Meditations around the world

Epilogue: the Eight Months Wrapped Up in an Ontological Blanket

thedukeoearl — Mon, 21 May 2007 09:25:00 GMT

Hey, I'm working on it!

Photos: Ko Pangan, Haad Thien

thedukeoearl — Wed, 9 May 2007 14:56:00 GMT

My home for two months

Thoughts from my hammock...

thedukeoearl — Mon, 7 May 2007 08:03:00 GMT

Thoughts from my hammock. May 7, 2007

Haad Thien Beach, Ko Pagnan Island, Thailand

People may wonder what one does sitting at the beach for two months. Doesn’t it get boring? they may think. I imagine for some people that it would get boring, especially the way they may see me doing it. My daily schedules vary, but in no stressful way. Sometimes I get up for the eight-oclock yoga class. Sometimes not. If I don’t, I may go to the four-o’clock class. I typically eat a plate of fruit for breakfast, locally grown watermelon, pineapple and banana and perhaps some mango if they have it. Sometimes I will get up at sunrise to practice Chi Gong on the beach if it is not too windy. The past ten days has been rather stormy so I have been sleeping in. Generally during the day, when the spirit strikes, I will find a spot on the beach to meditate for a while. If the weather’s bad, I will do this inside my bungalow. Lunch is usually between twelve and four in the afternoon, though if that late I will probably skip dinner. I often will have another plate of fruit or perhaps a bowl of tom yum vegetable soup with tuna. Dinners may be a soup or a curry, or occasionally a stir-fried chicken and vegetable, no oil.

Much of the time during the day I can be found swinging in my hammock. I'm not sure what it is about my hammock, but it calls to me and I willingly obey. While residing in said hammock I may spend the time watching the ocean do its ebb and flow or watch the dogs playing on the sand. Today the sea was quiet and I could barely hear the waves lapping against the shore. Yesterday the waves were crashing down, fiercely thrown in by an angry sea.

The small voice in my head shared with me a secret. In nature's present moment lies the truth. I seek this moment when lying in my hammock. As I swing and hear the waves against the shore, I try to listen beyond the obvious. I hear the insects chirping in the trees. I hear the birds singing soft songs, I hear the scratching of chickens teaching their chicks to forage for food. Occasionally I will catch something else, something beyond my ability to hear. I try to tune into it but as soon as I do, it is gone. A coconut falls to the ground. The wind makes branches dance and then calms again. I turn my attention inwards. How do I feel right now? How is my breath? Where am I contracted, expanded? Where can I release unneeded tensions I am holding? I breathe. Deep abdominal breaths, I remind myself. Another. Deeper. My closed eyes see the light of my breath as it travels downwards toward my navel. I relax and concentrate without effort, letting go. I lift my thoughts to the divine. Perhaps a little prayer, a request to be made pure, empty of self that I may be filed only with goodness and love, to be a beacon of light to brighten all with whom I come in contact. A slight smile. A feeling of warmth and energy surging very subtly through my body. I breathe deeply again.

Today is my fourth day of a water-only fast. It has not been hard this time. My diet has been light and healthy for over a month and my body does not mind the neglect. It actually appreciates the time to concentrate on cleaning and repairing itself, I believe. It is hard to tell what the body really wants, always craving the things bad for it. Or is that the mind? Sometimes it is hard to tell what is doing the desiring and craving. My only symptom of my fasting is a low energy level. Today I went to walk on the beach. I did not have the energy to walk for very long. I happily returned to my hammock.

Nights can be my favorite time here. I put on some soft heart-stirring music, light a candle or two and some incense, and enjoy the most romantic evenings in the presence of Divine Spirit. My posture quickly becomes an unforced half-lotus and my brain slows, I sit upright, spine straight, all processing naturally without need for self-correction or thought. I focus on my breathing for a while. How does it feel? What is the quality? Then I regulate, long deep-belly breathing. My mind begins to visualize my breath and it becomes bright in the darkness of the candlelit room. The light fills my belly and then expands outwards. Soon I am sitting in a cocoon of bright white light, radiant and glorious. Not too much time passes before my mind wanders and I lose the present moment. Sometimes I catch it quickly, other times it goes into some very important future planning, past re-living or idea structuring. Eventually I come back to nature's present moment and realize that none of those thoughts were real. Just fantasy; fiction. A moments energetic pulse and then gone, fleeting. I become deliberate about my breath once more. No self-scolding, no admonishment. The brain does its own thing naturally. One cannot blame the brain for thinking. Lovingly I remind myself to return, to train the mind to the present moment. What else is there? I recently read in a book that sooner or later, this present moment will be your last."* And here it is, and there it goes. Present for only the briefest instant, yet always there.

Until that sooner or later, that is.

*Deida, David. Blue Truth.

April 19: Alone With My Gallbladder

thedukeoearl — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 22:41:00 GMT

March 20-April 19, 2007

The next morning I shook off my aloneness with busying myself packing and getting a ride to the immigration office where I could extend my visa for another month. A long wait for a sawngthaw was explained by the traffic jam that caught us on our way to my destination. I was dropped off at the pier, realized had 45 minutes to get my visa extended before the boat back to Ko Pangan left, and hopped on the back of a moped and sped off to the immigration office. Waiting two hours for the visa, (or so it seemed; they were in much less of a hurry than I) I concluded my business and was back to the boat with five minutes to spare.

Travelling alone is a much different experience than travelling with another person. I had time to ponder this as I sat on the boat crossing back from Samui to Ko Pangan. Alone, you notice people more and in a different way. You are noticed in a different way. I was aware, now on my own again, of a self-consciousness I did not have travelling with Leslie. Recognizing this I chuckled to myself and relaxed. Being alone again would take a little while to get used to.

Once back on Ko Pangan I headed straight for the other side of the island to a beach called Haad Thien. I had a recommendation to visit this beach by a few people I had met at the Suan Mok ten day meditation retreat I had attended last November. These retreatants lived on the beach and said it was a marvellous place to come and reconnect mind-body-spirit. There was a British run health and wellness center on the beach called The Sanctuary. The beach is also known as Sanctuary Beach because of the center's popularity. After a rough and stormy longboat ride to the beach, I backpacked around to the different accommodation options and finally settled on a bungalow at the Haad Thien Resort. Dont be fooled by the name. Its a basic rustic wooden bungalow on the beach with an insect-ladden bathroom, but cozy enough for me. I laid low here for a few days adjusting to my new aloneness.

