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We love Laos and can’t wait to get back someday. Here are a few things we learned while we were there:

1. Just because there’s an “s” at the end of a country’s name doesn’t mean you pronounce it.

2. Never give your kids chocolate milk before taking an 8-hour van ride through the mountains.

3. Do give your kids dramamine before taking an 8-hour van ride through the mountains.

4. Taking a 4- and 6-year-old to the spa with you for a massage is anything but relaxing. Amusing, perhaps, since they view it as getting tickled for an hour, but relaxing, definitely not.

5. If you’re frazzled after your massage with the 4- and 6-year-old, floating in a tube down a lazy river is a perfect stress reliever.

6. This is a place time seems to have forgotten. If you want to capture a little slice of heaven, hurry, because it’s bound to change before too long.

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Laos, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW

Laos is a quiet, beautiful country that could keep a traveler busy for many weeks. Too bad we only had one. Many people we met trekked on elephants, explored caves, and swam in pools beneath waterfalls. We managed to fit in a crowdpleasing tube trip down the Nam Song River at Vang Vieng, which ranked at the top of everyone’s list. Because it would be boring to have a top 6 list with only one thing in it, we’ve added a few others as well. So here are our favorite activities from our brief visit to lovely little Laos (pronounced without the the “s” by everybody but Americans):

1. Asher — Play with a little Lao girl on the slow boat from Huay Xi to Luang Prabang
2. Kieran — Float in a tube down the Nam Song River
3. McKane — Swing and fling off the rope swings along the Nam Song River
4. Dax — Swing and front/back flip off the rope swings along the Nam Song River
5. Anne — Soak up the spectacular scenery along the Mekong River on the slow boat from Huay Xi to Luang Prabang
6. Tom — Take pictures of ancient temples and pristine mountains, jungles, and rivers

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Laos, Luang Prabang, Mekong River, Rope Swings, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Tubing, Vang Vieng

At home I’m a midget. Well, not a midget exactly, but a small person. At 5′2″ and a less than triple digit weight, I struggle to find adult clothing small enough for my frame. If you were to pull up behind my kid-hauling Yukon XL, you might think a child or a phantom was driving, because my head doesn’t clear the top of the seat. I’m all good with my height these days, but as a child, things were tough. One of the most popular songs in my elementary school was “Short People.” You remember the one…”Short people got no reason to live…Don’t want no short people round here.” Trying to build me up, my sweet mother told me to respond to the constant barrage of “You’re short” comments with “I’m not short. I’m petite.” It wasn’t until I took French in fourth grade that I realized what that meant.

After I reached an adult height, I married a big man. Not a giant, but a tall, strong guy. For many years, Tom lived the charmed life of the all-star athlete and was praised for his significant stature. From an early age, he could reach the top shelf of the fridge, ride the rollercoasters at amusement parks, and dunk a basketball. While he’s too big for a few sportscars in the States, everything there seems well-suited for people his size. The bigger the better is the American rule of thumb.

Ever since we hit China, the tables have turned. People in Asia are little. Motorbikes are little. Doorways are little. Portions are little. Living spaces are little. Tom argues that after twenty years of a steady food supply, the Vietnamese, Cambodians and Laotians will get taller, as did the Japanese after World War II. For the time being, however, I fit right in. Tom can’t find clothes big enough here, while I wear a Medium instead of my usual Extra-Small. In a land of cramped buses, songtaos, and tuktuks, my ability to curl into a small ball is a highly valuable survival skill. No matter how hard Tom tries to , he remains a large square. I clear my head when I climb in and out of a vehicle, while he invariably scrapes his skull. I slide through rows of motorbikes while he is forced to walk around. I slip by touts unnoticed while he commands their attention by his sheer presence. I enjoy my meals from the stability and comfort of my plastic stool or chair, while he collapses his. Poor Tom. It’s tough to be big in Asia.

