UPRIVER AND LEARNING A LITTLE LAO

Growing rice, up close and personal.

Heading up Laos' Nam Ou river, a seven-hour boat journey from Luang Prabang is the sleepy town of Nong Khiew. Being that we have grown wise in our travels, we knew that while scenic, a seven hour trip seated on a wooden plank with our knees up near our ears--the only way to travel by water to get to the village--didn't sound all that great. So, we opted for the local bus...only three hours and less than half the price (see how smart/cheap we've become!).

The entire town is located along the river, with a huge bridge spanning the rushing red water. Limestone cliffs tower overhead with lush jungle in between, skirted by an eerie fog that hangs around in the early mornings. We managed to find a hotel room whose main features included a constant leak in the ceiling and a resulting massive puddle in the middle of the floor...but the place also had a balcony and a hammock with amazing views! The balcony was crucial, since it rained the entire time (it is monsoon season, after all) and it was nice to get away from the puddle now and then.

Just an hour farther up the Nam Ou is the even smaller village of Muang Ngoi Nuea (don't ask us how to pronounce this either...Liz got it wrong every time, resulting in us almost getting on a bus bound for the Chinese border). The settlement is accessible only by boat and has electricity for just a few hours each day. Supposedly, the power comes on at 6 and goes off at 10, but in reality, it came on around 7:30 and went off at 9.

While the tiny town itself had little to see, the highlight of Muang Ngoi is a trek along the trails where no motorized vehicles have gone. One morning, Liz headed out for the village of Ban Na, a 45-minute walk into the mountains. On the way she met a very outgoing, 20-year-old rice farmer named "Eh" (not sure how to write that in English, but this must be close).

Eh looking for snakes on the trail through the rice paddies.

Eager to practice his limited English, Eh offered to accompany Liz on her way and showed her a shortcut through the rice paddies, which were incredibly slippery from all the rain. Eh quickly learned how to say “slip and fall," since Liz did exactly that every few minutes along the trails.

Between her graceful falls, Liz learned a phrase in Lao that her new friend Eh thought was very important: “Wait for me!”

He explained that, “If you are in the toilet at the bus station and you hear the motor of your bus start up, you can shout this to the driver and he must wait for you.”

Hard to argue with that logic.

While that exact circumstance hasn't happened (yet), it's been priceless to see the faces of the local transport drivers when we step smilingly into a bus, boat, tuk-tuk, or taxi and say in near-perfect Lao, "Wait for me!"

Now if we could just learn to say, "Where's the bathroom?"

Six muddy water buffalo squeezed into a small pool.

Boats on the Nam Ou river, and the bridge of Nong Khiew.

An albino water buffalo. We thought they were rare, but saw many in Laos.

FUNNY MONDAY: PASSING GRASS?

While traveling around Southeast Asia for the past few months, we've met an exceptionally high number of people who speak English as well or better than we do. That said, English is a complicated language, and the meanings of certain words or phrases often get lost in translation for some non-native speakers. Take the sign above, for example--this beauty was posted on the lawn of the Patuxai, or "victory gate" in Vientiane, the capitol of Laos. We're thinking this was more what they were going for. Although, googling "passing a grass" for alternative meanings gave Liz a good laugh. 

PHOTO FRIDAY: ARE WE THERE YET, MOM? MOM?

It's monsoon season in southeast Asia, which means it rains just about every day here in Laos. Despite the frequent downpours, life goes on, as seen above as a young mother tries to stay dry while taking her two kids to school. It's hard to imagine a scene like this would go over well with authorities back home, but driving one-handed while holding an umbrella (or a baby or lunch or a live farm animal) and transporting multiple small children passes for normal parenting in Laos--and many other countries in the world. 

SPEAKING ENGLISH WITH MONKS IN LAOS

Novice Sing, one of our many English students at Big Brother Mouse in Luang Prabang, Laos.

A novice monk in bright orange robes points to a word in a children’s book and asks Kip, “How do you pronounce this?”

“Motorcycle,” Kip responds slowly, “do you have one?”

