Torture at the Hands of a masseuse, Goodbye to Mr Kimh and onward to Luang Prabang, Laos.

Piper’s injury has left Jen and I the task of having to carry her virtually everywhere and unfortunately my back has given in before hers, leaving her with the bulk of the lugging around. Given we were in ‘masseuse central’ I decided to take our morning off and see if they could fix my back. I wasn’t sure what I had got myself into as when I entered the establishment I was led upstairs to a reddish room and directed to lie down on a mattress adjacent a number of others and a pink silk curtain was pulled. Fortunately the masseuse arrived fully clothed in her regular attire and proceeded to attack my back. “You like it strong” she said and I gave my consent – not sure that was the wisest thing to do in the end as despite her small stature, her thumbs were like jack-hammers – poking and prodding every miniscule myotome on my back. I’m sure she left her fingerprints amidst all the bruising. I discovered my main pressure point was actually distracting the pain from other painful muscle groups in my lower back and hoped my suffering would pay some dividends once the 30 minutes were up. Feeling like tenderized meat, I left to catch up with the family back at the hotel and help organize for our departure later in the day. In the end, my pummelling actually made my main pain worse and I sought refuge in ibuprofen and the occasional thumb into the pressure point.
Countries like Cambodia. Laos and Vietnam have developed a racket in landing visas and departure taxes from foreigners. It actually cost us more to leave Cambodia than enter it! Our Australian passports came in handy on entering Laos though as Asian Pacific Countries had the lowest entry visa cost - $30 US per person vs $42 US for Canadians. Yet another benefit to barrack for the green and gold! We landed in Luang Prabang, the former capital of the Kingdom of Laos, and again – like clockwork – met up with our new guide and driver – ‘Do’ and ‘Knee’ (our driver) (not their actual names). We’d been put up in a colonial-styled French villa near the centre of town and having checked in headed up the street for a quick bite at a very trendy and Westernized bakery which actually had Nanaimo Bars – chocolate covered layered squares with a creamy and chocolate biscuit layer beneath – absolutely delectable and I presume originating from Vancouver Island (where Nanaimo is located). Our afternoon took us to some paper and silk spinning/weaving artisans, various local temples and up to the top of the central ‘hill’ or mountain in town to view the sunset. Whilst at the paper-making facility we started to hear the pounding of drums from up the street. Keen to see where the sound was coming from, Cole, Aidan, the guide and I trudged up the road to the Buddhist temple. It was a call to the Buddhist monks living there to begin their chores. Shaved heads, ochre robes and anywhere between the ages of 7 to their 60’s plus, the monks were in the process of sweeping and cleaning up their temple. We managed to find one young looking fellow to have a photo with the boys – he was just taller than Cole and shorter than Aidan but was 12 yrs old! Like other temples we were to visit, it was ornately painted in gold leaf and contained a large golden-painted Buddha inside surrounded by a number of smaller Buddhas, purportedly gifts from those that visited the temple. The 386 steps to the top of the hill (and back down again) nearly wrecked poor Jen with Piper perched on her back. At the top, a man was releasing birds as a symbolic gesture of peace and goodwill and Cole, like the true sticky-beak he is, eventually got into the thick of it and tried to release one himself only to find the poor thing had broken a leg and couldn’t make it out of the cage. We made it back to the bottom as darkness fell, right into the seemingly never ending market stalls of the weekly night markets. It had your typical market products such as t-shirts, textiles and antiques as well as opium trade and smoking paraphernalia. Jen inadvertently started poking around at a stall and asked our guide about some bizarre-looking apparati which, as it turned out, were containers and scales with which to carry and sell the opium. The elaborately designed and decorated pipes were quite aesthetic with dragons, snakes and incredible carvings around their elongated shafts. Apparently Laos used to be one of the largest exporters of opium in the world and, as per our guide’s account, almost 70% of the population used to be addicted to the drug which resulted in social chaos. Since 1995 the government has clamped down on the trade and essentially caused its collapse. If someone is caught growing or in possession of the drug they are subject to the death penalty.

The people in Luang Prabang (named after and in reverence of a 1st century AD golden Buddha now housed at the state museum) overall seemed a bit over the whole tourism thing but were generally pleasant and kind. Back from the markets we ventured out for dinner and found a place called the 3 Nagas just up the road. Nagas are mythical creatures which are part dragon and snake. They have become part of the architecture of many buildings, carved into the main outer beams at the corners of the roof as protectors of the building/temple. This restaurant was one of three buildings owned by the proprietor, hence the name, and served some of the best food we’d had all trip – although most of it has been exquisite! The steamy night came to a close as we made our way back to our rooms past our villa’s large screen TV broadcasting the world cup in the main entrance courtyard. Germany were ahead by one goal over Argentina – looked like our pick wasn’t going to prevail in this contest.