We had a bit of a pit-stop in Pushka after somehow spending the preceeding three nights sleeping on a train, in a desert and on a bus.
We’re staying in a beautiful old haveli called Seventh Heaven. It’s set over four floors and has a large atrium with chill out areas all around. The food is some of the best we’ve had in India.
Pushka is a small town, a Hindu pilgramage site with a holy lake. Pilgrims and locals alike bathe in the murky brown water at the many ghats that surround the lake. The water is filthy and that is saying something in India! Apologies to any Hindus reading – I’m not disputing the lakes holiness, just it’s cleanliness. 
Pushka itself is not too memorable, especially when compared to some of the places we have already seen in Rajasthan (Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer). It highly geared for tourists and we got hassled a fair bit in the streets, especially since it’s the low season and there isn’t much fresh meat coming through. We spent the vast majority of our time chilling and reading in the oasis of calm that was our guesthouse.
In stark contast to this oasis was my torture. Torture that I willingly paid for.
In the absence of anything else to do we arranged a session with an alternative therapist Lau had found in the Lonley Plane. For the choice of therapy It was a toss up between reflexology and reiki.
I’m fairly sceptical about alt therapy and so I went with reflexology on the basis that a) they actually touch you and b) it might be like a foot massage, which I kinda like. How wrong I was!
It was absolute agony. I screamed stop on two occassions, but was told it only was hurting becuase my ailments were bad. How sticking sharp impliments between my toes and rubbing what I can only describe as a cylindrical skin grater on my fingers can fix a weak knee I have no idea.
Towards the end of the session I had accepted the pain; afterall what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? But, I couldn’t help myself pointing out that one of the most vicious and painful forms of torture is lashings of the feet. He either chose to ignore me or didn’t hear me; I think he heard me.
My feet are killing now; anyone know of a good reflexologist?
Filed under: travelling
The best place to get all updates: blog, tweets and pics is here:
http://www.dipity.com/nathanday
All together in one nice timeline!
Filed under: travelling
Here’s where we’ve been so far: Breadcrumb Trail
My name is Nathan. I am a GPS geek.
Here’s the Rough Plan.
Mumbai! What to say?
I live in London, have spent time in New York City and we’ll be in Tokyo at the end of the trip. I doubt any of these great world cities can claim to be as alive as Mumbai.
Everywhere you look at any time of day or night the city is doing something. The harder you look, the more layers you see. The shear industry of the people here, who hail from every corner of India, is amazing and unrelenting.
Having read Shantaram before coming here, my opinion may be romantically tainted, but I thought Mumbai was an absolute treat; warts and all.
Day 1
We arrived in Mumbai at about 10:00 after probably the worst travelling leg of our trip so far. We’d naievely opted for the 14 hour (billed as 10) night bus from Panjim – we won’t be making the night bus mistake again!
We thought it would be OK, as rather than semi-reclining seats we had beds. Ours turned out to be a top bunk, not much wider than a single, at the back of the bus – almost geometrically perfectly positioned to amplify and accentuate every movement of the bus. Now, the road from Panjim to Mumbai happens to be a long and winding one, which was not conducive to a sound nights sleep! We probably got 3 hours at best in what I can only describe as trying to fall asleep on a plank balanced on a beach ball.
So, fully rested (!) we set out on a DIY walking tour of the worlds most populous city, in the mid-day Sun, at the hight of Summer. And an Indian Summer at that. Mad dogs and Englishmen.
We did the walking tour straight out of the Lonely Planet, which took in:
- Gateway of India
- Police HQ – grand and imposing Victorian building
- Keneseth Eliyahoo Synagogue – Stunning blue building
- Flora Fountain
- St Thomas’ Cathedral
- Town Hall
- High Court – This was cool as you could wander around the courtyard and rub shoulders with all the barristers. There were 20 or so courts, each with a LED sign showing the case and start time.
- We passed by the impressive University of Mumbai building, but couldn’t enter the grounds because of security.
