Up the Mekong without a paddle, Pottery fun, and Crystal Clear Waterfalls

We rose early to take in the Buddhist monk procession at 5:30 AM. Not wanting to leave the kids alone in their rooms, Jen and I took turns visiting the main street to see the ochre robes walking up the street. I was a little early and was almost immediately accosted by a couple of women who had made banana-leaf covered rice to offer to the procession of monks. I was still in my pyjamas and hadn’t brought any money with me so had to run back to my room for some. The money is difficult to read as it uses some Laos characters on one side and English numerals on the other. When I first returned to the street I had brought too little to pay for the plates of food I was to offer so had to run back for more. I didn’t have exact change so ended up paying more than was asked, much to the glee I’m sure of these two women who had obviously discovered an entrepreneurial way to make offerings to the monks while also taking in some quid from the foreign tourists. I tagged up with Jen and she ventured to the road meeting the same women and ironically running into the same difficulty with the currency. As the monks proceeded down the street in single file fashion they would open their offering can and you would deposit one of your banana-leaf wraps, or whatever food you had on offer, inside. The monks would then return to their temples and divy up the food for the day.

We met up with our guide shortly after breakfast, picked up some supplies for lunch then saw one more temple before venturing down a market lane selling food stuffs such as buffalo skin, large catfish from the Mekong and fruits and veg. From there we caught a long traditional passenger boat to take us downstream to a pottery village and further on to meet up with our driver again for a short drive to Khoungasi Falls and Ban Thapen, where we would be staying the night. The boys were able to get some hands-on experience with some clay and pottery-making while Jen and I reminisced about our former lives in places like Guatemala or Guyana and how similar the buildings, roads and rudimentary structures of living compared. There wasn’t much difference at all in terms of the buildings and hygienic conditions and the kids were just as cute and lovable. The kiln for the pottery has been built underground and can fit up to 100 pots. Once the pots have been placed, firewood is placed all around them and eventually lit and burnt for up to 3 weeks. The blacker the pot, the better apparently so when they came out of the kiln and were still brownish, they would be painted in black paint so as to earn a higher price at the market.



The waterfalls are obviously one of the highlights of the tourist operators as, aside from many locals, there were hordes of Caucasian, Japanese and other Asian country foreigners taking in the cooler, crystal clear blue waters cascading over beautifully smooth limestone waterfalls. At the entrance of the ‘park’ which requires all foreigners to pay a fee for entry, lies an Asian Black Bear rescue centre which was currently holding about 8 to 10 of the bears. Their stature is just shy of the North American Black bear and they appeared much less frightening. We hiked up to the tallest fall and ogled its limestone features and 100 metre drop, then scampered back down the path to the main pool, complete with rope swing and deep enough water to jump off some limestone reliefs. The kids were keen on the rope swing so I followed and helped retrieve the rope when it was out of reach. On my second go I lost my balance and had to go with the flow of the rope. Unfortunately it was shortly after a local had taken the plunge and not wanting to land on them I held on to the rope which pendulum-ed me back to the tree from whence I had come. A little slow on the reflexes I neglected to straighten my legs in order to bounce gently off the trunk but rather took the brunt of the swing on my left knee, hearing a definitive ‘Ooo, aahh’ from the on-lookers and then jumping into the water below. It was admittedly sore as I swam to the shoreline and when I strode non-chalantly but painfully over to Jen, noticed a small trickle of blood emanating from my knee as well. Fortunately it was only a small scratch and once back at our new ‘villa’, fixed it up with a simple band-aid. Our villa was only a hop-skip and jump from the waterfalls and was quite rudimentary in design, with wooden walls, a couple of homemade beds and a veranda. Not four or five star but nice just the same as only 10 metres from our door ran the lower reaches of the falls and a constant low-level noise of water bubbling and boiling down its nether reaches. After some lunch and journal work we made our way back up to the lower pools of the falls and had another cool off in the water. It was about this time that Aidan began to look a tad pale – his ‘sick’ look, but since he was still enjoying himself tumbling over logs and what have you, we took little notice. Back at the villa we changed into our long pants and shirts for dinner to avoid any mossie bites and headed to the dining area adjacent the running brook/falls. It might just be me but I have an aversion to fish which is presented to me essentially just gutted and cooked – looking essentially like it has just been caught, thrown in the oven and then onto a plate. Our hosts brought out our dinner which was comprised of a chicken curry, noodle soup and a couple of these whole fish. Aidan wasn’t hungry, which given the look of the fish, wasn’t suprising and again we paid no heed, although he was starting to look a bit unwell. Exhausted from the long day, we crawled into our beds and while the kids slept soundly, Jen and I tossed and turned, worried about potential mossie bites as we had no nets and because the beds were simply uncomfortable. It wasn’t until very early the next morning that Aidan announced his illness loud and clear – it seemed the dreaded gastro had somehow found him and was about to make his (and our) life somewhat complicated.