The Slow Boat to Thailand

To get from Luang Prabang, Laos, into Thailand, we had a few options: a flight, expensive and not recommended since Laos Air won't release its crash statistics, which are assumed to be high; a rickety, bumpy bus that may or may not have gone the whole way; a fast boat, taking 6 hours, but for which crash helmets and life jackets are mandatory and which kills some people every year; or a slow boat, two 10-hour days on a bench-seated wooden ferry chugging along at a few kilometers an hour. Much preferring slowness to unnecessary danger, we chose the latter option, and though there is no denying that it was not the most scintillating or comfortable way to spend a couple days, there was a quiet beauty in the trip. For the majority of the trip, no road was visible from the Mekong; until recently, the river was the only mode of transport through much of Loas, and in some places it still is. There were occasional villages of stilt-legged wooden houses perched high up the cliffs, with steep sandy paths leading down to the river. We passed groups of people, including children, standing in knee-deep water bowed over large metal trays, sifting for gold. In the rapids that dotted the river there would often be fishermen gathered with poles and nets. Late in the day we saw a solitary elephant bathing near the banks, having seemingly finished a day of pulling logs nearby. A couple times, we passed other ferries (which seems to serve as a houseboat for the families who operate them) moving in the opposite direction, and a couple times the narrow, treacherous speedboats zoomed past. Other than that, though, the river was quiet and empty, save for goats and water buffaloes grazing and wading by the banks. The nights were spent in villages that seem to have their entire economies based on the tourist ferry traffic, with competing grungy guesthouses and unsavory restaurants lining the steets. The second of these was just across the river from Thailand, and in the morning we took a 5 minute ferry across to the border.

Northwestern Thailand is renowned as an area of great beauty, with lush rolling hills. Unfortunately, at this time of year (the hottest and driest), all we could do was try to imagine what it would look like, because everywhere we could see was dusty and desiccated. The air was still slightly smokey, although nowhere near as bad as it had been a week ealier (like in Luang Prabang), when forest fires and human-set fires were raging and smog levels were dangerously high. We took a bus from the border to Chiang Rai, a small, nondescript town (maybe also pretty in the right season) with a very laid-back atmosphere. Our friend Mark, from Bali/Singapore, was there with some other friendly, artsy, adventurous people he had met, and we found all of them at their guesthouse-- a place with a pool, wonderful in the heat, that was a clear magnet for the aging hippy ex-pats (many of them with Thai wives) that northern Thailand is known for. The weather and the profusion of unappealing tourist agencies combined to quell our ambitions to go hiking, and we spent much of our time just hanging out with everyone-- two women from Belgium, one from Finland, one from Germany, two men from Oregon, and Mark. Our favorite spot in town was the night market, which had tons of yellow metal tables jammed together in font of a stage (sponsored by Singha Beer) where a constant stream of dancers (some women and some men in drag) and ballad-crooning singers performed. Although it seemed that most of the tourists in town were hanging out at the market, we were collectively vastly outnumbered by locals, which is always an important indication of quality as far as food as concerned. And the food was delicious-- we tried as much as we could stomach from among the 100+ stalls, our favorite dish being a sweet-spicy-sour noodle soup called kaow soi that is typical of the region. There was a stall specializing in bugs, which Erik of course had to try, so we had a little plate of fried worms and crickets and really freakin' huge cockroaches; the woman selling them said not to eat the head, but Erik didn't see why, and at it anyway. (No bad results so far...). It was funny to see the cockroach next to a shrimp, because they really don't look that different, but that rationalization still didn't bring me any closer to tasting the bugs. After our nightly stuffings at the market, we would usually head over to Teepee Bar, a teeny place lined with punk and heavy metal posters, decorated with random bicycle parts, and with two bunnies who ran around as they wished on the upper balcony. We did manage to take in a little bit of "culture" as well, visiting a shocking, blindingly glittery white temple under construction just out of town. The inside walls of the temple were also unique; in addition to the standard images of Buddha, there were murals with dark warnings about modern life: gas pumps leading into the World Trade Center towers, nuclear rockets sporting Pepsi logos, and a tiny Superman looking sadly helpless in the midst of it all.

After a couple days, the Chiang Rai group headed off in different directions, and we left with Mark and Molla (the Finnish woman) for Chiang Mai, Thailand's second largest city, a few hours south. Erik's and my main activity there was to take a one day cooking class, held at the home of, and partially taught by, a popular TV chef. The class was a lot of fun; we made 6 different dishes and had to eat each one, making us totally stuffed. The cooking highlight for me was learning to make our own curry paste in the morning; we mashed roasted spices and herbs using a mortar and pestle, and learned how to preserve the paste as well so it will be feasible to make it at home. But the coolest aspect of the day was not the cooking itself, but a wacky and wonderful coincidence: as we chatted with one of the other women in the class, we figured out that she lives a couple doors down from my Aunt Jill in Phildelphia! Small world. After class, we met up with a woman from Servas, an Australian who has been living in Chiang Mai as an AIDS education volunteer for two years. After drinks with her, we met again with Mark and Molla, and managed despite our fullness to eat some more mango sticky rice, the food highlight of Chiang Mai. (The sticky rice is slightly salty, and topped with the stunningly sweet mango and creamy coconut milk, the combination is indescribably delicious.) Mark and Molla headed off to Bangkok early the next morning. After spending a couple hours in the cheesy but sweet city museum and puttering around a bit, we did the same, being shaken around like martinis in our little bitty bunks on the overnight train.