northern laos

A few days ago (last Thursday) I left Luang Prabang by boat and travelled north on the river to the small village of Nong Khiew. The journey was magnificient and took me through some of the most astonishing mountain scenary I've seen in Laos. The boat was a small blue longtail boat, and there were two drivers who took it in turns to steer. Arranged variously in the back of the boat were a Swedish couple, a Swiss teacher, me, three backpacks and a travel bag. It took us seven hours at an almost non-existent pace, but what a seven hours it was, and the sun was blazing.

There's not much to say about Nong Khiew. There's pretty much nothing there - a couple of holiday bungalows, a general store, a post office, and a local cave, which is the main tourist attraction.

I visited the cave very early the morning after I arrived. The Swedish couple who had travelled up with me also came along. When we reached the foot of the cave there was an admission booth requesting five thousand kip for entry. We paid the man by the booth the money, were given photocopied tickets, and went in, or rather began to climb up. The man then jumped on his moped and rode off into the distance.

The cave was interesting (it was used as a hideout during the Indo-China Conflict) but nothing to wet your pants over. After about twenty minutes we climbed back down. We got back to the ticket booth, and two women were sitting where the ticket man had been.

'Need ticket for cave,' the first of the two women said.

'We have tickets,' I said.

'No, need ticket,' she said again, thinking I had not understood her.

I showed her my ticket as proof. She looked confused. She then consulted with her friend and there was much scrutiny of the produced ticket.

'This not real ticket,' she said eventually.

We had been scammed by a local guy who had seen us coming (making it the second time I have been scammed in a week incidentally). An opportunist, he had posed as a tourist official, taken our money, and then legged it. It can't have been the first time he has done it as he had those pre-prepared tickets ready in his pocket. The women were nice and just took the tickets back. They asked us to describe the man who had charged us so that they could try to track him down, and give him a good kicking. We were not charged the admission again, and found the whole thing pretty funny.

We were back in the village by breakfast time, and I caught the 11am bus to Oudomxai. I say bus, it was a pick-up van of the sort generally favoured by self-employed builders in the UK. It was fitted with bench seats in the back and a tin roof on top. It was pretty uncomfortable. I arrived in Oudomxai, a quiet yet laid back spot which gets very little tourism, at around 3pm on Friday.

Once I had found a room I went for a wander around, and met a monk called, Monk Seewan. We got chatting, initially about Buddhism, and he asked me if I would come to his English class that evening to help teach the local students. I said I would love to and duly went along. I stayed at the school for two lessons, participating in the first, and then being in charge of the second. There were about forty-five teenagers in the first group and about fifteen in the second. They all seemed desperate to learn English, and were lovely lovely kids.

I really enjoyed myself, and was invited to dinner afterwards by the class teacher at his home. He said he wanted to say thank you for the help and also to ask me a favour. Intrigued I went back to his house and had dinner and a beer with his family. They live in a one room wooden shed with only three walls.

After I had finished my sticky rice and dried meat I asked what the favour was? It turned out he wanted me to translate the lyrics to 'I just called to say I love you' by Stevie Wonder, a favourite song of his, but a song to which he could not quite catch all the lyrics. I was happy to oblige and got on with it. He played his recording over and over again and I gradually scripted the words out on to a piece of paper: 'No New Year's Day, to celebrate, no chocolate coloured candy hearts to give away...' We wrapped up about midnight, the mystery solved, and then he ran me back to my hotel on his moped, still thanking me profusely.

It's one of the most interesting evenings I've had since I've been out here. I went to bed exhausted but satisfied I'd made the most of the day.

Next morning I headed out, and caught the bus further north. I arrived in Luang Nam Tha (my current location) at 3pm yesterday, and haven't really been very impressed by the place. There's nothing here, and there's not much atmosphere. I'll be happy enough to move on.

Tomorrow morning I leave, on what is reputed to be the worst road in Laos, to journey across to the northern border town of Huay Xai. From here I will cross back into Thailand. Once in Thailand I will begin making my way to Chang Mai, which I missed out on my earlier visit to Thailand, and from there I will go on to Myanmar (formerly Burma).

I have just read Meet Mr Mulliner by P. G. Wodehouse. It was very very funny but is written about a time that I find difficult to relate to: people having trouble with their butler in 1920s England doesn't really have much relevance to me and my life. Even so, I would definitely like to read more of Wodehouse's novels.