“No, we are not allowed to ride the motorcycles or the bicycles either,” he says in hesitant English. As a monk in training, he and other novices are forbidden to ride either modes of transport. “But we watch television at night sometimes. And I have a phone!” He pulls out a bright purple Nokia that clashes as terribly with his robes as one would think it did with his Buddhist lifestyle.

Liz and one of her 'students.'

Meanwhile, Liz was sitting with a group of three 16-year-old boys, two who spoke perfect English, and probably just came to hang out, since school is out until September. The third, another novice monk, was so nervous to speak he shook with every question, but was encouraged by the other two who constantly interjected with swear words and phrases like, “maybe later it will rain cats and dogs.”


We were teaching English to students in Luang Prabang, a UNESCCO World Heritage Center in northern Laos. We teamed up with an organization called Big Brother Mouse, a local non-profit that found a fun, innovative way to help local kids learn to read in their native language, while also teaching them to speak English. They also provide kids a place to hang out for a few hours and stay out of trouble. 

Kip, friend Chris, and Novice Sing.

In Luang Prabang, a historic city whose architecture and cultural heritage attract thousands of tourists from around the world, Big Brother Mouse has turned its “office,” a small two-story wooden structure that used to be someone’s house, into a free language learning center for kids. The group invites English speaking visitors like us to drop by any day of the week to sit down and talk with locals who want to learn the language.

The main goal of the organization is to improve literacy rates throughout Laos. The organization writes, illustrates and publishes children’s books in Lao language then distributes them, via travelers, to remote parts of the country where books and libraries are rarely found. It’s a brilliant and cost-effective (free) concept that seems to be working well for everyone involved. 

We had a great time interacting with the students, who ranged from the aforementioned novice monk to rural school children to young college students who hoped to someday work in the tourism industry. A big thanks to our friend Chris, who showed us up by bringing donations for the kids all the way from Oslo!

Liz and the sign out front at Big Brother Mouse HQ. 

For more information on Big Brother Mouse or to make a donation, visit their website at www.bigbrothermouse.com. From what we’ve seen, they’re doing great work in Laos.

Now we’re on our way to deliver Big Brother Mouse books we purchased to school children in the outlying villages near Phonsovan, famous for a collection of mysteriously-massive jars created some 2,000 years ago, as well as for being home to thousands of unexploded ordinance left over from U.S. bombing during the Vietnam War.

We’ll have more on that later.

Our second day at Big Brother Mouse. No, Liz's hair isn't that blond. Liz is the fourth person on the left.

Liz holding a selection of the children's books we're delivering to children near Phonsovan, Laos.

The sign at Big Brother Mouse HQ in Luang Prabang.

THREE MONTHS AND COUNTING...

Rouging it in celebration of three months on the road...at the "hilltop" pool of the Demai Beach Resort in Borneo.

We like to celebrate stuff. You're shocked, no doubt.

To mark three months of us being on the road, and to leave Borneo in style, we decided to splurge on a nice hotel. But not just any nice hotel. This one was an actual resort (very unlike the "jungle resort" dormitory in Mulu), complete with AC, satellite TV, hot water, fresh towels, a clean beach and even a pool with a view and a waterfall. And as one of its activities for guests, in typical Bornean fashion, staff was on hand to teach visitors how to shoot a blow gun. 

We arrived way before check-in. We left the next day well after check out (ok, maybe we lounged at the pool until we were "asked" to leave, but we had to take it all in!). 

Life's hard on the road. No really!

Big thanks to everyone who made this incredible luxury possible: Harold "H" M, Momma Z, Aimee, Lori M, Mrs. Joyce P, Eliza "Lil" V, Dan S, Brian T, Nikki Nik G, Monica H, Lindsay N, Jessica R, and Kacey C. 

Next update from Laos, land of the kip.

Mandatory gratuitous swimsuit photo. Try to ignore Liz's farmer tan.

Playing in the waterfall.

Stuntman Kip, as always, takes a dive into the shallow end.

Enjoying the hilltop pool.  There were 1000 steps to get up there.
Only after we arrived did we realize there was a shuttle...typical rookie mistake.

This is what side of the fence you end up on when you have to leave the resort.