Nong Khiaw

After a three hour minibus journey, we were dropped off in Nong Khiaw and went in search of a guest house. We had done a bit of research and had a few recommendations which were over the bridge. After a 15 minute walk we reached the bridge, and were just about to cross it when a woman shouted out ‘you need room?’ We checked it out, and it seemed pretty nice, with a large communal balcony overlooking the river and the price was very good too. We discovered later that even though it was lovely to have a room right by the river, we were also contending for space with armies of ants, woodlice and various other bug life, who marched up and down walls, all over the floor and even snuck into bed with us. Apart from this though, it was a nice place and run by a lovely family who even though they barely spoke a word of English were extremely welcoming.

Our hotel on the right

The view from the river

We still had half a day left, so took a wander through the town. On our side of the bridge was the actual village, a sleepy place which was mostly made up of dusty corner shops and houses. On the other side was the tourist road- plenty of guest houses and restaurants with different types of cuisine. As we were visiting in the low season, there were a few other tourists around but the place was not overrun, which suited us just fine. Most of the people we passed were villagers lazing around outside their shops, and as we walked down the street we passed hens and chickens nesting in the grass and groups of ducks waddling along. And the scenery- Amazing. Everywhere you looked was equally or more beautiful than where you looked before- lush, forest covered hills with a swirling rushing river weaving through them. It was so easy to get lost in a daydream while admiring it. Anyway, enough with the nature porn. Just a bit further than the tourist strip there was a sign pointing to a viewpoint, and assuming that the scenery would be as good or even better, it seemed like a good place to go. However, we reached the bottom and discovered that it was closed as the weather had not been good and it had rained for the previous few days so it was not safe. Oh well, another time.

We carried on further down the road for another half an hour, and found another sign to some caves which we followed. We paid an entrance fee, and as we started walking, a small scruffy boy popped out from nowhere and started to lead the way through the swampy paths, leaping across streams and hopping over logs. We stumbled after him, and eventually reached some very steep and narrow steps leading up to the cave. It was very dark inside, and we can only assume it was used in a war as some kind of shelter as there were signs saying officer and sergeant on posts around the cave. Behind us, we heard a wheezing noise and turned around to find an older American man had also entered the cave, having obviously struggled over the same obstacle course we had but with less mobility and stamina (it didn't help that he was smoking a cigarette at the time), being led by another small boy. As we continued through the cave we had to keep stopping and checking he hadn't collapsed and had a heart attack, and even though some bits were difficult and we offered him support, he refused and continued to struggle. When we had seen the cave, the boys were eager to point out there was a second cave, and we agreed to visit that too. Back down the steep steps and through some more muddy swamp, this cave was even more difficult than the first, with big rocks to climb up and tiny tunneled areas where we had to get down on hands and knees. And instead of the small boys assessing the situation with a less mobile member of the group, they encouraged us through difficult places which just took us in a circle. After having to turn back on ourselves a few times as we did not want to put ourselves too much at risk when there was no way any medical help would be around quickly, we left the cave and waded back to the main road.

A steep climb up

...because I'm a caveman!

We got back to the town, and passed a few organized tour agencies and wanted to ask about any treks that were happening. We hadn't decided we definitely wanted to do one, but it was more as an enquiry into how viable one would be in the middle of the rainy season when most of the paths that were not the main roads we had been down had been covered in thick, slippery mud. So we went into one of the agencies, and the guy told us that even though the paths may be a little muddy it would be perfectly fine for a trek and actually he had a group going on a two day trek the following day who we could join and it would be a discounted price because there were already a few of them going. We got the details and said we would have a think about it but we would return that evening (he said he closed at 8pm) and let him know what we would do. So we had a think about it and even though we were a bit apprehensive we decided we would give it a go. However, just as we were about to leave the hotel the power went out around the town, and when we reached the agency it was closed up with nobody around to book it with, so we had to give up on the idea of a trek the following day. We found an Indian restaurant for dinner with some pretty authentic Indian food which we had been missing after four months of living on it and it made a nice change to noodles, and returned to the guest house where the bugs had been so kindly minding the room for us.

The cat that wouldn't leave us alone- he had heard the saying and saw we had some cream that was rightfully his.

The following morning we made a second attempt at going up to the viewpoint, and after passing our American cave friend who reported he had just been up there, we reckoned it had reopened (We asked him if it was worth the climb and he wheezed ‘just about’). But when we got there, they turned us away and said it was still not safe. So instead we had a lazy day, a very easy thing to do in Nong Khiaw. We also bumped into the tour agent who we had tried to find the evening before, and he told us that he could arrange a trek for us for the day after, although the price would be a bit higher if there was only two of us. Having checked at a few other agencies and being told there were no other groups already booked for a tour the next day, we agreed to go with our original agent and booked a two day trek for the next day. As we were crossing the bridge back to our guest house, there was a group of small boys riding bikes up and down the bridge. One of them waved so we said ‘hello!’ and as another one rode past us, he shouted ‘fuck you!’ So lovely that these small children were learning English…

The next day we were up early and ready for our trek. We met the guide at the agency, found out it was still only us two on the trek, and were driven to the start of the trek by the agent. As we started walking away from him in his flashy car, he shouted after us- “be careful!”