Finally, seeing my friend Shashi from the retreat, I was encouraged to join in on the four-day Shiatsu course beginning the next day. Weighing price against experience (as I always do) I agreed and spent the next four days learning the basics and foundations of the healing art of shiatsu massage. We learned of the meridian channels and of the flow of chi energy through the body and how to stimulate them into a healthy flow. An experienced practitioner can be very effective in helping one acknowledge the validity of chi and its presence in the body. Medical science has verified it as well and everyone's health and wellbeing would be enhanced by the awareness and attention to it. I had studied about chi before and had practiced techniques that improve its flow and quality. I was very happy to return to that awareness.

After the workshop I took another half-day workshop with Shashi on nutrition according to Chinese medicine, which was based on the same principles as the shiatsu. Basically, balance is the key to everything and if you want to be a whole person, eat whole foods instead of processed foods that rip away vital nutritional qualities. White flour and white sugar are right out, but that is common knowledge for health. Ice and cold beverages are hard on the body and can lead to stress and disease in the body's systems. The best foods to eat are the naturally sweet foods like brown rice, pumpkins, squash and the like. Green foods are wonderful for the liver. Vibrant colored fresh foods are full of chi and therefore good for the health. Different seasons call for different types of food to nourish your body's energy systems. The system is quite complex and it really becomes more of a lifestyle than a diet. The nutritional aspect is to be integrated with the exercises such as tai chi which help to keep the flow of chi healthy and moving. Stagnant chi leads to illness. Flowing chi leads to harmony and inner peace.

A few days later I had a session with the teacher of the shiatsu workshop. Many people were remarking about his abilities as a healer and I thought I should catch him before he left the next day. I was glad I did. Before leaving the states I had gone to the doctor to understand the pain and swelling that was constantly plaguing my right ankle, residual I believed from limping on my foot through Costa Rica . I had been taking pain killers for it but wanted to know how to cure it. The doctor looked at it. He took x-rays. He looked at it. Without even saying it was tendonitis, he looked at me, shrugged, and said, "Aches and pains. Take Advil." That was it. Thanks doc. I mention this because in one session with this Australian healer, through deep massage and energy work, he completely cured my ankle and told me, physiologically, why it was bothering me. He also balanced all my other energy pathways and I felt great.

Cleaning the ol'Gallbladder

Later, after eating mostly raw fruits and vegetables for three days, I went to the Sanctuary Wellness Center to begin the highly recommended Liver Cleanse. This cleanse lasts a day and a half and does more to clean out the gallbladder than the liver. Basically, we all have gallstones in our bile ducts, especially with our high fat diets in the west. These can sometimes grow to dangerous sizes and, to avoid death, our doctors do what they do best. They take a knife and slice you open. This barbaric procedure will indeed remove the gallstone, but will also leave you with a long recovery period and a souvenir scar to keep along with a bill for tens of thousands of dollars. I vent like this because there is absolutely no need for this except for a fiscal flow. Basically, the cleanse is a process of storing up the bile, softening the gallstones, and then opening the system up to let these stones flow out through your intestinal tract. I did the cleanse and on the second day was amazed to look into the catch-basket they provide to see the large handful of tan and green gravel that had been released. Most of it was fairly small(large aquarium rock size) but some of them were marble-sized rocks that I cringe to think were blocking my common bile duct. While in our bodies, these stones block and/or reduce the flow of bile into our digestive systems and reportedly even interfere with the amount of cholesterol the body can eliminate. I highly recommend it and will post the 'recipe' for those brave enough to take charge of their own health. Also, if you know someone with a gallstone, please do not let them get an operation without trying this first! There are many reports of people who have avoided an operation by using this process.

Over the next few weeks I continued eating light and healthy whole foods and focusing on meditational practices. It is nice to stay put in one location and not have to pack my bag and travel every few days. We have had unseasonable rain here but that has been a nice relief to the normal heat of this season. I have a bungalow on the beach with a hammock on my porch for $6/night and a nice choice of restaurants. Electricity is only from 6pm to 11pm and the rest of the time is just nature. Life is good here.

1½ Day Gallbladder Flush Recipe

thedukeoearl — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 20:38:00 GMT

Here is the recipe for the Gallbladder Cleanse. My own experience of flushing out of the bile ducts sure sold me on the need for it!

This cleanse did take a good bit out of me for about 4 days, though I think that depends on the person. I met many people who did this and had mixed reports of resultant energy levels. I also experienced quite a fever about half an hour after drinking the shake. Around one in the morning I vommited up the shake, and that is okay, about half of people doing this do the same. You may wish to buy a cheap plastic collinder to put in the toilet for the morning release of stones if you are interested in seeing what they look like. Dont forget a rubber glove!

Make sure to read on to the bottom for the full information on the process!

I will site my source here so I can list it verbatim. The following information comes from a handout from the Sanctuary Wellness Center, Haad Thien, on the island of Ko Pagnan, Thailand. They get the information from the book "The Cure for All Disease" by Hulda Regehr Clark (Page 552).

Cleansing the liver of gallstones dramatically improves digestion, which is the basis of your whole health. You can expect your allergies to disappear too, more with each cleanse you do! Increadibly, it also eliminates shoulder, upper arm, and upper back pain. You have more energy and increased sense of well being.

This is a 21 hour fast. You must be able to rest and stay close to home on day 2.
Take no medications, vitamins or pills that you can do without during the cleanse.

Day 1
Eat Apples Only	Not eating any fat allows the bile in the liver to build up and develop pressure. High pressure pushes out more stones. Apples and apple juice help soften the stones.
2pm	Begin fasting.Do not eat anything for the rest of the day.
6pm	Drink one 12 oz. glass of water with 1 Tbsp of Epsom Salt. (adults)
8pm	Drink another glass of Epsom Salt water.(You can expect to have diarrhea later.)Make your bedtime ‘shake’ of 4oz. Raw olive oil and 4oz. Lime juice in a shakable container.
9:45pm	Get all ready for bed.
10pm	Shake and drink the olive oil/lime juice shake with a straw (standing up).Get it down within 5 minutes.As soon as its gone, lie down on your right side with your knees up to your chest and go to sleep.Try to keep still for at least 20 minutes.You may feel a train of stones traveling along the bile ducts like marbles.
Day 2
7am	Drink another glass of Epsom Salt water.You can expect to have diarrhea.
9am	Last glass of Epsom Salt water.
11am	You can begin eating again.Start with fruit and continue with raw food for the rest of the day.You can continue eating normally the next day.
Epson Salt Water	1 Tbsp. Epsom Salt is mixed into a glass of water.It cannot be absorbed by the body, so it will go straight through.This cleans your colon and provides a clear path for the Gallstones to exit.It also opens the bile duct valves so there is no pain when the stones pass into your small intestine.
Olive Oil Shake	This is ½ raw olive oil and ½ limejuice. Four ounces of each.Shake well before drinking.The fat in the olive oil triggers the release of bile, which flushes out the gall stones.