On the way back to the hotel (Bentleys) we stopped off at the train station to make reservations to Ahemabad as we weren’t risking having to get a bus again. We got chatting to a couple of Westerners in the tourist queue and Lau began relaying a story about meeting an Indian guy in a travel agency in Goa. This guy had said it was so hot in Rahajastan that his nose bled. Just after she had finished, the Indian guy in front of us turned around and said hello – it was the same guy from Goa! Astonishingly small odds given this random meet and the circumstances under which we found ourselves in the travel agency in the first place (see Goa post).
After a few hours chill time back at the hotel we headed out again for drinks and dinner before an early night. For those of you that have had the pleasure of reading Shantaram, we had beers at Leopolds!! I was hoping to bump into Didier or Vikrim, but no such luck. It wasn’t as I’d imagined it all. A bit too Hard Rock Cafe.
We ate at a proper local place near Leopolds. There was bench seating and the cheapest food – I think we spent about £1 on the whole meal.
Day 2
We spent the morning at Elephant Island, which contains a series of sculpted caves about an hour’s ferry from Mumbai. The caves were hand carved out of the solid rock face and contain a multitude of Hindu sculptures featuring Vishnu. Quite a feat.
Once back in the city, we grabbed a quick lunch of dhosas before jumping in a cab to Hajj Ali Mosque – another prominent scene in Shantaram. The mosque is on a small island linked to the mainland by a causway that is not accessable at high tide. The causeway was flanked by beggers of all afflictions and the fortress-like rock walls of mosque itself was peppered with street kids sheltering from the Sun.
The inside of the mosque complex was a hive of activity with families eating, beggers begging and a small group of women half singing, half wailing to the beat of a bongo. It was strangely soothing and hypnotic. At the time we both thought that the women looked a little on the butch side. It wasn’t until a few days later (over diner with the Mahajara of Zainabad – another story!!) that we learnt they were enuchs – men who have been castrated. More about them later.
Next we jumped in another cab over to Crawford Maket and the other markets in that part of the city. Along with Haji Ali Mosque, this is where we started to get under the skin of the real Mumbai, away from the plesant and sparsely populated (relatively!) streets of Colaba.
For dinner we had made reservations at Indigo, Mumbai’s ‘best’ restuarant and hang out of Bollywood stars. We sat on the fairy-light clad roof terrace and enjoyed lobster, crab and duck washed down with a crisp bottle of Pinot Grigiot. All very nice, but even though the food and service was excellent, I enjoyed the dinner the previous night more. To give you an idea of the cost differential we paid 4 times more as a tip at Indigo than we did at the local place!! I like the fact that we’re both able and willing to work the spectrum, both with food and accomodation. We’re lucky.
Day 3
Today we tourined the Dharavi slum before heading out on the train north to Ahmedabad. The slum visit deserves it’s very own post: Slumdog.
For our final morning in Mumbai we decided to go on a tour of Dharavi slum. We figured that in a city where 55% of the 20 million people live in a slum, you haven’t really experienced Mumbai unless you’ve experienced a slum.
We arranged the tour with excellent Reality Tours (www.realitytoursandtravel.com) – an NGO who provide education services inside Dharavi. There was only the 2 of us, our guide and driver, which made for a low-key and unobtrusive tour. Reality also have a no camera policy to ensure the privacy of Dharavi’s citizens is somewhat protected. I guess this also helps prevent the development of a toutism fuelled begging culture. We didn’t see any beggars in the slum and weren’t once asked for money. Quite the opposite; we were given pastries and had golden patterns imprinted on our tee-shirts.
Pics will be available, but these are from a stock Reality have and email out afterwards. I’ll upload them once I get them.
We set out from just behind The Gateway of India and took in a few sights on the way.
We drove through the Red Light district and saw some of the ladies of the night, even though it was early morning. We heard stories of a recent raid in which girls as young as seven were freed. Girls are harvested from all over India by agents who promise good jobs to impoverished local girls and thief families and then promply sell them to gangs and pimps.
