Getting Out Of Phongsali: A Story of a Man of Many Jobs, Foggy Flight Conditions, and Machine Guns Pointed At Our Heads

We had an amazing time in Phongsali and stayed there for more than a few days. It was really untouched by tourism. With no attractions to see, we spent most of our time strolling the city and eating, drinking, and conversing with local Lao people as well as trekking the surrounding hillsides.

After not too long we yearned to get back to civilization and decided to save ourselves 3 days of back tracking and a traitorous bus ride through Oudomsai and Luang Prabang by purchasing a plane ticket out of this remote city. It sounded simple enough but, it tuned out to be not even the slight bit simple.

We asked the local townsfolk where we could purchase plane tickets and they directed us to the Phongsali Hotel. We went into this eroding building and saw a small empty booth just big enough for one person with a homemade 'Lao Air' sign scotch-taped to the top.

We hollered for service and after some time a man with strong alcohol on his breath emerged from a back room with loud thumping music. He asked us if we wanted a room. We told him we're looking for tickets back to the capital Vientiane. He immediately turned from hotel receptionist to tour agent and walked from the front desk to the homemade 'Lao Air' booth. In his best effort to hide his slurring speech he explained that there are only two flights a week out of this province- one on Wednesday and the other Saturday. We booked two tickets out of here for Wednesday and he took our passports, money, and personal information. He told us that the bus driver would pick us up from our guesthouse early that day.

On Wednesday morning we woke up to some of the thickest fog we've ever seen. There is no way our plane could navigate through mountain peeks onto some small unpaved runway, we thought.

Out of the fog emerged the bus driver, the same man who packed our bags into the minivan 'bus'. Slowly the 'bus' took off into blanketing fog on our way to the airport in the nearby town of Boun Neua. The road was absolutely horrible, so we had to pop some pills to calm our motion sickness. Finally we arrived at the airport, which by all means did not resemble an airport at all. It was a small empty building about the size of a convenient store with two signs outside barely separate from each other that read 'Arivals' and 'Departures'.

We grabbed our bags and waited for our flight. The same man that sold us our tickets and drove the 'bus' was also the person responsible for weighing and labelling our baggage. He checked us in and directed us to a small waiting room.

We met two Philippinos that would be flying to Vientiane with us. We all anticipated leaving this small town and getting some fresh coffee from the capital but wondered how the airplane would ever take off.

We were all so happy to get out of this place. Our happy faces were all shot down in a second as the man with so many jobs, the man we were so convinced was going to be our pilot, walked into the room and looked out the window and mumbled "the flight is cancelled" before walking away.

We all looked at each other and said, "What did he say?"

Matt replied, "The flight is cancelled?"

The Philippinos commented, "No, it can't be!"

Alissa cried, "I'm not staying here! I'm going to kill someone, this place is making me crazy!"

The Philippinos went to the front desk to confirm the message, then they were quickly organizing a way out. We also over heard a Taiwanese business man make some plans over the phone. We got our tickets refunded by the multi job man and he told us that there are no busses out of the province until tomorrow morning. This was not going to work for us. We managed to arrange two outs. One was Taiwan and the other was the Philippinos.

Because the take-charge Taiwanese businessman wanted to take 3 days to reach the capital and the Philippinos wanted to get there as fast as they could, we sided with the impatient Philippinos. The Philippinos filled us in on why they are in Laos. Remember how we mentioned how Laos is a charity case, well, they both are International Accountants who run their own business auditing aid projects for international charities and governments. Interesting work. Interesting people. We shared many of the same opinions about Lao and had many laugh-out-loud moments with those two down-to-earth accountants.

We spent a few hours in the town of Boun Neua watching in awe of Taiwan who went to the back kitchen of an apparently empty restaurant and made himself "special recipe fried rice" from the ingredients found in the abandon kitchen. We were also blown away by the pageantry of different hill tribe women and their elaborate and wildly elegant traditional costumes. You might notice the lack of people photos on this blog. This is partly because we find picturing people quite intrusive and a bit rude. We know this from firsthand experience in Korea. Actually the sight urged us to ask for permission but ALL tribe women responded with a terrifying "NO!"

In these areas they hold the belief that if you take their picture you are taking their soul. Some will allow you to take their pictures but ONLY if you send them the picture, you know, so they can get their soul back.

