3/13/2008

Riding north of Luang Prabang up the Nam Ou river, the land undulates without huge climbs. It took us two days to reach Pak Mong, since we stopped at Vico Resort only 30 kms out of Luang Prabang the first night. Meeting two English girls who had bought bikes in China, we dined together, shared stories and much laughter about the conditions in these small villages. Actually, the Vico was rather amazing, although local in its design (a shower washes everything in the bathroom; cement floors and walls) it sported hot water, even in the sink and a foam pad on an otherwise rock hard mattress. The only disappointment was the food at the otherwise smart looking restaurant across the river. Thanks goodness the beers were cold!

Tonight our guest house owners provided us with two buckets of boiling hot water, when mixed with the cool water from the barrel made a lovely bath. Art washed our riding clothes and we settled under the fan for an afternoon read. (Good books are a must for travel).

Even in the villages along the road we see older women in traditional dress. There are huge looms under the stilt houses and fresh skeins of dyed silk hanging to dry on bamboo racks. Rice fields are terraced down the hillsides, no longer hosting any jungle growth. Large tracts of teak and bamboo intersperse other vegetable crops of watermelons, greens and herbs. Most of the villages are oriented to the water, where young boys paddle race their boats, so comfortable in the water, their second home. The laughter and giggling; the waving; the school boys on their one-speed Chinese bikes race us through the village streets. When we stop for a Pepsi and snacks, we are entertained by the little children who are being taught to wave “sabadee” or bye-bye, or to blow kisses to foreigners. These are for the most part, fairly healthy, bright and beautiful children, with Madonna-like mothers. All we can do is chuckle and smile in their presence. It is hard when one reads and realizes that 80 percent of these rural children have worms, bronchial infections and worse. Clean water and proper sewage handling are not available.

Several of the villages we passed today make a material from tree bark that is used in grass roof construction. All the trees are cut, striped of the bark which is then painstakingly cleaned and shaved with sharp knives and hung to dry. Every other truck was loaded with bales of the stuff going to market. As tin roofs are used more and more often, what will these people do? But, on the other hand, they might run out of trees before the demand diminishes.

3/14

A short day: 30 km through a meandering river valley, heavily influenced by agriculture. The denuded forests make way for teak plantations, valleys host rice fields currently sprouting corn, cabbage and watermelons in this the dry season. The guide book stated this was possibly the most dramatic scenery in Indochina. We began to wonder what influenced the writer when we came over a rise and in the last 5km began to see anamite mountains rising steeply from the Nam Ou river. We had been riding through traditional villages, waving at the adorable children and the stooped old women some in traditional garb, wondering what this little town we were heading toward held for tourists. Well – loads of falangs are here! Bungalows, western-like food served in restaurants all over-looking the river and the kids splashing during the hot afternoon.

As we rode along we wondered where the restaurants last night had acquired the animals apparently trapped and killed. What were they? Wild dogs with fox-like tails and small ears. A couple of the mammals looked like muskrats. The forests are so denuded, we wondered where these things had lived.

We were joined at dinner by two Austrians who also biked up from Luang Prabang and were staying in the same guest house. They had a three month journey planned and were on their way into China, leaving Pak Mang in the opposite direction as we were – we, heading toward the Nam Ou and a boat north to Muang Noi and then onto Muang Khoua which will put us onto the road into Vietnam and Dien Bien Phu, Vietnam.

At our little tourist destination, Nong Khiaw, we walked down the dusty, dirt main street to find a new I pod charger. Seeing a gentleman surrounded by circuit boards and electronics sitting in the front shop area of his wooden house, Art gave him our broken charger. The man went about fixing it, using a resistor from an old board. Art thanked him and asked the cost – FREE! With a smile! A gift from someone with so little and he repaired something that in America would just have been thrown away and replaced.