Next up was the Thieves Market, where almost anything can be bought. It put the markets around Crawford that we visited the day before to shame in terms of bustle. So called becuase of a trip Queen Victoria was proported to have made to Bombay, during which her violin was stolen and subsequently recovered at the market.
Our first actual stop was at Dhobi Ghat, a huge open air laundry that services much of Mumbai. Here 2000 men receive, sort, wash and dry 300,000 items each and every day. A complicated system of marking ensures that hospitals, hotels and individuals alike get back their cleaned items the very next day. Along with the dhaba-wallas, this is another one of those countless logistical miricales that keeps this city running.
We peered down on the area from a road bridge that forms one of the boundries to see an all male outfit dunking and pummelling everything from underwear to hospital sheets. No woman work here as it is run by the North Indians who believe having a working wife is shameful, as it means they cannot provide for their familiy. Most work 18 hours a day, 7 days a week to make ends meet.
After Dhobi Ghat we headed to Dharavi for the main 3 hour walking tour. Dharavi is a slum recognised by the Government, which means that it is served with limited utilties and, more importantly, is subject to slum clearings. This wasn’t the case until the mid-nineties where upto 300,000 people could lose their homes in a matter of days.
The tour took in the industrial quarter first. During visits into individual workshops we saw:
- End-to-end plastic re-cylcing, including the manufacturing of the machines they use to re-cycle! These machines are also exported. Waste plastic is bought from collection agents around the city, but is also bought from overseas. After grading, cleaning, shredding and melting it is cooled into strings of plastic before being cut into pellets for sale.
- The refurbishing of vegetable oil and paint cans. Waste cans are cleaned (the paint is burned off in a small workshop where the air was literally toxic) and beaten back into shape before being sold, often back to the origional manufacturers.
- Fabric dying and patterning. We both had gold leaves stamped onto our tee-shirts. My French Connection tee-shirt now has a permanent insignia on it’s pocket!
- A puff pastry bakery where we both hesitatingly sampled the delicious pastries.
- The re-cycling of waste aluminium into bars. Like paint, aluminium is highly toxic, not that it concerned the bate-footed guy who was smelting.
- Pot making with guys stomping around in clay to mix it.
- Clothes making. The creation and packing of childrens outfits for sale in shops across the city.
As you can see, there is a lot of re-cycling done! This grit and tenacity is characteristic of the slum people as they are willing through neccessity to do things others are not to turn a profit. That profit is not inconsequential either; it’s estimated that the GDP of Dharavi is around $650 million.
At one point we went through a workshop and climbed a few flights of metal stairs onto the roof. The sight awaiting us was incredible. You could see the full extent of the slum, the tiny walkways and small roads all but concealed by the dense sea of rag-tag buildings.
I tried to get a cheeky GPS fix so we could Google Earth the roof later, but my phone was being all diva and refusing to get a signal.
As we walked through the slum people were friendly, especially the kids who would often run up to us and shake their mucky little hands with ours. We got stared at a fair amount, especially Lau. It wasn’t intimidating though (I remember Egypt being bad for that), it’s just the Indian way. Plus, if a pack of slum kids walked down Twickenham high street I’m sure I’d take a second glance.
Most of the paths were fairly clear of sewage, but as we made our way over to the residential quarter we stopped by one of the rubbish dumps (Lau bravely went to one of the 6 toilets that serve about 3000 people) and saw some of the darker aspects of slum life. The toilets are reserved for the women, while the men and children simply use the dump to well, err … dump! As we walked out a saw a naked kid trample his way barefoot to the top of the dump, squat and uncerimoniously curl an impressivley sized one out. Good work son!
