Mutiny on the Mekong

Sunset on the Mother of all rivers

Finally we left the Kingdom of Thailand and entered the Lao People's Democratic Republic, via a 2 day boat ride down the legendary Mekong River. At almost 5000 kilometers in length (the world's 11th longest river), this big brown giant runs through 7 countries - Tibet, China, Burma, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Suitably Mekong means the 'Mother of all Rivers'.

We hitched a relaxing two day ride on a slow boat from the top of Thailand/Laos through the jungle to Luang Prabang, a beautiful French colonial looking jungle town 15 hours downstream. Most of our journey was navigating the actual border, with Thailand to our right and Laos to our left.


Between Laos and Thailand

This boat ride was rather more eventful than planned, as the unscrupulous boat operators had oversold the seats by a long shot and, as they apparently do all the time, tried to squeeze on more than 150 people on a boat meant for something like 90. And that's not counting the hundreds of colossal backpacks, mopeds, chicken cages, beer crates etc.

As we stood on the dried up river bank (it's dry season and the river is a good 10 meters lower than at wet season) ready to board, with a massive group of travellers, something amazing happened. Like Albert Finney in 'Network', people demanded change. The people on the boat refused any more passengers and the people on the river bank refused to get onboard, causing a huge stalemate. What would otherwise have been just another daily occurrence of an overbooked, unsafe river boat cruise, suddenly turned into loud mass protest.


Peaceful protest

Spearheaded by a particularly vociferous Dutch middle aged woman, and a few other ring leaders, the handful of tiny Thai boat operators got heckled by hundreds of foreigners into chartering two river boats that day. It's that awkward phenomenon when lots of people think something, but everyone is rather too polite to say it and everyone just obliges to get on with their own business. Like when one sees a loud drunken man on the London underground, bothering someone. A whole bunch of people very nearly get up and go over and tell him to stop, but somehow no one quite does it.


Moored for the night

This loud Dutch woman, motivated by the entire crowd of safety conscious people, managed to get what she wanted. A second huge river boat, at an extra expense to the operators, eventually materialized and that day on the Mekong, the daily boat downstream was not one but two boats. To make this even more memorable the exact same thing happened the next day too. Perhaps this was the tipping point. Who knows?


Wooden long boat

As the journey continued and we settled into our spacious boat, we played backgammon and drank Lao beer as endless cascading valleys passed us on either side.


Port Out Starboard Home

Every now and then jungle villagers, fishermen and bathing children would wave at us. The young captain navigated his giant wooden ship down narrow rock formations and strong currents as if he'd done it a million times. For a brief but exhilarating 30 seconds Sami got to have a go at it.


Riverside locals

Halfway on our journey we spent the night at a Lao Village, Pak Beng, where we had an expensive dinner (guess every item on the menu is shipped for days on the river and therefor comes at a high premium).


Coconut helmet

So far on the Mekong, we've met some interesting people. Take Virral, for example, a Thai retiree, biking across Thailand with his wife. As a man who clearly takes things in his stride, he'd carved his bike helmet out of a coconut. Wow. It seems not only can a coconut crush your skull, a coconut can also prevent your skull being crushed. Nice one, Virrel.


Lunch time cigarette

Now we're in Luang Prabang and probably will enjoy a few days of rest. After this we may head further down river or perhaps go east. Not sure yet. Our main issue right now is what's for lunch. And what a great feeling that is.

Chiang Mai - The Rose of the North

Ornate city

We arrived in Chiang Mai, Thailand's bohemian northern outpost, some 700 kilometers to the north of Bangkok. Getting there we had the smelly pleasure of sharing a sleeper carriage with 30 other passengers.

At 9 in the evening the beds were folded down by the overweight carriage attendant and everyone ushered into the Thai-person-sized berths. As expected, when we lay down they were just a few inches too short to accommodate for our European legs. Bugger. Although, once we'd had a couple of Chang beers it didn't matter so much. Judging from our over night travels we weren't going to get any sleep anyway.

