome to the dilemma we find ourselves in upon arriving in Luang Prabang; a good friend of ours, Sparky, is some kind of big cheese with a hotel group and basically he’s a legend. Yada yada long story, we opt for a few nights in Kiridara, basically the definition of posh resort spa we often find ourselves steering clear of not for lack of means necessarily but in favour of the rougher side of travel. Yes we often tut-tut at the resort set we are about to become, oh the shame, it’s like coming out all over again! After two months camping in Africa, hiking in Nepal with that earthquake thingy and then gaining massive hostel common room credibility cycling in China we’re in need of recovery more than we want to admit, we can’t refuse the offer we might otherwise shy away from.

Anyway, enough justifying it to myself, we catch a tuk-tuk to Kiridara to check in not sure of what we will find. After over eight months of racking up shoestring traveller notoriety it feels a little weird to be in the midst of such luxury, through the reception we wind our way up some stairs and past the infinity pool, of course there’s an infinity pool to our luscious apartment. I can’t call it a room, it’s bigger than most studios in Sydney. As the heavy timber door clicks closed behind us we fall into the continent of soft sheets that is our bed; I call out to Charlie lost somewhere in this huge salt flat of downy lusciousness we’re calling a bed. There is guilt in staying somewhere this nice, we feel a little dirty.

Steve beside the pool , Kiridara Hotel, Luang Prabang, Laos

Weirdly enough we sit at the pool, such a cliche, overlooking the ornate rooftops of historical Luang Prabang and we don’t feel the oppressive tacky gentrification that often resides in this category of place. Shiny tiles, timber veneer and chrome plated aluminium are nowhere to be found; in the place of that style of bleach drowned torpor we find timber, raw concrete, stone and an elegant garden crawling over a place that feels nothing like a horrible safety bubble for the fearful. Paper lamps hang from frangipanis, a patina of crawling vines rounds the harsh corners and orchids clinging to trees bow out to welcome us. Yes this is a posh place but far from swimming in the over sterilised filth of new money this place manages an elegant tightrope between sophisticated and comfortable. Maybe its our desperate need to rest that we barely acknowledge or maybe it’s a design triumph but we spend our first morning doing absolutely nothing. I think we needed the rest.

And of course there is the hour and a half spa-massage. We had makeover day in Pokhara after making it out of the Annapurna circuit but we’re kicking up the gears here. Of course we have our feet washed and scrubbed before selecting just the right fragrance of oil for our massage, lemongrass for me, jasmine for Charlie naturally. Is it bad to fall asleep and drool through the face hole of your massage bed? Having some massage training I can tell a good massage and these girls are true professionals, my stamp of approval in an incriminating spot of drool I pray no one notices. Of course we sit in our slippers and sip a tea afterwards; I mean, duh!

Night food stalls, Luang Prabang, Laos

This luxury is all too exhausting, we need a nap to wake up, there is such a thing as luxury guilt after all and we have it by the spacious granite bath tub load; yes we have one of those here too. From this morning to now we can barely recognise ourselves so nearly back to our old selves we hop on some bikes and head into town, Luang Prabang is offensively beautiful and we’ve barely seen it. Our bikes aren’t the tuned machines of our Chinese voyage, no hope of settling into good cycling form here but the 80’s style ladies bikes make up for any technical proficiency with pure awesomeness, I wish we did the Yunann trip on these babies. There’s even a bell and I’m not afraid to use it, ding ding!

Exhausted, must book into another massage later, this 10 minute ride is just too much so we must have a beer on an open air deck over the Mekong. What a perfect setting, again Luang Prabang delivers rustic cool without any of the hippie wannabe skank to make the perfect setting for us to dissect our recent travels and trials. We take a moment to solve the worlds problems but it’s food time and of course we have some luxury guilt to mitigate so it’s night market time. Loading up our bowls at the crammed open air buffet the world whizzes by in a chorus of colour, noise and movement. A thin little wooden plank bench supports us as we scoff down our mixed bowl of noodles, vegetables and whatever else looks good that I don’t recognise. Layers and layers of old rusty corrugated iron form our roof a few inches lower than head height as vendor after vendor offers up a delectable array of grilled whatever it is; heaven.

Early evening beers, Utopia bar, Luang Prabang, Laos

We’ve barely skirted Luang Prabang yet unavoidably it bursts with an old world charm, French colonial architecture lines nearly every street barely shrouded by explosive tropical gardens. This place is european history loaded with bustling Asian street life, no wonder it’s a UNESCO world heritage site. Some places are tourist hot spots because they’re easy options for those unwilling to give a new thing a try and some are like Luang Prabang, just unavoidably desirable to see and be part of.

For now though it’s back to luxury guilt like junkies that know it’s not good for us but we want more and more anyway. Floating in the pool gazing up at the stars I smirk recalling the famous quote from Marie Antoinette, ‘let them eat cake’. The first take on this famous line is that when people were starving she suggested to eat cake which is more expensive showing a huge disregard for the common struggle. Another take is that it was a desperate plead for clemency as she was taken to the guillotine, a penance to the peasants. While she probably never said it at all it’s a famous quote so elegantly exemplifying those in the aristocracy looking down on the poor. The gentle splashes of water over the swimming pool lap to the rhythm of my arms and lamps illuminate the trees above me as I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight. Luxury guilt temporarily ebbs with the water to infinity, I hope they’re eating cake.