Ants!

Pakse, Laos

Today I'm upset. Really upset. Even though it's probably my own fault. My own stupidity. I've just arrived here. Got myself a hotel room and went out to have a look around, eat something, get myself some wheels.
Now I've just come back from my great ride. I can't even remember what I wanted to get from my small backpack. I just noticed it looked like its surface was moving. It was ants. All over my backpack. There must have been thousands! They had formed a regular road to a tiny hole somewhere in the wall. Even the floor all around my bag was crawling with them. Then I remembered I had left half a pomelo in the bag. They had smelt it and were swarming in to get some. I checked inside and rummaged. And was promptly bitten. Painfully so! They had got inside, too! The first thing on top was the necklace that Iris had bought for me at the Dai Minority Park the first time we went out together. The plastic bag I had put it in was covered in ants, too. I ran downstairs and got one of the staff to come up with some insect killer. Fortunately, they had a can left. He sprayed everything that moved for a long time. It seemed like he was almost emptying the can. I watched them die. "Don't leave fruit around", he advised helpfully. Thanks but I was not in the mood for advice. I was in the mood to complain about them having an insect problem in their damn hotel.
I started cleaning my backpack - one item at a time - cursing all the while. How could I have been so stupid? And still I kept getting bitten by more ants. They were far from dead. The worst thing was still come: They had not only eaten holes into the pomelo, they had found a way into the plastic bag and had chewed on Iris's gift. It was made of nuts but I had thought they were empty shells. Obviously they weren't. I took it out of its bag and it fell apart in my hands. The ants had eaten into the nuts and chewed through the string, as well. My only physical memory of Iris was ruined. I remembered the day she gave it to me. It said 西双版纳 on one of the shells. I could have cried. I couldn't even find all of the little plastic beads that were space holders between the nuts.
I went on brushing off every item that had been in my bag. I would still find more and more ants that had survived the poison. So, I killed them myself. In the end, when I had taken everything out, I rinsed the bag in the shower - only to find out that the damn little bastards could swim. I could see them paddle around on the floor of the shower! At least, I managed to flush all of them out of my bag this way. Then, when most ants had either died of the poison, me squashing them or had gone away I started putting together the pieces of Iris's souvenir. I'm still so upset. In the end, I managed to clean it, too, of ants. They kept coming crawling out of the nuts and disappearing into them again. The only way will be to keep it and take it home. Since I still have the beads and the nut shells are mostly intact I should be able to thread them on a new string. I hope it works. At least there's that hope to comfort me. I'll take a photo to document what it looks like.
When I finished cleaning and hung up my bag to dry (at least that shouldn't take long as hot as it is here) I realised I had spent almost three hours with this. It was dark outside. So, it's time for dinner. At least, that should lift my spirits a bit.

An Inconvenient Truth

Laos, Vientiane

Not to worry - this won't become a pseudo-political rant. It's more an embarrassing truth about myself that I've come to realise today.
In the street in Vientiane two old local gentlemen, seeing that I'm a foreigner, began talking to me. They didn't use English, Lao or maybe Chinese but French. I guess that's not entirely surprising since Laos used to be French protectorate until only fairly recently being granted full sovereignty in 1953. So, while young people now furiously learn English (even in tiny villages I found people that spoke some English) old people often speak French. No, what took me by surprise was that I found that I could understand what they were saying but was unable to respond. It took a long while before I managed to utter a simple sentence like, "I'm not French, I'm German." The first thing that automatically came to mind was actually the Chinese equivalent. Force of habit after being in China for a year, I guess, but I think certain family members will not be entirely happy reading this, not after we spent years practicing French for school. Hehe...
Truth be told, French was a choice that my school and German education system made for me. I know it's an important language globally and all but I've never enjoyed it all that much. Chinese is now the language I've chosen to learn. I've loved learning, Chinese is a beautiful, intriguing language and I'm keen to carry on when I get back home. There, I've said it although I'm sure I haven't heard the end of it yet...

