Marmalade Daydreams

Today, as I sat in the back of a bus for ten hours travelling down Laos's beautiful if windy Route 13 from Luang Prabang back to Vientienne, working our way through the massively convoluted geography that characterizes this region, through the odd karst limestone peaks that loom over the immense river valleys like the ghosts of reefs past lording above the ancient sea beds, and finally down to the floodplains, whose terraced rice paddies reflect the hills and peaks in their still muddy waters like a memory; as I sat by the mighty Mekong, whose waters sparkled in the sunset with crimson, lavender, and gold, belying the clay-colored filthy liquid that generally laps the banks of Vientienne where barbecue beer gardens proliferate (and where this evening I sat nibbling on rib tips and sticky rice, sipping rice whisky below the darkening sky); I could not help but reflect on the two weeks I've spent in this remarkable place, less than two-thirds of NYC's population spread throughout a country roughly the size of Britain, primarily in undeveloped villages, and marvel at my experiences.

When we last left off, I had pulled into Vang Vien, a beautiful village (indeed, when we pulled into the bus depot, I had been frantically and unsuccessfully been attempting to photograph the local karst peaks from the bus window -- I was pleasantly surprised to hear that these mountains were to be the background for my enxt few days), that has, for better or worse, been taken over by the backpacker economy. Guesthouses, Internet cafes, and banana pancake vendors are in abundanc, yet I managed to spend my days interacting with the stunning physical environment, not spaced out in front of a television like many chilled-out tourists, reliving their favorite Friends episodes over strong coffee and various intoxicants. It was in the caves around Vang Vien that I discovered my new passion -- spelunking.

Over the last 10 days, I have been in five caves, two of which entailed tight squeezes, two of which required significant climbs to reach isolated chambers, and despite indelibly staining some of my favorite T-shirts with mud, I have a new favorite pastime. I'm not sure I can completely explain why I feel such a calm and enthusiasm for descending into the Earth -- partly the continual delving deeper into the unknown, partly the wonderous geologic formations that can lie around the next corner, partly the deep silence and calm that no doubt drew the holy men of ages past into caves to meditate on the shadowy walls -- but I know now a new way to seek adventure and marvel at the immense mystery that is our home, planet Earth.

Two days after I arrived in Vang Vien, the river flooded. It was amazing to watch the Nam Song rise, to return to places I'd been the day before, completely transformed, to watch trees float by the bridge where the previous day carefree farang were chilling in innertubes, BeersLao in hand. The two following pictures, seperated by 36 hours, show a bungalow where my friends stayed. I heard that on the island in the river, bamboo bungalows were floating away in the flood waters. Sheesh. That day I'd hiked downriver to a nearby cave and spring; on the way back, the road was gone, replaced by a knee-deep pond through which I waded home.

Bottom line, I've had a great time, met some amazing people. In addition to doing some amazing caving (freaking myself out by going alone into deep dark tunnels, following underground rivers through branching hallways), I tubed the Nam Song, jumped from a thirty-foot rope swing into the river (with a lifejacket, of course, mom...), climbed up some beautiful waterfalls (where a snake fell on my friend's head, thoroughly freaking everybody out for a bit) where we swam in pale turquoise waters and were joined by monks in their saffron robes, paddled for a day of whitewater kayaking (capsized my boat in the very first rapids -- did better further downriver with waves breaking over my head), and, most recently, spent two days in a riverside bamboo bungalow in Muong Ngoi, a riverside village with no road access, where, after the consumption of much rice whisky, my travelling companion Danni left me in the middle of the night for a one-armed Laotian (if that doesn't make for a good blues lyric, I don't know what does) who had taken us on the most bootleg trek earlier that day (basically following an irrigation canal to a river and following that river up through the jungle until we couldn't proceed any further -- a lot of fun, but Danni and I both accumulated a number of thirsty leeches in the river...).

As is evident, I've had a great time this summer to date. After having weighed my options, I decided to forgo the forty hours of bus between Nong Khiow and Kunming (hence my return to Vientienne), and I fly at 6:30 am to Yunnan Province (China), where my adventures will doubtless continue. Because I'm not sure that I have enough money to get to the airport tomorrow, and because of my early departure time, I'm putting off uploading my picture page for another few days. For now, content youselves with this last photo -- two village boys who had been screaming with joy until I interrupted them briefly to snap this photo. Apparently they had just decapitated this snake with that big stick, and now the boy on the right was whipping the boy on the left with the headless serpent. Oh, that we could all again enjoy such innocent pleasures...