The story of the path we wove through Laos is largely the story of how we travel–the ways we choose where we go and what we do. Tom and I have long wanted to visit Laos, and given that it is inexpensive and readily accessible from Thailand, it gained an spot on the itinerary early in the planning phase. As the Southeast Asian portion of our trip progressed, Tom was inclined to bail on Laos in favor of getting fat in Thailand. Let’s just say sometimes comfort trumps adventure. The kids, who are happy wherever they have internet and free breakfast, were inclined to agree. I put my foot down, reminding everybody that it would probably be a long time before we’d all be back in this neck of the woods, and they good-naturedly agreed to accompany me on my little trek through one of the world’s least developed countries.

Luang Prabang, the ancient capital, is one of the highlights of a visit to Laos and our first official stop (after our slow boat journey). I had read that many people are lulled into the lazy rhythms of the city and want to stay for weeks on end. We had only a few days to give, so we tried to choose our activities wisely. Again, the rest of the crew would have been happy to sit in cafes and get massages (both fulfilling pastimes), but I had an agenda. Back in 2000, I read a book called One Year Off, written by a man who spent a year traveling the globe with his wife and three young children (and much of the time a nanny). I cannot say it was the inspiration for our trip, because we already had visions of extended family travel, but it proved that what we wanted to do could be done. In the book, the author waxed poetic about the Pak Ou Buddha caves just outside of Luang Prabang. Based on the exotic picture he painted, the image of our family in these caves was permanently imprinted in my mind. So on one of our days in Luang Prabang, we hired a tuk tuk to drive us out to the caves (we’d had enough of boats for a while). In a nutshell, the caves stunk…overpriced, unimpressive holes in the mountain holding a paltry collection of small, crumbling statues. But it didn’t matter. The visit was symbolic. Getting there, no matter what our ultimate impression, was what mattered.

Even though the caves were lackluster, the drive to visit them was not and reveals one of Tom’s favorite lessons of travel: the journey is often more important than the destination. Though our ever safety-conscious McKane sweated the ride, it gave us our first window into rural Lao life beyond the riverbank. Our driver, a moonlighting high school math teacher, was so happy about driving our family that he stopped at his house to pick up his four-year-old daughter to make the trip with us. He said she had cried when he had left for the day and begged to go with him. Now, because he was driving us, people who obviously appreciate and tolerate wee ones, he could wipe away her tears and have a daddy-daughter date to the caves. His wife, also a math teacher, greeted us warmly and deposited the shy yet spirited girl in the cab of the truck.

It was reassuring to make stops along the way to buy the little girl water or allow her to use the toilet, since we often worry about having to do the same for our little ones. It turns out all kids get thirsty and fill their bladders, regardless of ethnicity. The drive was beautiful and worth ever penny we had paid. McKane played peek-a-boo through the window with his new Laotian friend and the rest of us took in the scenery. When we pulled off the paved road to work our way down to the riverbed, the driver asked if he could pick up a few monks standing on the roadside. They wanted a ride to the village up the road. Of course, we said, and shared a few peaceful moments with the smiling devotees. There were many other things that were lovely about Luang Prabang, but our ride through the country was the unexpected highlight.

I had planned for the next stop on our quick Lao tour to be the backpacker hangout of Vang Vieng. Fellow travelers throughout Southeast Asia had raved about tubing down the Nam Song and I thought it would be a memorable family experience. My fellow Andri were skeptical, and since the weather in the mountains was cool, they doubted whether the water would even be warm enough. I sat on the fence until we met up with our Canadian friends Tim and Rea. “You have to go,” they said. “It’s a blast.” They showed the kids video of their exploits on the “swings,” assured us it would be warm enough, and even Tom was convinced. We booked our minibus tickets to Vang Vieng for the next day.
We would have had to pass through Vang Vieng, even if we had skipped the town, and as such, there was no avoiding the minibus ride. Tim and Rea warned us that the mountainous roads were tough and cautioned against taking the bigger VIP bus. “We hear they don’t stop and people just vomit out the windows.” In the minibus, Asher just vomited all over me. (see McKane’s post for more details) Remember, travel is an adventure. This time, unlike the Buddha caves, the destination was the reward. Vang Vieng was spectacular. The town itself is shabby, but our hotel–the Elephant Crossing–was brilliant, one of our favorite thus far. Just check out our view.

