After the arduous journey of my life, I am finally back in Hangzhou. Happenings in the last week included taking several 8 hour bus trips, seeing Nanning's bus station, seeing Guangzhou, chilling in Hong Kong, visiting XinXing (because there were no tickets out to Guangzhou to home) and finally flying home. I wanted to kiss the earth like pope whenever he gets off the plane in a new country. My 16.3 kilogram backpack prevented me from doing so however.

When I came back from vacation last summer, my house was, as Jackie described it, a virtual refugee camp. With several foreign and Chinese friends setting up camp in my apt. for the last 7 weeks to watch my cat, I had no idea what I would walk into this time. I was surprised. The place wasn't a wreck. My dvd player, tv, and computer were all intact. Mysteriously, however one wastepaper basket was missing, one toilet brush, and one drying rack for my dishes. While sweeping under the bed this afternoon, I discovered that my missing belongings had been replaced with a gift. From beneath my bed I swept out a hand-painted oil painting of a can of Colgate shaving cream on the back of a discarded piece of cardboard. The piece is nice, but hardly goes with my living room decor. I am not so sure the trade was fair.

The day began normally enough. A calm Lao morning by the lazy MeKong, sipping thick Lao coffee and munching on french bread and cheese. We had decided to go to the Pak Ou caves for our last day of Luang Prabang, but, being as lazy as the river and as relaxed as the Lao culture, we bided our time, checking internet first. With surprising news from home under my belt, Jackie and I set off to hire a motorbike, tuk-tuk or jumbo to take us to the caves (the boats were tooooo expensive) "Tuk-tuk! Tuk-tuk!" the drivers called as we passed their waiting dilapidated cars. "Caves," I said, "How much?" The classic driver squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, "For you? 15 dollars." "Heck no," I replied, we want to go for three dollars a person." (other travelers had told us that was the going rate). "You need more people, then three dollars a person." The driver set out to corral more tourists and Jackie and I settled by the market to bring people into our scheme. I made a sign "Want to go to the caves? Three dollars per person. We need more people." and began calling out to the various foreigners of all ages who passed us. We got a couple nibbles, but no bites. Then I started asking Laos, just for the hell of it, maybe they had never been to the cave. Finally, a foreigner of an unknown origin came over. I was in the midst of persuading her to join us when she told us she'd lived in Luang Prabang for 4 months and the caves sucked. Oh. Well, so much for that plan. We snuck away from the driver....

Instead we spent the afternoon at the National Museum. Towards the end there was a special independent video exhibit on different parts of Lao life. Basically daily labor...not in the home, but for work. Hauling coal, making bricks, fashioning knives. By the end, I was my usual emotional self, distressed by the state of Lao (the most bombed country on Earth, if the UN and other organizations keep moving to clear the uxos at the rate they are, it will take over 100 years to clear all of Lao). As a new years resolution not to be completely emotional over everything I can't control. I kept in my tears. We stopped by the same outside cafe for lunch as we had for breakfast and ordered sandwiches. As we waited I watched a cat (the cat population must exceed the human population in Lao) under the next table. I usually pet them even though they are gross and dirty, they are so unloved. This particular cat, however, was gnawing the head off a recently killed rat. I sort of gagged. Eventually, one of the three other cats watching him moved in, not to eat the rat, but to toss it violently around underneath the table. "Bang" it would hit the top of the table. "Slap" it would land on the bench. Like a trapeze audition, the rat spun back flips and front flips until I knew I was going to be sick. The cat who was originally eating the rat came over to rub against my legs. "No" I thought "don't touch me, rats spread the ibonic plague (Jackie told me later it was the bubonic plague....I never knew) We went on and on about the grossness of the cats when I realized that they we just a small microcosm of of Lao's (and the rest of the world's suffering people) that no one wants to touch or help. And I could feed one cat my sandwich but what about the millions of others? That on top of the new news and the video sent me overboard into weeping as the cat began to gnaw on my leg...I couldn't look at Jackie's tuna fish meat sandwich any more.
Pulling myself together we went to check with a travel agency that was helping me retrieve my forgotten flash drive from the hostel in Vietiane. (it holds all the pictures of our trip up until...well...Vietaine....)The hostel owner had promised for 6 days to send to the agency on the day, bus but had failed to do so. I could only leave him my Chinese address hoping it would find me some day.