The highlight of the tour was to come when we got to the residential quarter. Next to a school there were a bunch of slum kids playing cricket on a patchwork of concrete, weeds and slabs. In true jumpers-as-goal-posts stylee they had a wobbly pile of bricks as stumps.. The kids were only about 9 or so, but were playing full-on cricket using batters at both ends and a full field of fielders. As we walked past they all ran over laughing and smilling to say hello. We spoke to them briefly and they proudly told us which of India’s God-like players they were on that particular day. One of them was apparently naming his friend unfavourably judging by the reactions of the group!
Before I knew it I was being dragged up onto the elevated pitch from the road and had a bat in my hand! All the kids were scrambling around and vying for position to bowl at the gorra. On the second ball I was bowled out by a screaming fast ball to shouts of “Owsat!” and much pointing at the teatering wicket. After a few wides, I regained a modicum of national pride by running a 2 after a low drive. It was time to bow out on a high and as I did all the kids swarmed around me cheering, shouting and slapping me. Memories like these are absolutely priceless.
If there was ever a case study on how to destroy paradise, Phi Phi must be it. In fact, it’s been destroyed twice by tourism as it was built back up after the tsunami hit in 2003. Divine Intervention? Bad joke! No hate mail pls
I submit the following evidence in the case of Nature vs. Man.
Man allowed:
- The Beach to be shown on loop at every other bar.
- Premiership football to be shown between screenings of The Beach.
- Men with finely trimmed pencil beards and tatoo-ed necks off the ferry. Many of them were called Kev and were rumoured to have hailed from Essex.
- Burger joints to out number Thai restaurants. One had a burger challange where the burger was free if you managed to finish it.
- Peroxide to be the dominant hair colour.
I could continue (did I mention the smell?), but I wouldn’t want to be accused of ranting.
I arrived on Phi Phi early afternoon having travelled from Chiang Mai on a variety of land, air and sea-based modes of transport. After inhaling a Phad Thai at the local food market (devoid of Johnny Foreigner, he must have by now made it to the gristle at the burger place) I looked at some accomodation on the net, plumbing for a bungalow hut a few bays around from the main town.
I decided to walk the 1/2 hour or so around the coast. The concrete path soon gave way to a dirt one as it wound it’s way through the trees. At one point I found my self clambering over the rocks that formed the shore. I had my full pack on and so arrived absolutely soaked in sweat at Viking Place Resort.
Viking was OK, but the noise from the town managed to reach around the coast and remain fairly loud. That night I relaxed in my hammock while simultaneously watching Recount and being eaten alive by mosquittos. As I tried to sleep through the racket blasting out from what I later found out to be Hippies Bar I vowed to plan my escape from Phi Phi the very next day.
After asking around I looked into camping trips to either Maya beach (The Beach) or Bamboo Island. Neither worked out as the former was a bit too 18-30′s looking and the later wasn’t running as there was only me interested. Wait-a-minute I thought, only me interested? I was onto something here!
30 minutes later I had negotiated a rate with a Muslim longtail driver called Che and was enroute back to my bungalow to pick up some things; I’d decided to DIY it and go camping on Bamboo myself.
After I’d packed my day bag I headed back to the boat, which was anchored in the next bay. Things weren’t looking too good though as it had begun to rain as I waded out to the longtail. Che was wearing a frown by the time I’d dragged myself on board. I could see why as he pointed out to a choppy sea under a heavy grey sky. We sat there for about 10 minutes debating in broken English whether we should go or not. I was for the motion, he was against; I couldn’t face my escape being scuppered! We settled on waiting an hour to see if the weather passed.
I trapsed back to the resort, this time in heavy rain, which left me soaked to the bone as I reached the resort restuarant for lunch.
An hour later I returned to the boat, the rain had passed but the sky still looked a little murkey. Well, I say I returned to the boat, but I returned to where I left it. After wading out to an almost boarding a different long tail it became apparent my guy had had a change of heart. Bugger. The afternoon was slipping away by now and I was still determined to escape and so I set out on the hike back to town to hunt down my boat guy.
