Salavan Province

We arrived in Pakse, the major city of Southern Laos, at 6:30 am, although I awoke earlier than that on the bus. We were picked up from the bus station by some VFI workers in company trucks and driven over the office. Two trucks were needed to pick us up from the station and when the second truck arrived, after a five minute wait, we loaded our bags into the back of one truck, which had a tarp over the back to protect the contents from rain. It took about six minutes to take the tarp off the back, load our bags, and retie the tarp across the load. Our drive to the office took less than four minutes. It seems the further you go into the heart of Laos, the less people are willing to walk. It would have literally taken us three minutes to walk to the office and yet we waited for five minutes for a second truck and over five to load our baggage. So strange. The office was opened for us, which is located in a building in the heart of Pakse, three stories tall. Each floor of the building sported a bathroom with a “shower” (a nozzle attached to the wall that will spray you and everything else in the bathroom – very typical shower in Laos) and we were given as much time as we wanted to shower and freshen up after our long bus ride.

Freshly cleaned and clothed, we set off in the trucks again for breakfast, eating at a coffee shop that sported a continental breakfast. This turned out to be fantastic as the French influence of baguettes stretched into Southern Laos and we were able to order fresh juice and a warmed/toasted baguette with butter and jam. It was a light and refreshing breakfast and soon we were on the road again, this time heading east toward Salavan Province. After a forty minute drive into the countryside, we arrived at our residence for the evening, a guesthouse (motel) in a small roadside community where we dropped our bags off. We then headed out one final time to the village in Salavan Province where Rights-LINK was holding a legal information session.

The landscape and vegetation of Southern Laos is very different from what I have seen of Northern Laos so far. As we drove out of the city toward the countryside, concrete gave way to natural vegetation and the two lane road was replaced by a one and a half lane road shared by all. It seems that everywhere you look here you can see some mountains in the far distance covered in forests. As you head down the road, small houses dot the sides, but different from the French influenced abodes of the North. Here, the houses are much more native, standing on stilts high above the ground, constructed of thin wooden planks or bamboo slats. The houses vary widely from well kept and neat houses to decrepit messes. Some families have obviously made the most of their small areas, growing gardens and flowers in front of their structures, and keeping the space below the house clear and neat. Families set up stands by the roadside in front of their homes and sell fruit collected from the forests behind the homes or cooked food. Behind the houses, the forests are somewhat managed, presumably by the families using the natural products of the forest for food (banana trees and other native fruits) and other resources, but soon this gives way into an impenetrable wall of forest, so thick and lush it puts the viewer in mind of a rainforest. Adding to this impression, the sky in the South remains shrouded in clouds, a beautiful array of near black, glowing white, and every shade of grey.

Everywhere you look the forest seems to be trying to reclaim the land. Plots of land cleared by families to be used for farming are quickly dotted with banana trees, palm trees, and other vegetation, making it nearly impossible to hold back the ever encroaching tide of green. There is something incredibly beautiful about this powerful forest and something almost menacing. The forest is a brilliant green, seeming to almost stare malevolently at the outside viewer, at once inviting you inside and daring you to try to enter the realm of the forest. The earth shines below the green of the trees and plants a fiery red. As you look out over the land from the car, the red of the land can be seen first, rising up in great tides from where the farmers have tilled it, the green of the forest laying vibrant behind, and in the distance, mountains rising above the scene, looking down on it all. Above the entire picture is the brilliant, cloudy sky, ready to dump its load of water at any moment, fat dime, quarter, and dollar sized drops that fall in a torrent all at once as if someone has turned on a faucet.