Actually, a few times in Phongsali province we ran into tribes women that ran in completeand utter terror away from us. This is really untouched land! Oh.... sorry back to the story...

The accountants got a hold of a shinny new 2009 Laos government Toyota Pathfinder (I think) along with a government driver. And we cruised in style back to Luang Prabang. This ride made those painful roads as smooth as Laos silk. This was the swankiest we've traveled thus far and we didn't take that A/C and extra leg room for granted, that's for sure. It didn't take long before we dozed off. Actually, we slept most of the trip after the darkness of night drowned out the beautiful virgin landscape.

In the middle of the night, on some rural back road in the middle of nowhere we awoke to AK47s pointed at our heads and ready to fire!!!

Two vigilantes had barricaded the road. Our cool-as-can-be government driver said something in Laos to these militant looking men and we passed through no problem. We looked like ghosts but we were safe.

The government driver said they just wanted money and that these roads are a bit dangerous at night if you're traveling alone. Cue Alissa: "No Shit Sherlock!"

Trekking In the Mountains to Hill Tribe Villages In Phongsali

Click on these links on Matt's tea blog to read a lengthy and tea focused tale of our adventurous hike to visit the hill tribe people of the Phounoy Tribe. Or at least look at the pictures.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Chinese New Years In Phongsali: Getting Drunk With Grandma

After arriving in Phongsali we still had much to do. Firstly, we had to find a place to sleep. Secondly, we had to find something to eat.

With so few visitors to Phongsali, finding accommodation was no problem. The atmosphere of the city was immediately festive with EVERY shop and house decorated with that iconic symbol of the Chinese New Year, that red thin papered lantern. Every second house had music blaring from loud speakers with dancing that spilled into the streets.

We were absolutely starving having only has a Chinese breakfast at the Oudomsai bus depot 13 hours ago. So we settled into a dirty, overpriced, windowless, Chinese operated hotel without much looking around. With stomachs growling louder than party beats we wandered the small center of the city in search of food.

We must say that it was quite difficult evading the locals invitations to come in and party but we knew full well that drinking on an empty stomach would lead to a quick end to the night. I think we both shit our pants a few times when sugared-up, wide-eyed children lit clusters of fireworks off right in front of us. Actually, if we had an audio clip of the walk through town it would sound more like a battlefield than a celebration.

We must have walked down every street before accepting (actually re-accepting) an invitation to drink it up Chinese New Years style.

All restaurants were closed down for the holidays. The ironic thing was that because it was Chinese New Years every house had a full extravagant table setting of food. We were even desperate enough to poke our heads into some houses and haplessly point to the setting. But everyone declined our offer for food all the while offering us shots of homemade rice wine. This food wasn't to be eaten, it was the food offered only to deceased ancestors. We settled down in cheap plastic lawn chairs located in a large tent that flooded into the street. At least we had a drink!

We managed to bump into two Frechies that had made a Lao friend. We asked their new friend if we could get some food, any food. He immediately pulled out his cell phone and was on top of it.

The food did come- Chinese stir fried ginger pork with Lao sticky rice. We didn't hesitate to devour it local style, with our hands. The food was good. The rice wine was strong. This intoxicating elixir above 50% alcohol screwed us up good!

Under the large tent the locals explained to us that today was the second day of celebrating Chinese New Years. On the first day, they summon the spirits of the relatives that have passed away. For the sake of simple communication and for sheer humour value we all called the spirits 'Grandma'. On the second day they eat and share food and get smashed off stronger-than-strong moonshine for the sake of 'Grandma'. When we asked where 'Grandma' was now, the old men who we were drinking with pointed to a large rectangular wooden box covered in incense and wrapped in bright, flashy fabrics. This box was in the center of the tent and often people would walk up to it and light incense and pray to 'Grandma'.

And so all night long we got trashed with the old men and 'Grandma' as loud music pumped out of drive by motorcycles and nearby houses as people prayed, danced, and celebrated in the street.

The locals gave us the big invite the next day when they were going to take 'Grandma' to the old stadium and do some sort of 'good bye for now' ceremony with her. When we asked when this will take place they just said, "when we decide, that is when". Every body in town was drunk. The party was intense.

We managed to get back to the characterless hotel and fall asleep. The next morning we woke up to middle school students chugging beer and dancing in the lobby to the same loud music we fell asleep to.