3/17

St Patrick’s Day and my brother Bruce’s birthday and another rainy day in Muang Noi! Two days ago we left Nong Khiaw by early boat (11am). The day before was extremely hot. The locals were living in the river: playing on inner tubes, washing and bathing. The morning promised another sweltering day. The one hour boat ride passed gorgeous scenery through rapids in places as we observed local Lo riverside life. After walking the 300 meter main dirt street of Muang Noi, we spent the afternoon getting wet in the shower and sitting in the shade begging the bit of breeze to caress our wet bodies to keep us cool. It was too hot for us to walk down to the river for a dip, although several people did. As the sun went down, the air cooled and we strolled out for beer and dinner.

The next day, 3/16, seemed to have a cooling overcast, so instead of hopping the boat heading north, we decided to take a walk inland. The day was spectacular: observing cutting and hauling of a huge teak tree; locals gathering plant materials; valleys of rice fields dotted with herds of water buffalo and some cows. We paid $10,000kip ($1) to view a limestone cave, the mouth of a spring-fed stream and to move further west toward native villages. Many tourists trudge this path and the village life seems to be a zoo-like experience. Native villagers are pleased to meet and greet us. One exceptional group was a very enterprising family who operated a restaurant, sending the son out on the path to entice potential customers. It seems the rival restaurant, less than twenty feet across their dirt lane was a hated enemy ‘not to be trusted – bad people’. The boy’s family managed to snag all of the falangs passing that day – 14 of them. Mama brought out photos of previous visitors to her restaurant and guesthouse and a number of postcards sent to the family. We thought about ordering a dish with chicken but changed our minds when she gestured that it had to be killed first. Our time is relaxed, but maybe not that relaxed. And the killing of the chicken put our sensibilities a little on edge – moving ever more forward toward vegetarianism.

On the trek back, ominous sounds of thunder turned into rain. Thank goodness we were near a large, roofed platform where we ducked under for cover. As we waited out the rain, eight other falangs came running. From our platform we watched the kids frolicking in the rain, eating hail the size of marbles, and visited with the other trekkers caught here. A young man ran by with a live snake which he proceeded to clean, toss in a pot over a fire he built and made a soup for several of the locals gathered in shelters near us.

By the time we waited out the worst of the storm and began back, the road was paved with a gummy clay path that adhered to shoes, each of us caring five pounds of clay by the time we reached Maung Noi, plus wet to the skin from even more rain. We washed all our clothes and hung them to dry on our porch under cover because it proceeded to rain, not only all night but into the next day. As I sit here writing, our clothes smell like the river since the water used to wash them and us was the color of mud!

We got out of bed only to put our name on the list for the boat going north. It costs $800,000k ($80US) for the boat to run – so the ideal is to have eight people to share the cost equaling about $100,000kip p/p. With this terrible weather, fewer people are coming into this village and even fewer going north. Today we were the only two to sign up. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Yesterday six people left. The boat goes to Muang Khoua (4-5 hour ride) and from there it is 100km by very poor dirt road – now mud to Diem Bien Phu. It may be impassable. We have until 3/24 to leave Laos so we can be patient and wait a few more days. If this is the dry season, what is the wet season like? At least it is fairly cool which makes for good sleeping and pleasant days.

3/20

Our boat never acquired the eight person quota, but with a bit of bargaining four of us travelers ventured north on the boat to Muang Khoua. One gentleman paid $180,000k, another paid $150,000k and of course, Art and I, the least persistent bargainers, paid $200,000k each including Bici. With the value of the dollar plunging from just around $10US to $10,000k when we entered Laos just 2.5 months ago, our $10,000k was now only worth $8US. So our ride cost us $50US which is rather expensive for this country. Cost aside, we had a very enjoyable ride up the Nam Ou observing river life, once again. The mountains were mostly slashed and barren, as barren as a jungle hillside where bamboo flourishes can be. But the trees were gone in all but the steepest cliff areas.