Congratulations, you have successfully removed gallstones without surgery! They are the green or tan "stones" that float in the Toilet.

Cleansing the liver bile ducts is the most powerful procedure that you can do to improve your body's health. It should be done after a parasite cleanse, and for best results it should follow a kidney cleanse. If not you could feel rather ill for a few days but its still completely safe.

It is the job of the liver to make the bile, 1 to 1½ quarts (~1 liter) in a day! The liver is full of tubes (biliary tubing) that deliver the bile to one large tube (the common bile duct). The gallbladder is attached to the common bile duct and acts as a storage reservoir. Eating fat or protein triggers the gallbladder to squeeze itself empty after about twenty minutes and the stored bile finishes its trip down the common bile duct to the intestine.

For many persons, including children, the biliary tubing is choked with gallstones. Some develop allergies or hives but some have no symptoms. When the gallbladder is scanned or X-rayed nothing is seen. Typically, they are not in the gallbladder. Not only that, most are too small or not calcified, as a prerequisite for visibility on X-ray. There are over half a dozen varieties of gallstones, most of which have cholesterol crystals in them. They can be black, red, white, green or tan colored. The green ones get their color from being coated with bile.

At the very center of each stone is found a clump of bacteria, according to scientists, suggesting a dead bit of parasite might have started the stone forming.

As the stones grow and become more numerous the back pressure on the liver causes it to make less bile. Imagine the situation if your garden hose had marbles in it. Much less water would flow, which in turn would decrease the ability of the hose to squirt out the marbles. With gallstones, much less cholesterol leaves the body, and cholesterol levels may rise.

Gallstones, being porous, can pick up all the bacteria, cysts, viruses and parasites that are passing through the liver. In this way "nests" of infection are formed, forever supplying the body with fresh bacteria. No stomach infection such as ulcers or intestinal bloating can be cured permanently with out removing these gallstones from the liver.

Cleanse your liver twice a year.

****As an addendum to this post seven years later, I have become less sure of the actuallity of this cleanse. I am sure that the body does function better when the intestines are clear and have room to fully function. Perhaps this has allowed the ducts to push out the gall stones naturally though I think most of what I saw was in fact the manufacturing of "soap". However many do seem to have found efficacy in the flush so there is definately some benefit. Perhaps I got only "soap" because I was clear of the stones. There have been a few very good sources listed in the comments demonstrating western science's investigation of what these stones really are and I suggest anyone interested in this do some research to see if it would really benefit them. A blend of western and eastern medicine will be your best bet to health and safety. That said, I have never heard of any harm in trying this flush save some discomfort during the process. I plan to do another flush soon to see if some of my mental and physical ailments will go away. Good luck and thank you to all you previous posters. Be sure to read some of my other blogs too!

March 9-19: Back to the Beach

thedukeoearl — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 22:38:00 GMT

March 9-19

Another overnight bus took us from Bangkok down to the port city of Surat Thani. From here we caught a ferry to the island of Ko Samui in the Gulf of Thailand.. The next few weeks seemed to go by very quickly in a blur of sad anticipation of Leslie's flight back home.

Our overnight bus rode the ferry over to the island with us, so we were riding once again for a bit, then transferred to a pickup truck with bench seating (called a sawngthaw; a very common form of local transport) and ended up at Lamai Beach. We found the beach well developed but quiet. The area was a bit expensive for our budget, though. We relaxed here for a few days and then got a ride up to the largest beach Hat Chaweng. For the day we walked around the beach and looked into some accommodations. It was very crowded and seemed quite expensive, so we decided to move on to one of the quieter areas of the island. We ended up staying on the northwest side of the island where we walked down a long sandy road to a quiet beach called Bang Po. The bungalows were a bit back from the beach but the restaurant relaxed right in front of the sand. We got motorbikes and rode around the island a bit, making it down to the southern part of the west coast and had a drink at a gorgeous stretch of empty beach looking out over the aquamarine water to five small islands huddled together a few kilometres from shore.

Having received an email from my Norwegian friend Joeran, we decided to head over to the island of Ko Pagnan, where I had spent almost two weeks at the beginning of my trip in October. I had met Joeran at a small beach named Bottle Beach and travelled with him for a month afterwards down to Malaysia and back. Joeran had returned there in January and had been mostly there since.

Leslie and I caught a boat to Ko Pangan (Koh Pa Ngan) and then a sawngthaw to a longtail boat that delivered us to Bottle Beach. We got a bungalow and for five nights we enjoyed the beach and the company of Joeran and his new girlfriend Lilia.

The subtle anxiety of Leslie's leaving built up during this time and before we knew it, we were packed up, heading back to Samui and on our way to the airport. Leslie's was booked on a night flight to Bangkok from the island's small airport. From there she would have an early morning flight with several layovers on her way back to the states. With a few tears she left to board the plane and I slowly and thoughtfully walked the four dark kilometres back to my bungalow, escorted much of the way by a friendly black dog. Not ready to go into my bungalow, I sat on a chair in the sand overlooking the dark water lapping against the shore. I was unused to feeling alone and I didnt know what to do with myself. I turned around to find an old man, security for the facility I supposed, crouched in some bushes watching me suspiciously. I laughed to myself and walked to my bungalow and let myself in. Alone.

Photos: Ko Pangan bottle beach

thedukeoearl — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 14:55:00 GMT

Bottle Beach

Photos: Ko Samui

thedukeoearl — Sat, 10 Mar 2007 14:55:00 GMT

Island in Gulf of Thailand

March 2-9: Chiang Mai

thedukeoearl — Fri, 9 Mar 2007 22:32:00 GMT

March 2-9

The first full day in Chiang Mai, we hired a tuk tuk driver to take us to all the famous temples. They were interesting to see but not really to talk about.

The next day we went to the national museum -a big disappointment, and then on to the Chiang Mai Zoo. We enjoyed the zoo, especially after we realized they had a tram service and we didnt really have to walk kilometres between animal exhibits! The tigers, kahualas and giant walk through aviary were most impressive exhibits. The pandas cost extra to see so we missed those.