When we went outside all the same people were still drinking with 'Grandma' in the tent and the dancing, music, and praying seemed like it never ended the night before. This was crazy!

As we bummed around town catching packs of woman's exotically dressed in costumes from years ago, we saw a large truck being driven by monks. In the back of the truck was 'Grandma' and staggering behind the slow moving truck was all of the dedicated people in the tent. They stumbled along, throwing dry rice at 'Grandma' as the truck made it's way into the distance.

Beautiful Laos Wildflowers

The Most Horrible Bus Ride In Our Lives To The Remote Laos Province of Phongsali

Our bus was scheduled to leave from Oudomsai to Phongsali at 8:00AM. It didn't leave until around 12:30 PM. We spent the time waiting at the run down terminal discussing the geopolitical ramifications of an ever increasing Chinese presence in Northern Laos with an author of a book on the people of Laos (see Link). We chatted for awhile while sipping on fresh Laos coffee the traditional way. Fresh grounds are placed in a sock-like filter and boiling hot water is poured into the sock. When the liquid is fully drained from the filter it is poured into a cup with sweet condensed milk at the bottom. Mix it. Drink it. It's quite sweet but good indeed.

When the bus finally arrived at the station for boarding all chaos broke loose as locals carrying live pigs in nylon sacks and roosters in bamboo woven baskets pushed their way into prime seats saving their spots with their bags and jackets.

In the confusion Matthew helped shove our bags onto the roof of the old, dusty bus where a man stacked them with bags of corn, rice, and other goods until the single decker bus resembled a dilapidated double. Alissa made her way onto the bus and threw someone's bag onto another seat securing us seats together. After witnessing some tense moments as arguments broke out over prime seats, we were finally off.

We made many, many stops, in fact, we stopped in every little town along the way. It was slow, but beautiful to experience the small unchanged village life of the different hill tribes.

The houses were made of bamboo or wood, simple, traditional, and functional, not much has changed in these villages for hundreds of years. The women still adorn exotic, traditional costumes. It was like flipping through real life pages of National Geographic.

Every time the bus stopped, locals would haul their chickens off the bus which sometimes required a bus attendant to climb on to the roof of the bus to retrieve the cargo. Everybody on the bus really had a laugh when the bus driver accidently pulled away before the attendant made his way down from the roof. After riding the twisty road for a few hundred meters, the attendant, who must have been clinging to the roof rails, threw a rope used to tie down the cargo in front of the driver's window to signal distress. The bus stopped to let the man back down into the bus. The look on his face when entering the bus was priceless.

A few hours later we had another laugh at something that was sure to happen. When it did, we still laughed. Kind of like watching the same comedy twice.

Yes, while driving on the twisty dirt roads that spinned up the mountains, a bag fell off the roof. We laughed harder when we confirmed that the bag wasn't ours.

As we traveled along, the bus climbed to higher altitudes and the road got worse with each kilometre, kicking up big plumes of red dirt. The odd patches of road that were paved had large sections washed out from this autumn's flash floods. We still don't know how the shitty bus managed to navigate these giant gaps that swallowed up all but the very minimum of road way required to pass without falling into the mountain valley below.

Alissa claimed she smelt gasoline and was covering her mouth in disgust. We both could smell something a bit off but the smell slowly depleted throughout out long journey North.

It was a hot bus ride at times especially in the heat of midday. The heat was compounded by the fact that all windows had to be sealed closed to prevent the thick clouds of red dust from entering. After a few hours of habituating to the noxious smell of chemicals, finally the source of the odour was discovered. The inconspicuous culprit had two jerry cans of gas wrapped in old clothing. He was ratted out by some of the passengers in front of him. The attendant scolded the man and immediately took the cans of gas and threw them from the moving bus.

A lucky passerby even decided to take his new found treasure home with him. His face looked like he just struck gold as he lugged the heavy cans off the side of the road.

Of course we found the whole ordeal completely amusing. We couldn't seem to stop laughing. It was pretty funny but, then again, we were pretty bombed from wallowing in the fumes for hours!

Soon things started to cool down as the sun dipped behind the mountains. It took a few more hours before we finally reached Phongsali, 12 hours after our initial departure time. We breathed a sigh of relief when our bags were finally lowered from the roof of the bus. Little did we know what was in store for us in Phongsali.