We saw one village where the boys and many of the fishermen were using bamboo fashioned into rafts to ply the river. We observed dozens of generators created with small engines with propeller set in sluice ways devised with rocks and debris. Single electric wires held a loft by bamboo poles were strung to the lucky villager home with a light bulb.

The boat operator stopped to pick up and drop off villagers with their produce and other tradable items. The river is lined with villages. One man and his family ran down the embankment only to be thrown off the boat after boarding for not having enough money for the journey. By 3:30pm only 5.5 hours after departing we arrived in our next town, Muang Khoua, all four of us falangs tromping together to find a guesthouse. Of course, we headed for one all three of our guide books stated was the best. One look and I knew Art and I would not want to horse the bike and gear down all the narrow steps, so I went back into the town to scope another option. We actually found a great place, same price, better accommodation and easy access to indoor, safe parking for Bici.

We met Tom, the architect from the boat for lunch and added Chris, a New York lawyer soon to be clerking for a Federal Judge. The conversations were interesting, comparing notes on the places we had all visited and hearing of exciting new opportunities. Tom had come from Dubai where he interviewed for several jobs building towers. Dubai is a most compelling experiment in development as Dubai attempts to create a money maker for when their oil supply is predicted to run out in10 years. Tom said that Abu Dhabi is beginning to compete with Dubai and the sultans of Abu Dhabi are doing it with their personal fortunes, not borrowed or leveraged, to make their city a world class resort destination. Ten years ago one rarely heard of Abu Dhabi or Dubai and today they are on everyone’s lips: boat races, X games, tennis and golf championships, movie festivals and more. Amazing. Tom recommended we wait 3 to 5 years for the construction to settle and the mass transit system to be completed. These places will make Las Vegas look small and tinny. I don’t know though, if Abu Dhabi or Dubai have gambling. Monte Carlo may still maintain a place for the cultured to holiday.

The next day we were joined by Chris at 6:30 am to catch the ferry across the river. It didn’t appear to be going anywhere, and certainly wasn’t going to move for us, so we hired a small boat for $5,000k and over the river to the bus we went. At the bus we stored our luggage under the seats and Bici was strapped to the top. We were heading east to the Vietnam border, seventy kilometers on a terrible, winding, often steep, dirt road. They charged us $75,000k each instead of the $40,000k that was posted at the bus station, ostensibly to pay for the additional 35kilometer distance to Diem Bien Phu. After the driver extracted this exorbitant sum, two girls joined us who had twice before ridden this same route for $40,000k. They were incensed to have to pay almost double but relented since the bus travels each way only three times a week and takes the seventh day off! Extortion, yes, but glad to be off on the next leg of our journey. Riding the bike was so questionable: accommodation, food, reports of road conditions, particularly after the several days of hard rains, helped us make the choice of riding the bus.

After 35-40ks we came upon a larger village with two guest houses; 35 more kilometers and we were at the border and from there it was 36kms almost all downhill and paved on the Vietnamese side. The ride would have been doable in two, possibly three days, but Art promised me we would have plenty more riding ahead!

The almost six hour bus ride ended in front of a guest house. After many local hill tribe people were picked up and dropped off at various locations, all that were left were the five of us falangs and we wearily clomped into the hotel and appropriated rooms. Over a very necessary lunch, we five discussed the hair raising bus ride. Trucks plunged over the side, avalanches, road wash outs, creek/river crossings without bridges, trucks passing on a road designed for only one at a time, horn blasting at every blind corner which seemed continuous. And if the ride wasn’t frightening enough, the hunters with their home-made rifles wandering the back country and their sling shots added to the entertainment.