I found him sat with a few mates drinking coffee and not looking as guilty or apologetic as I would’ve liked. One cup of coffee later we were back on track, this time with one of Che’s mates who was the spitting image of Che Gueva. I doubt Che was really called Che, but no mind. We bobbed out of the main bay in light rain, but this had passed by the time we ran ashore on Bamboo Island an hour later.
With the help of Che and Che we found the Park Ranger (a rather grand title for a guy lying around a wooden fishermans hut) and secured a tent. This was a relief as I wasn’t certain you could hire them on the island.
Bamboo Island is a National Park. It’s fairly small with a circumfrance of only about 4km, most of it pristine beaches of white sand slowly dissapearing into the calm, coral-filled emerald waters. A true desert island.
All I’d brought in the way of food was a half-eaten packet of chocolate biscuits that I’d got on the VIP bus from Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai.
They were a touch on the soft side by now and so I was pleased to learn that the small hut-shop also did noodles. However, it turned out that I was also to be saved from a poor man’s Pot Noodle as I befriended a family who invited me to eat with them!
They had their very own guide-come-chef who knocked up a feast! There were actually two familes as the guide had his young family in tow. Big thanks to Clare Simon Faye & Phill (the family) and Elisabeth, her husband who’s name escapes me & little Noah (the guide family). After dinner we all chatted for a few hours about a bunch of stuff. I remember Elizabeth (an ex-lawyer turned free-spirited guide) being particularly disparaging to the legal profession in trying to influence Faye (a student with legal aspirations).
Just as I thought my luck couldn’t get much better, a couple of mini bottles of Wolf Blass Cabernet Sauvigon appeared!!
I was up at 05:30 to watch an amazing Sunrise.
It was quite a moment sat there on the beach all alone. At about 7-ish I then took off around the island while the tide was low. It took me longer than I thought to circumnavigate as the other side of the Island had some tricky rocks to contend with, especially in flip-flops. There were some amazing sights on the way around of some other smaller islands.
As I got back to camp I was welcomed once again into the family camp and ate a breakfast of fruit and fresh, hot coffee.
Reluctantly, it was time to call Che for my ride back to Phi Phi. I would definetely be comming back though as I wanted to show Lau, Kaz and Em when they arrived on Phi Phi in a couple of days.
Just got back from a day throwing myself down a mountain on a bike. Proper downhill stuff for all those MTBers out there.
Take a look at this movie of Dan, the other guy with me on the ride, as he stacks it!
Laura continues her very own civil war of attrition with yet more self inflicted injuries.
To add to her various cuts, burns, lumps and bruises she now has a sprained ankle!
We were strolling around Chiang Rai, which incidentally is a cool little place, in search of a massage when we passed a small car workshop. A few dogs started growling and before I knew it Lau was on her ass and in a serious amount of pain. Within under a minute she had been whisked in to what can only be described as a midget’s deck chair and had an ice pack being held to her ankle by the very motherly lady of the house! They were so kind and helpful and at one point the lady buzzed off on her moped and returned 5 mins later with anesthetic cream and a bandage. They would not accept a single Baht from us.
Lau hopped out of the hotel this morning with her rucksack on … she’s off to meet Kaz & Em down in Puhket for a few days.
We took the slow boat up the Mekong from Luang Prabang to Huay Xai. I’ve been wanting to do a Mekong trip for a while now.
We spent 8 hours a day for 2 days winding our way North. It was a pretty relaxing and uneventful trip, apart from some rain and neo-conservatism.
I had a very brief conversation with an old-timer American. He dressed in classic summer hunting attire, hat and all. Like a character straight out of a 80′s film starring John Candy (God rest his soul) or Chevy Chase. I managed to grab a clandestine picture:
The chat went something like this:
Me: “… we ended up eating in the Indian place last night. It was a really goo …”
Old-timer: “I don’t like Indians so much.”
Me: “Oh, why’s that?”