The tubing was fabulous. Dax wowed our fellow tubers with his daredevil backflips and we practically had to drag McKane away from the 40-foot swing. The little bits dozed on their tubes while Tom and I soaked up the sunshine and marveled that the karst formations in Vang Vieng were better than those in Yangshou and rivaled Halong Bay in beauty. Chalk this travel victory up to following the advice of firends.

After Vang Vieng, it was a quick and easy bus ride to the Lao capital, Vientiane. The city gets a bum rap for being a sorry second to Luang Prabang and is commonly described as one of those places you can pass through in a day without missing anything important. It seemed nice enough to us, but since we had allotted it only the obligatory day, we would never know if its charms extend longer than 24 hours. Once again I found us a gem of a hotel with river views and free breakfast. And once again, we looked to a tuk tuk driver to facilitate our quick six-hour tour. I cared only about two things: the national monument, Pha That Luang and the bizarre Xieng Khuan Buddha Park outside the city. The monument would provide a good photo opp, since there aren’t all that many landmark buildings in the country, and the Buddha Park was yet another funky stop I set my sights on after reading other travelers’ accounts. Both were exactly as promised, and in a zenlike demonstration of the principles of travel harmony, both the journey and the destination were the reward.

Kieran frolicked through the Buddha Park with a sense of delight and wonder that melted his parents’ hearts. Though we inhaled fumes all the way, the tuk tuk ride proved the fodder of further travel lore. Our driver was a mature mix of Tom Cruise in Top Gun and Brad Pitt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He spoke no English but laughed with us all the way around the city and out of town. He stopped laughing, however, on the final leg of our jaunt–the 4 kilometer stretch between the Buddha Park and the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge. With no warning, and surprisingly not a sound, we blew one of the tiny tires on the vehicle, no doubt because the road was filled with potholes and the tuk tuk was loaded with our heavy bags….and big Tom! Like a scene from The Amazing Race, we wondered if we could find a replacement in time to get us to the border so we could make our train to Bangkok. Though Phil Keoghan didn’t come to our rescue, the tuk tuk owner whose house we had to come to a stop in front of did. A few minutes later we were on our way and Tom Cruise/Brad Pitt was on his way to the tire shop.

So, in summary, Laos taught us the following:

1. Sometimes it is the journey, not the destination, that matters.
2. Sometimes it is the destination, not the journey, that matters.
3. Sometimes it is both the destination and the journey that matter.

Isn’t life great! If you think you’re confused, try being us for a day!

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Laos, Luang Prabang, Nam Song River, Pak Ou, Pha That Luang, Round the world, Round the world, RTW, Tubing, Tuk tuk, Vang Vieng, Vientiane, Xieng Khuan

Last week, the fam and I had the opportunity to do one of the most popular backpacker attractions in Laos, tubing down the lazy Nam Song river in Vang Vieng. It was my mom’s idea to come to Laos in the first place and while some of us wanted to remain in Thailand, we thought it would be nice to indulge her and head across the border. We first entered Laos via a slow boat (which despite what my mom says is in fact very, very slow) to Luang Prabang. From Luang Prabang we headed to Vang Vieng. Here we would tube. Our first day in Vang Vieng we found our hotel, walked around, viewed some local scenery (the amazing mountains), and had a not so pleasant dinner. We went to sleep looking forward for the next day and tubing.