Diem Bien Phu, Vietnam is the site of the final battle waged by the Vietnamese for independence from France. Little did they know that after their celebrations, the Geneva Convention in 1954 would divide their country in half and shortly thereafter, the Americans would back the leader in South Vietnam against Ho Chi Min and the North Vietnamese. Outside intervention prevented a democratic vote decreed by the Geneva Convention to be held in 1956 because America determined Ho Chi Min would win. The fear of the domino theory, that being: if Vietnam would fall to the communists then all of Indochina would be lost to the free world. Involvement by American, French, Japanese, Chinese, and others is complex and we learned a little more about that history today (3/20) as we visited the Diem Bien Phu Museum, cemetery and battle bunkers. It has been fascinating to try to understand and see history through the eyes of the many countries we have traveled. “America has a lot to answer for” a British lady suggested to me today – and I agree!

3/21

Today our 76km ride was mountainous and through road construction. Almost all of the 76km! Another American couple on bikes stopped to visit who were heading in the other direction. We exchanged tips on road conditions: terrible for 80km in either direction; mountains and constant road construction. Oh well--at least we know what to expect.

Our ride began with a gentle climb of 30km and through major construction. When the new two lane road is completed, there won’t be many curves. The bulldozers are making huge cuts and major fills in the previously very curvy and hilly single lane road. The people we passed were dressed in traditional outfits: beautiful women and girls, slender and with the most erect postures. Elegance seeps from these lovely women as they troop into the rivers, ride bikes stacked with wood or as they carry huge loads over their shoulders in two baskets balanced on bamboo poles. The memories return of Guatemala, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia and the people in native dress. However, these Asian beauties are something to see.

As we came through one pass after another, a new valley spread before us with rice paddies sliding down to the valley floor. Huge paddle wheels draw water from the river to feed the fields. Karsts formations rise from the valley floors to create dramatic backdrops. Young boys on their single speed bikes race along with us, passing, dropping back in the ‘pelaton’ as we all ride through the villages waving ‘hello’.

When we crest the final hill, we are spent. The sun is hot and we are so dirty that Bici, our bags and us look like unfired ceramic figurines – all clay colored. We rode a bit to find the hotel the other couple recommended: The People’s Committee Guesthouse – A Block. It isn’t quite as bad as it sounds. The breeze is blowing through and the hot water shower delivers copious amounts of hot liquid! Yeah! The bathroom floor runs with clay colored water. After bathing and again returning to skin color, we ventured out for a Bia Hoi (local beer, brewed daily, dispensed from kegs and sold very cheaply on the street, where one hunkers on baby-sized chairs at equally small tables to drink). It took a couple false starts to find a cold one, but we are seasoned hunters of cold beer! After our throats were cleaned, we headed further down the street to find a restaurant recommended by two guidebooks. Our hostess sat with us and discussed the menu and then wrote down prices for each item. It seemed high, but our guidebook expounded on the English speakers and white table cloths. They did not mention it was a rip off or that as our hostess sat with us it was our opportunity to negotiate a fair price. We will learn soon how to travel in Vietnam where everything is negotiable and if one does not bargain, one is taken to the cleaners! I had hoped for good food at the high price, but alas, a market stall serves up much better for less. As we ate our meal the sky lit up with thunder and lightening, washing the dusty streets with a brief but heavy shower. As soon as the rain slowed, we ran back to our room, passing street cleaners removing the day’s debris!

A note about dogs: I thought Vietnamese ate dog. I wish they did. They snarl at me, come at me from under tables as we eat and bark, baring their ugly teeth. Restaurant owners take sticks to them, beating them out, but allowing one to stay to clean up the messes under the tables. Dogs were under the tables in Cambodia, but not aggressive like here! We haven’t experienced bad dogs since Peru. No wonder rabies inoculations are recommended for Vietnam travelers. I will need to keep a pocket of rocks for deterrents as we ride.

