I would like to have traveled on with the Hobbits.
But before leaving to Oudomxai I have to say goodbye again. Unlike my new acquaintances, who all continue towards Luang Prabang, I take the bus to Oudomxai. The trip on the Nam Ou will bring me to the same destination some time later, but much more spectacularly.
So I have breakfast for the last time with the Hobbits and Gormenghast. I observe the hustle and bustle before the departure of the giant ship, until finally everybody and everything is stowed away. Then the ship takes finally off and disappears in the early morning fog.
I feel sad.
The bus leaves in an hour, so I take the opportunity for a walk through the village. I find a bakery selling banana pancakes and similar treasures. A perfect snack on the way to Oudomxai, .
A taste of Luang Prabang. The faithful say thank you for being allowed to donate. A relationship between giver and taker that takes some getting used to. But in the Buddhist faith many things are different from ours.
Drive through wild Country
A TukTuk takes me to the bus station, where some people patiently wait for the departure. The bus, not particularly large, but in reassuringly good condition, is ready. All kinds of things are grilled at a stall. Not only do they look weird, they also smell a bit austere and, on closer inspection, turn out to be snakes.
A ride through wild country, through bright green forests, past fields, huts on stilts and those on the ground. Not much traffic, the country is so poor that nobody can afford a car. But scooters, lots of scooters, on which whole families are occasionally transported. Greetings from India.
The bus is getting full after all, changing travellers, again and again stops in villages or in strange places, where someone wants to get on or off. The stop serves for the observation of the construction of a house, and - as a wonderful extra - I enjoy the company of a small friendly dog, which I would like to take along with me.
Oudomxai – Village in no man's land
The five hours pass quickly, the mountains are left behind, a wide plain opens up, a straight road leads to Oudomxai. At ariving I'm strangely happy, almost euphoric, slowly strolling down the main street until I find the hotel I'm looking for. It's big, pleasant and pretty empty.
A walk through a new city is always a special experience.
Especially when the sense of direction is still stumbling, when the eye is looking for landmarks, something to hold on to. No problem in Oudomxai, which is more of a small town. A cozy, serene backwater with a fairly straight main street running down the middle of it, lined with countless stores, stalls, restaurants. I like it.
No trek, but Schnapps for everyone
However, everything I'm looking for doesn't work out for now. There are no short trips, at best solo, but then more expensive. So they tell me in the tourist office. And the bicycle rental company has just no bikes for rent, certainly not one to Muang Khoua (later I realize that this has saved me a miserably painful day).
The host of the rental office is entertaining a Dutch couple; they have returned from a wedding and are now celebrating the day with schnapps and are currently in a phase of alcohol-impregnated euphoria. I can resist the offer to drink a glass and out myself as an anti-alcoholic.
Brave people on Bikes
Dinner in a restaurant. Relatively gloomy, but also relatively cheap (it will remain the low cost point). I have a filled plate of fried noodles with chicken, a liter of mineral water and a beer. A foreign couple sits nearby, I address them. American from Alaska, on the way to China, Central Asia, Kazakhstan ... Wow. Bold.
But the couple, although in their years, make a tough impression. They will succeed. They tell of an equally tough Swiss guy, whom they met in California on the way to Alaska, also on bicycle, where they later ran into him again. He had done it. I am almost a little proud of my tough and brave compatriots ...
Chance leads
Breakfast in a nearby restaurant, sitting in the morning sun. The Lao lady is, like most Laotians, almost painfully friendly, the Banana Pancake a poem.
Today, no fixed plan, chance will lead me. So I'm presently in a dump somewhere in the north of Laos, whose existence I didn't know until a few days ago, I am alone, with the highest degree of autonomy, enjoying that wonderful morning (despite infernal noise and stinging exhaust fumes from the nearby street).
The phantom Waterfall
A wonderful day as promised. First a slow walk through the city, Sabaidee here (the Lao greeting), Sabaidee there, a nose full of Laotian everyday life.
First, the visit to the stupa on the hill, not a soul to be seen, just me and the Buddha, gigantic, quiet, at peace.
There are – somehow appropriate to this morning, because it has different plans for me – no bikes to rent (likewise I didn't find the bakery promised in the travel guide either yesterday or today).
So I march off, composed, determined, towards the southern hills, where according to the map there should be a waterfall. I do not really care, but man needs goals. Hot, dusty, noisy - scooters, trucks, swanky SUVs make the marching a bit tedious, but what the hell.
Sabaidee
I stride, slowly at first, then faster, more determined, with my usual wandering stride, for the way seems long.
It feels good, this march through the green country, past fields, polluted little rivers, swanky Chinese buildings, small, shriveled huts, in front of which smiling women with their children are sitting and calling me a happy Sabaidee.
Sometimes or actually most of the time I am the Sabaidee man and I get back a happy Hello. So much poverty, so much zest for life and friendliness.
Boiling hot
The road seems to be going on forever, it's blaring hot. The turnoff to Luang Prabang, which according to the map should have come many kilometers before, finally appears. From now on it's uphill, a holey, dusty road lined with trees and shrubs, sometimes in the shade of large deciduous trees whose name I don't know. Chickens and turkeys and other creatures invisibly scrabble in the thicket.
Picnic with company
I've reached the top of the pass, I've already been on the road for over 2 hours, no trace of the waterfall. It will probably remain a mirage forever.
Well, at least there is a small pub there, in any case I get something to drink, and so I sit down on a plastic chair bleached by wind and weather, eat some bread and talk with the owner the few words in Lao, while countless dogs and cats and chicken roam around my legs. Then I walk back the long same way I have come ...
So all is (was) well (so were the last words in the Harry Potter story).
P.S. Matching Song: TLC - Waterfall
And here the journey continues ...