And that’s when things started to get interesting in the muddiest sense. The guide had pretty poor English, but managed to explain to us that he had arranged for a local village guy to accompany us on the trek too as he did not feel safe without him. We picked up the village guy who was wearing sandals and carrying a machete, and within 5 minutes of walking we came across a small river. Can’t go over it, can’t go under it, so we only had one option- so in we went, and even Jonno’s waterproof trekking boots couldn’t save him from the water pouring over the top of his shoes. We got to the other side of the river, squelching as we walked. With two full days of trekking still ahead of us and our shoes soaking wet, we were pretty convinced we were both getting trench foot. A short while later, the guide announced that he was hanging back as he needed the toilet, and he would catch us up. Ten minutes of walking later and he still hadn’t caught us up, so we started to get a bit worried and stopped to wait for him. Another ten minutes, and we had just about come to terms with the fact he was probably dead, he emerged from the bushes, apologising that he was a while but he had a very spicy breakfast this morning. Nice. We then heard the story of how his brother had died about ten times, each time being just as difficult to understand in his very basic English, until we stopped for a rest break. While we were resting, we heard some noises coming from the path we had just been on and another group emerged with one guide and seven tourists, who we started up conversations with.

The next hour was a bit more challenging, as we went through muddy areas and had a few climbs. We stopped for lunch, which was some fried rice in a polystyrene box, and the guide then told us that the next part would take about two hours. What he should have said is that it would take two hours until we were exhausted and broken, and then it would be another two hours after that. The climbs were steep, which we were fairly used to but we had not had the added element of the whole path being a huge mudslide before.

Waiting for our path to be cleared

Our shoes didn't stay clean for long!

After lunch, the guide assured us that there was only a short muddy bit before the flat path, and we were foolish enough to believe him. It got worse and worse, with steep inclines through jungle areas and no solid land. The local guide had cut us down some bamboo to use as walking poles, so once we had stabbed it into the thick sludge, we could cling onto it for dear life while we negotiated each slippery step. Our feet were so weighed down with the mud that they had accumulated that it felt like we had metal chains attached. And each time we lifted our feet from the mud it would fight to suck them down further. All our energy and concentration was put into staying upright, which failed on more than one occasion. 

Meanwhile, the local guide was merrily skipping and leaping ahead of us with bare feet.

The rivers we had to wade through had leeches in, we had quite a few that attached to our ankles and we had to pull them off, sometimes only realising when they had already started taking blood and it began to sting. After a few hours of trudging through the sludge, I had lost all motivation and my hands and feet had no strength left in them, but there was no other option but to keep going.

When we finally reached the homestay village at 6.30pm we were so relieved and were welcomed by some cold coca cola which had never tasted so good. The homestay was in a small, simple village with chickens and ducks waddling around aimlessly, and children playing at the front of the huts while the elderly watched over them. Once Jonno had taken out his phone however, chaos ensued and a mob of children ran towards him chanting 'game! game!'. He dutifully opened up some kind of racing game and started playing it so they could watch. They all squealed in delight and huddled around him closer, making car revving and screeching noises. Eventually they got bored, and soon after we were joined by the other trekking group who were also staying at the same place and were equally as exhausted. 

The homes at the village

Village children

We were then taken for a 'shower' which was basically an oversized puddle, where we could wash ourselves and our shoes. I wouldn’t say it was the most clean I had ever felt afterwards, but it was nice to get the worst of the dirt off.

We returned to the huts and the guide from the other group then produced a bottle of 'lao-lao', a lethal spirit made from rice whiskey and we had to take turns with the one shot glass, passing it around the table. We were getting fairly hungry by that point, and somebody asked "what's for dinner?". The reply from the guide was "duck", and sure enough soon after one of the women from the village selected one of the blissfully unaware wandering ducks, picked it up by its feet and carried it off, returning some moments later with a bowl. At least we knew it was free range and fresh. Then we feasted on boiled duck and duck's blood (not the tastiest thing ever) and green leafy vegetables with sticky rice. We chatted for a while with the people from the other group and had an early night as we could hardly keep our eyes open. 

Lao Lao- what everyone needs after a hard days trekking

'Cheers!' or 'Nyock!'

