After nearly a week in Pai, I had to say goodbye to my favorite destination in Thailand and return to the city of Chiang Mai. Being back in the smog and traffic was shocking at first. Unfortunately, so many of Thailand's
cities suffer from the same problems and my impression of the country
has been dampened by my experiences in the cities. I'll have to admit
that few things appeal to me about Thailand.
Though the food is exceptional, the islands are beautiful, and the
mountains certainly have a lot to offer, the amount of tourism is
almost suffocating to me. Basically, it seems to me that I'm twenty
years too late in visiting Thailand and now I'm just one of the masses. Nevertheless, that makes the
country exceptionally easy to travel in when there's an abundance of
guesthouses, tourist buses, English-menus and Western food, tourist
activities galore and internet places on every corner. I realized
quickly that my inability to speak Thai would not make the country
difficult to travel, but would take away from the overall experience.

This was best displayed when we decided to pursue trekking options in Thailand.
Hearing that treks in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai were so over-touristed
as to call them "human zoos," we opted for a place called Nan Valley,
often the beaten path. Unfortuantely, my fears were realized as we
approached what's suppose to be a gorgeous valley, only to find it made
invisible by slash-n-burn farming. This method of farming has plagued
our trip since arriving in Northern Thailand.
In preparation for the wet season, villagers are cutting down huge
swaths of forest and burning them to the ground, making the mountains
nearly invisible through the thick cloud of smoke. We hoped Nan would have better air quality, but quickly realized that not only did
the city have little to offer, but the mountains might have even less.
Nevertheless, we bit the bullet and booked an overnight trek.

I
hate to say there was nothing exceptional about our trek. In fact, most
of us isn't worth reporting. We walked through some nice valleys, over
clear creeks and up to a ridge where we gained some nice views of the
surrounding mountains, but little to get excited about. We spent the
night in a Hmong village, but as we walked around realized that even in
the less-touristy parts of the country, the people seemed fed up with
random white tourists walking around their homes. That being said, a
few people seemed keen to talk, but our inability to communicate left
us unable to do so and probably ultimately took away from what could
have been a unique experience. The next day we felt the same
frustration as we met a small group from a nomadic tribe
called "The Yellow Leaf People." This nomadic tribe is quickly
diminishing as their native forests fall victim to local farming and
now only about 100 or so of them are left. We were led through the
forest to a bamboo lean-to where two men and four children gathered
beneath its shade. The men wore only a fabric that covered their
genitals and the children clung to each other shyly. Our guide was able
to speak some of their language which sounds more like singing, holding
some tones for an extended length of time, and offered them tobacco and
pork. The men placed the pork in a bamboo chute, plugged it with bamboo
leaf, and then placed it in their campfire. Once the pork had been
adequately smoked, it was pulled from the fire and eagerly devoured by
all. With no way to communicate, we just sat and watched as they ate.
It was pretty uneventful really, but still amazing to see a group of
people living in such an ancient way and quickly disappearing as
agriculture and technology destroys their native forests.

From Nan, I journeyed north to Chiang Rai, then to Chiang Kong the next day where I crossed the MekongRiver into the country of Laos.
I was relieved to be back in this amazing country and eager to tackle a
more adventurous route. So I arranged a bus to Luang Namtha, a town in
the Northern part of the country. Travel in Laos is significantly more difficult and dangerous than Thailand. The countries are almost polar opposites of one another in terms of development with Laos being the most under-developed country in Southeast Asia. This has great appeal to me though as I was seeking a different experience than that of Thailand and immediately I was provided with just that.

In
all my years of travel, never have I experienced anything like
yesterday's bus trip. I was aware that bus travel in Northern Laos can
be a difficult experience as few of the roads are paved and the buses
in far worse condition that those in Thailand. So as I boarded the
public bus, saw the horrid condition of the seats and interior, heard
the ancient engine turning itself over, and thanked God that I actually
found a seat, I prepared myself for the worst. Yet, nothing could have
prepared me for this adventure. Looking at the distance between
Houayxai and Louang Namtha on a map, one would never imagine that it
would take over 9 hours to achieve this test of endurance, but I
understood why as we pulled out onto a dusty dirt road littered with
potholes. Seated just above the wheel, I could tell that the shocks
were in the same condition as my seat. Yet, the worst was still to
come. 

For
over 9 hours our rickety bus lumbered over the dustiest mountain road
that one can imagine. Without fan or air-conditioning, the windows had
to be open for any semblance of cool air or breeze. But with the road
being a hellish dust pit, the windows had to stay closed in order to
save us from the thick clouds of dust that poured into the bus through
any open hole. So the people next to the window played a constant game
of opening-and-closing, attempting to take advantage of any moment when
fresh air could be allowed in and then closing the windows when storms
of dust enveloped the bus. Essentially, when the windows were closed we
baked inside the bus and when they were open we were swallowed by dust.
There was no getting around it. I wore my sunglasses the entire time
attempting to shield my eyes and then covered my mouth and nose with a
towel when dust poured through the windows. It was absolutely miserable
for nearly every moment of the trip. The ironic part was that
it was the most beautiful bus ride I've taken yet. The mountains were
astounding, covered in thick vegetation and rolling on as far as my
dust-covered eyes could see. Along the way we passed through hilltribe
villages where the women dressed in traditional clothing an carried
everything upon their backs from babies to bundles of wood. Children
looked on excitedly and waved as the bus passed by. In fact, much like Fiji, the bus' passing seemed a high point of the day for each village. It was amazing to see so many ancient-looking people living lives far removed from civilization. But
the dust was almost unbearable. Since the road was in a near-constant
state of construction, the dust was like a fine sand. It wasn't even
like a normal dirt road where the dust gets stirred a little as a car
passes by. This dust was so fine that even the wind could put a cloud
in the sky. But when a car (or more often, a huge truck) passed over
the road, it left a literal duststorm that engulfed everything in its
path. During the first five hours we were often stuck behind
construction vehicles rendered nearly invisible by the cloud of dust
they left in their wake. Our driver did his best to make daring passes
around other vehicles, but there was no end to the misery. We
arrived in Luang Namtha well after dark and I struggled to find a
suitable guesthouse in which to clean and soothe my aching body. The
trip had left me with more than memories, feeling the pain that ached
in every inch of my body. But it was finished and for that I could only
be thankful. Unfortunately, the pains and frustrations of public transportation would haunt me again today as I boarded a songathew for the town of Muang Sing.
Songathews are small pick-up trucks fitted with bench seats which serve
as the regular transportation for most of this country. Packed until
people are literally hanging off at times, songathews are the most
common mode of transportation in Northern Laos.
Thankfully, the two-hour journey to Muang Sing was along a paved road
and almost comfortable after yesterday. Unfortunately, it would have to
be repeated when I arrived in Muang Sing only to find one main street
with nothing to offer and dry rice fields in every direction. The
mountains that surrounded the town were invisible through the haze of
smoke and the tourist/trekking office wouldn't be open until Monday. So
I called it a loss and after just 3 hours, boarded a songathew back to
Luang Namtha and there saw at least four others who had done just the
same. Tomorrow I will endure at least 6 hours of public
transportation as I make my way south towards Luang Prabang. I hope
those experiences present less troubles than the past 2 days, but I
have no doubt they will be memorable indeed. For as uncomfortable as
the travel has been, Northern Laos is without a doubt the most
beautiful area of Southeast Asia that I've seen so far.