Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Revealing Hanoi
As I was battling my way through the insane motorcycle traffic of this crowded city I saw a man sitting on the steps of a building, eating what I think was a sandwhich. You see, I can't really remember exactly what he was eating though I'm sure he was eating something, because I was distracted by the fact that this man was completely naked. Yup! Not a shred of clothing on this man. His manner and position was not in any way shamed. He was sitting as if completely comfortable, with no intention of concealing one shred of his very naked body, as if he were fully clothed.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Holy Hanoi!
After spending a few days in the Laos capital, Vientienne, Darren and I boarded a flight with Laos Airlines to make our way to Hanoi!
Something however, went terribly wrong. No, this doesn't have to do with the fact that Laos Airlines has one of the worst fatality rates of all the Asian airlines (a very comforting fact). No! After about an hour of flying, we somehow landed in China. Yup. China all over again. We went from the lovely, oh so quiet and pleasant Laos, where the people are kind and happy to talk to you and help you whenever and however they can despite any language barriers; to, the loud talking, spitting, more-motorcycles-in-one-given-area-then-is-humanly-possible, consistent honking city of... well... look at that... it's not China, it's Hanoi! Could've fooled me!
But seriously, there are so many motorcycles here it's like watching panick stricken rats running through sewage tunnels trying to escape the oncoming floods-- except there are no floods, just some sort of innate need to get from point A to point B as fast as possible, even if that means riding on the sidewalks and running over small old ladies on their bicycles. There are so many motorcyclists here that instead of side-street vendors selling souvenirs, they sell helmets. Helmets that look like Nike baseball hats, Louis Vuitton patterned hats, with Mickey Mouse designs, etc. I've never seen such fashionable helmets before in my life. Neither have I ever seen so many men doubling on motorcycles in matching helmets!
After taking over an hour to make our way through the herds of motorists, we very confusedly got out of the airport shuttle with a bunch of other confused tourists, in the middle of a busy intersection, with absolutely no idea where we were. We did manage to find some street signs which were hiding behind trees, and other, more important banners and signs. Once we established which busy intersection we fighting off motorcycles on, we still had no idea where we were going. So we hopped in a taxi and asked him to take us to a hotel (some guy at the airport had given us a brochure for his hotel) and even the driver had no idea where he we were going. Our driver definitely pulled out his cell phone the minute we told him where we needed to go, saying something in Vietnemese, and I'm pretty sure he was asking for directions. Once we got to a one way street, he basically told us to get out and walk at which point we discovered that we were still several blocks from where we wanted to be. Trying to walk through these streets is insane. There are warnings and instructions in our guide book about crossing the streets here, the last effort being to just find a local and follow him across the street.
So. Here we are. Afraid to leave our hotel room and re-enter the mass insanity of the streets of the Old Quarter. Just hearing the honking seems to raise my stress levels. I know it's only been two or three months since we were last in China, but I've been spoiled since then with calm and tranquility. But I can't hide in my air conditioned hotel room, equipped with fridge and satellite television forever... or can I?
Something however, went terribly wrong. No, this doesn't have to do with the fact that Laos Airlines has one of the worst fatality rates of all the Asian airlines (a very comforting fact). No! After about an hour of flying, we somehow landed in China. Yup. China all over again. We went from the lovely, oh so quiet and pleasant Laos, where the people are kind and happy to talk to you and help you whenever and however they can despite any language barriers; to, the loud talking, spitting, more-motorcycles-in-one-given-area-then-is-humanly-possible, consistent honking city of... well... look at that... it's not China, it's Hanoi! Could've fooled me!
But seriously, there are so many motorcycles here it's like watching panick stricken rats running through sewage tunnels trying to escape the oncoming floods-- except there are no floods, just some sort of innate need to get from point A to point B as fast as possible, even if that means riding on the sidewalks and running over small old ladies on their bicycles. There are so many motorcyclists here that instead of side-street vendors selling souvenirs, they sell helmets. Helmets that look like Nike baseball hats, Louis Vuitton patterned hats, with Mickey Mouse designs, etc. I've never seen such fashionable helmets before in my life. Neither have I ever seen so many men doubling on motorcycles in matching helmets!
After taking over an hour to make our way through the herds of motorists, we very confusedly got out of the airport shuttle with a bunch of other confused tourists, in the middle of a busy intersection, with absolutely no idea where we were. We did manage to find some street signs which were hiding behind trees, and other, more important banners and signs. Once we established which busy intersection we fighting off motorcycles on, we still had no idea where we were going. So we hopped in a taxi and asked him to take us to a hotel (some guy at the airport had given us a brochure for his hotel) and even the driver had no idea where he we were going. Our driver definitely pulled out his cell phone the minute we told him where we needed to go, saying something in Vietnemese, and I'm pretty sure he was asking for directions. Once we got to a one way street, he basically told us to get out and walk at which point we discovered that we were still several blocks from where we wanted to be. Trying to walk through these streets is insane. There are warnings and instructions in our guide book about crossing the streets here, the last effort being to just find a local and follow him across the street.
So. Here we are. Afraid to leave our hotel room and re-enter the mass insanity of the streets of the Old Quarter. Just hearing the honking seems to raise my stress levels. I know it's only been two or three months since we were last in China, but I've been spoiled since then with calm and tranquility. But I can't hide in my air conditioned hotel room, equipped with fridge and satellite television forever... or can I?
Saturday, September 25, 2010
"In the Vang Vieng Laos Tubing "
It's definitely one of those places you could get stuck in, and in more ways than one. Darren and I didn't intend to spend a lot of time here, and yet we find ourselves almost rushing ourselves off to the next destination. We've definitely gotten comfortable here.
Vang Vieng, the infamous town for tubing down the bar laden river, has become somewhat tainted by the "falang" culture. It's unfortunate and, according to the locals we've spoken to, an undesired change in this once sleepy little village. However, a lot of people do profit from the craziness that goes on here. Without the "falangs" sure there would not be the endless noise, debauchery, or endless reruns of "Friends"; but neither would the bars, restaurants, tourist offices or street vendors exist either. So who knows. I didn't have the pleasure of experiencing Vang Vieng before the "falangs" so I can only judge the village's current state... and I must say, I quite like it.
Our first day we did nothing. The bus ride the night before was a bit of a bust, and it was hot and we thought we'd just be lazy. It was nice. Of course, "Go-Get'em-Andy" couldn't rest still for too long and spent the majority of our lazy day trying to convince us to go rock climbing with him bright and early at 9am the next morning. He has a way of making you feel a little bit guilty for "wasting" time and not "seizing the day". So we eventually caved in and opted for a day of physical effort.
The last, and only, time I went climbing I was probably about 12 years old on an indoor wall at the Crag for someone's birthday party. Since I have little to no recollection of what that was like I have always wanted to try proper climbing. I didn't not like it, but I didn't love it either. Now that I'm a few days from the experience, I can say that I enjoy'd myself. At the time, my response may have been a little different.
