Monday, February 14, 2011
just a feeling
Mango shakes, mosquito bites, showering with someone, dirty clothes, cut feet, crazy dreams, these are a few of my favorite things. Luang Prabang pleases in every sense of the word.
Friday, February 11, 2011
I'll Try Anthing Once
Shit, how is it February 12th already? So much has happend in the 15 days since I last posted. It's overwhelming to decide what should make the cut. I'll give it a whirl-ski anyhow.
So, leaving Chiang Mai was bittersweet. Marcelle and I had become quite comfy in our room at the Same Same hostel, which we lovingly referred to as our palace. We had also hit a groove with our fellow residents and I wasn't too keen to wave goodbye. Everyone is on the road though, and I think it is probably easier to be the first to say goodbye. Spending my last afternoon playing the DJ game with and awesome fellow Anthro major from Berkeley was a more than perfect closing to my Chiang Mai chapter. When I boarded the bus to Laos, I was ready and excited. My excitement was temporarily hampered when I realized my AC vent was broken and I had no arm rest on my chair. My ride was spent clutching my seat, trying not to fall out as we traversed ever winding roads, while a 10 degree jet stream of air assaulted me. Kinda miserable, but the moment I got of the bus I forgot how shitty it was. Plus, I was in fucking Laos, which is no time to be upset. We decided to skip out on Vientiene and headed straight to Vang Vieng. So shortly after stepping off one bus, we hopped onto another. This ride was vastly more irritating as I had an old man gently caressing my leg for nearly 7 hours, but again, the scenery outside my window was more than enough to keep me happy. We stumbled into Vang Vieng with incredibly high spirits; it was so damn gorgeous. Picture huge karst mountains etched out by the waters from millions of years ago and the snaking green Mekong flowing through the jungle goodness. Or fucking Google image that shit. So what does one do in this environ, you ask? You rent a giant tube, and you float down the river of course! I'm not sure who initially had this brilliant idea, but I would like to shake his/her hand. Marcelle and I went down the river sober our first time, but still I felt as though I was tripping. The mountains were so green and I swear I could feel the sun hitting my shoulders and pulsing through my body. We just sat in silence and floated, taking in every inch of scenery. We tubed the next day as well, only this time it included the ever-present bucket and stops at the multiple bars along the river. Two buckets of whiskey and a Beerlao into our journey, I decided it was time that I ziplined off of a giant scaffold into the river, because how could I not? In a drunken haze I clambered up the wooden ladder without looking back. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, it suddenly occured to me that, whoa, holy shit, this is really fucking high and I may shit myself. It must have shown on my face because a lovely Australian dude offered to let me zipline with him, telling me when to let go so as not to die in the rocks. I obviously survived as I am writing on this here blog, and the thrill was well worth it. As if this weren't enough, the next day Marcelle and I rented rickety old bikes and embarked on the quintessential bike ride through rice paddies. When I imagined southeast Asia, this was what I envisioned. Perfect mountains, beautiful people, cows roaming around, puppies playing, crystal blue pools of water--bomb. Our 7km bike ride led us to the blue lagoon, where we explored an amazing cave, which had remarkably few tourists ambling around in it. We biked back into town immensely satisfied, high on our surroundings.
To be continued...
So, leaving Chiang Mai was bittersweet. Marcelle and I had become quite comfy in our room at the Same Same hostel, which we lovingly referred to as our palace. We had also hit a groove with our fellow residents and I wasn't too keen to wave goodbye. Everyone is on the road though, and I think it is probably easier to be the first to say goodbye. Spending my last afternoon playing the DJ game with and awesome fellow Anthro major from Berkeley was a more than perfect closing to my Chiang Mai chapter. When I boarded the bus to Laos, I was ready and excited. My excitement was temporarily hampered when I realized my AC vent was broken and I had no arm rest on my chair. My ride was spent clutching my seat, trying not to fall out as we traversed ever winding roads, while a 10 degree jet stream of air assaulted me. Kinda miserable, but the moment I got of the bus I forgot how shitty it was. Plus, I was in fucking Laos, which is no time to be upset. We decided to skip out on Vientiene and headed straight to Vang Vieng. So shortly after stepping off one bus, we hopped onto another. This ride was vastly more irritating as I had an old man gently caressing my leg for nearly 7 hours, but again, the scenery outside my window was more than enough to keep me happy. We stumbled into Vang Vieng with incredibly high spirits; it was so damn gorgeous. Picture huge karst mountains etched out by the waters from millions of years ago and the snaking green Mekong flowing through the jungle goodness. Or fucking Google image that shit. So what does one do in this environ, you ask? You rent a giant tube, and you float down the river of course! I'm not sure who initially had this brilliant idea, but I would like to shake his/her hand. Marcelle and I went down the river sober our first time, but still I felt as though I was tripping. The mountains were so green and I swear I could feel the sun hitting my shoulders and pulsing through my body. We just sat in silence and floated, taking in every inch of scenery. We tubed the next day as well, only this time it included the ever-present bucket and stops at the multiple bars along the river. Two buckets of whiskey and a Beerlao into our journey, I decided it was time that I ziplined off of a giant scaffold into the river, because how could I not? In a drunken haze I clambered up the wooden ladder without looking back. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, it suddenly occured to me that, whoa, holy shit, this is really fucking high and I may shit myself. It must have shown on my face because a lovely Australian dude offered to let me zipline with him, telling me when to let go so as not to die in the rocks. I obviously survived as I am writing on this here blog, and the thrill was well worth it. As if this weren't enough, the next day Marcelle and I rented rickety old bikes and embarked on the quintessential bike ride through rice paddies. When I imagined southeast Asia, this was what I envisioned. Perfect mountains, beautiful people, cows roaming around, puppies playing, crystal blue pools of water--bomb. Our 7km bike ride led us to the blue lagoon, where we explored an amazing cave, which had remarkably few tourists ambling around in it. We biked back into town immensely satisfied, high on our surroundings.
To be continued...
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