We woke up and made our way to the city center and the tubing station. Here we suited up with water proof bags, tubes, and ropes–all the essentials for a day on the river. We loaded our gear on the tuk-tuk and headed for the river. On the drive there we met some other American around the world travelers from Los Angeles of all places. We talked to them for a while and found out that they were going the opposite direction of us and had already been to many of the places that we were planning to go. After ten minutes on the tuk tuk we were at the river. From here we encountered a little trouble. The life jackets that were given to Kieran and Asher were way, way too big and the holes in the tubes were also too big for them. We improvised a little and used Asher’s life jacket to make a seat in her tube. Kieran opted to keep the life jacket on. We tied Kieran and Asher’s tubes to my mom’s and after a good twenty minutes of waiting on the banks of the river, we were off.

Immediately we passed by some vendors yelling, “Beer Lao! Beer Lao!” (we would get very used to that soon). They weren’t only offering Beer Lao though, there was a perk. If you bought Beer Lao (or any drink for that matter) from the vendors, you would get a free go on their ’swing’. These swings were giant ropes with handlebars attached that send you flying over the water at a pretty high speed. I instantly knew I had to do it. The first few were small and over areas that seemed not safe. Maybe the fact that no one was at them was a good indicator. Twenty minutes in, however, we reached the two biggest swings. One you simply jumped off and held on to a bungy cord with a hand attached. The other was a flying fox-like contraption that swung you in a pendulum. I had to try one. We ordered our drinks and got in line for the pendulum swing. First up was Tom, he blazed across the swing and launched into the water at the peak of his swing. McKane was next. He held on for a few swings and then dropped. I was last. I climbed up on the platform, grabbed the handles, and launched off. I don’t really know what I was thinking but about three fifths of the way through the first swing of the pendulum I let go and backflipped into the water. My family was surprised since only a few days earlier I was talking about my fear of the motion required to do backflips. We couldn’t get enough of the swing. Mac went four more times and I went twice. Mac milked every last second he could of the ride by holding on till he had almost stopped swinging. On my second try, I backflipped again but still not very well. I attempted it one last time. On my last swing I waited till I reached the pinnacle of the pendulum and then let go and busted a huge, clean backflip. After that jump I was done, I didn’t want to risk getting anynmore water in my ears than I already had.

We hopped back in our tubes and floated down the river. We floated for three more hours, enjoying the sun, the scenery and a chance to nap. It was rather relaxing. We moved slowly down the river every once in a while passing a person yelling “Come on! Jump! Beer Lao!” It was nice to have time just to sit in an inner tube and do nothing. We reached the end of the run a little before night fall and made our way back to the city center and tubing office. We turned in our tubes and ate some pancakes. Except for the massive amounts of water stuck in my ears (it still hasn’t come out), the giant sunburn engulfing the parts of my chest I missed with the sunscreen, and being pegged with algae by Mac, it was a pretty good day.

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Laos, Luang Prabang, Nam Song River, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Tubing, Vang Vieng

At home our parents are always very strict about car safety. If we forget to put on our seat belt even one time, we get in trouble, probably because it’s the law. “Click it or ticket!’” as the signs say in Georgia. But in Asia, there is no law like that. There aren’t even usually any seat belts. You can hang out the sides of the car, stand on the roof, or even sit on the driver’s lap and no one cares. For instance, in Cambodia and some other countries, the backs of pick-ups are fully loaded with 20 people or more. But the most unsafe part is the roads! Where there are roads, they’re mostly all old and destroyed. One of the holes in the road could easily send someone who wasn’t holding on to the pick-up flying. It’s amazing how unsafe it is. We see tipped trucks all the time! Not pick-ups but the big huge ones, like 8 or 12 wheelers.