I came down with a bit of an upset stomach in the night and was feeling pretty tired and uncomfortable by the time we got to mountain face, and I was feeling pretty weak. That being said, regardless of whether or not I was sick, I still don't think I have the physical stamina for climbing. I also don't have the technique. Climbing is hard! It's a tough sport even when you're going pretty well, but the minute you get stuck and stop to try to find your holds or where to put you feet, you really start to feel it. Again, this is mostly because we weren't doing it properly; but, if it wasn't for Kong holding me up most of the time I don't think I would've successfully finished any of the climbs. Kong, our guide, was/is an amazing climber. Watching him crawl up those walls like a monkey is unreal. When I compare his climbs to ours it's just pathetic really. We (and by that I mean, I) probably looked like a poor, clumsy (enter name of creature who does not belong on a rock face), while Kong looked all skilled and graceful. Seriously a world of difference!
By the third or fourth climb, I was done. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and pass out. I got maybe 2 meters from the top and crapped out! Just below the top the rock face was pretty smooth. No more nice large edges and deep pockets to stand on and hold onto. I stood for a moment, searching, feeling my arms and my body shake, letting the panic creep in, and I forfeited. I told Kong to take me down, and despite the boys' persistent encouragement I wasn't going anywhere!
That night, I went to bed at 930 and slept for 12 hours!
The next morning, it was finally time to get to some tubing.
For many other travellers, tubing is a new and rare experience. For anyone who grew up in Canada or the west coast, you've probably done it before. Growing up, tubing down the river was a regular occurrence. So no, this wasn't my first time.
The two big differences between home and here however, are pink eye and bars. Apparently, a lot of people get pink eye (feces in the eyes) from the river. So far so good, but everyone has become a little paranoid I think. Certinaly, no one likes to think about it much either. But the bars! Oh the bars! The first three-quarters of the river is just lined with them. Even before you get into the water there are bars on either side of the starting point. It's crazy. Word of caution: intoxication and tubing = bad idea. A great money maker and a lot of fun, but hazardous! The bars do play fantastic music and it's nice to get out and dance, jump off a very high swing, and then get back in your tube just as the heat starts to stick and keep going until you hit the next bar. Tubing down the river was a blast. We did however, have a small incident (and this time Tanya it wasn't me!).
Our wonderful, enthusiastic friend Andy was a little too into the whole tubing and bar experience. Caution to the wind, he was literally jumping into his tube from the river bank. The first few times, this wasn't a problem, but it only took that one time and it became a problem. He jumped into his tube, not paying much attention to the giant rocks (limestone = sharp edges) sticking out of the shallow waters. He sliced open his elbow. We kept on floating and half way to the next stop his elbow was really bleeding. We got out and tried to patch him up with tissues and a "Bucket Bar" wrap but between the dehydration and blood loss, poor Andy hit the ground pretty hard! The guy working at the bar offered to take him to the tuktuk station by boat (we obviously weren't going to let him back in the water), and so he, Darren and Joe headed off to the hospital while Silvio and I floated down the rest of the river with our five tubes. The hospitals here have obviously seen their share of tubing accidents, but all I can pictures are expressions of "not another one" as Andy walked into the hospital with a red band with the words "Bucket Bar" on it tied around his wounded elbow!
Andy's fine. He got a few stitches and some antibiotics, and now he's got a river wound like everyone else. At least 1 out of 5 "falangs" that travel down that river are a testament to the hazardous combination of tubing and intoxication, but it's funny how the notion only becomes more popular. Andy even had elbow-injury company in the hospital in the form a blonde English girl.
So, no, this wasn't my first time tubing down a river, but tubing here is a whole different thing altogether. Especially since, in the rainy season (which it is now) it only takes about 1 hour to get down the river (even faster if it's recently rained, which it had), and it took us about 5 hours. If you do the math, you can easily see that you spend far more time dancing and tarzan swinging than you do tubing.
Well, with Andy stitched up, and our novelty tubing shirts, we're off to Vientienne tomorrow to organize our last month, in Vietnam.
Vang Vieng, the infamous town for tubing down the bar laden river, has become somewhat tainted by the "falang" culture. It's unfortunate and, according to the locals we've spoken to, an undesired change in this once sleepy little village. However, a lot of people do profit from the craziness that goes on here. Without the "falangs" sure there would not be the endless noise, debauchery, or endless reruns of "Friends"; but neither would the bars, restaurants, tourist offices or street vendors exist either. So who knows. I didn't have the pleasure of experiencing Vang Vieng before the "falangs" so I can only judge the village's current state... and I must say, I quite like it.
Our first day we did nothing. The bus ride the night before was a bit of a bust, and it was hot and we thought we'd just be lazy. It was nice. Of course, "Go-Get'em-Andy" couldn't rest still for too long and spent the majority of our lazy day trying to convince us to go rock climbing with him bright and early at 9am the next morning. He has a way of making you feel a little bit guilty for "wasting" time and not "seizing the day". So we eventually caved in and opted for a day of physical effort.
The last, and only, time I went climbing I was probably about 12 years old on an indoor wall at the Crag for someone's birthday party. Since I have little to no recollection of what that was like I have always wanted to try proper climbing. I didn't not like it, but I didn't love it either. Now that I'm a few days from the experience, I can say that I enjoy'd myself. At the time, my response may have been a little different.
I came down with a bit of an upset stomach in the night and was feeling pretty tired and uncomfortable by the time we got to mountain face, and I was feeling pretty weak. That being said, regardless of whether or not I was sick, I still don't think I have the physical stamina for climbing. I also don't have the technique. Climbing is hard! It's a tough sport even when you're going pretty well, but the minute you get stuck and stop to try to find your holds or where to put you feet, you really start to feel it. Again, this is mostly because we weren't doing it properly; but, if it wasn't for Kong holding me up most of the time I don't think I would've successfully finished any of the climbs. Kong, our guide, was/is an amazing climber. Watching him crawl up those walls like a monkey is unreal. When I compare his climbs to ours it's just pathetic really. We (and by that I mean, I) probably looked like a poor, clumsy (enter name of creature who does not belong on a rock face), while Kong looked all skilled and graceful. Seriously a world of difference!
By the third or fourth climb, I was done. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and pass out. I got maybe 2 meters from the top and crapped out! Just below the top the rock face was pretty smooth. No more nice large edges and deep pockets to stand on and hold onto. I stood for a moment, searching, feeling my arms and my body shake, letting the panic creep in, and I forfeited. I told Kong to take me down, and despite the boys' persistent encouragement I wasn't going anywhere!
That night, I went to bed at 930 and slept for 12 hours!
The next morning, it was finally time to get to some tubing.
For many other travellers, tubing is a new and rare experience. For anyone who grew up in Canada or the west coast, you've probably done it before. Growing up, tubing down the river was a regular occurrence. So no, this wasn't my first time.
The two big differences between home and here however, are pink eye and bars. Apparently, a lot of people get pink eye (feces in the eyes) from the river. So far so good, but everyone has become a little paranoid I think. Certinaly, no one likes to think about it much either. But the bars! Oh the bars! The first three-quarters of the river is just lined with them. Even before you get into the water there are bars on either side of the starting point. It's crazy. Word of caution: intoxication and tubing = bad idea. A great money maker and a lot of fun, but hazardous! The bars do play fantastic music and it's nice to get out and dance, jump off a very high swing, and then get back in your tube just as the heat starts to stick and keep going until you hit the next bar. Tubing down the river was a blast. We did however, have a small incident (and this time Tanya it wasn't me!).