Old-timer: “And I’ll be damned if I’ll do business with them.”
Me: “Have you been to India?”
Old-timer: “No, but in Bangkok they are everywhere. Always popping up trying to sell you a suit.”
Me: “Riiiight …”
Old-timer: “The kinda pressure sell just don’t work in America. One of them grabbed my arm, that’s Battery back home.”
Me: “Well, I guess your not in America now. The rules are different here.”
Old-timer: “Actually, I heard that those sellers might not be Indians … that they’re Pakistani or something – Muslims.”
This next bit is verbatim. I shit you not.
Old-timer: “I think they [Muslims] harass Westerners because of The War on Terror.”
Me (wry smile): “I highly doubt that”.
I’m guessing he’s a Republican and a member of the NRA.
On the back of a recommendation from Ry and Katie we made reservations to visit an elephant sanctuary about 20km from Luang Prabang.
We took an extended package with a day hiking, a homestay, a bunch of elephant stuff and kayaking.
Here’s how we rolled:
Day 1
We arrived at the sanctuary mid-morning after being picked up from our hotel by our guide in a minibus. It was a slow and bumpy ride up into the hills on a single-track dirt road.
The last round of wine we ordered the night before was seemingly not one of our greatest decisions, especially as we had a 7 hour hike ahead over rough terrain. Hmmm.
The hike didn’t get off to the best of starts as within seconds of getting off the long tail boat across the river from the sanctuary, Lau was in a heap on the floor with blood gushing out of her hand! In some miraculous manuevour I had stepped on one end of a discarded branch with the other end somehow managing to weave it’s way through Lau’s legs and then, quite remarkably, tucking itself down one of her socks. The fall would have been comedy without the blood as it was one of those uncontrollable types where the body flaps around for a second or two before giving up and hitting the deck. The cut on the bottom of her thumb was a deep one, right on the tendon area. Owch.
After dusting herself off, we headed off into the mountains. It was hot and the terrain fairly difficult and within an hour we were both drenched with sweat as if we had just stepped out of the shower.
We stopped for lunch in tiny village of 15 families. The village had once homed 60 families and I doubt any will be left within five years. I performed a little surgery on Lau’s hand, cleaning the wound and laying the flap of skin back over it. We bought a couple of small bags from the villagers before heading out further into the mountains.
After a couple of hours we were thankful when the Sun relented, giving way to a much more useful grey sky. As we reached the peak we could see down the valley for miles on the other side. We could also see the vast sheets of heavy rain moving up the valley. Just as we were all thinking “I hope we don’t get caught in that.”, there was a huge crack of thunder that sounded like a bomb had just gone off. Our guide gave us a plastic bag that lunch had been in to wrap up our valuables. I burried the bag deep in my day pack and then caught up with the guide who had shot off. It always worries me when locals do things like that as it means they know something I don’t!
A few minutes later the rain began to reach us. I was thankful as it was quite refreshing. I was thankful for about 2 minutes as once the rain had stopped flirting with us we got it’s full force and were soaked within seconds. The temperature must have dropped 15 Degrees and hailstones the size of tennis balls started pumelling us.
We were still having fun and at one point we were laughing in each others sopping faces (well, I was laughing in Lau’s face) at the situation as it was quite cool thing to be doing after all. That was until the clay path that wound its way down the other side of the peak turned into an ice ring and our hiking shoes into roller skates. The first time we each hit the deck was quite funny, but Lau then went down hard with the type of fall where your ass hits the ground way before your legs. In cushioning her fall she had whacked her bad hand. A few minutes later she went down again, this time cutting her other hand. I was worried for a minute as bright red blood was gushing out, but the cut turned out to be superficial. I worked out later that the blood pressure in our arms was high because our packs were limiting circulation. We were now officially not having fun and were still a good few hours away from the village we were staying in. Lau had lost her bottle and had gotten herself into a confidence-falling viscous circle. It was very slow moving for the next half hour or so before both the incline and the rain eased. Then, as suddenly as it had disappeared, the Sun came out again and started to dry us off.
