Every house, every room has its stories.
Deeply sad, wistful, heartbreaking, but also wonderful, heart-filling stories. Stories of happiness and loss. Of betrayal and friendship. They are our witnesses. It is part of our world and our lives. Yin and yang always work, life and death always belong together. That is the only consolation for the two unfortunate young people. And to myself. And that is why, despite the strange and unhappy past of my room, I sleep soundly.
During breakfast Reto and me become acquainted with an English couple, James and Suzie. He's a travel writer (but later turns out to be much more, his CV is impressive, but more on that later). Anyway we decide to hike to the next village. Reto wants to visit an old acquaintance, Mr. Wong.
As it turns out, Mr. Wong is difficult to find.
Everything changes
We start at half past ten, the houses fall back behind us. It's (still) a good village, this Muang Ngoi, but for how much longer? It's changing at breakneck speed, like everything that pops up on the radar of the world tourism community. A few beautiful old palm trees were felled just this morning to make room for another guesthouse or a bar, which will sooner or later fall apart due to lack of success. Or maybe not. The course of the world, as always a dark chapter...
I dare not imagine what it will be like here in a few years.
Humming Silence between the Trees
So we make our way to the remote village, it is pleasant, mostly flat, past bubbling streams and grazing cows and water buffalos. On a day like this, there is actually nothing nicer than a leisurely walk, without any haste, but with a lot of relaxed peace of mind.
We meet a few children on the way to school, otherwise we are alone with birdsong, the wind in the trees, the sun on our faces.
Sometimes the narrow beaten path leads through alleys, branches swing down and sometimes touching the face, a humming silence between the trees looking like upright soldiers towards the sky. Occasionally it is necessary to cross a brook, barefoot with advantage, because the water is sometimes quite deep and wonderfully cooling. So shoes off, wade, shoes on.
James
James is smart, well-read, very sympathetic and polite, a real Englishman. He has retired and earns his living with the thing he likes most: traveling. He's been on the road for six months and is writing a new book for older travelers with the working title "Born to be mild".
Quite modestly as he is, he refers to another of his books: The Kindness of a Stranger. He describes his travels in war zones, the atrocities, human suffering, the lack of perspective in the world.
A bygone World
Then finally the village. The feeling of having arrived in the Middle Ages or in a world long gone.
A few plastic bottles lying around here and there disturb the picture, but the wooden houses on stilts, the clucking chickens on the unpaved streets between the huts, the faintly smoking fireplaces, the noisy children, everything points to something that has long been forgotten in our western world is: calm, peace and harmony.
Even if it's deceptive...
While Reto leaves in search of Mr. Wong (who turns out to be a phantom, he's definitely missing), James and I sit down on the terrace of the only restaurant, ordering soup, beer and everything else belonging to it.
Laughing Misery
The landlord is a unique guy: small, plump, a mischievous smile on his face. His English deserves a comedy prize, but we learn a lot about the village, about this small, doomed world.
Not only does he own a restaurant, he also has a couple of bungalows for rent at 5000 kips a night. That's the equivalent of a good 70 centimes! My goodness! Whether they would meet our rather low standards is another question. Probably not.
However, it doesn't take long before a few young travelers can't resist the offer and move into their rooms.
After a few beers and schnapps, the mood gets better and the laughter gets louder. The innkeeper laughs the loudest; we almost roll on the floor, although we really don't know why. Still laughing, he tells sad stories of his wife, who had an accident, being treated in Luang Prabang and Vientiane until he ran out of money. Now she's back home, but it's still not good.
The laughter gets stuck in our throats...
In another life, another place in the world, his problems would be solved. Health insurance, treatment, money - everyday securities of our preferred life. Once again one is reminded of the lottery life is. We in the West have the top prize with extra numbers, while these incredibly friendly people have drawn a very bad ticket here. One laughs and at the same time is infinitely sad ...
It's one of those stories that gets stuck, as many others.
Despite the pleasant company, we have to say goodbye. The sun is already at the horizon, but we manage to get back home just before nightfall.
Then the last evening in Muang Ngoi. A wistful feeling, not only because leaving the village, but also the company of new friends, which I will probably have to leave forever.
P.S. Matching Song: Lynyrd Skynyrd - Searching
And here the journey continues ... with the second part of the Nam Ou river cruise