At night we wondered around Chiang Mai's huge night market lining a main street for several blocks. The restaurants in the market area all featured seafood, which was curious because the city is pretty far away from the sea. I wasnt tempted.

So we 'did' Chiang Mai and it was time to turn our thoughts back to the beach. We headed back down to Bangkok on an overnight bus and spent the next few days unsuccessfully trying to reclaim my abandoned eyeglasses.

Photos: Chaing Mai

thedukeoearl — Mon, 5 Mar 2007 14:54:00 GMT

North Thailand

Photos: Chiang Mai Zoo

thedukeoearl — Sun, 4 Mar 2007 17:37:00 GMT

Visiting furry animals

Feb 25: Pai and Scooters

thedukeoearl — Fri, 2 Mar 2007 22:32:00 GMT

February 25-March 2, 2007

Our time in Pai was a mixture of making the best of it and some disappointment. The mountains did not lend themselves, we felt, to a great deal of independent trekking, or awe for that matter. It was dry season and there were many fires on the mountains. We did take a great six hour hike into the mountains to see an impressive waterfall. I don't think many tourists brave that hike. We met one older couple on their second hike to the waterfall but speculated no other tourists made it there that day. The only other couple we saw had turned around because it was too far away. It was a great hike. We only got lost once.

We finally got a chance in Pai to rent mopeds and ride them around. This was a great place to learn as there was not much traffic and there was a long looping road on which to drive, with interesting sights to see along the way such as a canyonlands, a WWII bridge and domesticated elephants. There were other things as well but really the fun part for me was in pushing the speed out of the little 125cc's. Vroom vroom.

Returning the bikes, we booked a bus ride back to Chiang Mai where I was ready to do a bit of temple touring. The ride back caused terrible motion sickness and we were happy to get to the city three hours later and find a room.

Feb 23-25: Reunions and Karaoke

thedukeoearl — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 22:30:00 GMT

February 23-25, 2007

Leaving Chiang Khong, we took a three hour ride on a local bus to the northern Thailand city of Chiang Rai. I was hoping to see Ajahn Choon, the Thai english teacher I had befriended at the monastery three months previously. Not in the mood to shop for accommodation, we left the bus and got a ride directly to a place in our guidebook and got a room. The area was full of expat bars but not a far walk from a great night bazaar.

With a little help from a Thai girl on the street, I used a pay phone to call Ajahn Choon (Ajahn means teacher). She was teaching high school, but grabbed one of her student with a moped and drove over to see us. We arranged to meet later after classes were over.

We spent that night and the next afternoon and evening touring around the city and dining with Ajahn Choon. She even sang a few karaoke songs to us. We finished our visit with a long stroll around the night bazaar; a few snacks and beers by the food stalls.

The third day in Chiang Rai, we packed and headed the four hours to Chiang Mai on a much nicer than usual bus. We made it just in time to catch a bus onward to a town far in the northwest called Pai. Pai is reported to be an artsy little community with a quiet and chill vibe up in the mountains. The bus ride there was a little less comfortable than usual. The windows did not open and the bus kept overheating, so the driver could not turn on the air con. The bus ride was slow on the winding mountain roads and I was happy to make it into town before dark.

Gallery: Pai

thedukeoearl — Sat, 24 Feb 2007 14:54:00 GMT

North Thailand

Feb 21-23: Of Nachos and Optical Retardation

thedukeoearl — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 22:24:00 GMT

Chiang Khong

February 21-23, 2007

Of Nachos and Optical Retardation

After breakfast in Huay Xai, Laos, we packed up and queued through the shoreside visa exit process, hopped on a longboat, crossed the Mekong, got stamped for a Thai visa and we were back in Thailand.

We walked up the hill and down the street a quarter mile and Bamboo Guesthouse, the lodging that had come with high recommendations. From the street it looked like nothing special. We followed the signs down the path toward the river and soon were in the midst of very well arranged bungalows in a lovely garden-like setting. We were sorted out in a room and went for a walk about the city.

The city was build on the Mekong River. Several dozen years ago,or so it looked, the city planners had made a big effort to build a paved community boardwalk along the riverbank. It was still very nice to walk along, but seemed a bit neglected. There were none of the shops or vendors along the way as you would expect, but now and again you would see people strolling or jogging by, enjoying the tranquil view.

The restaurant at our guesthouse was a piece of artistry. The cooks make sure the food is thoughtfully and lovingly prepared, complimented by the presence of the Thai owners, Jib and and his wife Tao. The eating experience is enhanced by the artful decor and the perfect music selected by Jib. We were treated to a small concert in the restaurant; Jib showing his talent on the guitar. Jib is in his fifties and is the picture of an artistic rasta hippie. His wife, Tao, has the whole mature artist thing going on. I would have sworn they had lived in San Francisco for a while. As we remarked on the perfection of everything, Jib shared with us that one should have good food for the mouth, food for the ears, and food for the eyes. We appreciated his holistic approach to living and enjoyed truly being guests in his guesthouse. They also had a 3-month old Dalmatian mix puppy whose name was salsa in honour of the absolutely fantastic mexican food they make in the restaurant.

While in Chiang Khong we passed by an optical store and I remarked how it would be nice to have new prescription sunglasses. On a pressing suggestion from Leslie, we went in the store and before I knew it I was spending $200 on new prescription sunglasses and regular glasses. I figure I did this just because I had not had enough hassles in my life to that point.

I went back the next morning and he had made both pair incorrectly. I went back at lunch and nearly fell over the sunglasses were so off. He thought the lenses were too curved and I should pick another frame. We stayed another night. I went back in the morning. He had made them wrong again. Afternoon. Wrong again. This time I noticed he had put the regular glasses in the wrong frame. He delivered the sunglasses to the guesthouse about eight-thirty at night and all but ran away as soon as I had tried them on. They still are not perfect and make me a bit cross-eyed feeling. The regular glasses, however, worked wonderfully, fit my face handsomely, were comfortable and had a crystal clear new prescription. I left them on a bus two weeks later.

Gallery: Chiang Rai

thedukeoearl — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 14:39:00 GMT

Gallery: Chiang Khong

thedukeoearl — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 14:38:00 GMT

Crossing from Laos into this border town

Feb 17-20: Disappointment in Laos

thedukeoearl — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 22:22:00 GMT

February 17-20, 2007.

Disappointment in Laos

After our twelfth night in our bungalow we rode the longboat back to Nong Kiaw. From here we got a bumpy bus ride to the city of Ouxay, four hours away. From Ouxay we bought tickets to our destination of Luang Nam Tha.

