Uncomfortably Numb

Slow boat on the Mekong River
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By Dan

A little additional commentary on the Gibbon Experience, from the parental perspective. (Read Grayson’s entry, immediately prior to this, for the kid’s perspective.) In short, the zip lines and tree house were the scariest things that I have done in a long time (maybe ever). After trekking up the mountain and getting ourselves geared up in our harnesses, we arrived at the launch point for the first zip line. Our guide hooked Abby up, hooked himself up with her, and off they went. It was so high, and so long, that we couldn’t even see the other end. I was wondering whether I was a candidate for Bad Parent of the Year, or what. (OK, I already earned the award for 2007 when I put the kids on a ferry in Greece as human hostages, but that was last year – so maybe I’m going for a repeat.) My first ride on the zip line, I wasn’t too scared before starting. It was having done one that really made me appreciate just how wild it is – the rest of the rides were the scary ones. It’s a good thing that kids are fairly fearless. Grayson and Abby, as you heard, didn’t think twice about it, and absolutely loved the experience. I’m just glad we all lived to tell the tale!

On the boat
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Back in Huay Xai after the Gibbon Experience, we had a decision to make. How to get from here to Luang Prabang, our next destination? We could spend about nine hours riding a bus; we could take the fast boat, which has been described as like riding a chain saw, requires passengers to wear crash helmets and face masks, and apparently is really dangerous, but takes only a day; we could fly, which would mean not seeing any of the Laotian countryside; or we could take the slow boat, which means two days on a hard bench seat on a boat putt-putting down the Mekong, with a night at a small town along the way. The slow boat is a sort of rite of passage and part of the Laos experience, so we decided to go that way. Yes, those bench seats are still wooden, and mighty cramped, which left us all pretty uncomfortable by the end of the second day. But, it was not nearly as bad as we expected, and a nice little adventure for us.

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Just about every commercial establishment in Huay Xai sells tickets on the slow boat, and the travel agent who sold us ours instructed us to be at their office at 9 am. We were optimistically thinking the boat would leave at 10. Boy, were we wrong about that. By about 9:15, we had been put in a songthaew with our bags on the roof, and driven the 2 km down to the dock. There, somebody took our passports for a final check, and we hung out for another 30 minutes at a little shop, reading all of the warnings about how we needed to bring all of our food and drinks, because the boat had nothing on board and made no stops. There was also a brisk business in seat cushions. Out of pity for our little darlings, we sprung for two cushions, both of which were very cute “Lovely Bear” logo’d ones that they wouldn’t be caught dead within ten feet of, at home. Anything for comfort. About 10 am, we were given the go-ahead to head down to the water’s edge and board the boat. The boat was a long, narrow, covered thing with rows of wooden benches. The engine room was amidships, and the baggage was stored in a hold area that was accessed by lifting up the floor boards. People kept arriving, and by about 11 we were pretty much full, with about 150 people on board. Finally, about 11:30, the engine cranked up – wow, was it loud! – and we pulled out.

Fancy cushion
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The passengers were 95% tourists, and the whole scene made for great people-watching. Having the luxury of time, or a basic lack of urgency, means that it is long-traveling backpackers who do this trip. You don’t want to spend 36 hours staring out at the river, if you only have a two week vacation. Since it was backpackers, we were definitely among the older passengers, although not alone in having hit our 40s. There were probably twenty countries represented, ranging from Chile to Korea, and Norway to Australia, with the biggest concentrations probably French, German, English and American. It is amazing how young some of these people look! With some, I wanted to say, “Does your mother know that you are riding a slow boat down the Mekong in Laos, when you should be home and in bed by 9 pm?” I’ve always thought that it would be great for my kids to take a year off before starting college, and do something interesting. Frankly, I’m reconsidering – or at least thinking that backpacking through Asia might not be the thing. Ask me again in six or seven years. . . .