From the train station we took a free minibus to a perfectly decent hostel, and headed out to explore the old city. In the inner city we found guitar shops, cafes and cheesy brothels, all competing ferociously for the tourist dollars. Needless to say the brothels win more often than not.

In fact the infamous loose women industry is a rather bizarre sight. As the night falls, rows of pretty prostitutes (and a few not so pretty ones) sit waiting by the entrances of their brothels. Lit by the flickering neon glow of the private members sign above their heads, they sit fixing their make-up in their little hand held mirrors, as if they were about to take their 8th grade class photo.

Walking the streets one cannot but notice a staggering number of slightly embarrassed looking older white European men, escorted by very male looking Thai women or very female looking Thai men.

The next day we went adventuring in the stunning wilderness around the city. We trekked our way upstream to a beautiful remote waterfall, where we stripped to our tighty whiteys and had a brief splash about in the freezing water.


Rafting

Then, for an hour or so, we rode Sithan, a massive bull elephant. Sami getting a spot of thigh rash from straddling Sithan's giant coarse head for about 20 minutes. After that we zip lined across a river in a rather scary looking cage thing and then white water rafted our way down river to our waiting pick up truck.


Bamboo rafting

At one point, in between paddling through the turbulent white waters, we floated quietly on the still moving river and as we looked up the side of the ravine we saw a pair of wild elephants grazing, expertly balanced on the near vertical slope as if they'd been Swiss alpine goats. Amazing creatures. And to think that most people simply know them from patterns on a pillow case.


The shadow of giants

The low part of the day was when we visited what our tour guide called a 'genuine hill tribe'. Yeah right, pal. As we drove up the 'yee old tribal' tarmaced road to tin roofed houses there were snickers wrappers, coke cans and discarded plastic bags everywhere. A few begging Nike shirted children tried to get some dollars while two tired looking village elders put on 'yee old jangly tribal head gear' and appeared at a couple of hastily erected bamboo stalls to flog, yet again, those damn ridged wooden toads.


Water fall power shower

The next day we rented a cute little scooter, on which we endured an hour-long, ass numbing up hill ride to an impressive Buddhist temple called Doi Suthep. If you like fancy you'd like this. For all their notorious mild mannered subtleties, the Buddhists do overstated, ostentatious, in-your-face golden marble temples very well.


Doi Suthep

The history of Doi Suthep is neat. In 1477 a big old white elephant carried a Buddha relic around till it finally stopped, keeled over and died. On that very spot they built this temple. Although 'nice' isn't really adequate to describe it, this place was very 'nice'.

The next morning we left Chiang Mai in a Thai-person-sized minivan for the 7 hour journey to the border of Laos.

Sawatdii kha, Chiang Mai, you neat old city. It's been great. See you again one day.

Latest photos

Elephant taxi


Longtails moored for the night


Cheeky trunk demanding bananas


Mint green dining carriage


Napping Buddha


Late night tuk tuk


Jungle hut inhabitant

S.A.M.B.A. - the mother of procrastination

No prisoners

As self confessed gamers we wanted to find a good travel game to shorten long train journeys and eat up waiting time in airport terminals.

After looking at a few possible contenders we finally found our perfect travel game - backgammon. It's quick to set up, requires no shuffling and is played within a contained board (raised edges, so pieces don't fall on dirty floors).

The other obvious choice was cards, but it's too fickle; unless perfectly shuffled might cause accusations of unfair advantages. Besides, despite the thousands of possible card games out there, we somehow always just end up playing shithead.

So we picked up a cheap, plastic, faintly magnetic backgammon set in the highlands of Sri Lanka and have since then enjoyed some fierce battles. When flipped over it's a chessboard too (and as such, it also has the option of drafts: the backgammon pieces on the chessboard side).

Backgammon is a game of both skill and luck and therefor perfectly suited for trash talking about who's had more of what. Bring it on, honey.