Highway to Hell / Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang, Laos

I know I've been spoilt. Spoilt by efficient, fast and convenient public transport in China. How do I know this? Because transport in Laos is different. For starters I was used to saving lots of time by taking over-night trains and buses. Here, I has to find out, there are only day-time buses that take a lot of time. But now I also know why this is.
I had already got a taster just after leaving China. Just after the border my tuk tuk stopped and we got out. The hill side next to the round had come down in a mudslide and blocked the road. Drivers in both directions had left their vehicles and were inspecting the state of affairs. But what might have major distress in other countries was taken in with great ease here. Nothing to be done. We have to wait. Fortunately, then we'd been near other settlements and a tuk tuk driver on the opposite side was willing to split with mine and take me further. With a bus this is a different story. I won't even go into detail about the several places where the road had been washed away leaving only a big gaping hole in the asphalt and a 20-meter drop. The first major obstacle we hit was another mudslide. The road was completely blocked. It had happened in a village and several houses had also been buried. It looked fresh, scary and the remaining hill side unstable. Fortunately for us a digger was already on the scene clearing the road. A few hundred kilometers and millions of potholes and stomach bending curves later it had got dark. We stopped. Lots of trucks and other vehicles were standing on the road not moving. Drivers and passengers had got out, looked like they were preparing to camp here. What was the matter? I went to check for myself. The road, it turned out, was flooded almost waist-deep. Small cars and motorcycles had no chance here. I was getting worried. We didn't know how far it was still to Luang Prabang and this looked difficult. I really didn't want to spend the night on the bus. Finally, after long consideration the driver told people to take their things out of the luggage compartments at the bottom of the bus, moving them into the bus. We were going in. Slowly the bus moved into the water. We were amphibious. The water came up almost halfway up the side of the vehicle. Please, I prayed, let's not get stuck here now. Finally, the water became lower and we emerged. The engine hadn't drowned, we hadn't got stuck. My prayers had been answered. After a total of nine (instead of seven or six) gruelling hours we arrived in Luang Prabang only to find guesthouses full because of bad weather. But at least there was the chance of a bed and a shower.
One poor girl on the bus even had a harder time than everyone else. I had thought locals were tough and could take the roads. Not so. She kept throwing up during the whole trip. Again and again. During breaks she looked really miserable. I pitied her. Motion sickness medicine which is common in China now hasn't arrived here yet. Poor thing. I hope she doesn't have to do it again soon.
Roads here sure are an adventure.

Introduction to Laos - The Good and the Bad

Laos, Luang Nam Tha

It's a culture shock again. I'm not entirely used to it anymore. I've been in China for so long that I take it for granted that people speak Chinese, signs are in Chinese, I know what to order in a restaurant and there are cheap Internet bars everywhere. Now this is Laos. Things work a bit differently here. There's a new language barrier and culturally I have new things to get used to and enjoy.
One thing happened while I was cycling around Luang Nam Tha today. This here is truly countryside, something you hardly get in China because of the huge population. I came past many small villages when while approaching one called Thongwa I heard loud music. I went to investigate and found there was some kind of celebration going on. A young man who spoke some English (he was learning English at the high school in Luang Nam Tha) invited me to the table where he and his friends were sitting. What was going on? A party. He couldn't explain further. It looked like the whole village was attending. Long tables were loaded with food, music was blaring and someone was singing, people were dancing and everyone shared small shot glasses of rice liquor. Actually, that seemed to be the main event: Someone would always come round with a bottle and a glass, fill the glass and hand it to the next person who then had to down the contents. Then the cup went to the next person. I found out quickly that refusing was useless. You sit, you drink. And it was strong stuff! Fortunately, there was still food to eat and soak up some of the alcohol. The food might have got less but there always seemed to be more alcohol. I'm not sure how long I stayed but people were getting seriously drunk. How long will this go on, I asked. Until evening, sometimes until the next day. Wow! People here are hardcore! In the end it got too much. Despite (or maybe because of) hospitality I feared I would not find my way back if I stayed any longer. My head actually hurts a bit as I write this. So, I excused myself and started my way back. A slogan from a popular poster at my university dorm comes to mind: Until death do us party.
On the way back I encountered the less attractive side of Laos. I encountered an older man on the road who said something to me. I didn;t understand but thought it was rude to just ignore him and ride on. I stopped and realised he had said "money". I said no. He had alreadu come up close and spotted the bulge in my shorts where my wallet is. He actually proceded to try and open the pocket. I stopped him but he just went on trying to push my hands out of the way. I shouted at him getting angry now. At the same time I started pedalling. Realised he was not getting my wallet he grabbed my crotch as I left and chuckled. I'm not sure what that was supposed to achieve. The mind boggles. I swore at him in Chinese.
Sadly I was wrong to mistrust the guys at the party but also wrong to trust an old man in the street. Of course, a certain caution is always needed but it's always also disappointing when you find out why. I hope to see much more of the good sides of Laos as I go.