View of Mekong River from Pak Beng
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The river moves along at a pretty good clip, and occasionally we’d hit stretches of rapids that made things a little spicy. The pre-departure safety lecture (all 30 seconds of it) focused on the fact that we weren’t supposed to move around a lot when going through the rapids. I guess the captain doesn’t appreciate having his boat tipping a lot, while navigating the rough stuff. The scenery was beautiful, but fairly unchanging. There tended to be lots of exposed rock and sand banks down at the river’s edge. I can only imagine what it all looks like, when the water level is 20 feet higher. Beyond the rocks and sand banks, we saw lots of steep hillsides covered with greenery, and the occasional flatter area that was planted. There were lots of signs of life, but not any significant towns. Plenty of fishermen were set up on the banks, working nets or lines, but we didn’t see a lot of fish being hauled in. Playing in the water is a big pastime for kids, and we saw lots of them along the way. Occasionally, we’d see another big boat taking cargo of one sort or another up or down river, and there were a few other boats transporting people, but all in all I got the sense that Lao people don’t move around a lot. Or, they all know that going by river is not the way to go.

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Despite the warnings to the contrary, there was food and drink available. On board, an enterprising lady sold potato chips and cold beer, and did a brisk business in both. With nothing much to do, people were hitting the bottle early, and it sort of felt like a big multi-national fraternity party floating down the Mekong. At one or two stops along the way, gangs of kids with baskets of, yes, potato chips and cold beer, would come on board and do a brisk business as well. We kept thinking that some smart salesperson would try diversifying a little, and maybe sell fruit or sandwiches instead of the same thing as everybody else. Hey MBA students – there are people in need of some advice out there.

Rummy with friends
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The kids were really great, taking the long, slow trip in stride. They did their school work, read, played their electronic games, and chatted with fellow travelers. Grayson spent some time with a monk, which was pretty cool. Abby managed to insert herself into a game of rummy with a multi-national contingent. It’s really fun to see how comfortable they have grown with settings such as this. When I think back to the start of the trip, when one or both of them would have been reluctant to go buy an ice cream cone or ask for a toilet by themselves, and compare them to now, I know that this is one way in which they have grown tremendously.

Sights from the river
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Around 5 pm, we arrived in the town of Pak Beng, which was the first town of any size along the river. Unloading the boat was sort of chaotic. There’s no pier, so the boat just noses up against the rocks. A swarm of local guys came on board, and started grabbing bags out of the hold. You basically had to watch for yours coming off the boat, and tackle the guy who had his hands on it, because otherwise he was going to head up the hill and deposit it at some unknown guesthouse. The folks who run the boat company could use some help in the logistics department. We managed to corral our bags, and since it was a long steep hill and very hot, we opted to hire some guys to carry the bags. Wouldn’t you pay a buck for somebody to carry your 40 pound bag ten minutes up a steep hill in 90 degree weather? Enterprising guys that they were, our bag carrier guys suggested that they come back the next morning to carry our bags back down the hill. Lazy people that we are, we readily accepted their proposal.

Pak Beng was sort of weird, this brightly lit Las Vegas-like place in the middle of the Laotian wilderness. Brightly lit, that is, between 7 and 11 pm, when they turn on the generators. Before and after that, it was pitch dark. There are a slew of guest houses and restaurants, all geared to cater to the transient crowd of which we were a part. As far as I could tell, there really wasn’t any other reason for the town to exist. Our guest house was very simple, but adequate for the purpose – at ten bucks a room, it was hard to go too wrong. We had a surprisingly tasty dinner, after we admired the rats being barbecued on a grill up the street a way. Hopefully, some of the rats in our tree house at the Gibbon Experience that had gnawed holes in our stuff ended up on the spit somehow, but I doubt that we were so lucky.

Day two on the river was more of the same. Same scenery, same floating party atmosphere, and same very hard seats. It was a longer journey on day two, but nobody really knew how long it would take. By mid-afternoon, we were all getting pretty restless, and our butts were getting very, very tired of the hard, narrow benches. It was a great relief to see increasing signs of civilization, and finally to pull in to Luang Prabang about 5:30 pm. Despite the uncomfortable numbness in our nether regions, we all thought that we had made the right call on taking the slow boat down the Mekong to Luang Prabang. Nobody was suggesting that we go back up the river, though!