To have a vested interest in the outcome of our games we pledged to record the scores of our backgammon games in an ongoing league. Thus, the Sami And Mere Backgammon Association, S.A.M.B.A., was born. Partly to give us a vested interest in the outcome of the game (you know how playing someone who isn't into a game really sucks) and partly, well, just because we can.

Initially the S.A.M.B.A. league was very one sided; Mere continually kicked Sami's ass. Through calculated defencive tactics and menacing hair twirling she kept crushing his careless offensive moves. Since then, in a recent reversal of fortunes, Sami has clawed his way back and is currently ahead with a slight lead.

For simplicity 1 point is given for each set of best of 3 games.

Current score: Mere 36 - Sami 46

It remains to be seen what the future holds. One thing is for certain. The game is on.

The universal taxi driver shister agreement

Teksi shmeksi

What is it about driving a cab that makes you a stubborn jerk? Who wrote that universal code of conduct that requires anyone who works as a driver, of any sort, to try to scam the passengers at every given opportunity?

And, more amazingly, why do they all have such a terrible sense of direction?

In our experience, in every country we've been to so far, more or less, we've encountered a number of tuk tuk drivers, taxi drivers and bus conductors who did their damndest to pull a fast one on us.

Ok, granted, when you do show up with a big old shiny backpack and money belt at the ready, you've got to expect the opportunists to step into gear. And over charging is hardly something only drivers try to do. But when you've clearly bothered to learn some local greetings, are obviously interested in their culture and their country, and in all good faith step into their smelly little sanctum of dangly religious mirror beads and closet love songs, you kind of expect a little bit of respect, really.

Even more infuriatingly, a shocking number of drivers have absolutely no idea of how to read maps. Er... What?! From the puzzled look we keep getting from our drivers, we might as well have showed them a picture of Scooby Doo and asked to be taken to him.

And, most annoying of all, there is a general tendency of drivers to not to never ever admit defeat. Rather than tell you they don't know, they will sheepishly make some measly lie up. They would rather drive half an hour in clearly the wrong direction, than pull over and ask a passer-by for help.

Understandably, spending your day sitting in traffic jams, listening to continuous honking and lifting heavy bags for ungrateful foreigners, might well irritate the most well-balanced pacifist. But surely that's not the way to spend your life. That's what the jangly karma bits hanging from the mirror and the sweet love songs are there to counter act, no?

If drivers would want to steal our money then please just do it properly. Pull over, shove a gun in our face, tie us up by the road side and take our luggage. Otherwise just please get on with it and drive us where we need to go, at a reasonable cost, you jangly cowboys of the road.

In the Village of Wild Plums

Bangkok, from a 55th floor cocktail bar

Los Angeles means 'City of Angels'. Bangkok means 'Village of Wild Plums'. As one arrives in this giant Asian metropolis one gets the distinct feeling that it's just that - nothing but a giant village. A village with sky scrapers. Something that has morphed into what it is today by random compromise rather than slow deliberate development.

The traffic is loud, the smells are strong and the people are invariably smiley. Everywhere are giant, gold lined poster homages to the much loved King, Bhumibol Adulyadej, the world's longest serving head of state.


Self preservation

We arrived after another marathon overnight bus ride, at a very uncomfortable hour in the morning. Predictably sleep deprived from the 13 hour bumpathon, we checked into 'Takeanap', our aptly named spartan hostel. A quick shower later and we immediately headed out to one of the biggest markets in the world - the Chatuchak Market, arriving so early that most stalls hadn't opened yet. We sat in the shade and observed the setting up of the huge market over a cup of delicious Nescafe.

As one would imagine, a market of this magnitude (some 15 000 stalls squeezed into 35 acres) has lots of fascinating items for sale. As well as lots of not so fascinating items. You name it they had it. Jewellery. Vintage trucker hats. Pencil sharpeners. Carrots by the bag. Caged Labrador puppies. Caged chickens next to caged Labrador puppies. Wheel chairs. Wigs. Guns. And lots and lots of those hand carved wooden toads that make a toad-like sound when you rub their back with a wooden stick.