Our wonderful, enthusiastic friend Andy was a little too into the whole tubing and bar experience. Caution to the wind, he was literally jumping into his tube from the river bank. The first few times, this wasn't a problem, but it only took that one time and it became a problem. He jumped into his tube, not paying much attention to the giant rocks (limestone = sharp edges) sticking out of the shallow waters. He sliced open his elbow. We kept on floating and half way to the next stop his elbow was really bleeding. We got out and tried to patch him up with tissues and a "Bucket Bar" wrap but between the dehydration and blood loss, poor Andy hit the ground pretty hard! The guy working at the bar offered to take him to the tuktuk station by boat (we obviously weren't going to let him back in the water), and so he, Darren and Joe headed off to the hospital while Silvio and I floated down the rest of the river with our five tubes. The hospitals here have obviously seen their share of tubing accidents, but all I can pictures are expressions of "not another one" as Andy walked into the hospital with a red band with the words "Bucket Bar" on it tied around his wounded elbow!
Andy's fine. He got a few stitches and some antibiotics, and now he's got a river wound like everyone else. At least 1 out of 5 "falangs" that travel down that river are a testament to the hazardous combination of tubing and intoxication, but it's funny how the notion only becomes more popular. Andy even had elbow-injury company in the hospital in the form a blonde English girl.
So, no, this wasn't my first time tubing down a river, but tubing here is a whole different thing altogether. Especially since, in the rainy season (which it is now) it only takes about 1 hour to get down the river (even faster if it's recently rained, which it had), and it took us about 5 hours. If you do the math, you can easily see that you spend far more time dancing and tarzan swinging than you do tubing.
Well, with Andy stitched up, and our novelty tubing shirts, we're off to Vientienne tomorrow to organize our last month, in Vietnam.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
On Laos-Time
I've been feeling extremely lazy (more so than usual) and the only thing I can think to explain it all is that, I'm on "Laos-Time". Laos-Time, if you haven't guessed it, is just a prolonged sense of the time the rest of the world seems to run on. If a Tuk Tuk driver tells you it'll take twenty minutes to get somewhere, you can generally expect that it'll probably take an hour. If a restaurant tells you they can prepare your meal in ten minutes, what they really mean is 30. Just like when our bus out of Luang Prabang was supposed to be 6 hours, but was actually 8. So this is the way my mind and body have begun to function. Time therefor, has more or less become irrelevant.
When we were in the jungle, trekking, Laos-Time was less apparent. We got up with the sun and the gibbons and always seemed to have a schedule (if not totally monitored by a clock). In Muang Noi, this was not the case, though the generators always let you know what time of day it was. In Luang Prabang, we lost any sense of time all together.
Our first day in Luang Prabang we walked up the 286 some odd steps to the top of the Phusi temple to watch the sunset. (Andy's motto in life is the infamous carpe diem and is good at urging us into activity no matter how long we've just spent in a hard wooden boat.) From there we wandered into the night market (which couldn't be helped since it lines the streets at the base of the hill), and found ourselves some dinner at the local food market. It's a pretty genius place. You can get bbq fish, chicken, sausage or pork (for about 15,000 kip = $2) and a large plate of buffet style vegetable dishes for 10,000 kip = $1.25. All the times we went I don't think Darren and I ever managed to finish a meal, and we always shared the plate of vegetables. After dinner, we headed to a trendy little bar/lounge called "Utopia" where we were supposed to meet up with a bunch of other people from Muang Noi. People slowly drifted in (they were all on Laos-Time too) and by the end of the night we had sort of overrun the place. It was a little expensive but a really great little bar.
Thanks to our new friend Mike (from Sydney) we also got wind of a great little bakery/cafe called "Arthouse Cafe", owned by a Canadian woman, that has the best breakfasts at a great value. Fruit salad, a bagel with cream cheese and refillable Laos coffee for 25,000 kip = $3. We went there everyday, and everday breakfast would take us at least an hour, most times longer. It's one of the only places in all our travels thus far where they will refill your coffee for free. Everywhere else is more like Starbucks or Tim Hortons--if yo want more than one cup you have to pay for it. So we often sat talking, long after our meals were finished, just drinking our delicious cups of Laos coffee (and taking advantage of the cafe's air con).
Despite our inclination to do nothing, we did head to a waterfall on our second day (Andy was a factor in the planning and getting us motivated of course). I think it was the Tad Sae waterfall. It was absolutely beautiful. It was the hottest day we'd experienced yet (in Laos) and was absolutely perfect. The waterfall pools in teers down the mountain. At the bottom there is a park-like set up with picnic tables and changerooms, but we started by climbing right to the top and going for a dip with not a soul in sight. It was amazing and the water was so refreshing.
After a lazy day at the falls, we headed into town and began our ritual of walking through the night market, eating and walking back. A good chunk of our time in Luang Prabang was spent eating and talking and doing a bit of nothing (no wonder I love the place so much). The city was suprisingly quiet (because of the low season apparently) and the market was almost bare. It was so peaceful, everyday and everywhere you went.
Continuing on our quest for relaxation, our last night in town, Darren and I went for the best massages! Anisa, a girl from New Mexico, had a 3 hour massage earlier that day; consisting of, a 10 minute hot shower, 1 hour aromatherapy massage, 1 hour facial, and 50 minutes reflexology massage. I checked it out, and this 3 hour package was 150,000 kip = not even $20. We didn't have quite that much time, so Darren got a 1 hour full body traditiona massage (40,000 kip = $5) and I got a 1 hour facial (60,000 kip = $8). The facial was amazing. She started with some sort of cream cleanser, then an herbal scrub, then warm honey, some other sort of cream, then a tightening mask, taking her time to massage all of these things into my skin one by one. During my 1 hour, she also massaged both my arms and hands, my feet, and even spent a few minutes on my neck, shoulders and upper back. I almost felt light headed afterwards, I was so relaxed. Darren and I closed the place down, went back to our guesthouse and slept like babies! I wish massages were this good and this cheap back home!
Anyway, not a lot to tell. We're on Laos-Time. We're in Vang Vieng now, the infamous tubing destination of Laos and will get to doing something eventually. Other than breakfast and switching guesthouses (bed bugs :S) we haven't done a thing. We'll probably grab lunch at a restaurant which runs "Friends" episodes non-stop, all day, and then evenutally eat dinner; but, that will likely be as exciting as today gets. Don't worry though, we're not staying here for too long and I do want to go tubing (of course), see some caves, and we'll possibly go rock climbing as well. So Laos-Tme or not, things will pick up. Keep checking in!
When we were in the jungle, trekking, Laos-Time was less apparent. We got up with the sun and the gibbons and always seemed to have a schedule (if not totally monitored by a clock). In Muang Noi, this was not the case, though the generators always let you know what time of day it was. In Luang Prabang, we lost any sense of time all together.