Just another day in Southeast Asia. We returned to the hostel to meet the Dutch friend, Bart, that we had met at the organic farm in Vang Vieng. We went to a free movie (Walk the Line) showing at an artsy bookshop but we had to by drinks to stay. We each settled on our favorites, mine,: lime, Bart's: chocolate, Jackie's: chocolate mint. In the end we all agreed that they were the most terrible and expensive shakes we had had in Southeast Asia (there are a lot of "shakes" here, basically flavor with ice and some condensed or coconut milk).
Foiled again by the tourism industry offering a "free" movie we set out to find something interesting. It was Jackie and mine's last night in Lao and we wanted have fun. We almost got it......
Exhausted, we agreed to meet the next morning so I could use my visa, not the mastercard, to pay Bart back for the good times he showed us. The next morning Jackie was laying in my bed, pale from throwing up all night. She had food poisoning. I had to shower and get the money before we had to leave for the plane. I went to bathroom, and noticed the lights weren't on and the water heater wouldn't light up. Going to the front desk I asked "Electricity?" "The city is out of electricity" the man behind the counter slurred nonchalantly as if it happened every Sunday. Great. Surely, I thought, the whole city can't be out, just our quarter. Bart and I head out for the mile walk to the second atm. 20 minutes later, we read the sign pasted across the machine "out of order" Bart asked if I had my passport, then I could just withdraw from the counter, but of course the passport was in the hostel. We headed back, staving off venders and tuk-tuk drivers at every turn. Back again to the bank with passport. As soon as we stepped inside the darkened room, we say, for the first time, the sign on the counter window "no cards today". Why we thought the computer would be working inside the bank if not outside was beyond me. Back again (I got my exercise). Jackie was well enough to walk to we packed, grabbed a tuk-tuk and headed toward the midget airport.


One hour later, we landed in Vietnam. We were happy to know that our hostel driver was picking us up. No fighting for a bus or taxi. Just a man with our name on a sign, like rich people. We had applied been accepted for "visa upon arrival" which just meant we showed them a letter emailed to us and they gave us a visa for $25. Forms filled out and pictures stapled on, I passed over $50 in Lao kip. "We don't take kip. Only USD." Of course. we had $20 between us. "Can I change money somewhere?" I asked. "Yes, come with me. Leave your bag and your friend here, (communists!) I followed his rapid pace through the arrival gate and out to the lobby. "Can I just look and see if my driver is here? I don't want him to think we didn't show up" I pleaded. "Not my problem," was the stiff reply. "Do you have your mastercard?" he asked as soon as we reached the money exchange. "No, you told me to leave my bag...it is in the bag." I took the kip out of my pocket and handed it over. It came out to 35 USD which meant with Jackie's 20 we were fine (we had planned it that way). The guard looked worried. "Where is your mastercard?" "Its in my bag," I said through my teeth. "Plus my friend has 20 USD so we don't need it." We headed back into the arrivals gate. "Come with me." he said. We will get your luggage. "What about my friend?" I pointed, we don't have tons of luggage, but I am a small girl. "No. We need to get your mastercard." "Its in my bag, " I cried desperately, feeling like I was on an SNL skit or candid camera. The guard watched me struggle with my backpacking-backpack and Jackie's luggage on wheels.

We came to a random location and he said "Leave it there, put your Mastercard with it." I gasped. First of all I didn't want to leave my luggage unattended in a Vietnamese airport and second, I didn't have the card. I wasn't like they needed it for collateral, we were certainly going to pick our bags back up--they are our lives right now. Luggageless and cash in hand we headed back toward Jackie. "Mastercard?" he asked. Without bothering to reply,I grabbed Jackie's 20 and counted out $50 USD. "OH!! Friend has money, no need mastercard!" he exclaimed. I wanted to bang my head on the table. I picked up my carry on, paid for the visas, received the visas, gathered the luggage and head into the lobby, desperately seeking our driver, who was, of course gone. Other drivers tried to get us to come with them. "No, we have reservations here. We need to go here." "Oh," said the driver, "I know him, I will call him." Minutes later the driver returned. "My friend said to bring you into town for him, he waited but you never came. Just wait outside here for a moment."

Thirty minutes later, Jackie and I were just about to climb in a public minivan headed towards the center of town when the driver came whizzing around the corner in a taxi. "Get in, get in!" "Is this ride still free?" I questioned. After all, we were suddenly in a taxi. "Yes yes of course!" Ok, he said as we pulled into the old quarter where we were staying, you own the taxi driver 15 usd for the toll and the taxi fee. Jackie and I gapped. Ok, the toll, maybe but he had just said the ride would be free. "You don't understand," I said, voice shaking with anger. "We have exactly 3 USD to our names and you said it would be free!" "The hotel manager will pay you back." he promised. The taxi stopped at an atm and I withdrew half my life savings to pay the hellman. Back in the car, the driver handed me his mobile. It was our hotel manager. "We are now full, no more room." Speechless with frustration a moment passed before I calmly said, "We made reservations last month, you can't be full." "We are, but I can send you to a hostel that belongs to my company. Same standards and same price." Too tired to fight I said fine. We arrived, paid the men and settled into our room, happy to lay down and have hot water for the first time in weeks.