We trudged into the village at about 5ish, damp and tired. But the kind of good damp and tired you get after a long day on the slopes. Nothing a full fat Coke and a hearty meal wouldn’t sort out.
The family we were staying with were lovely. At one point Lau was showing three generations an episode of Family Guy on my iPhone! This is a village that has 2 TV’s. The youngest kid got to grips with the iPhone quicker than I did; he was pinching n’ zooming, flicking and rotating inside of 20 seconds.
After we had virtually inhaled our dinner we were treated to a little show from the family’s kids and a few of there friends. They all clapped out a steady beat and they would periodically, almost spontaneously, break out in song that one of them had started to mumble. I like Loas music and to hear little kids sing was very cute.
As the music had carried through the village (along with the prospect of sweets from the tourists) the kids were joined by others, two and three at a time. Ten minutes later the long table we were sat at was filled with about 25 little urchins, all clapping the beat and singing there little hearts out.
*** Link to video ***
Definetely one of the highlights of the trip so far.
Day 2
Day 2 was elephant day. We treked back to the sanctuary and within half an hour we were on the back of one! As we learnt the commands of a Mahout (elephant handler) we progressed from being ridden while sat on a harness to driving the things bare-backed, solo. Very cool. I sustained ‘elephant burn’ during my final dismount of the day! I now sport a friction burn on my left knee, the beast was unscathed.
At one point, as we were walking the elephants back out to the jungle (where they graze and sleep), I found myself hanging on to the head of an elephant who was ambling steadily down a steep incline down to the river below – a river we were about to cross. I love health and safety out here; it’s how it should be: weigh up the risks yourself and take your chances.
We checked into our hotel mid-afternoon; the room was pretty luxurious, certainly compared to the homestay the previous night. The hotel was a few minutes upstream by longtail and the boat ride home after dinner at the sanctury was stunning as the stars were blazing in the pitch black
Today was another highlight.
Day 3
We were up early to go fetch the elephants from the jungle and take them down for their morning bath at the river. We’d crossed the river on them the day before, but this time the Mahouts had them diving and dunking us in the drink … at one point the only thing above water was my head! We scrubbed them clean with giant bathroom scrubbers as the morning mist gave way to the Sun. At one point as Lau was submersed to her waist, a few elephant dungs were floating her way! After much eeeking her Mahout pushed them aside. As I watched the elephant poo bob down stream I couldn’t help think of Lush and how they would be probably selling them within a year.
After the bathing, we headed back to the sanctuary and fed our elephants bananas and pineapple leaves. It is so mesmorising watching them munch away.
We then fed ourselves on the veranda over looking the river before setting out on the 20km kayak back to Luang Prabang. Sore arms!
So we’re about to set off on our very own motorbike adventure. Non of this guide lark like we did in the Central Highlands of Vietnam, oh no; just me, Lau, 2 day packs and a green moped for the next 4 days.
The route we’re doing is called “The Loop” and covers about 400km, taking in caves, springs and mountains. We’d taken a photo of a Goonies stylee map drawn in a book at the guesthouse by the mysterious Claudia.
For those coming here from the advice book in the Thakeak Travel Lodge guesthouse, I’ve not yet out the way points up. Sorry. Will do it soon.
Day 1
I took delivery of our moped at 07:00 and, after feeling the tires and filddling with a few things like a real man, I accepted it, leaving my passport as collateral.
Here she is, our very own Green Goddess:
110cc’s of raw power. We’re going to lay down some rubber!! I did try to get a 250cc off-road bike, but there were no places that hired them in Thakaek. Probably for the best.
After breakie, we set off on the first segment of the trip up to a village near Konglor Cave. It was the biggest day for distance, but they were easy miles on a proper road – luxury.