Our first day in Luang Prabang we walked up the 286 some odd steps to the top of the Phusi temple to watch the sunset. (Andy's motto in life is the infamous carpe diem and is good at urging us into activity no matter how long we've just spent in a hard wooden boat.) From there we wandered into the night market (which couldn't be helped since it lines the streets at the base of the hill), and found ourselves some dinner at the local food market. It's a pretty genius place. You can get bbq fish, chicken, sausage or pork (for about 15,000 kip = $2) and a large plate of buffet style vegetable dishes for 10,000 kip = $1.25. All the times we went I don't think Darren and I ever managed to finish a meal, and we always shared the plate of vegetables. After dinner, we headed to a trendy little bar/lounge called "Utopia" where we were supposed to meet up with a bunch of other people from Muang Noi. People slowly drifted in (they were all on Laos-Time too) and by the end of the night we had sort of overrun the place. It was a little expensive but a really great little bar.
Thanks to our new friend Mike (from Sydney) we also got wind of a great little bakery/cafe called "Arthouse Cafe", owned by a Canadian woman, that has the best breakfasts at a great value. Fruit salad, a bagel with cream cheese and refillable Laos coffee for 25,000 kip = $3. We went there everyday, and everday breakfast would take us at least an hour, most times longer. It's one of the only places in all our travels thus far where they will refill your coffee for free. Everywhere else is more like Starbucks or Tim Hortons--if yo want more than one cup you have to pay for it. So we often sat talking, long after our meals were finished, just drinking our delicious cups of Laos coffee (and taking advantage of the cafe's air con).
Despite our inclination to do nothing, we did head to a waterfall on our second day (Andy was a factor in the planning and getting us motivated of course). I think it was the Tad Sae waterfall. It was absolutely beautiful. It was the hottest day we'd experienced yet (in Laos) and was absolutely perfect. The waterfall pools in teers down the mountain. At the bottom there is a park-like set up with picnic tables and changerooms, but we started by climbing right to the top and going for a dip with not a soul in sight. It was amazing and the water was so refreshing.
After a lazy day at the falls, we headed into town and began our ritual of walking through the night market, eating and walking back. A good chunk of our time in Luang Prabang was spent eating and talking and doing a bit of nothing (no wonder I love the place so much). The city was suprisingly quiet (because of the low season apparently) and the market was almost bare. It was so peaceful, everyday and everywhere you went.
Continuing on our quest for relaxation, our last night in town, Darren and I went for the best massages! Anisa, a girl from New Mexico, had a 3 hour massage earlier that day; consisting of, a 10 minute hot shower, 1 hour aromatherapy massage, 1 hour facial, and 50 minutes reflexology massage. I checked it out, and this 3 hour package was 150,000 kip = not even $20. We didn't have quite that much time, so Darren got a 1 hour full body traditiona massage (40,000 kip = $5) and I got a 1 hour facial (60,000 kip = $8). The facial was amazing. She started with some sort of cream cleanser, then an herbal scrub, then warm honey, some other sort of cream, then a tightening mask, taking her time to massage all of these things into my skin one by one. During my 1 hour, she also massaged both my arms and hands, my feet, and even spent a few minutes on my neck, shoulders and upper back. I almost felt light headed afterwards, I was so relaxed. Darren and I closed the place down, went back to our guesthouse and slept like babies! I wish massages were this good and this cheap back home!
Anyway, not a lot to tell. We're on Laos-Time. We're in Vang Vieng now, the infamous tubing destination of Laos and will get to doing something eventually. Other than breakfast and switching guesthouses (bed bugs :S) we haven't done a thing. We'll probably grab lunch at a restaurant which runs "Friends" episodes non-stop, all day, and then evenutally eat dinner; but, that will likely be as exciting as today gets. Don't worry though, we're not staying here for too long and I do want to go tubing (of course), see some caves, and we'll possibly go rock climbing as well. So Laos-Tme or not, things will pick up. Keep checking in!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Always and Forever
As I mentioned, yesterday was a pretty fantastic day. I had already decided that Muang Ngoi is a place I will always remember, for its peace, its beauty and for its people. I love the Lao people. They are some of the kindest people I’ve met in SE Asia. They don’t yell. They don’t seem vulgar in any way. If you say hello or offer a greeting they will almost always return it. They live simply and peacefully, making babies with due diligence (there are children EVERYWHERE), and the people are beautiful—men and women, adults and children. They are all beautiful, gentle people.
Muang Ngoi is just a small village on the riverside, only reachable by boat, where the generators only come on from about 7pm to 10pm. The food available depends on what they’ve received from the nearest town/market recently, and only what they can keep fresh on blocks of melting ice. Life is simple here. You come to appreciate the stillness, the silence, and the lack of electronic-associated stimuli. Last night however, something else occurred which will leave Muang Ngoi forever imprinted in my memories.
It ended up being a pretty quiet night. I think we were all pretty tired from the physical excursion of floating and tubing down the river. (Obviously, it wasn’t exhausting at all, but somehow none of us were too inclined to do much more than sit around.) Darren and I had a light, late dinner, sat around and talked with our new friend Caitlyn, and then he went to go spend some time with the boys and Caitlyn and I took the opportunity to have a little girl chat.
Once the sleep set in, I left Caitlyn to her hammock and went to begin reading the book I had just picked up (the infamous Eat, Pray, Love) while waiting for Darren to come to bed. Only three or so chapters in and Darren came back. The generators had been turned off and there was no light, anywhere. We were lying in bed in our riverside bungalow when he said, “If I asked you to marry me would you say yes?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked me a question like this and I replied, “Of course” but didn’t think much of it. So, when a moment later he said those simple words, “Will you marry me?” I almost thought he was kidding. I was taken off guard, but managed a “Yes” regardless. He told me that countless opportunities have presented themselves over the past few months (especially on the sunset beaches of Malaysia) but he didn’t ask then because he didn’t have a ring. He told me he was sorry because he still didn’t have a ring, but he couldn’t wait anymore. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t fancy. There were no bells or whistles, no candlelit dinner or moonlit walk on the beach. He didn’t get down on one knee and I don’t have the most romantic, spectacular story to tell all my friends, but it was perfect. It was as I had always imagined it. Just the two of us. Lying in bed. Happy.
So, there it is. After six years, it has finally happened—simple and just as it was always meant to. Once we’re back in the real world with an income, we’ll worry about a ring and all the other formalities. But until then, it’s official. I even double checked this morning. We’re engaged!
Muang Ngoi is just a small village on the riverside, only reachable by boat, where the generators only come on from about 7pm to 10pm. The food available depends on what they’ve received from the nearest town/market recently, and only what they can keep fresh on blocks of melting ice. Life is simple here. You come to appreciate the stillness, the silence, and the lack of electronic-associated stimuli. Last night however, something else occurred which will leave Muang Ngoi forever imprinted in my memories.