In Laos we experienced some very unsafe things compared to Cambodia though. Some more than others. To me the biggest one was the tuk-tuk ride to the Buddha caves. It was a 45-minute ride on a partially dirt road in an open-ended pick up truck. It wasn’t the missing door in the back that was creepy though; it was my dad. He stood on the back bumper because he didn’t want to get sick. He only did it on the dirt road with all the huge rocks and bumps. I don’t know why he would do it there and not on the paved road. Really I don’t why he even did it. Maybe he’s just a big kid. I felt like a parent, because I kept telling him to come down, but he wouldn’t. Too bad I couldn’t ground him.

The boat ride across the river to the Buddha caves was better, even if the seats moved and were just wooden stools. At least it wasn’t dangerous.

Then there was the mini-bus ride through the mountains from Luang Prabang to Vieng Vang. It wasn’t that it was dangerous, it was that it made you sick–real sick. I felt like I was going to puke even with the anti-motion sickness pill I took. I do this really strange thing where my stomach gets real hot, then my head gets hot, then I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. This time I didn’t, but Asher did, all over herself and mom.There was no warning at all. She just blew, everywhere. That was when mom regretted giving Ash a chocolate milk, in a bus, swerving around mountains. We had to stop on the side of the road to take off Asher’s clothes and put them in a bag. We just wrapped mom’s coat around her. Mom on the other hand couldn’t take off her pants because all our bags were tied to the roof of the van. The worst part about that was that it made the whole car smell. Luckily the two other couples in the van–Australian and Dutch–weren’t mad and used the stop as an excuse for a smoke break.

A little further down the road at a town high in the mountains, we bought mom a skirt, so she could change out of her pukey pants. We also bought me and Kieran new $2.50 coats because the open windows were letting freezing air in. After a 15-minute break in the foggy, cold town, everyone felt a bit better. Next we made our way down the mountains to the next pit stop where it was nice and warm so we didn’t need our coats. We got ice cream there and played with a funny little puppy that was scrounging for food. Luckily, no one else threw up the rest of the way. We felt better when we heard from the people that were in other mini buses that they all had people throw up. The difference was since they were adults, they actually warned the driver to stop before they lost their lunch. We haven’t really done any bad travel since then except for the tuk-tuk to the Buddha park in Vientiane where we got a flat and had to take another one. Goodbye, and so long, McKane is gone.

Technorati Tags: Cambodia, Family travel, Laos, Luang Prabang, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Safety, Travel, Vang Vieng

Laos is a fascinating little country located smack dab in the middle of Southeast Asia, wedged firmly between Thailand, China, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Once known as the Land of a Million Elephants, the official emblem of its power was the rare albino elephant, a mascot recently re-adopted by the communist government in Vientiane. Laotians are pleasant, mellow people, always smiling and offering a friendly “sabadee,” and the lumbering yet enigmatic elephant seems a fitting symbol for their laid-back society. But there’s much more than meets the eye to this lazy jungle paradise.

Because of its strategic location, Laos (actually pronounced “Lao” by backpackers and other politically correct travelers) has been a pawn in many of the region’s military conflicts. Even Dax, who is our resident history expert (no matter that my undergraduate degree is in history—he knows more), was unaware of the extent of the “Secret War” which our country conducted in Laos during the 60’s and 70’s. Both the US and Vietnam had agreed at the Geneva Accords to stay out, but neither had any intention of letting the other gain a foothold in the country. Thus, each conducted full-scale covert operations. The Vietnamese were more brazen in their defiance, deploying more than 60,000 personnel to eastern Laos, while the US sent in small teams of CIA operatives, “advisers,” and military personnel to spearhead a Lao defense. Many of these undercover Americans had to renounce their citizenship, deny any association with the government, and agree to suicide if captured. In this bizarre war, no one wore uniforms. Nothing was official. The ultimate black op. The secret American airbase in Long Cheng was one of the busiest airfields in the world, but did not appear on maps and is not currently open to visitors. The country is the most heavily bombed per capita in the world and hundreds of citizens still die each year as a result of encounters with unexploded ordnance (UXO).