Every direction you look, you see a vast human sea of hardened Thai vendors and fanny-packed, tube-sock-wearing, camera-wielding tourists. Bargain hunters, fruit sellers and pickpockets overtake each other down narrow, roofed alleyways, in every nook and cranny a stainless steel cart offering quickly whipped together steamy Phad Thais, freshly grilled, glistening satay pork skewers and delicious strawberry slushies.

For all its ancient Asian heritage this signature market has now, inevitably, turned quite western. Areas the size of football pitches selling football T-shirts and zippos with naked ladies and key rings with skulls that have flames coming out of the eye sockets. Almost all of it counterfeit too. Calvin Klein, Emporio Armani and every other brand you can think of are available, at half the quality and a tenth of the price.


Public ferry boat boy

Amongst the next day's list of attractions, we visited Khao San Road, the infamous backpacker street made made even more infamous by Leonardo DiCaprio in The Beach. Think Leicester Square but worse. Like a bad headache that despite lots of head ache tablets still lingers in your head. Khao San Road is where clusters of newly arrived, wide eyed gap year students and letchy old vendors mingle in a stink of cheap alcohol and cheap perfume. After declining countless unsubtle alleyway offers of:

'Psst, Ping Pong Show...' we made our escape. Sorry buddy. No table tennis tonight.

Yesterday we explored some more of Bangkok, with the help of a tuk tuk driver clearly trying to break the Thai land speed record. He whizzed us through the city in his souped up tuk tuk (they're all fast here), to wait for us at several serene Buddhist temples. Then, as it goes here, he took us to a number of 'recommended' retails shops, so he could get his pre arranged cut back for bringing in punters. As we got to see quite a bit of the city we obliged.


View from Sky train

In the afternoon we took advantage of the many inexpensive tailors, and Sami got measured up for a nice dark brown hand made suit with funky blue lining. And a baby blue shirt to boot. Then we had some reflexology to care for our hard working feet.


Dapper Dude

In the evening we visited the Bangkok Chess Club at the Bull's Head pub, where Sami came fourth in a blitz tournament of nine rounds. Then we took the express elevator up the 55 floors of the State Towers to the famous Breeze Bar, where, over a Mojito and a Margarita, we gazed at the huge city scape of Bangkok at night. A cautious security guard watched nervously as Mere took some great long exposure night shots from the very edge of the railing.

Overall, Bangkok has been fascinating. An real eye opener of how strangely well organised chaos can be. Despite constant traffic jams, beggars and broken pavements, it's a highly enjoyable place. After all, when visiting a city of 10 million people and 120 000 stray dogs perhaps one cannot have too high demands on functionality and cleanliness.

Tonight we'll take the 14 hour train straight north, to Chiang Mai, the biggest city of the north of Thailand. That, hopefully, will be our gateway to Laos.


The Golden One

Don't forget your toothbrush, tunes and fully functional minature Japanese road bike

Bare essentials

Ok, we need to share this with you. One of the, by far, most bizarre thing we've encountered on our trip so far. We would have loved to show a photo of the actual sight, but we didn't have a camera at the time to capture this gem of a Kodak moment. Hence words will have to do.

The night before we left Langkawi island to cross the border into Thailand, we were packing up our stuff. Since we shared a rather tight room with another traveller, and the bathroom was occupied, Sami decided to go outside for a quick late night bathroom break.

On his way back to the room, casually strolling past the length of the hostel, he walked past the end room, facing the beach. The door was open.

Get this. Inside the room a grungy looking, long-haired Japanese man in a bright pink thong (nothing else) was sitting on the bed, reading. Door wide open, as if to invite passers-by to stumble upon him, in all his unashamed late night glory.

On the floor he had his stereo, pumping out loud hard core techno. It wasn't an iPod with speakers or one of those travel friendly medium sized portable stereos. But a proper giant three piece stereo, with thick wires and stuff, like you'd see in a bachelor pad.