It ended up being a pretty quiet night. I think we were all pretty tired from the physical excursion of floating and tubing down the river. (Obviously, it wasn’t exhausting at all, but somehow none of us were too inclined to do much more than sit around.) Darren and I had a light, late dinner, sat around and talked with our new friend Caitlyn, and then he went to go spend some time with the boys and Caitlyn and I took the opportunity to have a little girl chat.
Once the sleep set in, I left Caitlyn to her hammock and went to begin reading the book I had just picked up (the infamous Eat, Pray, Love) while waiting for Darren to come to bed. Only three or so chapters in and Darren came back. The generators had been turned off and there was no light, anywhere. We were lying in bed in our riverside bungalow when he said, “If I asked you to marry me would you say yes?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked me a question like this and I replied, “Of course” but didn’t think much of it. So, when a moment later he said those simple words, “Will you marry me?” I almost thought he was kidding. I was taken off guard, but managed a “Yes” regardless. He told me that countless opportunities have presented themselves over the past few months (especially on the sunset beaches of Malaysia) but he didn’t ask then because he didn’t have a ring. He told me he was sorry because he still didn’t have a ring, but he couldn’t wait anymore. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t fancy. There were no bells or whistles, no candlelit dinner or moonlit walk on the beach. He didn’t get down on one knee and I don’t have the most romantic, spectacular story to tell all my friends, but it was perfect. It was as I had always imagined it. Just the two of us. Lying in bed. Happy.
So, there it is. After six years, it has finally happened—simple and just as it was always meant to. Once we’re back in the real world with an income, we’ll worry about a ring and all the other formalities. But until then, it’s official. I even double checked this morning. We’re engaged!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Up The River
Okay, so technically we went down the river before going up the river. After the Gibbon Experience Darren, myself, and our adopted Swiss Andy, all jumped into a large long-tail boat to make the infamous journey down river to Luang Prabang. It was a beautiful boat ride taking about two days (6-7 hours the first day and 7-8 hours the second day). The alternative to taking the boat is to go by bus, on roads that are not very reliable, for 16 hours. Travelling by boat on river is wonderful! It may take an extra day but it’s such a relaxing day that you can’t really complain.
After spending one night in Pak Beng, we spent one night in Luang Prabang before leaving the Mekong and taking a bus to Nong Khiaw. Now, after just arguing for the boat over a bus it seems strange that we would then take the bus instead of the boat to Nong Khiaw. We though that since the trip to Nong Khiaw is up river it would be wiser to take the bus. Always go with your first instinct. Take the boat! The bus wasn’t actually a bus, it was a sawngthaew (which literally means two rows), a pick up truck with a canopy and two benches in the back. There were approximately ten of us squished into the back of that sawngthaew. Take the boat!
Once we got to Nong Khiaw, we did eventually take the boat. We went up the Nam Ou river for about an hour to the village of Muang Ngoi. You can only get to the village by boat and it’s absolutely wonderful. All that’s really here are some locals, their guesthouses, and a monastery. It’s such a beautiful, peaceful place on the river that it’s sort of hard to leave. Although it’s been raining a lot, a covered hammock right on your front porch overlooking the river makes up for the lack of sunshine. (At this very moment, I’m laying in said hammock writing this blog and watching a lightening storm brew in the distance).
The river and the village has quite a bit to offer. Today, we took a boat up river to a couple of the minority villages. The first village seemed a little put off by our presence. It was a cheap tour and no one accompanied us into the village and so we arrived to aimlessly wander and observe. I felt a little bit like I had been dropped off at a zoo. Not because the people were like animals, but because I felt like I was imposing on their village to just watch and stare at them. While I was extremely interested in observing their culture, I usually prefer to do so by taking part in it, not just walking around staring. That being said, it was a lot of fun playing with and watching the children. There are so many kids here in Laos, especially in the villages. Kids are everywhere, and they do everything. Most of the time you’ll see six or seven year old girl with a three month old baby on her hip. Today, we also saw a nine year old girl washing laundry, including the clothes on her back. Everyone takes part. Everyone works, no matter how old or young you are. It’s astonishing and fascinating. The second village we went to is known as the “weavers” village. All the women weave their own textiles and scarves to sell to the tourists who come through their villages. Again, even the children take part in the weaving and selling to help support their community. Some of the younger kids just run around butt-naked. When we first passed the area there were a bunch of children seemingly bathing in the river. When we left that same area there were two naked boys paddling around in a canoe. Oh! To be so free! Ha ha ha!
With lots of karst mountains there are apparently a lot of caves in the area as well. After the village we took a short, albeit muddy walk to one of the local caves. The guide didn’t even seem to know how to get there and I don’t think it’s one of the more popular caves but it was pretty cool. It wasn’t a long or deep cave, but crawling down into a dark hole is definitely a little nerve racking, and the stalactites were very interesting.
Most of us made our way back down the river on tubes. It was raining (of course) and a little cold, but very relaxing. Once it stopped raining and warmed up, it was perfect. In fact, after we finished tubing, there was the biggest patch of blue sky any of us have seen in over a week. We all even got a bit of a tan! Drinking coffee and sipping beers at the cozy Riverside restaurant, watching the sun go down was the perfect way to end a pretty great day.
After spending one night in Pak Beng, we spent one night in Luang Prabang before leaving the Mekong and taking a bus to Nong Khiaw. Now, after just arguing for the boat over a bus it seems strange that we would then take the bus instead of the boat to Nong Khiaw. We though that since the trip to Nong Khiaw is up river it would be wiser to take the bus. Always go with your first instinct. Take the boat! The bus wasn’t actually a bus, it was a sawngthaew (which literally means two rows), a pick up truck with a canopy and two benches in the back. There were approximately ten of us squished into the back of that sawngthaew. Take the boat!
Once we got to Nong Khiaw, we did eventually take the boat. We went up the Nam Ou river for about an hour to the village of Muang Ngoi. You can only get to the village by boat and it’s absolutely wonderful. All that’s really here are some locals, their guesthouses, and a monastery. It’s such a beautiful, peaceful place on the river that it’s sort of hard to leave. Although it’s been raining a lot, a covered hammock right on your front porch overlooking the river makes up for the lack of sunshine. (At this very moment, I’m laying in said hammock writing this blog and watching a lightening storm brew in the distance).
The river and the village has quite a bit to offer. Today, we took a boat up river to a couple of the minority villages. The first village seemed a little put off by our presence. It was a cheap tour and no one accompanied us into the village and so we arrived to aimlessly wander and observe. I felt a little bit like I had been dropped off at a zoo. Not because the people were like animals, but because I felt like I was imposing on their village to just watch and stare at them. While I was extremely interested in observing their culture, I usually prefer to do so by taking part in it, not just walking around staring. That being said, it was a lot of fun playing with and watching the children. There are so many kids here in Laos, especially in the villages. Kids are everywhere, and they do everything. Most of the time you’ll see six or seven year old girl with a three month old baby on her hip. Today, we also saw a nine year old girl washing laundry, including the clothes on her back. Everyone takes part. Everyone works, no matter how old or young you are. It’s astonishing and fascinating. The second village we went to is known as the “weavers” village. All the women weave their own textiles and scarves to sell to the tourists who come through their villages. Again, even the children take part in the weaving and selling to help support their community. Some of the younger kids just run around butt-naked. When we first passed the area there were a bunch of children seemingly bathing in the river. When we left that same area there were two naked boys paddling around in a canoe. Oh! To be so free! Ha ha ha!