The bus ride was overbooked and, being some of the last to buy tickets, we were stuck on plastic chairs in the bus' isle. The road was mostly unpaved and winded down and up mountain passes. The plastic chair kept shifting underneath me and scooting so that my knees were pinched by the chair in front of me. In my weakened condition I tried to sleep. Jammed knees. Boxes falling on me from overhead. Plastic chair buckling on curves. A dog tied inside a grain sack under the seat, moved to the roof for more leg room. No air. Babies crying. I was really beginning to hate bus rides.

It was completely dark by the time we reached the town of Luang Nam Tha. We had no map and the bus station was in a dark area of town, so we hefted our packs and made our way through the unlit town in search of lodging. After walking quite a few blocks with nothing to see, we finally made a turn to a street with a few restaurants and guesthouses. We looked at one, frowned at the price but chose it anyhow, plopped our bags down and went for a meal.

Luang Nam Tha is listed as a National Protected Area. We had been excited about coming here since we had read about it in the guidebook. We pictured more looming mountains and rivers, streams and hiking paths to places even more exotic. We woke up in the morning, walked outside, looked around. Where are the mountains? we asked. We were on a flat dirty street claiming very little to no charm. Over the next few days we found the internet, but it wasn't working, tried to hire mopeds but they only had manual shift and neither of us had ridden before, tried to find the market and got lost before a helpful but a bit annoying young hilltribe man who wanted to practice his English leached onto us, and we were dissuaded by the guided trekking prices at the local tourist center. Given our bent for loving to go off and get lost by ourselves, we ultimately wanted follow that course. Somewhere between Nong Kiaw and here we had run out of mountains, So we would have to settle for hills and villages. There were a few waterfalls to hike to as well. All would have been good for our independent adventuring except for a recent story we had heard.

A few months previous a young man travelled here on his own. He had hiked solo into the hills. He didn't carry much with him for his journey and the guesthouse owners expected he would return that evening. He never returned. His body had recently been found in the river with rocks tied to his ankles. It was speculated that this young man had come across some illegal drug crops, been suspected of or caught taking some, and murdered. We asked the travel guide about this story but he pretended to know nothing about it, even though the flyer was posted right outside of his door. Murders like that can be bad for business I suspect, although it may increase guided trips as it discourages independent trekking. For us it just made the area even less appealing and we decided to head back to Thailand. There was, however, one redeeming find in this disappointing town. We found a nice little coffee house restaurant and were immediately struck by how wonderfully pleasant and amiable the owner was. This was a quality in severe depletion in this town. After talking to her we discovered she was from Thailand. We took this as an omen and, after our meal, went to pack our bags.

The next morning we were bound and determined to have seating that was not on plastic chairs on the 8 hour bus ride to the border. We got up early and were at the ticket counter by seven-thirty. Well, Leslie was anyway. I stopped at the coffee shop to have a double cappuccino. So yummy. When I got to the bus station, Leslie was waiting with bad news. The bus was full and we were in the isle.

"Not plastic chairs again" I groaned.

"Nope, not plastic chairs" she replied, her voice suggesting worse.

I looked at her with doomed interest.

"Plastic stools."

Leave it to say that this ride was doubly worse than the last and the misery was heightened by the overcrowdedness and lack of air. Nothing puts me in a crabbier mood than long, uncomfortable, hot, dirty, stuffy bus rides with impolite people. Leslie as always was wonderful about it. With long-suffering, we arrived in the border town of Huay Xai and decided to spend one more night in Laos before heading across the Mekong river back into Thailand.

Gallery: Trekking to Villages

thedukeoearl — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 14:35:00 GMT

The hot and lost journeys

Gallery: Muong Noi Neua

thedukeoearl — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 14:19:00 GMT

Up the river to a Village of no cars

Gallery: Luang Probang

thedukeoearl — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 22:33:00 GMT

World Heritage City, central Laos

Feb 11-14: House of Pain

thedukeoearl — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 22:21:00 GMT

February 11-14, 2007

A House of Pain

The next day Leslie returned on the afternoon boat bearing me thoughtful Valentine's Day gifts. I sheepishly didn't even know the4 date much less remember the holiday. We decided to plan a trek to some of the villages in the area for the next few days. We had been given a hand-drawn map of the area and villages nearby and decided to hike to them and stay in their guesthouses.

The first village was only an hour away, passing some great caves we had explored a few days previous. The path wound through dry rice paddies and through herds of cattle and water buffalo munching contentedly on dry grasses. At the end of the open paddy fields we reached the first village of Ban Na. There are two guesthouses in the village of Ban Na and we chose the one on the far end as recommended by a young Laotian working at our guesthouse. The reed-walled, stilted bungalow was simply furnished with a mattress on the floor and a mosquito net. The bungalows made a loose circle around the dining area and the view of the rice fields and mountains was spectacular. There was a deep feeling of peace and tranquility underlying the scene that relaxation was felt immediately. We spent time in the hammocks soaking in the pastoral stetting.

We were soon hungry by mid afternoon and tried to order from the menu. It went something like this.

'Hi. Can we order some food?'

'Yes' responded the pleasant smile of Kat, the proprietor.

We both had decided, as usual, on the same thing. 'We'd like two orders of fried noodles with chicken, please.'

'Oh, sorry. No chicken.'

'No chicken?'

'No. No chicken. Later. Chicken still walking.' She made a walking motion with her fingers.

I wanted to ask if it was crossing a road and why, but refrained myself. We ordered the noodles, no chicken.

As the afternoon wore on we met the other visitors to the village, all French. Now it is a common known fact among backpackers that France breeds the most unfriendly of travellers. This is not to be confused with the stereotype of Israelis, winning the award for being the most arrogant and aggressively intolerant people. In fact, there are many places now that won't even allow Israelis to stay in their guesthouses because of so many bad experiences. But while I have met some Israelis that did not fit this stereotype, I have yet to meet a Frenchie from whom I did not get something of a snub. We found no exception here. We had brief conversation, but none of the warmth that we get from other travellers. As a side note, I have met one person that I thought had finally broken my experience with the French. A nice, warm friendly woman with a heavy French accent. It turns out she was from Quebec.

For dinner we had all agreed that it was time for the chicken to stop walking and I was surprised that instead of ordering from the menu, we were served dinner family style. We all sat with anticipation around one table while they brought out bowls of sticky rice, cabbage soup, and chicken that had been hacked into small bony pieces and boiled. Each couple shared a bowl of each dish. What little meat we could find amongst the splinters of bone was tough and chewy. I wondered if the chicken had finally stopped walking from old age.

