Misposted Vieng Phouka

From Huayxai, we set off north along highway 3. For a major highway leading straight from China to the Thailand border bridge, 3 was a surprisingly nice ride. We climbed through pretty hills and small towns, and road gradients topped out at a reasonable 12-15%. Evidently no Thai engineers were involved in the road construction. Most notably, the Lao people we passed were very, very friendly. Most adults waved, and many said "sabaidee!" 99% of children waved, shrieked, ran towards us, and/or yelled - "sabaidee!", "good morning!", or both. As we biked during the afternoon meal time, entire families would pause their lunch to wave at us in unison. 

Vieng Phouka

We arrived in Vieng Phouka just in time for sunset, and just in time for Jove to help rescue a Thai guest at our hotel from the crocodile-sized gecko in her room. We usually appreciate a small gecko in a guesthouse, unobtrusively eating insects. This one looked like it could eat small birds. Jove ushered it outside while the Thai woman and the hotel employees giggled from a distance. Jove was heaped with a hero's praise and gifted a carton of orange juice.

Even bigger than it looks here

We had no expectations for Vieng Phouka. It's a small town, entirely passed over by our Laos guidebook, and the village initially seemed worthy of that neglect - dark streets, few places to eat, and Chinese trucks rumbling through. The next morning we prepared to leave early, and planned to take just a short walk around town to look for breakfast. A friendly man called out "hello!" as we walked by, and we stopped, expecting the usual two minute basic English/basic Lao conversation. Instead, Somhak's English proved excellent, and he lured us into a discussion of Vieng Phouka's hill tribes, his past as a hunter, his training as an ecotourism guide, and the declining number of tourists in the region. Thirty minutes later we had abandoned our plans to ride on to luang namtha, and signed on to a one day tour with Somhak.

Following the motorcycle

Visiting the nearby hill tribes usually requires a car, but Somhak's was in the shop, so we decided on a custom motopaced tour. He road ahead down a dirt track on his motorcycle and we slowly pedaled after him. Leaving town, he pointed out a strange woven straw structure sitting on the road. The animist Khmu tribe makes these as spirit offerings. This one had rice and river crabs as an offering, and a woven stop sign thing to politely keep the spirit away, now that it has been fed/appeased.

Several miles into the hills we stopped at a combined Khmu and Lahu village. The villagers used to live higher up in the mountains, but the Lao government encouraged (required?) many villages to move lower down, to be closer to schools and public services, and apparently also to discourage slash and burn hillside farming. These two villages were combined, and despite mutually unintelligible languages, Somhak says they get along fine. 

Compared to the excited waving people we passed the day before, these people were very reserved. As we walked around the village, children started to follow us, but stealthily. When we looked back they would stop moving, or try to hide behind a hut or tree. Somhat translated some greetings and jokes for us, and they gathered into a small crowd to watch us, but with one big tree between us and them to hide behind when we did anything suspect. It looked like a powerful battle between fear and curiosity. Jove helped curiosity win out by making animal noises and jumping into a tree like a monkey. The boys grew bold enough to show us their game of homemade wooden spinning tops, that they fling great distances at other tops, like a fast paced top bocce ball.

The unwilling pet of this Lahu man

We rode through an Akha village, a Hmong village, and another Khmu village, with Somhak pointing out architrctural and cultural differences. Then we stopped at a primary school for mostly Akha kids (during recess), where the fear/curiousity struggle reignited. When Jove poked his head into a classroom, the kids inside ran screaming into the far corner. We moved further inside to allow them egress, but the screaming had attracted the attention of the kids outside, who crowded in as some of the others fled. They formed a solemn semicircle as far from us as the room allowed. Animal noises had worked before, so Jove started naming animals in Lao, writing the name on the chalkboard in English while I drew the cartoon animal, asking the kids for its name in Akha, and then mimicking the animal as we all repeated the name in the three languages. It was a great success, especially the monkey.

Hiding in the corner

Dog, maa, akhuh!

On the ride back to town, we stopped for a laab picnic in the woods, on a banana leaf tablecloth. Somhak told his story of the fat tourist who lost the strength to continue hiking, and spent a rainy night in a hastily constructed banana leaf hut, with leeches.

It was getting a little late, but we left our bikes with Somhak's sons and continued on foot through rice paddies and into the jungle. We tried wild galangal and a tasty sour chewable twig, and looked at plants for treatment of diarrhea, nausea, cramps, etc. Sunset was beautiful through the trees as we hiked, but sunset progresses quickly here, and soon we were hiking in the dark. The fat tourist and his leeches crossed my mind. Somhak had told us earlier about his days of hunting in the woods, and how he would walk without a light at night, just feeling the trail. Fortunately, he was not exaggerating, and we did not get lost. The hike turned into a moonlit stroll, with fireflies and lots of stars, ending in a picturesque Khmu village. Electricity reached here just last year, and a full sized road only a few years before. Somhak's sons were waiting with our bikes for the short ride back. The whole family helps with the trek business (Namha Hilltribe Ecotrek). His wife even did our laundry.  All in all, a phenomenal unplanned custom bike/hike tour!

Saying goodbye to Somhak the next morning