We drove on a paved road through this area for about twenty minutes, until we turned onto a red, unpaved road. This was the most uncomfortable experience of my life. We were squished like sardines into the back of a small pickup truck and this road was ROUGH. It was not the teeth rattling jarring of a bad road you normally find in the US, but a lurching, pounding, breath stealing jarring road that will never be smooth and never has been smooth. For thirty minutes I endured the pain of elbows, shoulders, and an unfortunately placed metal bar in the seat, stabbing at various parts of my body until the feeling was all I knew. The trip felt endless, but we did finally arrive at our destination, a small village of 1,700 people that grows coffee beans for its livelihood in the heart of Salavan Province. Upon our arrival, we were invited into the temporary temple/meeting house, a large wooden structure where Rights-LINK was holding a legal advice session that allowed villagers to come and speak to lawyers and paralegals about legal land issues they may have. We sat on mats on the floor and watched, asking questions through a translator of the chief of the village, and then speaking with the lawyers and representatives from the Laos Bar Association and local government.

It was interesting observing the interactions of the people and the lawyers, but this was not quite the experience I had expected as this was a village where Rights-LINK had done some previous work (training some of the locals as paralegals), it was a wealthier village than Rights-LINK typically works with, and the entire village spoke Laos. It was still incredibly fascinating to see and it was wonderful to be welcomed as a visitor. During our stay the skies opened up to pour buckets of rain, which hit the metal roof like gunshots, making any form of speech or communication impossible. As we sat in the meeting house with the elders and Village Chief, the locals were all smiles and it was explained that rain falling during a visit by the falang is a lucky sign for the village and that we must be very lucky, as it rained twice. An interesting notion to be sure and while it might make you feel good to hear it, keep in mind that it rains every day here without fail…they must have a LOT of luck. :) We stayed for a couple hours, until it was well past lunch time and our party expressed a desire for food. We left the village after many thanks and goodbyes, and traveled on that terrible road again (this time I was against the door, with the handle and other door bits stabbing into me) to a guesthouse that served some non-local food that our guide, Lah, knew about.

It took almost an hour to get to the guesthouse and the food was terrible. On a scale of 10, this food rated a 2. I simply didn’t eat my lunch, although I did order two lemon juices (still lime), and donated the “chicken salad” to Saem and Nate, who mixed it with Saem’s meal, creating “Chicken Salad Fried Rice with Hot Sauce,” which they claim was better than any of the items alone. After struggling through the meal, we walked just down the road (we were actually permitted to walk!) to a waterfall! The waterfall was beautiful, a rampaging flow of water coming out of the depths of the forest, looking mysterious and dangerous. Still tired from our long journey and now our long day, we did not go climbing on the rocks near the base, but stayed on the wooden outlook structure. We were permitted about twenty minutes to enjoy the beauty of the water and were then shepherded back into the trucks for our quick trip back to our guesthouses, where we were deposited for a few hours, left to our own devises. Zenia and I opted to use that time to rest as there is nothing to see in this area (the guesthouse is simply off the side of the road in what appears to be a small community without any real center, besides the road). I ended up falling asleep, only awakening upon the knocking of Lamnuegn and one of our morning drivers, Paht. We were invited outside where we assembled tables, chairs, and a TV and settled in to watch one of the World Cup football matches, Argentina v. Korea.

Before the game started we drove down the road and bought sticky rice and fried chicken (whole chickens stuck on a skewer, spread eagled, with all the bones and head, fried until the entire thing is crispy and almost no meat is left) from some of the roadside stands selling food, which we ate picnic style while drinking BeerLao (the drink of choice in this country), and watching the football match. It was a fun evening, with everyone getting into the match and REALLY getting into the drinking. In SE Asia there are two alcoholic beverages you can drink: 1) BeerLao – generally touted as the #1 beer in all of Asia, it is consumed in massive quantities, chilled and then served on the rocks in small juice glasses; 2) whiskey and soda – we’ve already discussed this one. Tonight we consumed about 15+ bottles of BeerLao, although I stopped quickly as I am not a beer fan. The match ended with a win for Argentina, much to Saem’s consternation, and with it the evening for me and Zenia as we were exhausted. As I write this post, however, the party outside continues to go strong with more BeerLao, football, and karaoke (Asians LOVE karaoke to an obsessive degree. Never give an Asian a karaoke mike as they will not stop and will not give the mike back.).

Tomorrow promises to be another long and amazing day. I can’t wait to see more of this country, although I hope it will be with a little more elbow room in the backseat this time.