There was a wonderful conversation during dinner, all in French. This was insultingly marginalizing as they all spoke fluent English. I bought a bottle of rice whiskey called lao lao and tried to open the conversation by sharing it around. It might have worked had I spoken French.

After dinner the hostess made a campfire and we all sat under the stars watching the fire while the French drank my lao lao and refused to speak English. We knew it was time for bed when I asked for a touch more of my lao lao and they lied and said it was all gone. I'm not bitter. Nope.

The next morning we packed up and thanked our hostess, Kat, for the horrible overpriced dinner but otherwise very pleasant stay, except for company of the French that is, and were on our way to the next village for lunch. Kat recommended we stay at this next village as the one further up was not as nice for accommodation.

We saw many village people on the three hour walk to the village of Hoy Sen. They laughed at our shoes as we repeatedly stopped to take them off for the dozen or so river crossing. At the village we took a long lunch and realized that villages really aren't that interesting. They consist of a bunch of poor people living in dirty shacks with dirty animals wandering about. Perhaps the culture would have been more interesting before the atrocities of the wars. In fact, we saw very few older people in Laos at all. Maybe they couldn't find the pharmacies either (see Vientiane blog), or I assume that many were killed during the bombing years. Ten percent of all Hmong tribesman and women were killed during the war, and many of the others fled to Thailand.

Though the restaurant owner hoped we would stay in his bungalows, after a long lunch we decided to make the hour and a half (so our map said) hike up to the village of Kew Khan. Our lunch host reported that the next village was up, up, up. We boldly strode forth and walked through the village, completely missing our turn for the path to Kew Khan and went, unknowingly, the complete wrong direction through fields and paddies, across streams and over hedges.

Eventually we found someone to ask if we were on the right track, because there was no 'up, up, up' going on here. The Laotian, speaking no English and not humored that we were there, pointed to our left up to the mountains. Still ignorant to our trail, we trudged that direction through heavy brush and climbed up the side of a mountain, occasionally finding a winding trail to follow. We eventually found a large path and I felt secure that we had it now. We followed this for a bit, then the path seemed to split and I chose the more scenic route, thinking that would soon reconvene with the other path. When we reached the other side of the mountain and the trail disappeared into an old, overgrown slash and burn farmland surrounding us on the entire side of the mountain, I realized I had once again taken a more adventurous route. I then decided that, instead of backtracking, we would smash our way through the brambles and ascend the next mountain, where we were sure to come across the misplaced trail.

An hour later, dirty, hot and scratched, We finally gave up. We backtracked, walked fifteen minutes up the correct trail and I realized that we were now only about 200 feet above where I had given up hope and turned around. Leslie was, as usual, a good sport about the whole thing and we laughed about it and continued up, up, up.

Our one and a half hour journey ended up taking us about four hours as we finally hobbled, exhausted and grimy, into the village of Kew Khan. The village was located at the top of one of the smaller mountains and surrounded by the other taller ones, all dense with jungle.

Our first introduction to village life was in watching two little girls of maybe seven and nine practicing Karate Kid style flying jump kicks on some of the village cattle. Little piglets ran from us as we approached the village fence. Over the fence, we looked about the village. Dirty little children were everywhere. Kittens, puppies, down fluffed yellow chicks, but no grown ups of any species to be seen. I felt like I was in a Lord of the Flies epic.

Eventually, a youth of about fifteen strode forward beneath the setting sun and asked if we would like accommodation for the night. We smiled and nodded in assent and followed him to one of the stilted houses in the middle of the village. We realized, as he invited us into a residence, that there were no guesthouses in this village and we would be having the good fortune of what is known as a 'home stay'. I looked in the home and, once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, realized I was staring at a grandmother sitting in her bra. I smiled awkwardly and the boy motioned me in.

We were soon relaxing on reed mats as night darkened around us. Leslie went off for a shower, which was a community water pump and entertained a lot of curious onlookers. She modestly kept herself covered as the village men looked on with toothless grins. She became quite popular as she dispensed shampoo to all the other women having their nightly wash. The villagers, we found out, use laundry soap to wash with because they can not afford shampoo and body soap. An evening with real shampoo was a luxury for them. I followed Leslie's return with a cold wash of my own in the last bits of twilight and then collapsed back into our host's house. I was completely exhausted. Much more than I should have been for what we had done that day.

Dinner was prepared and served for us and I struggled to stay seated upright and eat it down, being overwhelmed with fatigue. Boiled greens, fried eggs and sticky rice made up our dinner. I never did grow fond of the sticky rice. It is a special type of rice, a bit denser in grain than steamed rice, and is eaten by taking a large pinch from the basket and rolling into a ball with your palms, and dipping it into whatever juicy food you are eating. I guess part of my hesitation was that I never really felt like my hands were clean.

Half way through dinner I had to take a break and rest. I wasn't feeling well at all. Within an hour I had a full blown fever and, bed mats rolled out, went directly to bed to spend a night in the delirium of a high fever, constantly woken by barking dogs and a house of roosters directly behind us. I felt very fortunate that I was not getting sick with dysentery as the toilet was down the ladder, around the other side of the house and past a fairly ferocious dog.

We were up early in the morning (not that we had a choice with all the roosters and other noisy pre-dawn village goings-on) and decided to cut the trip short, given my ailing condition. Looking at our rudimentary map, we were an hour and a half walk from the village of Hah-sah-pey on the river, from which we could get a boat ride back to our bungalow in Hmong Noi.

We left by seven, refusing offers of breakfast. We had a few oranges left over and figured we could eat those and in a few hours, when we were back at our bungalow, we would indulge in a good breakfast.

I don't know about the plans of mice, but my plans quickly did go awry. Leslie had the forethought, against my insistence, of buying two liter-bottles of water for the trip. I thought we didn't need that much but she insisted. We were told to make sure we took the left trail when the path splits. The left one goes down, the right one goes up, we were reminded as we left. We gave the thumbs up, said our thanks, and marched our way right past the start of the trail. The boy ran after us to redirect our steps. We waved and were off again.

Twenty minutes later Leslie said, "I think this may be the left trail we should take." I did not agree. It wasn't really a fork, the right trail was going down as well, and there was a large stick across the trail usually meaning wrong way. We continued on. We found a fork, left path going down, the right going up. Through my fever I beamed with superiority and gave Leslie the 'told ya so' look. She shrugged her shoulders and as always, good naturedly walked on. And on and on.