Along with this checkered geopolitical past, Laos has long borne the nefarious distinction of being one of the world’s foremost producers of opium, a vertex in the famed Golden Triangle. According to recent reports, the government claims the country to be officially poppy-free and therefore devoid of heroin and opium as well. We certainly hope this is true, but our brief experience indicates otherwise. Ever since we entered Vietnam, Tom has been regularly approached with offers of illicit goods and services and Laos was no different. Actually I take that back. It was different. Whereas before he was only approached if alone or with one of the big boys, the enterprising dealers in Luang Prabang drove up on their motorbikes and offered their wares even when he was flanked by his wife and all four children. Now before you conjure up any frightening images in your mind, understand this about Southeast Asia: the drug peddlers we’ve encountered aren’t the sleazy, scary type, but amiable, clean cut businessmen who wear windbreakers and are happy to walk away when you say no. This doesn’t mean we condone their activities or want to chat with them, just that we accept them as part of the landscape and don’t freak out when they approach.

We’ve grown so accustomed to the dealers, that at times our reactions might seem strange. On our last night in Luang Prabang, we met with our traveling friends, Tim and Rea, to say a final goodbye before our paths diverged. We’ve followed similar paths through China, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand, and run into each other at least four times along the way. As they’re soon heading to Australia and we’re going to India, this was going to be our last meeting for the year. After a nice dinner together, we hung out on a street corner and chatted until most of the town had gone to sleep (this is about 10:30 in Laos). We reminisced about places we had been, discussed the Lao kids, and laughed about all the drugs we had been offered. We even changed one of our favorite hawker refrains, “Hello, Banana?,” into “Hello, Opium?” We said our final goodbyes and parted, sad that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again soon, but glad that we had formed a new friendship. Our little clan hadn’t made it 50 feet down the road when a little man pedaled by on a bicycle and furtively yet cheerily asked, “You want opium?” After a pregnant pause, we all burst into laughter. The dealer, only mildly surprised, stared at us for a moment and then rode away.

These propositions have led to candid family discussions about drugs and drug use, not much different than those we have at home. The kids know drugs are dangerous and forbidden, yet at the same time, we want them to understand the reasons for their prevalence in some of the areas we’ve traveled. Their accessibility does not speak as much to the character of these countries as to that of their tourists. For a long time, Westerners came here specifically for cheap drugs, and if our powers of observation are accurate, some still do. In Vang Vieng, where we went tubing on the Nam Song River, the tube proprietors practically begged the backpacker crowd to refrain from drug use, but in a town where you can get “happy” pizza, their pleas are largely in vain.

The bottom line is if travelers didn’t want drugs, then locals wouldn’t sell them. Until our fellow foreigners stop buying, we’ll have to put up with the solicitations. We like to tease Tom that something about his appearance prompts the offers….perhaps the goatee or that dangerous look in his eye? We just have to remind the kids that once we get home, the proper response to “You want opium?” isn’t to laugh uncontrollably or tease their dad about his grooming habits.

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Golden Triangle, Laos, Luang Prabang, Opium, Vang Vieng, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Secret War, Southeast Asia

Our time in Chiang Mai was a delight. Our hotel had everything we needed to be happy–in-room internet access, room service, free breakfast, an elevator, and daily cleaning service (not all hotels do!). Best of all it sat right next to a local outdoor market that offered all the cheap food and goods we could ever want. The whole family could eat a hearty Thai meal for about $5-6, including drinks. Tuktuks and songtaos (the ubiquitous red pick up trucks that serve as taxis) to other parts of the city were inexpensive and easy to hail. Because we were not in the traditional hotel district, we got a window into the life of the Thais in Chiang Mai and we loved what we saw. If Tom and I had to choose any city in Asia that we’ve visited thus far to live in, Chiang Mai would be it. People are friendly, life is easy, and amenities are abundant. In fact, we met many a Westerner who has permanently located here, usually after a brief visit that turns into a “why would I ever leave” experience.