With lots of karst mountains there are apparently a lot of caves in the area as well. After the village we took a short, albeit muddy walk to one of the local caves. The guide didn’t even seem to know how to get there and I don’t think it’s one of the more popular caves but it was pretty cool. It wasn’t a long or deep cave, but crawling down into a dark hole is definitely a little nerve racking, and the stalactites were very interesting.
Most of us made our way back down the river on tubes. It was raining (of course) and a little cold, but very relaxing. Once it stopped raining and warmed up, it was perfect. In fact, after we finished tubing, there was the biggest patch of blue sky any of us have seen in over a week. We all even got a bit of a tan! Drinking coffee and sipping beers at the cozy Riverside restaurant, watching the sun go down was the perfect way to end a pretty great day.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The Experience
Well, it finally happened. The long awaited and much anticipated 3 day trek including zip line and tree houses has finally occurred! Yes, the Gibbon Experience, and what an experience it was.
For those of you who haven’t already heard us talk about it time and time again, the Gibbon Experience is a jungle trek in which you trek through the jungle, on foot as well as with the use of zip lines a couple hundred meters high, and spend your nights in tree houses. We first heard of the experience from one of Darren’s friends, and though expensive, it immediately became one of the top things to do on our trip.
So. Yes. The infamous experience.
We set out around 9 in the morning after a brief safety and instructional video at the Gibbon Experience office. There, we also met up with the rest of the people to be in our group. There were ten of us in total (which is quite a bit for the low season, the max being twelve): 3 Dutch girls, 1 Australian, 1 Kiwi, 1 American, 1 Brit, and 1 Swiss (and the two of us of course). We met Andy, the Swiss, the day before and since he was travelling alone we more or less “adopted” him. All of us piled into two vehicles and made the two hour drive to the river.
There was some concern as to how far we would actually be able to drive the first day. We were told that if it rained too much and the road conditions were too poor that we could have to hike up to 11 hours to the village where we were meant to be starting. After driving on paved roads for the first two hours we didn’t think there would be any problems at all getting into the village. When we were all loaded into the truck we were taken by surprise when the truck did not continue straight on the paved road but instead turned down a very rough looking mud road towards the river. We were taken even more by surprise when the truck began to drive through the river. Ya! We suddenly began to understand why the rain could make such an impact.
Immediately following the river was another hill. We all had to get out so the truck could get up the hill, and then pile back in and continue. There were many hills, some of which looked like they had entire creeks running through them, and there were plenty of times when we didn’t think the truck could make it up. Every time the driver stopped (whether to change gears or tighten the bolts on the tires) we always thought that it meant that we had to start walking. After making it up several nerve racking hills however, we were eventually kicked out of the truck about an hour away from the village. That last hour was almost entirely downhill, but the truck had spun its tires so bad in the mud that it just couldn’t continue.
We made it to the first village relatively easily. We stocked up on a few things (snacks, beer, etc) and started our trek into the jungle and out to the tree houses. We began by crossing yet another river, but this time by foot.
May I take this opportunity to point out that every day that we’ve been in Laos, it has rained, and the Gibbon Experience is no exception. It was muddy! So! So muddy! (For the entire 3 days, all trekking consisted of routine stops to check ourselves for leeches!)
Soaking wet, we made it safely to the “kitchen” (more or less the headquarters of the Experience out in the jungle). There, we were harnessed up and told to take a picture of the map in case we got lost. We were quickly briefed on what the next few days would entailed, introduced to our guides and off again into the rain.
Our first zip!
The first zip we took was amazing. It wasn’t incredibly long but the way it was hung and what with the rain, it was quite fast. We were told to break hard. A few of us had some troubles with the breaking system. Our first zip: Auria vs. The Tree. The Tree won. For the life of me I couldn’t stop. Jaa Lee (our guide) was yelling, “Break! Break!” I gave it everything I had but it was no good. So I stuck up my feet intending to let my legs, rather than my face, absorb the impact but the tree still managed to wound me. Not badly of course. Because of all the mud on my shoes and the speed which I was travelling, as soon as my feet hit the tree the slid right off onto either side and I managed to do a decent number on my shin. Not bad but enough to draw blood. The zip itself was such a blast that my horrible landing did not defer me in the least.
I think we did one more zip after that and then one zip into our tree house. We lucked out with our tree house for sure! Because the group was so large we had to be split up into two groups—one group of four to stay at Tree House 3 (one of the older and smaller tree houses) and one group of six to stay at Tree House 7 (the newer and larger tree house). It may have been my suggestion but it also made sense; because Darren and I had adopted Andy we were a group of three, and it only made sense to put the two groups of three together and thus volunteering Darren and myself along with the other for Tree House 7.
It was beautiful! Words, and maybe even pictures, can not describe how amazing this place was. Let me start from the ground up. This tree is almost 200 meters tall. The tree house itself is probably about 150 m from the jungle floor. You zip-line into the lowest level of the tree house. To your right is a slightly crooked shoe rack. To your left is the staircase to the main level. Across from where you zip in is the washroom. I want one! The first thing you see when you walk into the bathroom is an amazing view! You’re looking out into and over the jungle and the mountains and it’s absolutely breath taking. The toilet is a squat toilet, but who cares when you have such a beautiful view. The shower is amazing and hovers over a slat-wood floor, and there is something amazingly thrilling and peaceful and rejuvenating about showering naked in clean cool water overlooking such a lush forest. (I can easily say that the shower is my favourite part of the tree house). On the main level there is a large, low table where we all eat; a small kitchenette consisting of a few shelves (built into the tree), a sink, and a fridge; two hammocks; and, two sleeping areas. We slept on two to three mats spread out on the ground with a cloth canopy/mosquito net suspended above us. And of course, there is an amazing 360 degree view of the jungle! There is also an upper level in Tree House 7 (the other tree houses only had one floor) with just enough room for a small sleeping area and a hammock. The view from the top floor was amazing but slightly obstructed by branches; that being said, it made the top floor seem a little more private and secluded. Darren and I being the only couple, we were elected to take the top floor and we had no arguments about it!
We were to spend the rest of our day just settling into our tree house and around 5pm dinner was zipped in from the kitchen nearby, along with hot water for tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. The meals were simple, but delicious and were followed by local fresh fruits and snacks.
The nights and the mornings were early. The sun went down just before seven and with no electricity it was hard to stay up very late. The six of us rigged our head lamps around the tree house and played cards until talked and laughed until about ten. Then, we all fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and crickets in the trees. Some people are bothered by the noise and say that it’s too loud, but the six of us found it rather peaceful. The following morning we woke up bright and early to the sounds of Gibbons singing off in the distance. Their calls are both eery and peaceful. They were too far away to see them but we were hopeful knowing they were in the area.