The trail went down to a gully about an hour later, was steep and eroded, making for a very tedious and difficult descent. We crossed a stream and continued back up and around the mountain until we came to a woven reed symbol on the path with a sort of effigy burned underneath it. Think of the Blair Witch Project and you will understand what we saw. We had been warned of this sign. It means 'no trespassing' or we will boil and eat you. Or something like that. I sat down and hung my feverish head. We decided, either courageously or stupidly, to continue through anyway. We could see between the mountains to the valley where we needed to be. We continued skirting around the mountain through slash and burn farm land, all the while watching the valley far below us. Finally, hot, hungry and rationing water, we realized we couldn't get there from here. Leslie's path far back must have been the right way. She didn't gloat a bit, though she had earned the right.

We backtracked to that trail (mysteriously the dissuading stick was now gone) and eventually came to the bottom of the valley, where the trail seemed to end at a stream. I sat down to rest. Looking down the stream I noticed that a path skirted the bank a few meters and then plugged back into the stream. I got up and followed this. The trail emerged again farther up. I called to Leslie and we splashed downstream for half an hour. Leslie had a bad feeling. This didn't feel right, she said. We should have looked more carefully for the trail when we got to the river. Given my feverish condition and acquiescing to her previous navagatorial victory, I agreed to go back and look for a more seemingly appropriate path. We returned. We looked. There was no other alternative. Wading downstream was the only option. Back down we went, on and on, for hours. Now and again the trail would pick up out of the water and cross overland before plunging back it the stream. Hours later we got on land and stayed on dry trail.

We passed through an orchard and saw a man tending to the land. We made sign language to ask how far to Hah-sah-pey. Thirty minutes he told us. Great. The end is near, my pain nearly over. We finished the last of our rationed water under the hot afternoon sun. Half an hour. We trekked on. Fifteen minutes later we saw a shack near to the path. Leslie went to ask the residents if they had bottled water and how far we were from the village. No water... and thirty minutes. I hung may head and determined that Hah-sah-pey (now pronounced 'house of pain') was a geographical oddity and was half an hour from everywhere. Except Kew Khan of course. It is only an hour and a half from there.

At this point, due to fever, hunger and dehydration I lost track of time. We eventually came to the village. Our hour and half quick journey had taken us nine hours and not only had we missed breakfast, but we had missed lunch as well and it was nearing dinner time. Had we reversed our previous two day's walk it would only have taken us five hours.

We sought out a vendor and, finding one open in the busy school yard, we bought sodas and fruit drinks. They had no bottled water. Sitting on a bench in front of the vendor stand, we were surrounded by twenty or so tribal children staring at us with awe and curiosity. Leslie looked at the bottom of her pants. Having been wet from the long stream wade, they picked up a mass of dirt and debris half way up her calves. "I'm so dirty" she remarked through her exhaustion. I looked up at the children surrounding us, the filthiest little bodies I have ever seen in my life, and bust out in delirious laughter for about five minutes.

We got an hour longboat ride back down to Mueng Noi. Even through my exhaustion and illness I was impressed and amazed by the scenery of the river. The mountains with their jagged kirsks loomed over us in impenetrable might. Huge rock formations and mysterious caves remained half hidden by brush and water, tempting the daring to explore.

We passed canoes of village youth who tried unsuccessfully to keep up with our motorized longboat. A cold rain began to fall. I crouched into a ball to preserve my body heat. Eventually we were climbing the long stairs back to our bungalow and I immediately flopped onto the bed asleep.

My fever continued for the next few days as we rested and recovered. Feeling better but not in full recovery, we decided it was time to move on. We had one last place that we were excited to see before we journeyed back to Thailand.

Gallery: Nong Kiaw

thedukeoearl — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 23:07:00 GMT

Small village in Laos on River

Feb 5: On Safe Sex and Village Life

thedukeoearl — Mon, 5 Feb 2007 22:18:00 GMT

February 5-17, 2007

On Safe Sex and Village Life

Having had enough of urban living we took a bus north and east to the small village of Nong Kiaw. The most impressive aspect of this little village was the enormous concrete bridge that spans the Nam Ou River, rising hundreds of feet above the water during the current dry season. We enjoyed an evening beer standing on this quarter-kilometer long bridge and took pictures of the sunset. Or at least what little we could see of it through the constant ambient smoke from the slash and burn culture for which Laos is known. We also watched a very mangy and timid dog eat a pile of vomited rice from the road. It seemed a bit surreal to be there.

Two stories emerge when I think of our one night in Nong Kiaw. The night's accommodations and our visit to the caves. I'll start with the night.

We had settled for the first accommodation we saw. We were not picky as it was only for one night, had its own bathroom (nothing near as nice as what you are picturing -whatever that may be) and it was only $3 a night. Our hostess was a nice chubby old lady and we just couldn't say no. We later wished we had. The rooms were all lined in a row and the top of the connecting walls were open for ventilation. The walls were terribly thin and the open tops made all talking necessitate a whisper. Or so it would for a decent person. The room next door, late in the evening as we were settling down for a quiet night's read, became occupied by two Laotian men. They were loud and boisterous and soon we found out why. They had hired a prostitute for the night to share between them. The laughing and all the other noises that eventually came unmuffled into our room was what you would imagine. We finally fell asleep (simply because THEY finally fell asleep) and were again awaken to the mountain chill of the pre-dawn hours by happy singing and sounds of spanking and laughter and unnecessary banter. A yell in no amiable terms to the point of please be quiet escaped my grouchy morning mouth. Surprisingly they did quiet down a bit. We were glad to know that they practised safe sex but extremely unhappy to find this out by discovering later that they had tossed their used condom through the partition and sloppily onto our floor.

Story number two. Before taking off the next day for a boat ride to a village north of Nong Kiaw, we made a 45 minute walk to a series of caves that sounded interesting. For a dollar between the two of us we hired a guide of 15 years to show us the caves. He spoke little to no English but this, with a little help from the guidebook, is basically what we came to understand.

Between the years of 1964 and 1973, the USA's CIA turned the country of Laos into an undesignated battlefield, against the stipulation of the Geneva Accord of '62 which recognized the neutrality of Laos and forbade our military presence. North Vietnam did the same. The war in Laos was completely secret and there was not even a name for the operations and was referred to as the 'other theater' and air force and CIA agents were turned civilian to pretend to be legally present. The US had trained the Hmong villagers to fight the communist influence and the North Vietnamese were determined to destroy their centers of power. There were no rules of engagement as were found in Vietnam, so we could indeed bomb indiscriminately. In the nine years we were carrying on this secret war, we flew over half a million sorties, one and a half times the number in Vietnam. We dropped an average of one plane load of bombs every eight minutes, 24 hours a day for nine years at the cost to the US taxpayers of $2 million a day! By the end of the war, for every inhabitant in Laos we had dropped over a half-ton of ordinance . This does not even include all the herbicides and Agent Orange dumped on the country. Given all this information, Laotians remain the most relaxed, friendly and smiling people in all of Southeast Asia.

