"Laos" Laos by kinga_freespirit

In Laos, hitchhiking was a little... slow going. My partner Chopin didn't feel like seeing any more of that country. But I did. So I left him in a Buddhist Center for over a week, and went on to explore for myslef...

This piece comes from: Led by Destiny

young novice at one of many Laos' temples

Choosing this route I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I discover that they weren’t joking when they said that sometimes something passes along here – it was meant most literally! Sometimes… Like south American ‘manana.’ (dodac n)
From the woman I stayed with, with the help of gestures and pictures, I try to find out more, but she keeps repeating:
“Bo mi lot.”
Which means – ‘there’s no vehicle’ – I quickly learn another sentence in Laotian. Still, I have gone too far to turn back now. All I can do is continue forward. One man explains that if I follow the road, I will reach another village, from which, supposedly, there are vehicles.
“How many kilometers?” I ask. I can see he’s not sure, but he writes down – 30.
I walk along the only road, admiring the morning mist enveloping the nearby hills. It rained for most of the night, so the dirt road has turned into muddy ruts. The road enters a wild jungle. I walk for a few kilometers before I hear the sound of an engine approaching. It’s a tractor-like vehicle. I climb into its wooden trailer in which there are a few young men going to work cutting trees, I assume, seeing their massive chain-saw. Crossing a few streams and deep, muddy ponds, I go with them up to the place where they have to turn deeper into the jungle. I start walking again. After a while I reach a roadside camp of a hill tribe working with bamboo.
Dirty and sweaty, I arrive at the village in the afternoon. This is the place where there was supposed to be some traffic. Here, also, nobody speaks English, but I meet a local teacher, and from her, again using the language of gestures, I manage to find out that they’re expecting something to pass through tomorrow. Today she invites me into her hut on stilts. I accompany her on her trip to the nearby river. There’s no other bathroom, so I have no choice; I have to wash like everybody else, in the river. Following the Lao custom, I have to wear one sarong for bathing, wash my clothes in the river, and then change into a dry sarong. My new friend, guessing that I don’t have any, brought two sarongs especially for me.

Led by Destiny