As if that wasn't wacky crazy enough, our eccentric Japanese thong wearer had, next to the door, a frickin motorcycle. Yes, a fully operational miniature Japanese road bike. Probably 2 foot high, 3 foot long and 1 foot wide. Not something he'd rented locally, but something he was clearly travelling around with, on his eclectic thongy escapades. Next to the bed there was a large Sampsonite, possibly large enough to hold the bike, and parts of the stereo, within.

Now, we're not ones to pass quick judgements. But as we, for the last 2 months or more, have been scrupulously rationalising what to carry with us and what not to carry with us. To the point of lengthy deliberations about whether to forfeit an extra two ounces of weight, for the benefit of a few more pairs of underpants.

And then to come upon this hairy man, so clearly unconcerned about extra weight that he travels with his entire living room stereo and favourite miniature motorcycle!? Jeez, dude. What gives. Respect to you, oh grungy wacky Japanese man. Don't follow the herd.

Guess when all you wear is a thong, then you have room in your luggage for those little extras.

Koh Lanta - beaches, caves and well oiled Swedes

Epsi, our friendly bike taxi driver

As our next northbound stepping stone we arrived on Koh Lanta, a slightly larger island a few hours south of Phuket. Hardly undiscovered, Koh Lanta seems an island dedicated to mindless eating, drinking, sun tanning and sleeping in (which, incidentally, is fine by us).

Droves of well oiled Swedes and Italians mooch about aimlessly as the locals desperately build more accommodation to keep up with the growing popularity.

The reason for all this tourism is clear to see. Miles and miles of white beaches surround the island and the traveller friendly villages are filled with signs for massage places and spa resorts.

We arrived the day before yesterday, on a 160 seater ferry from the south, carrying only one other passenger (hrm, not the most efficient use of energy) and slowly moved up a ghostly quiet, mangrove lined river, as if we were on a mission to hunt down Colonel Kurtz.

Ten minutes later, from the ferry terminal around the corner, our Muslim bike taxi driver sped us (and 'Steve with bad breath', the only other ferry passenger) down the main drag of Lanta town.

When 'Steve with bad breath' jumped out at the first AC'd hotel, we kept going out of town till we arrived at a cute Japanese run (why is everything Japanese cute?) wooden stilt village. Bee Bee's, a beach front maze of drift wood sofa corners and thatch roofed chilling spots is a perfect base for exploring the island.


Roadside football talent

Yesterday, to motivate us not to just slouch on the beach all day, we rented a bike, suspension worn thin by many fat tourist bottoms. Despite this literal pain in the ass, we had a lovely drive on the newly cemented roads and saw lots of the island.


Near-vertical trekking to the cave entrance

In the afternoon we went cave exploring in the Kao Maew Khaew Cave, a National Park attraction run by the government.

Unfortunately, Ali, the softly spoken cave guide we were allocated, spoke terrible English and had a severe speech impediment. The fact that he'd been a Thai boxer in his youth and had had most of his teeth knocked out really didn't make him any more understandable.

In addition, to our amusement, he also seemed to make up willy nilly facts about the cave. For instance, upon being asked when the ancient stone cave was formed, Ali, informed us that it stemmed from some time in the 1970's. Wow, fancy that.


Ali, in his green Adidas pants, inside Kao Maew Khaew Cave

After a short trek up the hillside, to get to the cave entrance, we entered via a slippery bamboo ladder. Once inside the stale, slimy cave we only had our head torches for light.

As Ali mumbled some more barely audible made up facts about the stalactites, we walked, crouched and crawled our way to three magnificent rooms. One had a huge wall of fossilised sediment layers (presumably formed some time in the early 1980's or so), one had a small underground lake and the third one had hundreds of bats hanging right over our heads. As if that wasn't spooky enough, throughout the cave system there were deep crevices, large crickets and spiders the size of Frisbees.


Slippery

2 hours later, as we once again breathed fresh air, Ali told us of his plans to become a taxi driver. We looked at each other and couldn't agree more. Driving a taxi is a profession much more suited to Ali. Good Luck dude. And thanks for your expert guidance.

Tomorrow we will push on, heading straight for Bangkok. That'll be the end of our Thai island hopping. At least for now.