Heading to the caves we crossed a rickety bamboo footbridge and a few dry rice paddies. The first thing our guide pointed out was the craters left over from the bombing raids thirty years ago. We climbed up a long flight of wooden stairs and entered the mouth of the cave. This cave had been a safehouse for the Vietnamese during the war and it had areas labelled hospital and radio room. We were shocked to find out that at its peak this small cave housed 7,500 Vietnamese.

After walking and climbing through this cave, our guide took us on a seven or eight minute walk to another cave and we almost laughed when we saw the sign for the Luang Probang Bank. During the war the bank had moved its operations to this cave of deep and narrow passages, and going through it we tried to picture the working day of the bankers as we squeezed through the tight passes to rooms with signs denoting 'accountants office' and 'loan officer'. Imagine coming to a dirty bat-filled cave to make you daily deposit! (of course, there probably would not have been any bats at the time as the Laotians seem to have a large appetite for eating them!)

On the walk back we encountered several dozen school children laughing and talking as they walked down the road on some sort of unchapparoned field trip. What struck us as a little disconcerting was that every one of the children was wielding a long handled, long bladed knife -what passes for the local machete. I laughed as I thought how these boys probably got in trouble if they DIDN'T bring their knives to school. A big difference from our public schooling! A few of the boys stopped to ask for pens which we unfortunately could not produce. The boys skipped away and I was tempted to yell after them not to run with those knives.

A few hours later we and our bags were boarding a narrow longtail boat and heading up the river towards the unmotorized village of Mueng Noi Nua.

The river opened up to the most gorgeous scenery with hazy mountains surrounding the river and empty sand beaches lining the shore. Every now and then we would pass herds of grazing water buffalo that seemed indifferent to our presence. We passed several small thatched-roof villages and laughed while small naked children jumped from rocks into the river. At one point the river became swift with rapids and the boat pulled onto a beach. We walked up the shore a kilometer so that the unladen boat would not scrape the shallow rocks.

Mueng Noi itself was over a high bank up from the river ascending a very long flight of cement stairs. I found out later that in the rainy season the river is so high that the stars are completely covered. The village consists of one dirt street, a dozen or so guest houses, vendor stands, a few quiet restaurants and plenty of ducks and chickens. At one end of the village was a unobtrusively placed monastery, near the other end was a large football field. We saw a sign immediately at the top of the steps for a bungalow with use of hot water. Knowing this a rare commodity, we checked it out. The water was solar heated, best used in late afternoon and there were three simple bungalows and a restaurant with a large balconied patio on the bank looking down over the river. They had electricity but only between six and ten at night. We settled in for $2 a night and took a walk around the town.

For a few days we stayed quiet, reading books and enjoying the view from the restaurant. We had left our passports in Luang Probang to get an extension on our visas so Leslie, needing to take care of some business over the internet, took an overnight trip to the city while I continued practicing the recline position.

As soon as Leslie's boat got around the bend in the river, she reports that it started taking on water and sinking. They pulled to the shore and bailed the water out, but mutiny arose and the passengers refused to get back on the boat and demanded another. The driver refused and told them if they didn't want to go, they could walk back and pay again for the next day's ride. This was obviously not an option as there was no path through the dense jungle and the swim back across would be long and with swift current. Also, given Leslie's uncomfortability with water, it looked like getting back on the boat was the only option. It is a 45 minute journey down river back to Nong Kiaw. It took them more than five hours. They missed the connecting shuttle bus to Luang Probang. They all refused the seven hour boat trip continuing down to the city, so they piled into the back of an 8-person tuk tuk and, along with luggage and a floor full of rice sacks, they took off for the 4 hour journey back to the city. I think she said there were 19 people total in that tuk tuk. I was so thankful that I had not gone!

Feb 2-5: Luang Probang and Poop Salad

thedukeoearl — Mon, 5 Feb 2007 22:15:00 GMT

Luang Probang

February 2-5, 2007

Endive a la Poop

Some bus rides are just cozy and comfortable. The ride from Vang Vieng was definitely not one of these. After about eight hours and a long wait for repairs when our bus' brakes failed on the winding mountain road, we arrived in the Unesco World Heritage city of Luang Probang.

Luang Probang was a ghost town when the country opened its borders to tourism in 1989. Now it is a quiet but busy city that thrives on tourism and in that context, has gotten to be quite pricey by Laotian standards. To complain about two people paying $10/night for a small but nice room with private bath and hot water seems silly by standards back in the states, but we were not in the states and fumed a little about that being the cheapest place we could find. We accepted it, however, and stayed in this quaint little city for four nights. Much of our time here was spent on the internet uploading pictures to our web site. In the evenings Luang Probang's main street turned into a huge but sedate and gently lit night market. Many of the vendors were tribal women selling their hand-made wares. We were tempted to load up on souvenirs and gifts, but thinking of carrying them for the next few months dissuaded us.

Most of the restaurants in the city were expensive, so we were very happy to find a street buffet where you could pile up a plate with vegetarian food for a half-dollar. On one day we decided to hire a tuk-tuk with a few other travelers to take us on a forty-five minute drive to an enormous waterfall. The waterfall was indeed impressive and we hiked up the cascading levels. We even got to see a few bears and a tiger that lived in enclosures there. They had been saved as cubs from the poachers who had killed their parents. The tiger was especially awe-inspiring. The visit was great fun until we met up with our companions at the arranged time and discovered that our prepaid tuk-tuk driver had left us stranded. Fortunately we could catch rides with other tuk-tuks, but having to pay twice did make us grumble.

One second-hand story about Luang Probang had to do with the confluence of the two rivers that meet right at the city, the Nam Ou and the Mekong. The story was that just below this confluence was an enormous pipe extending from the city. From this pipe was streaming all the foul effluence of the city. The content's give-away was the bright pink toilet tissue commonly seen in this country. (That is, if you see any at all.) So if this stream of raw sewage going directly into the river were not a distasteful enough picture, the real groaner was the sight of a woman washing lettuce in the river just 200 meters downstream.