3/22

Art is 65 YEARS OLD today!! And a STUD! We climbed to 1400meter Heaven and Earth pass from 600m in 11km on an old road spiced with 10% and 12% grades. The remainder of our 50kms were ridden on roads under heavy construction. We stopped many times to try to see the miles and miles of rumpled landscape, the mountains stretching further than one could see into the misty haze. Our destination was Son La, but we staggered into the village of Thuan Chau and began to seek a guesthouse for the night. After a few queries we were sent to a beautiful building. The language issue on our part was debilitating. They said yes, there was a room, then we understood “no, you can’t stay”. Then we were invited in for tea. Art and I sat and drank, looking at each other, wondering if they were just inviting us to rest, and if this wasn’t a guesthouse and if we had to ride the additional 55ks to Son La we needed to get going. Finally, a young lady using her English skills, taking her time, worked with us. We settled in a clean room and have made plans for dinner and breakfast – we think!? After a hot shower, we both laid down and read. Art had some terrible muscle cramps from today’s exertion. We will need to look for electrolyte replacement powder or drinks here in Vietnam.

The Vietnamese culture is different, the landscape is different, the villages and houses are different. Vietnamese people have different boundaries than we do. Giggling girls in the museum just took the guidebook out of my hands with no request; every man, woman and child touches everything on the bike, even hopping on the top tube or the seat to ride, often disturbing the mileage computers, Judee’s mirror, or the gears; and they don’t cue up for anything – pushing past you to be next in line or standing and watching ATM transactions over our shoulders.

We have been observing two distinct hill tribes differentiated by their clothing. One group is friendly, the other reticent. At first entry into Vietnam, we thought there was greater wealth; larger fancier homes, piped water, even hot water everywhere, electricity, sewers. But upon closer observation, the hamlets and the rural houses still are primitive, simple and spare. It is a wonder to see the beautifully coifed and fancily dressed women come out of the door of a wattle and dab, dirt floor hut. It is also startling to see these small women carrying astounding loads of wood on tumplines, balanced bars or bicycles.

The land here in North Vietnam still has forest portions, whether virgin or replanted; at least there are large tracts of trees. Areas of the mountainsides are scraped clean and the earth prepared for spring planting. The valleys are used primarily for the rice paddies. Some are planted and green, others being flooded and planted, but every lowland area is quilted in extensively worked paddies. Fruit trees, shrubs and vines, vegetables producing saleable crops are planted in plots higher on the hillsides than the rice.

3/23

Last night proved to be a delight. The family prepared us a nice meal. The building appeared to be new construction; TV just out of the box; new, clean, matching linens; frilly mosquito nets on an ingeniously devised track; and dirty floors as if the workmen had just left. In all of Asia, from Singapore through Laos, shoes are left at the door. Here people wear them inside and don’t have the tools to clean the floors very well. Mud gets slopped against the baseboards (actually tiles).

We were awakened at 5am by a loud speaker blasting music and four voices, two women and two men, throughout the town. What it was all about, we have no idea--Political? Religious? Announcements on electric, road, etc? Going on until 6:30am! Hello, Sunday.

The short ride into Son La was pleasant as we passed everyone planting rice in valleys surrounded by karsts formations rising 100’s of meters above the valley floor.

We have settled into Son La at the Trade Union Hotel that is government run. When we asked where to wash Bici and our panniers, the multitudes who work here took everything away, presumably to return it clean? Bici is sparkling. Last night was a light show accompanied by thunder and rain, finishing off with a bright full moon. The rain tamped down the dust, but provided puddles, so we really collected the mud. A motorcyclist gestured for us to stop, he approached with a rag and a bottle of motor oil. He was aghast at our chain, thinking it was rusted, we supposed. We said “no, thank you” and showed him our likewise muddy and dusty shoes and legs. We are thankful today was short. We understand from other cyclists the construction ends here on our route to Hanoi.

3/24

Awoken again at 5am by the loudspeakers which set off the crowing roosters and caged myna birds who raucously whistle. The motorcycles, trucks, buses and cars rev up their engines and begin their incessant honking. People shout, babies cry, water buckets are pounded and sloshed. Everyone is up and the day is bustling.