Not a lucky duck

In the morning we awoke to some energy giving 3 in 1 coffees and breakfast. The other group were trekking to a waterfall that day whilst we were going to visit a village on the river, so we said goodbye to them, put out still soaking wet shoes on (not the most pleasant sensation), and set off. We were dreading another day of wading through mud, but luckily the start of the route was mostly an established path and was nowhere near as muddy. After a steep walk uphill, we were rewarded with some beautiful views, had a quick stop off at another village, and then entered another jungle area just as we were getting used to the nicer paths. More wading through streams, more plucking off leeches and more mud ensued, until finally we reached the river and found a boat waiting for us.

One of the less muddy paths

Such a beautiful place

Relieved to sit down, we had a short ride up the river to the next village where we were due to trek up to the viewpoint and visit some caves along the way. As we neared the village, some locals who were going the other way on their boats stopped to tell our driver something. He then pretended to turn the boat around but went 360 degrees and carried on. The guide said that three people had died from the village (it took us a while to work out if he was saying died or dived, so for a while there was an air of uncertainty). We weren’t quite sure of the relevance to our journey or if there was any more to the story, but we nodded and made 'mm-hmm' noises accordingly. 

We got off at the village, which we expected to be rural and basic as the homestay village was. Instead, we were accosted by many people asking us if we wanted accommodation, and signs for lots of restaurants with happy hours. There weren’t many tourists around to fill the rooms but the village seemed ready for them. The main road, however, was not in the greatest condition and we had to tiptoe around the sides to avoid the large swampy areas. The guide then took us towards the viewpoint on another extremely muddy path, which he insisted would be open even though we had questioned him as the one in Nong Khiaw was closed. Surprise, surprise, the viewpoint was closed. The guide started flapping and asked us what we wanted to do instead. By this point, we were so tired and muddy that the only thing we wanted to do was have a shower and crash out on a bed, so we said we didn't mind going back. At first he began protesting about this, as he said he wanted us to have a good time and thought we would be upset if we didn't do another activity, and we had to convince him that actually we really did just want to go back. We returned to the boat, but had one more stop at another village before we were allowed to go back to Nong Khiaw. The boat stopped again and the guide told us to have a look around the village while he stayed in the boat. Jonno disembarked first and seeing some flat land, went to stand on it to wait for me to get off. Instead, he found himself plunging knee deep into a pit of mud and had to struggle to get back to more stable ground.

The village high street- somebody needs to have words with the council

We just couldn't get enough of this wonderful mud

Once we had negotiated more mud, we got to the village, which seemed the same as the other villages and with no guide present to explain much, it didn't capture our interest much and after a quick look around we returned to the boat.

We were dropped off in Nong Khiaw, and had to pass the tour company before going to the guest house. We were greeted by the travel agent who had arranged the tour, who asked how the trek went. As I was tired and fed up, I told him exactly how it went and that trekking through that much mud on steep slopes was not safe or enjoyable and he should have been more honest about the conditions rather than assuring us it would be fine, so we could have made a more informed decision. The agent looked like he was going to cry, and apologised and told us if we wanted they would pay for us to go to the Nong Khiaw viewpoint the next day, and we should come back later for a beer to discuss it. We then headed back to the hotel, where it was such a relief to have a shower and put clean, dry clothes on.

Having a break in a hut

One of the travel blogs we had read had recommended a place where they offer 'herbal steam baths', which sounded like just what we needed. It turned out to be a basic, small steam room and we had probably done enough sweating already for the day but it did feel quite refreshing afterwards. We had to return to the guesthouse for another shower (we know, we did it in the wrong order!), and then walked back into town. We decided to take the tour agent up on the offer of beer, and he seemed relieved that we hadn't returned to have another rant at him. He brought us our truce beers and we chatted to him for a while about his life and family. He also offered us some dinner, but we declined and thanked him. On our way to find some dinner, we spotted the other trekking group and joined them for some drinks to end the day.

We felt we deserved a chill day after the trek, and of course we had to spend a long time trying to wash the mud out of our clothes and shoes- and came across more leeches that were hiding out in Jonno’s socks. We also looked into where to go next, and decided on getting a night bus to Vang Vieng, a place with mixed reviews, for the following day. We booked this with our good old friend the tour agent, who told us the bus can get here between 5pm and 7pm, and even though it was often late it might be a good idea to arrive just before 5 in case.

After we had checked out our bags from the guest house the following day, we had a bit of hanging around which wasn’t too painful as the owner of the guest house said we could sit on the balcony overlooking the river for a while. Just before 5pm we arrived at the tour office where the bus was due to pick us up, and began waiting. The tour agent was not there as it was his day off but his wife was there and one of their friends who was a teacher hoping to make some extra money by covering the office. We sat and spoke with him for a while, keeping an eye out on the road for the bus to arrive.