Because we were so comfortable, we stayed in Chiang Mai an extra 3 or 4 days. This turned into a necessity as we scrambled to finalize our travel arrangements for the next few weeks. In summary, Thai trains across the Malaysian border have been cancelled as a result of the bombings in Bangkok, so our train trip to Singapore was scrapped and replaced by a flight. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t manipulate our round the world flights to squeeze in Bali without shortchanging Laos or India, so we decided Indonesia would have to wait for our next yearlong trip…maybe in 2014.

Laos is known as “the jewel of southeast Asia,” a land where the pace is slow, the people are content, and the land is beautiful. In terms of infrastructure, it is one of the least developed nations in the world. As a result, unless you are willing to fly, which for six can be pricey, getting in and out of the country can be slow going. We opted to embrace the “slow” route from northern Thailand by taking the famed slow boat from the Laotian border town of Huay Xai to the UNESCO World Heritage city of Luang Prabang. The slow boat is actually not that slow. It has a motor and when not avoiding bizarre swirling currents, moves at a decent clip. It does, however, take about 14 hours to make the 200 mile journey. Nothing happens after sunset in Laos so the trip is broken up into two days, with a pit stop in the almost nonexistent village of Pak Beng.

After the frustrations of our Mekong Delta trip from Vietnam to Cambodia (which was still a fabulous experience), we were adamant about doing this one ourselves. So instead of booking an all-inclusive trip from Chiang Mai, we handled the process one step at a time. We crossed our fingers and hoped that the fact it is still “high season” wouldn’t impede our progress. The first step was taking a bus from Chiang Mai to the border town of Chiang Khong. This we did on a clean, efficient public bus that took about 7 hours and traveled through picturesque Thai mountain terrain. The second was spending the night at the border. We ended up in a hotel that left much to be desired, but since it cost $12 for two rooms, we didn’t have much room to complain. We also realize that the grody hotels give us a greater appreciation for the nice ones, so it’s actually important to slum it every now and then. Granted, we don’t ever intend to, sometimes we simply have no other option.

We woke early to cross the border, which was a quick tuk tuk ride down the street. We got our passports stamped, hopped in a longtail ferry boat, and crossed the river to Laos in a matter of minutes. So far so good. A kind border official helped Tom and I fill in our 6 visa applications and arrival cards, which we then took up the hill to the immigration office. We forked over $210 (as in Cambodia the US dollar is an unofficially official currency in this country), got processed and stamped, and with surprisingly little effort were official visitors to Laos.

Some of the folks we crossed the border with opted to buy their boat tickets at the tour office outside the immigration office, but in our fiercely independent state of mind, we hired a truck to take us directly to the dock. There we bought our tickets for the first leg of the journey for a lower rate than they had just paid 1/2 mile down the road. We patted ourselves on the back for a job well done. The only danger now was getting stranded in Pak Beng, but it seemed unlikely they wouldn’t want to sell us tickets for the second half of the journey the next day.

We boarded the boat, which those who had prearranged through travel agents had been told would depart by 8:30 or 9:00 am. The scheduled departure time according to those on the the dock was 11:00. We left at 12:00. No surprise there. We had been warned the seats would be painfully hard, the boat dreadfully overcrowded, and the journey almost unbearably long. For some we talked to it was the worst few days of their time in southeast Asia, for others it was a highlight, a leisurely cruise through pristine mountain jungles with momentary glimpses into rural Laotian life. The first thing we noticed was the cushions. We had been unable to find any to buy, but we didn’t need them, as each narrow bench on the boat was covered by a thick flowered pillow. The seats would certainly be hard, but our tushes have grown accustomed to hard in the past four months. We could do this.

