The day starts early, chickens cackling, ducks chattering, happy children's voices.
Early morning chill and humidity in the air. A slow, sluggish walk through the paths between the houses. The ticket office doesn't open until eight, so first of all breakfast. Farewell talks, always the same. You vow to stay in touch, knowing well that it will never work out.
Good-Byes
The boat leaves late because some high officials are arriving. They are greeted like kings. I don't even want to dwell on how much I am annoyed by the bows to these oddly bourgeois men. Thank God we live in countries where servility towards the upper classes is frowned upon. But can you blame the people here? They live in a country where there are clear rules for above and below. Violations are punished. Period. But I'll never get used to that.
The village I have grown fond of in a short time, Muang Ngoi and Reto and James and Suzie, disappear in the shore enchanted by the morning light.
One look back, just one, then there is only the look ahead.
In the beginning, the river leaves us our morning rest, pretending to be tamed, to have lost its power. The shore glides past quietly and leisurely, a herd of cows lying close together, a boat on the shore, then nothing for a long time, just trees, bushes, brown and yellow earth.
And occasionally fishermen, stoically holding their rods into the water, water buffaloes, wallowing in the dirt, villages, houses, huts. And the jungle, sometimes cleared and planted with eucalyptus trees. Then I get angry and sad, cursing the Chinese who done all this.
But then the peacefulness is gone, the river wants to show us once again who is the master in the house.
I look out at the rushing water, as if in a trance, shaken again and again by the rapids, now emerging every minute, raging and roaring for a few seconds, then disappearing behind us.
At one place the river has become a raging monster. We are forced to leave the boat and walk a few hundred meters downstream to the site where we are allowed to board again without taking unnecessary risks.
Looking for a boat
In Nong Kiao, the next larger village, the boat anchors. End of the journey. It means to find a seat on another boat. Which is much more difficult than expected. When we arrive, the first boat is already full and is just leaving. But of course there are other boats, and the price is also known decreasing with the number of passengers.
So, during the hot lunch break, it is a matter of finding people with the same destination. The cash is running out and the friendly boat hirer would like to be paid in cash, so I make my way to the next bank. Which takes some time until I find something similar to a bank.
Although we do not find the desired number of passengers, the price doesn't hurt that much anymore (there are some travellers who seem to be on their last legs in terms of money).
The Mekong sucks us up
I am very quiet today, hardly talking, a polyphonic, multilingual chatter around me trying to drown out the noise of the outboard motor. Today, I am quite deliberately not one of them. I am in my own world, concentrated and completely devoted to the moment.
The Pak Ou Caves
A few kilometres north of Luang Prabang we stop at the Pak Ou Caves, a Buddhist cult site famous for its hundreds of Buddha statues. The caves are located on the west side of the Mekong.
Obviously, after stopping at the shore, we have to fight hard for our place. Since more and more Chinese tourists are coming to Laos, visiting the most famous places, it sometimes becomes difficult. But we get used to it.
And then we arrive, just in time for the sunset
As if ordered, the sun sets in its daily pomp and unmatched pathos at the moment when the boat docks at the shore in Luang Prabang.
I'm not quite sure where I am, I'm walking a bit and suddenly I'm alone. I ask my way through, reach the main road, turn into a side road. At some point I find a hotel, eat a pizza, shuffle through the city. Everything else tomorrow...
P.S. Matching Song: The Hat ft. Father John Misty & SI Istwa - The Angry River
And here the journey continues ...