We spent that afternoon trekking and zipping over to tree house 3 (where the other group stayed) and then trekking and zipping over to tree house 5 where we met up with the other group for lunch. We were all a bit miserable and wet. I was bleeding quite a bit from my foot where a leech had clearly had a nice lunch! The rain seemed to have subsided on the way back and we all took liberties with a nice little loop of zip-lines and just kept going over and over and over again! It was so much fun. It had actually stopped raining for most of the time that we were zipping, but even when it did rain lightly, when you’re zipping, it’s all good! It’s the walk back in ankle deep mud that isn’t so great.
We were definitely wet, muddy and exhausted by the time we got back to the tree house and it was all we could do much look forward to a beautiful shower and a nice hot cup of coffee. All cleaned up and refreshed, we were served dinner, and once again spent the night playing cards and listening to the sounds of the jungle at night.
While our array of head lamps did well to light up our tree house, as you all know, lights also attract a series of bugs. The first night a very large beetle (easily the size of Twinkie) flew into my shoulder, and on this second night a very large bee flew into our tree house (probably the size of my thumb). We were all freaking out, until finally it landed on the table and we caught it under a mug… and there we left it. I had actually completely forgotten about it until I heard that in the morning our guide accidentally found it as he was tidying up for breakfast. Oops! Apparently he whacked it with a broom.
On the third day, we again woke up to the sounds of the Gibbons singing in the trees. This time, they weren’t too far away to see. With the naked eye you could only make out the movement in the trees, but thankfully, Tree House 7 came equipped with a telescope. For about a half hour we took turns watching the Gibbons swing from tree to tree and and listening to their strange calls. It was pretty amazing and was definitely the icing on the cake. Later that morning, Tree House 3 came over to Tree House 7 for breakfast. The rest of the afternoon consisted of trekking back to the rest of the world, but not before stopping to do a few rounds on the zip lines. It was so much fun, but again, I didn’t do well with the breaking system. I got into a bit of a tiff with one of the cables when I was going to fast and couldn’t stop. My clamp hit on of the bolts and caused a small cable burn on my arm (no big deal, it’s almost completely gone already).
The rest of the trip was wet of course, and we were muddy, but this made crossing the river that much more of a welcomed necessity! We all took advantage of the opportunity to wash the mud off our shoes and our legs… maybe we jinxed ourselves.
We had to walk a ways to the truck, which was all up hill and we were exhausted. The sun had come out a bit and it wasn’t too muddy… but then… then the rains came. At least half a dozen times we all had to get out of the truck and help push it up the muddied slopes. At one point, we even had to just wait until the rain stopped because there was no way the truck would make it so long as the ruts were running with water. I somehow ended up behind a tire every time I tried to push and I had mud in my hair, and my ears, on my face and all over my clothes. One of the actual creators of the Gibbon Experience (a French guy) was with our group for the trip back to Huay Xai and when we reached the river he put his pants in the boat and walked across, stripping down to his underwear as he went and taking a little bath. Covered in mud, we all thought this looked like a pretty good idea, and while we didn’t strip down, we did opt for walking across rather than taking the boat, and it felt fantastic.
In the end, we were exhausted, wet and dirty, but would do the experience again in a heartbeat. It probably would’ve been better without all the rain but the experience was definitely incomparable. The zip lining was amazing. The tree house was fantastic, and waking up to the sounds of Gibbons in the morning and watching them swing amidst the trees is priceless.
The one and only disappointment of the trip (and it’s kind of a big one) is that the video camera, which we bought expressly for the purpose of this experience, went missing no more than an hour before we left. Darren had put it down to take off his shoes and forgotten it on the lower level of the tree house. One of the girls had seen it when she zipped in the following morning and it was not there when we left an hour later. We searched the ground beneath the tree house and asked everyone in both groups. So far, the camera is still MIA. We exchanged info with the office and are hoping that once we’re back in internet territory we’ll know if they’ve found anything. Besides the fact that video is the only way to really capture the feel of the zip lining, the worst part of having lost the camera is that we had not backed up or downloaded any of our other videos. The pandas, the tigers, the beaches. All of it was still on the video camera. So sorry if words and pictures can’t do justice to the experience of flying through the trees and over the jungle. Hopefully the camera will turn up soon! (Still no word on the camera and it's been about a week!)
For those of you who haven’t already heard us talk about it time and time again, the Gibbon Experience is a jungle trek in which you trek through the jungle, on foot as well as with the use of zip lines a couple hundred meters high, and spend your nights in tree houses. We first heard of the experience from one of Darren’s friends, and though expensive, it immediately became one of the top things to do on our trip.
So. Yes. The infamous experience.
We set out around 9 in the morning after a brief safety and instructional video at the Gibbon Experience office. There, we also met up with the rest of the people to be in our group. There were ten of us in total (which is quite a bit for the low season, the max being twelve): 3 Dutch girls, 1 Australian, 1 Kiwi, 1 American, 1 Brit, and 1 Swiss (and the two of us of course). We met Andy, the Swiss, the day before and since he was travelling alone we more or less “adopted” him. All of us piled into two vehicles and made the two hour drive to the river.
There was some concern as to how far we would actually be able to drive the first day. We were told that if it rained too much and the road conditions were too poor that we could have to hike up to 11 hours to the village where we were meant to be starting. After driving on paved roads for the first two hours we didn’t think there would be any problems at all getting into the village. When we were all loaded into the truck we were taken by surprise when the truck did not continue straight on the paved road but instead turned down a very rough looking mud road towards the river. We were taken even more by surprise when the truck began to drive through the river. Ya! We suddenly began to understand why the rain could make such an impact.
Immediately following the river was another hill. We all had to get out so the truck could get up the hill, and then pile back in and continue. There were many hills, some of which looked like they had entire creeks running through them, and there were plenty of times when we didn’t think the truck could make it up. Every time the driver stopped (whether to change gears or tighten the bolts on the tires) we always thought that it meant that we had to start walking. After making it up several nerve racking hills however, we were eventually kicked out of the truck about an hour away from the village. That last hour was almost entirely downhill, but the truck had spun its tires so bad in the mud that it just couldn’t continue.
We made it to the first village relatively easily. We stocked up on a few things (snacks, beer, etc) and started our trek into the jungle and out to the tree houses. We began by crossing yet another river, but this time by foot.
May I take this opportunity to point out that every day that we’ve been in Laos, it has rained, and the Gibbon Experience is no exception. It was muddy! So! So muddy! (For the entire 3 days, all trekking consisted of routine stops to check ourselves for leeches!)
Soaking wet, we made it safely to the “kitchen” (more or less the headquarters of the Experience out in the jungle). There, we were harnessed up and told to take a picture of the map in case we got lost. We were quickly briefed on what the next few days would entailed, introduced to our guides and off again into the rain.
Our first zip!
The first zip we took was amazing. It wasn’t incredibly long but the way it was hung and what with the rain, it was quite fast. We were told to break hard. A few of us had some troubles with the breaking system. Our first zip: Auria vs. The Tree. The Tree won. For the life of me I couldn’t stop. Jaa Lee (our guide) was yelling, “Break! Break!” I gave it everything I had but it was no good. So I stuck up my feet intending to let my legs, rather than my face, absorb the impact but the tree still managed to wound me. Not badly of course. Because of all the mud on my shoes and the speed which I was travelling, as soon as my feet hit the tree the slid right off onto either side and I managed to do a decent number on my shin. Not bad but enough to draw blood. The zip itself was such a blast that my horrible landing did not defer me in the least.