As warned, dozens of people boarded the boat, until it was completely full, about 90 people on board. As people continued to fill the shore outside, it became clear a second boat was required. Finally another arrived and enough people jumped ship to bring our total down to about 75. They were a friendly lot and the usual travelers’ camaraderie arose. No matter how bad a trip is, meeting people, sharing travel stories, and swapping valuable travel tips is always a highlight of the experience. This foray down the river was no exception.

The boat finally pulled out from the dock and we were on our way. Over the next six hours we cruised through gorgeous forests flanked by sandy beach-like banks. Every now and then a few Laotian children would be frolicking naked in the water while their mothers washed clothing or caught dinner. Once we got far enough outside of Huay Xai, there was no sign of infrastructure or modern technology…no cars, no roads, no towers or poles…nothing but trees and a periodic bungalow and farm plot.

The only interruption to our rural reverie was the occasional “fast boat” that came hurling by and was gone in a flash. Fast boats make the slow boat’s 2-day trip in about 8 hours, but taking them requires a certain degree of masochistic recklessness. The engines, which look something like a cross between a Harley and a snowblower, put out a deafening roar. Passengers wear helmets to help shield their ears, those we met who had survived the fast boat said they had trouble hearing for days. The real reason for the helmets is protection in the event of a crash, which happens frequently. The fast boats are thin fiberglass shells insulated by styrofoam that skim the surface of the rock-studded Mekong at breakneck speeds. If they hit a rock or catch a wave at the wrong angle, they are sent hurtling through the air and break up on impact. Needless to say, most tourists making the trek to Luang Prabang opt for the slow boat.

After a glorious afternoon on the water, we arrived in Pak Beng. We crossed a narrow board to the shore and hustled our way to the top of the hill to find a hotel. With only a handful of guesthouses and multiple boats ejecting passengers, they were filling up quickly. Kieran honed in right away on a brand new, gleaming structure high on the hill that had been visible from the water. The price was steep compared to the others, $15 per room, but we snatched it up figuring we needed a good night’s sleep after the previous night in Chiang Khong. We dined on excellent Indian food, a common theme throughout our Southeast Asian travels, and went to bed early, which is really your only option in Pak Beng, since the town’s generator shuts off at 10:30. We had flashlights next to the beds in case we had to get up, but we slept soundly until 6:00 am when the power was turned back on. (It went out again shortly thereafter, but we no longer needed it since we were headed back to the boat).

Our boat for the second day was not nearly as comfy as the first and we found ourselves sans cushions for the 8-hour journey. We purchased our tickets on board at the promised price and departed within an hour of boarding…much more quickly than the previous day. The kids settled in to their routines of the previous day–Dax slept, McKane read, and the little kids played with cards and asked for snacks. Once we got going, a little Laotian girl emerged–the daughter of the boat’s owners. Over the course of the journey she and McKane, Kieran, and Asher threw a ball (which of course went over the side), ran back and forth, and provided photo opps for the other travelers. The Western travelers eagerly snapped pictures of the Laotian girl, while their Asian counterparts focused only on Asher. Funny.

The boat stopped frequently along the sandy shoreline to drop people off and pick others up. The stops usually comprised no more than a few huts, at most a small village. At one stop, a family and their dog boarded, leaving a crying, heartbroken grandmother at the shore. We dropped them off only 20 kilometers or so down the river, but apparently a world away from their grieving matriarch.

At long last we arrived in Luang Prabang, again climbing the hill to a line of waiting tuktuks. We hopped on one with a pair of Australian schoolteachers we had chatted with on the boat and ended up at a decent guesthouse just as the sun went down.

Though the ride was long and the seats were hard, we would not have traded our slow boat experience for a painless plane ride on any account. For two days it felt as if we were floating through a masterpiece of nature, a lush, primitive landscape unspoiled by man and untouched by time. What a perfect introduction to this jewel of a country! …And what a great way to heighten our appreciation of padded seating!

Technorati Tags: Family travel, Huay Xai, Laos, Luang Prabang, Mekong River, Pak Beng, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Slow boat