We are going to stay an extra day here to see the sights and try to use the internet to send some of the extensive journal. So far, the only internets are game stations and it is hard to get a free machine, the young people are spending hours at these games. None of the centers even have word processing, let along picture software, so far. (Note: We did not find a machine with Word or picture capabilities until Hanoi and there we found only ONE! We will probably not be able to send anything again from Vietnam.)

Son La is a pretty large and booming town. New buildings are everywhere. Most, placed on narrow plots, extend up for several floors, decorated with columns, balconies, decorative surface applications, all created out of cement and gaily painted like San Francisco’s turn-of-the-century houses. The sides and backs are unadorned and present a solid concrete wall to the rice and vegetable fields running through the center of town.

3/25

At dinner last night we met two gal cyclists: one English and working in Switzerland; the other, a Texan American newly released from an overseas work assignment. They were traveling independently, met up, decided to travel together and bought bikes in Bangkok and are now riding back to Hanoi. Good story swapping over our fried rice dinner. Breakfast was a different story as the English gal’s grandfather has just died and they will be busing today to Hanoi so she can catch a quick flight out to the funeral. We invited the American to join us if she wished since she had shared some concerns last night about biking on her own.

We were on the road by 7:15am. Overcast and cool. It had rained last night. The road was wonderful, six untraffiked lanes out of Son La for 13ks, then a good two lanes down, gently through the mountain villages all planted in bright kelly green rice paddies. We were cruising and feeling free, happy to be on Bici and not slowly, slowly climbing mountain passes. Blew into Yen Chau at 11:30am full of vim and vigor. Ate at a 'com pho' restaurant and decided to knock off another 55ks for at total of 120ks for the day.

Three kilometers down the road our ride came to an end. The front bottom bracket seems to have gone out! Back to town to find a bike repair person and a room for the night. Found a Nah Nghi or guest house for $7.00US with Ac/fan and hot water, which had a leak and sprayed the whole room requiring a plumber to fix the fixture.

Across the street to the bike repair man??? He had no idea what to do to get to our front bottom bracket – no tools, either. I (Art) removed the left front crank and chain ring and tried to push/pull the elliptical through the bottom bracket shell but it would not come all the way out. Oh Well – Hell!! Many expletives to myself – No bottom bracket removal tool and no replacement cartridge. So we give up our ride and bus to Hanoi tomorrow to get Bici back on the road. To say this is trying and stressful is to put it mildly! We are or were both so excited about being healthy and riding with strength and now are in the pits! Tears, anger and frustration. These will pass, but it just emphasizes how difficult life is and can be on the road!

3/28

I am writing from Hanoi. After several hours of searching we found an internet that we can work in – not a game palace! We sadly loaded Bici on a bus and rode the smoothest downhill for hours into Hanoi. We had to ride Bici about 10km into town to find a guest house. Art’s jiggling things in the bottom bracket served to release whatever was broken enough to allow the cranks to spin freely so we could ride! Settled, we are now faced with finding a repair person. Online we learn of a good mechanic and write down his name and address. He had moved but managed to arrange to send his mechanic to our hotel to check the bike. Of course, they did not have the tool, but took the elliptical with the bottom bracket in it and left with it for the night. Today they returned, but the part isn’t right. They brought us our bottom bracket that had definitely broken and a piece had sheared off – that we assumed was what made the horrible noise when we realized it was broken and the piece probably caught and caused the cranks to catch and drag. The mechanic does not seem to have the part. He left and we just check in on the bike periodically during the day as we tend to other tasks. We found several book shops and exchanged for new reading material. We found a doctor and a dentist – taking care of those things that need good care before we head into China. And we found this internet – so you all can get caught up on our adventures!?

The weather is cool. The traffic and level of activity is frenzied. The people are pretty nice – much different than we were led to believe. And there are western amenities, so we are enjoying great food, some English signage and look forward to seeing some of the museums and sights as soon as we get Bici back on his tires.