Mere and a dog, watching the distant fishing fleet

Dive pix

En route


Getting ready


Subaqua Mere


Baby fish playgrounds


Prickly buddies, Lion Fish and Sea Urchins


Stopping for lunch, between dives


Underwater hillside


Blue Blob coral


Strange

Lovely Koh Lipe

Tung, our faithful boat driver

What a difference a day makes. From the busy, developed shores of Malaysian Langkawi we arrived in Koh (Thai for island) Lipe (pronounced 'Lee-Pay'), just north of the Thai-Malay border. This stunning little Thai island is home to less than a thousand inhabitants and luckily, for us, is still in its early stages of gringofication.

As our slightly listing ferry pulled in to the main beach of Pataya (that means about 6 places to stay and 8 bars) we transferred to a local 'Longtail' boat for the last 200 meters. Once on the beach we were greeted by the local Thai customs delegation - a smiling woman in board shorts and tank top. After a very casual signing in process (in a beach bar) and a small donation towards the upkeep of the place, we walked across the island to find our best yet accommodation of our trip - a beautiful and comfortable bamboo hut right on the beach, complete with a picturesque hammock and open air bathroom.


Post Tsunami signage

As part of 51 pristine mountainous islands of the Tarutao National Park, situated some 70 kilometers from the mainland, Koh Lipe has an interesting history. In 1939 it had a prison built on it, but due to lack of supplies during the second world war both prisoners and guards became a feared group of pirates. After the British restored order and the pirates were dispersed, the current locals (descendants of Sea Gypsies) permanently settled down here.

Since then it has slowly developed to what it is today, a relaxed beach destination with sarong shops, massage parlours and smoothie huts. During the day groups of kids play on the beach, unambitious shop keepers laze in their hammocks and the few travellers mooch from beach to lunch and back. When night falls a few distant generators kick in to provide precious electricity and people gather by the beaches for another round of cocktails.


Cocktail hour, again

On our second day we decided to take advantage of the rare variety of marine life here, and did two Scuba dives with a local dive shop. Since the proper Scuba boat had a "tired engine", we took a couple of noisy Longtails (powered by giant cluttering truck engines, as they are apparently easier to maintain) to the dive site, a good hour away.

As we pulled in to the site and the heroic dive instructor put his wetsuit on, an angry looking scorpion wandered out of his neoprene sleeve towards his bare chest. He flapped about with his arms like a nine year old girl and desperately flipped the scorpion into the water, to everyone's amusement. Could have been the sequel to Snakes On A Plane. Scorpions On A Boat. That would rock.

The first dive, in the powerful current between two large islands, was down to 17 meters and showed us lots of pretty corals and ominous abandoned fish pots (unfortunately still catching fish). Our second one, after a yummy curry and water melon lunch on a nearby beach, was even better. Holding both our regulators and masks we fell back into the inviting waters at another nearby island.

Our ever-smiling Greek diving instructor swam with us (and our other dive buddy, 30 year old 'Pru' from Stoke Newington) around the headland to a max depth of about 23 meters. Huge schools of fry and other brave little fish surroundeded us as we cruised weightlessly in the current over Stone fish, Lion fish and a variety of colourful giant shells. And when we had used most of our tanks we ascended slowly, to a timed stop, of course, to meet with our waiting boat.

Yesterday we snorkelled around another island and saw sting rays, squid and some vicious looking sea urchins. All in all, a lovely introduction to the marine habitat of Asia. Afterwards we both felt like we should do more diving, eventually perhaps one day doing some more advanced PADI qualifications.


Lovely jubbly

Today is our massage day and we're both looking forward to lying motionless for a while, our faces comfortably wedged in cushioned holes (hrm, perhaps they can arrange for our books to be readable and our cocktails to be drinkable with a straw).

Tomorrow we'll need to tear ourselves away from Koh Lipe in order to make some time for Bangkok and the north of Thailand. A difficult thing to do when you've found such a likeable place. But if we don't leave now, we may never do.