I think we did one more zip after that and then one zip into our tree house. We lucked out with our tree house for sure! Because the group was so large we had to be split up into two groups—one group of four to stay at Tree House 3 (one of the older and smaller tree houses) and one group of six to stay at Tree House 7 (the newer and larger tree house). It may have been my suggestion but it also made sense; because Darren and I had adopted Andy we were a group of three, and it only made sense to put the two groups of three together and thus volunteering Darren and myself along with the other for Tree House 7.
It was beautiful! Words, and maybe even pictures, can not describe how amazing this place was. Let me start from the ground up. This tree is almost 200 meters tall. The tree house itself is probably about 150 m from the jungle floor. You zip-line into the lowest level of the tree house. To your right is a slightly crooked shoe rack. To your left is the staircase to the main level. Across from where you zip in is the washroom. I want one! The first thing you see when you walk into the bathroom is an amazing view! You’re looking out into and over the jungle and the mountains and it’s absolutely breath taking. The toilet is a squat toilet, but who cares when you have such a beautiful view. The shower is amazing and hovers over a slat-wood floor, and there is something amazingly thrilling and peaceful and rejuvenating about showering naked in clean cool water overlooking such a lush forest. (I can easily say that the shower is my favourite part of the tree house). On the main level there is a large, low table where we all eat; a small kitchenette consisting of a few shelves (built into the tree), a sink, and a fridge; two hammocks; and, two sleeping areas. We slept on two to three mats spread out on the ground with a cloth canopy/mosquito net suspended above us. And of course, there is an amazing 360 degree view of the jungle! There is also an upper level in Tree House 7 (the other tree houses only had one floor) with just enough room for a small sleeping area and a hammock. The view from the top floor was amazing but slightly obstructed by branches; that being said, it made the top floor seem a little more private and secluded. Darren and I being the only couple, we were elected to take the top floor and we had no arguments about it!
We were to spend the rest of our day just settling into our tree house and around 5pm dinner was zipped in from the kitchen nearby, along with hot water for tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. The meals were simple, but delicious and were followed by local fresh fruits and snacks.
The nights and the mornings were early. The sun went down just before seven and with no electricity it was hard to stay up very late. The six of us rigged our head lamps around the tree house and played cards until talked and laughed until about ten. Then, we all fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and crickets in the trees. Some people are bothered by the noise and say that it’s too loud, but the six of us found it rather peaceful. The following morning we woke up bright and early to the sounds of Gibbons singing off in the distance. Their calls are both eery and peaceful. They were too far away to see them but we were hopeful knowing they were in the area.
We spent that afternoon trekking and zipping over to tree house 3 (where the other group stayed) and then trekking and zipping over to tree house 5 where we met up with the other group for lunch. We were all a bit miserable and wet. I was bleeding quite a bit from my foot where a leech had clearly had a nice lunch! The rain seemed to have subsided on the way back and we all took liberties with a nice little loop of zip-lines and just kept going over and over and over again! It was so much fun. It had actually stopped raining for most of the time that we were zipping, but even when it did rain lightly, when you’re zipping, it’s all good! It’s the walk back in ankle deep mud that isn’t so great.
We were definitely wet, muddy and exhausted by the time we got back to the tree house and it was all we could do much look forward to a beautiful shower and a nice hot cup of coffee. All cleaned up and refreshed, we were served dinner, and once again spent the night playing cards and listening to the sounds of the jungle at night.
While our array of head lamps did well to light up our tree house, as you all know, lights also attract a series of bugs. The first night a very large beetle (easily the size of Twinkie) flew into my shoulder, and on this second night a very large bee flew into our tree house (probably the size of my thumb). We were all freaking out, until finally it landed on the table and we caught it under a mug… and there we left it. I had actually completely forgotten about it until I heard that in the morning our guide accidentally found it as he was tidying up for breakfast. Oops! Apparently he whacked it with a broom.
On the third day, we again woke up to the sounds of the Gibbons singing in the trees. This time, they weren’t too far away to see. With the naked eye you could only make out the movement in the trees, but thankfully, Tree House 7 came equipped with a telescope. For about a half hour we took turns watching the Gibbons swing from tree to tree and and listening to their strange calls. It was pretty amazing and was definitely the icing on the cake. Later that morning, Tree House 3 came over to Tree House 7 for breakfast. The rest of the afternoon consisted of trekking back to the rest of the world, but not before stopping to do a few rounds on the zip lines. It was so much fun, but again, I didn’t do well with the breaking system. I got into a bit of a tiff with one of the cables when I was going to fast and couldn’t stop. My clamp hit on of the bolts and caused a small cable burn on my arm (no big deal, it’s almost completely gone already).
The rest of the trip was wet of course, and we were muddy, but this made crossing the river that much more of a welcomed necessity! We all took advantage of the opportunity to wash the mud off our shoes and our legs… maybe we jinxed ourselves.
We had to walk a ways to the truck, which was all up hill and we were exhausted. The sun had come out a bit and it wasn’t too muddy… but then… then the rains came. At least half a dozen times we all had to get out of the truck and help push it up the muddied slopes. At one point, we even had to just wait until the rain stopped because there was no way the truck would make it so long as the ruts were running with water. I somehow ended up behind a tire every time I tried to push and I had mud in my hair, and my ears, on my face and all over my clothes. One of the actual creators of the Gibbon Experience (a French guy) was with our group for the trip back to Huay Xai and when we reached the river he put his pants in the boat and walked across, stripping down to his underwear as he went and taking a little bath. Covered in mud, we all thought this looked like a pretty good idea, and while we didn’t strip down, we did opt for walking across rather than taking the boat, and it felt fantastic.
In the end, we were exhausted, wet and dirty, but would do the experience again in a heartbeat. It probably would’ve been better without all the rain but the experience was definitely incomparable. The zip lining was amazing. The tree house was fantastic, and waking up to the sounds of Gibbons in the morning and watching them swing amidst the trees is priceless.
The one and only disappointment of the trip (and it’s kind of a big one) is that the video camera, which we bought expressly for the purpose of this experience, went missing no more than an hour before we left. Darren had put it down to take off his shoes and forgotten it on the lower level of the tree house. One of the girls had seen it when she zipped in the following morning and it was not there when we left an hour later. We searched the ground beneath the tree house and asked everyone in both groups. So far, the camera is still MIA. We exchanged info with the office and are hoping that once we’re back in internet territory we’ll know if they’ve found anything. Besides the fact that video is the only way to really capture the feel of the zip lining, the worst part of having lost the camera is that we had not backed up or downloaded any of our other videos. The pandas, the tigers, the beaches. All of it was still on the video camera. So sorry if words and pictures can’t do justice to the experience of flying through the trees and over the jungle. Hopefully the camera will turn up soon! (Still no word on the camera and it's been about a week!)
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