Ahhh...Muang Sing. What a lovely, sleepy little village right over the Chinese-Laos border. We arrived the afternoon of September 10th, via Luang Nam Tha. Keep in mind that in our border crossing, confused state, we neglected to make note (a correct note) of the time difference. Laos is an hour behind China...we believed it to be the other way around...making us two hours off. We found a sweet, rustic little guesthouse ran by an older Laos couple that served up tasty Laos delicacies. We were in heaven as we comfortably drifted off to sleep at 10 pm (actually 8).
The next morning we arose around 8 am (thinking it was 10 o'clock and that we had slumbered too long in order to get a good ogling at the nearby market). We opted to skip breakfast until later due to our tardiness, and make our way to the bargaining stalls. We jumped on some rented bicycles (a bit too small for the two of to say the least) and after some wrong turns down some bumpy dusty streets, found the market square. Albeit rather small, you could buy anything from traditional Laos dress, to baby powder, to a variety of entire animal carcasses. We made a leisure sweep of the grounds and were eventually, swooned, coaxed, or rather, pressured into buying an Akha (Lao Minority group) bracelet, and a couple of scarves. Even so, when we left, one woman vocalized her angst towards us because we hadn't purchased something of hers, as well. Although we don't understand Laotian, we still understood her sentiments. We had to get on our way before Elizabeth felt guilted into buying something else.
After returning to Thai Lu (our guesthouse) and having some sweet but strong Lao coffee, we felt that we should venture out on another bike excursion to some of the nearby villages about an hour ride outside of town. We were told that we needed to have our bikes back by 6:00 pm, and now that it was already 1:00 in the afternoon(actually 11:00 am), we needed to boogey. Away we went. We peddled passed school children and young monks on their way home for lunch. Actually, we should be honest, they were peddling past us. With the constant slight incline on our tiny little bikes, we began to laugh and wonder if our modes of transportation would adequately bare our weight until our final destination. Not moments after our twinge of skepticism, we found our turn off. We parked our bikes on the side of a little rode and spoke to a couple of local people who knew the nearby villages well. They informed us that the nearest village, the Akha village, was celebrating their New Year, and that it was one of their biggest annual celebrations. Extremely excited, we continued on by foot and soon came to the village gate (that we were told NOT to touch, or walk through, or risk extremely offending the villagers). Feeling very culturally sensitive, we made our way AROUND the gate into the village. Immediately we were approached by an older woman in traditional clothing (black headress adorned with round pearl-like beads and shiney coins), a knee-length black skirt with similar decoration, and a black criss-cross style sash around her upper body. She had some bananas in one hand, and soon Elizabeth's hand in the other as she quickly hurried us through town. A little village boy came running up to the two of us selling similar little bracelets to the one we had purchased at the market earlier that morning. He was so young and convincing, not to mention that his bracelet was quite nice, that Elizabeth purchased one from him only to meet a look of disapproval from her elder female companion. We realized a little later, this was because she had wanted to sell us some of her OWN bracelets and that's where we were being rushed off to. Moments later we were on the porch of her home (reached by climbing up a five or six foot ladder from the ground), surrounded by people of all ages. Some just wanted to look at us, and/or touch our hair, and a few others, yes, wanted to sell us bracelets. Obliged by our outsider-feeling on such a special day, we purchased a few more telling ourselves we could always give them to friends or fellow travelers. We were invited inside to have some food and drink but being that the home was full of many villagers, much older than us, we felt a bit intrusive, and politely declined.
We thought it was time for us to head to one of the other villages, but only found ourselves lost out in the middle of a rice field about twenty minutes later. So we decided to return to the Akha village. We came back, welcomed by many familiar smiles, and noticed some of the simple rope/wooden swings that were erected in front of each home. Apparently these are constructed only for the holiday and the family members spend 24 hours swinging on them until the New Year is over.
Just as we were about to exit, a young man came cruising in on his motorcycle (we were a bit surprised by his arrival), and he said, "Hey, have you come to celebrate the New Year?". One of the two of us said, "Yes", or "Kind of", or "We think so". He eagerly invited us into his friend's home that was full of people drinking Lao Lao...a very rough Laos whiskey...and we mean rough. Shot glasses were pressed into our hands, as well as some hot, crunchy, sticky rice that we were told (as our mouths were plumb full) was pounded into it's glutinous consistency by a pack of villagers stomping it with their feet. "Interesting...delicious!", we both said. The time was 5:30 (actually 3:30) and in our slightly buzzed state, we thought it best for us to get back on our bikes and head back to town. We asked our friend when he was planning on heading back to Muang Sing. "5:30", he stated. "But it's 5:30 NOW", we replied. Our friend looked shocked. "Well, maybe 7:00, then", was his answer. We invited our kind friend back to our guesthouse for a drink if he was interested, after he finished up with his celebrating, whenever that might be. We hopped on our bikes. While peddling past a group of bathing children, Elizabeth heard a "No, no!". Looking down, she noticed her front tire did not contain an ounce of air. We continued on while Elizabeth occasionally stopped to gesture to onlookers that her tire was flat. Lots of smiles and giggles. This was amusing, but it wasn't going to fix the tire. Eventually we came upon a young man who was just arriving home on a nice looking bike with nice full tires. He immediately came to the rescue and pumped the tire up. Lovely! The ride back home took about half the amount of time as it was a continual decline. It was sprinkling rain and the surroundings flying past us were a verdant green. We were having an excellent day! We got back just in time at 6:00 pm (it was really 4:00), and started thinking about some dinner. We were quite proud of ourselves, returning our bikes promptly at 6:00 pm. We looked around at the empty bicycle garage and whispered to eachother how inconsiderate all of these other travelers were, neglecting to return their bikes on time. We, on the other hand, were the responsible, considerate ones. This is when a kind French girl, after hearing our time mix-up, informed us of the two hour difference. Well, that explained a lot! We were a bit bummed we left the festivities early, but nevertheless, embraced our wonderful time. We sat around, chatted, and snacked, until our new friend, accompanied by a couple of girls on motorbikes, arrived from the Akha New Year's Party. We were invited to Karoake! We climbed onto the backs of their bikes, and sped away to a dark, little, room with 3 tables full of people, for even more New Year's fun.