As we began climbing into the mountains on a sweeping road my heart sank as the bike began spluttering in the only way an engine splutters when it’s out of fuel. Bugger. What was it we’d read that very morning in the Travellers Tips book at the guesthouse – “Tip 2: Stop at EVERY petrol station and fill up”. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
So, there we were stopped on a steep incline in the middle of nowhere. Lau suggested we try the engine again. My ever so logical self started mocking immidietely (I think it was something involving the Petrol Fairy or the Patron St. of Fuel), but I tried the engine, more to proove a point than anything else. Hey presto, the little beauty started! Laura took over the mocking as we gingerly set off over the peak with stunning views over the limestone formations and forest below.
As we decended the other side of the peak the bike began making all manner of ill sounding noises, including loud cracks as it backfired. We wished a petrol station with every turn as we wound our way down to the plain, but none came, not even mirage ones. Then, as the road straightened out two things happened simultaneously: the bike finally gave up and choked to a stop, and a petrol station appeared on the horizon! 300m of pushing and then “Fill her up please!”.
A couple of k’s after the petrol station was our turning that would eventually take us down to Konglor Cave. After a while the nice tarmac road gave way to a red dust track.
We stopped for nice big lunch at Sain Amhi Resort. So big that I needed a little snooze before we hit the road again.
Shorty after lunch, we had a little incident on one of the rickity wooden bridges that needed a foot putting down at speed – not something I’ll be doing again in a hurry. Certainly shook off what remained of my post-lunch drowsiness!
We arrived at the village in the late afternoon and after doing a loop through it and waving at all the kids we eventually found a homestay. After dumping our gear we took a deck of cards and went to find some Beer Lao. We were soon joined by a troupe of scamps who enthusiastically clapped every time Lau won a hand, which as anyone who has played cards with her will know, was quite often!
Day 2
After being woken up at rooster-o’clock (I swear there was one in our room!) we headed for breakfast. Before we ate, the man of the house performed a little ceromony that involved us each holding some sticky rice and an egg in our hands as he did a little chant and tied a friendship braclet around our wrists. We were exchanging “this is quite cool” glances as he went. He then guided us to go ahead and eat the rice and egg. I crakced into mine and started to eat this pre-breakfast treat, worrying that if I didn’t I would offend his honour and the village chief would be brought in before you could say “impale him”. As Lau cracked into hers a smell poured out that knocked me sick – her egg was rotten. The host looked mortified and I’m not too sure of the significance but it probably as lucky as seeing a magpie riding a black cat, on Friday 13th.
After breakfast we headed down to Konglor Cave – a massive cave that led 7km into the limestone. We made our way from one side to the other and back again on a traditional boat. We had to stop occasionally and get out as the river was low in some points as we’re at the height of the dry season. They guys just pointed into the pitch black and said “walk” – we had no idea where we were going half the time! You gotta love health and saftety in SEA. After aboout an hour or so we reached the main attraction: a cavernous staligmite/stalignite forest. It was lit with different coloured lights and was beautiful. It reminded me of One Eyed Willy’s cave from the Goonies!
As we came back though the cave I thought it was a bit darker than it was coming. It took me a good 5 minutes, after messing with the battery in the torch, to realise I still had my sun glasses on.
We set off from the cave in the late morning and began the drive to Lak Xao. We stopped on the way to cool off in what is officially known as The Cool Spring. We broke off from the main road in order to find it at the end of a dirt track after some serious off-roading on our humble moped. We managed to scare ourselves into thinking that all manner of creatures were murking in the spring and very nearly didn’t go in. In the end we plucked up the courage and slowly edged our way in. We both freaked out at different points and managed to fall off slippery rocks back into the spring – Lau has an allmighty bruise on her arse as a souvenir!
We arrived in Lak Xao late in the afternoon. What a shit hole Lak Xao is. It’s a small town built up around the 4 roads that form a crossroad in it’s centre.
More to come ….
Day 3
Day 4
Today was cave day.