The next day, however, we were evicted from the hostel for not booking a tour with them. I demanded a discount, which after awhile of fighting I got (China has taught me to bargain and fight). Their counter clearly had a sticker for Visa and Mastercard, but as soon as I passed over the Visa, he said coldly, "We don't take cards." Grrrrr! We then the stormed off to the original hostel where I once again demanded a discount on the room for the money we lost by not having the "free ride" included. I am so tired of hostels and credit cards!!

Lovingly written and shared by Jackie M. Kleist...........

“One of the most scenic boat rides in Laos” the brochure claimed. “A tranquil and relaxing 6 hour ride down the Mekong; observe native bird and fish species in their natural habitat.” The five of us gazed around the tour agency office thoughtfully, trying to discern from the faded posters and piles of glossy pamphlets if the tour was worth two days and $12 (keeping in mind that a large pizza is less than $3.) “Let’s do it,” we agreed, and forked over the money, looking forward to our short and pleasant river journey.

We reunited with our three Israeli friends (Angel, Erez, and Helly) early the next morning, fueled with Lao coffee the color of motor oil and armed with baguettes (since Laos was once a French colony, French architecture and cooking are prevalent.) Anxious to begin our journey, we paced the boat dock, looking for Boat 25.

“That one looks good!” I pointed out a boat with cushioned car-style seats.
“Ooh that one has a bar and a restaurant” Erez gestured to another.
Most of the boats, though weathered, looked comfortable, and all featured comfortable looking seats, ample space for walking around, and a restroom. All of them, that is, except for one forlorn looking craft near the end of the dock. Our worst fears were confirmed; it was 25.
Climbing reluctantly aboard, we settled ourselves on the damp floor of the boat (so much for cushioned seats), which was canoe-sized and slowly filling with water. Various undergarments were hanging from the plywood roof above us, and our female driver motioned to us to “just brush those aside.”

“At least it’s only a six hour ride,” Helly smiled; “it’s 8:30am now, so we should be off here by 3:00.” We settled back on the mats, prepared for departure. All around us, more river-worthy vessels filled with older (and richer) tourists were swiftly departing the dock. The middle aged men and women, most wearing clean white tennis shoes and expensive sunglasses, smiled and waved happily at us as they pulled out of the dock, food, water, and bathrooms easily accessible.

Forty-five minutes later, we were still docked. “I wonder what we’re waiting for,” Angel commented. Our driver, who had made no attempts either to start the engine or recollect her underwear, was perched happily in the back of the boat, spitting sunflower seeds over the side. Suddenly, we spotted the reason for our delay. Six MORE tourists were making their way unsteadily over the rocks, descending towards our canoe.
A half hour later, all eleven of us had managed to wedge ourselves and our belongings into the boat, and we were finally headed down the Mekong, ready for some of that tranquility. Unfortunately, our boat motor was deafening- similar to a Blue Angel jet-making conversation more or less impossible. “LOOK AT THE WOMAN DOING LAUNDRY!” one of us would scream intermittently. “WHAT?” the others would answer. The woman driver spent much of her time crawling around in the boat (for no apparent reason,) forcing all passengers to try desperately to slide themselves and their luggage all out of her way. I suspect she was enjoying this immensely.

Not long after departure, however, the engine began to smoke, slowly sputtering to a stop and leaving us adrift in the middle of the Mekong. The driver, crawled once again towards the back of the boat, picked up a filthy plastic tube, and stuck one end into her mouth, attempting to siphon river water into the overheated engine. This was beginning to remind me of one of our infamous family vacations. After numerous attempts, the woman finally gave up and we pulled over to the side of the river.

A few hours later, (the engine had eventually been revived) the driver dropped us off on a sandbar along the side of the river “to use toilet.” As soon as all eleven passengers were off the boat, she sped off down the river, all of our luggage in tow. She turned around and waved one last time. (Fortunately, I was wearing the money belt-passports and credit cards safely tucked inside.) A group of small children were bathing in the river nearby as their mothers, heads wrapped in tribal cloth, did laundry. Does anyone take Visa?

Fortunately, the woman eventually returned with our luggage (apparently she had gone to visit a “friend” downriver), and, after a little more engine trouble, and SEVEN more hours in the boat, we arrived at the tribal village, ten hours after departure. Ears ringing, we staggered off the boat. I don’t know how much more tranquility I can take...

Aside from the boat journey, Laos has been wonderful. We attended a real Lao party (at a Buddhist temple, no less,) explored a couple caves, and helped teach village children English at an organic farm. Tomorrow it’s onto Hanoi, famous for boat trips to Halong Bay....

in laos and loving it. its a bit, surprisingly, like the artic but we are dealing. we've been staying on this organic farm which thrives of the mulberry plant and the community who lives there teaches englishs to the village across the street and together they have built a youth center, a community center and a library (which is quite an accomplishment, there are only 3 universities in Lao and only two have any kind of library......) more to come, pictures etc. when i am not paying one million dollars a minute to use the internet. love yall.