Chiang Khong to Luang Prabang

The overnight stop at Chiang Khong en route to Houay Xai proved to be a more entertaining sojourn than anticipated.It is a transition point for those entering and leaving the northern border crossing with Laos and for that reason people seldom stay more than a single night.There are many guesthouses and restaurants in the town lining the single main street that leads to the vehicle ferry for the heavy transports trading between countries.Whilst wandering I discovered a couple of Bar/Restaurants run by middle aged Brits who seem to have found the great middle path between toiling for a living and having a good time and it would have been bad manners to not share a beer or two.

Early the next morning it was a Tuk Tuk to the Thai immigration point ,a fast ferry over the Mekong to Houay Xai ,entry into Laos,money changing and a Tuk Tuk to the slow boat moorings.There I met the other 20 passengers and our Lao guide with whom I would share the Nagi (Name of the boat) for the next 2 days.

After a couple of hours of travel we made our first stop at a hill country village to experience first hand the subsistence life of local people.At nightfall we arrived at the halfway point,Pak Beng,where we had our overnight stop,the Mekong being far too dangerous a waterway for night navigation.Another entertaining evening,most of us dined together,had our first experience of Lao food and bonded over LaoLao the home distilled whisky.

At 7 we where away again in the misty first light,another mid morning excursion to an impoverished village and later a visit to the Buddha caves before arriving at our destination,Luang Prabang around 5pm where we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.A truly worthwhile experience not to have missed.

Ferry to Houay Xai.

Aboard the Nagi.

Alternative, speed boat.

Mekong River.

Village.

At Pak Beng.

Early morning,Pak Beng.

Elephant bathing.

The second village.

Making whisky from rice.

School girl.

The Buddha caves.

Chiang Rai to Chiang Khong

My last temple visit at Chiang Rai proved to be something of a shock to the system,known simply as the White Temple and  a work in progress by a local "enfant terrible "modern artist",it is not expected to reach completion until 2070 even with dozens of disciples assisting,it is a very different 'take' on Buddhism and reminded me very much of Gaudi's Sangria de Familia in Barcelona that is to some a licentious folly and to others the product of a brilliant imagination.

 Fast approaching sunset here as I watch the the mighty Mekong rushing downstream just 60 or70 meters from my hotel window,I am reminded that the slow boat to Luang Prabang is named as such simply to differentiate it from the speed boat that also plies the same route.Horror stories abound about that alternative,but 50 years ago faced with the choice of the two I may have been tempted.

The White Temple.

Laos,across the Mekong river.

Chiang Rai,Thailand.

So far so good I came here to facilitate entry to nearby Laos and to organize a slow boat from Houi Xai down to Luang Prabang,mission  accomplished and as  long as I am at the last outpost of Thailand,Chiang Khong by 8am tomorrow for the ferry across the Mekong river hopefully all will be ship shape.

Chiang Rai is an interesting place,the administrative center of the province it is a real melting pot of the Golden triangle tribes and clans,the place is overflowing in diverse ethnicity the food,culture, dress and customs make for a fascinating experience.

Last night there was a "walking street",the local term for when a street is closed to traffic and it becomes a marketplace and entertainment area,stalls,hundreds of them selling all manner of items from the everyday to the exotic.Strange musical instruments played mostly by old men provide haunting melodies  as an accompaniment to the delightful smells of deep fried insects as well as the more conventional and tempting food available.A kaleidoscope of color from garish obscurely messaged T shirts to intricate woven handicrafts from the hills,and cheap plastic toys with flashing lights.

Later I made my way to the clocktower,where on Sunday nights at 7,8 and 9pm a burst of music following the chiming of the hour draws one attention to the changing colors of the edifice.

It is odd to contemplate that only a couple of weeks back I was a stones throw from here in Shan State Myanmar just over the mountain actually.In fact for many years a Shan warlord controlled the opium industry here.Not sure who is in charge now,I have seen plenty of characters of dubious morality around though.

Teacher and Pupil.

River Kok.

Musco's

At "walking street".

Delicacies.

The Clocktower.

Last Post from Myanmar or Bye Bye Burma.

With less than 48hrs  spent in Yangon,I am in no position to be judgmental about the city,but I could certainly have afforded to budget more time than I have to appreciate its charms.Ultimately of course it is up to me how I allocate my time and money to individual places and pursuits but,and here come the big BUT,the bullshit that passes for advice in some major travel publications including the solitary asteroid one that so many travelers,young and old pore over from breakfast to dinner in as many languages as I knew existed,needs to be questioned and challenged a little more.To this old grey and grizzled traveller much of what I have read smacks of the views of the over privileged,precocious me generation with influence far beyond there life experience, here endeth the lesson.

Where were we,ah yes Yangon ex Rangoon,home to Shwedagon pagoda most revered Buddhist monument in the region,covered in half a tonne of gold and a most impressive monument to those who would buy there way to heaven.

Also Chinatown every major city has one,this one no less interesting, streets and lanes of barrow stalls selling everything from Chinese fast food to up to the minute electrical  devices that the fluctuating current here would surely fry if not for the ingenuity of local electricians.Then there is Bogyoke Aung San Market,probably the best marketplace in Asia for those that want to compare prices of like items, in real life as opposed to eBay,you may not need what is for sale here but you certainly will want.The streetscape has a variety of decaying British colonial buildings,churches cathedrals,Pagodas and Stupas.There are up to the minute flash motor cars and there are beggars with their babies trying to avoid being run over by them,the whole fabric of the city,in fact the country held together by the smiles and goodwill of these gentle brown people.I will miss them.

The Bodhi Tree.

Shwedagon Pagoda.

The Bell.

Chinatown.

St Mary's Cathedral.

Old Station Administration building.

Bogyoke Aung San Market.

Inner city apartments.

Ngapali Beach

Five wonderful days of non cultural pursuits.People do not go to this beachside paradise for any other reason than a hedonistic holiday at the seaside.The place once was a delightful fishing village on the Bay of Bengal,the gentle unthreatening Arabian sea rolls in,the waves crash on to the beach with a regular and monotonous white noise, soporific in effect.It is now being developed as a primary resort area for well heeled western tourists.The beach is immaculate,the water warm and a complete absence of undertows,rips and strong tidal movement make it ideal for swimming.For a few dollars a boat will take you out for snorkeling and sightseeing,it ain't the Great Barrier Reef,but there are tropical fish and a diversity of coral,and not a sight or sound of jet skis and power boats.

Mostly my friends Tony and Anna Christina and I would lie on our sun beds,occasionally swim,read,drink cold beer,snooze and discuss which of the myriad seafood restaurants we would eat at and whether it would be crab,king prawns,lobster,Barracuda,Red Snapper,White Snapper,Mackerel or huge freshwater yabbies,all freshly caught.In curry or chilly or garlic or sweet and sour or tempura.........Indeed sometimes this decision making just became too hard and we would order a selection and share.All good things must come to an end and I am now in a Yangon hotel with a power cut in progress,envying my Swedish friends who have to suffer life at Ngapali for another week.

My flight out was similar to the flight in ie 3 to 4 hours late,no explanations or apologies,one just waits at a tiny rudimentary airport and waits for a plane to turn up,in fact boats,buses planes and pickup trucks all operate on Myanmar time.

Take your pick.

Anna Christina and Tony.

Beach Ladies with fruit.

Lady on the beach.

Local Fishermen.

Early morning at the village.

Our own desert island.

Our boatman.

The Village.

Young local people.