7pm came and went, and we weren’t too surprised that it might be later than 7. Then 8. This was a bit annoying but at least we would arrive at Vang Vieng at a sociable hour. The tour agent came back at 8.30 and was fairly surprised to see us there still waiting, so he tried to call the bus but there was no answer. We watched people walking up and down the street, and talked to the agent guy about nothing in particular. A couple stopped by to ask about the bus to Vang Vieng, and we jokingly said that we might be on their one the next day if we had to continue waiting.

At 10pm the agent got some beers out and said maybe the bus wasn’t coming so we might as well have a few drinks. We were joined by an Indian man who owned a restaurant across the road, who brought some crisps and snacks. The agent brought out his ipad for some music, and the tour office had magically transformed into a bar. We had completely given up hope that the bus would ever arrive, and instead found our glasses being continuously filled with more beer. The agent also had some accommodation at the back of the office, so we ended up dragging our bags into one and crashing there.

We awoke in the morning and realized we now had almost a whole day extra in Nong Khiaw to fill. As we had recovered from the trekking and it had not rained in a few days, we decided to go and see if the viewpoint was now open- which it was. The sign at the bottom said it should take about an hour and 45 minutes in total, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

What we hadn’t realized is how humid it was, and with the sun searing down and almost no breeze this was a challenge. We must have sweated twice our own bodyweight in the walk up, and the climb was steep and also in a foresty area so we were constantly being attacked by mosquitos. We also had the added bonus of feeling a little rough from the beer the night before. After what seemed like a lifetime of an uphill struggle, with one of us exclaiming ‘we must be almost there!’ every 5 minutes, we finally reached the top, which was a little wooden hut perched on the top of a mountain. The scenery was so beautiful we instantly forgot the difficulty of the walk there. We were surrounded with lush green mountains, and could see the river running through the village of Nong Khiaw beneath us.

After a while of appreciating the beautiful scenery, we walked back down the mountain which wasn’t quite as difficult but still pretty sweaty, and went to find somewhere for lunch. We walked for a while and came across a quiet, empty local shack with tables which thankfully had a menu in English. The woman who owned it also had a little boy, who took great interest in the ‘Falang’ (white people) and after about 5 minutes of uncertainty, then came over to share his toys with us. When we came to say goodbye, he then started crying because he didn’t want to loose his new friends. Usually we make local children cry because our strange faces terrify them, so this was a first for us.

Round and round the garden like a teddy bear...

We still had a few hours to wait, and we had seen a café that did takeaway baguettes which would be good for the bus journey, so we walked over to there and ordered two baguettes and a dessert to eat there. The owner, a European man, seemed to think this was a great ordeal to make 2 sandwiches as the lady who normally makes them had left 30 minutes before. After a fair bit of complaining, he finally agreed to make them and when he heard that we were due to get the Nong Khiaw bus, he said we had lots of time as it usually arrives a few hours late. We said we knew from the previous day how unreliable it could be. We sat and waited for a long time, all the while overhearing the European man ordering his staff around in Lao and every so often hearing the word ‘sandwich; in English in an exasperated tone- I think he was either telling them in very great detail how to make a sandwich, or having a moan about us coming in and asking him to make us a sandwich- unheard of for someone to ask for items on the menu.

6pm arrived and even though the man had not yet given us the sandwiches, we were in no hurry as we were pretty sure the bus wouldn’t be there for at least another hour. All of a sudden, we heard beeping and shouting coming from the road and the agent guy was outside in his car, shouting at us. Apparently the bus had arrived and was waiting for us. While Jonno rushed outside, I went to the kitchen to get the sandwiches, which were still not made, and the guy tried to fob us off by saying the bus would go past the café anyway and we could get the driver to stop and collect the sandwiches. I said I didn't think my Lao was anywhere near good enough to try and explain to the driver why he had to stop the bus. After a few minutes, the sandwiches were ready and we jumped into the agent’s car and sped away to the office where the bus was waiting. We got out of the car, were told that our bags were on the bus and luckily decided to check as they weren't, I was stopped by another tourist who wanted to ask where we were going and how we had booked it, which I definitely didn't have time to answer, boarded the bus and breathed a sigh of relief. On our way to the seats we passed the couple who had asked about the bus the night before, who looked pretty confused that we actually were on the same bus as them. The bus was fairly crowded and the aisles were filled with bags of rice and stacks of plastic chairs that we had to climb over, and definitely was not the most comfortable or luxurious bus we have taken. We had a few night time toilet stops which when I looked for a toilet, found nothing but lines of men and women squatting at the roadside, and had no other choice but to join in the procession. After a sleepless night, we stopped at 5am and were told this was Vang Vieng, our next stop.