Luang Prabang, Laos:
As with the lax attitudes of the Vietnamese people towards organisation, it became apparent that they probably operate in the same kind of way in Laos too. And sure enough, like clockwork, the complacent tuk-tuk driver we collared last night collected us from our respective hostels at 8am sharp and ferried us the 40 minutes or so to Kuang Si Waterfall.
I’d never been in a tuk-tuk before and was excited for my debut ride; the girls thinking it bizarre and hilarious that I’d not previously had the luxury of experiencing this South East Asian vehicular phenomenon. The drive itself was interesting – bumpy, and rickety and at times, but it was a joy to take in the smells and sounds of Luang Prabang as we trundled at great speed away from the city towards our destination, stopping only once for the driver to get out and have a sly pee at the side of the road.
We’d agreed to leave for Kuang Si waterfall early so as to avoid the inevitable onslaught of camera wielding tourists and bus loads of Chinese tour groups; and ok, it was a slight paradox to think of our trip in that way as we ourselves were ‘camera wielding tourists’, but we didn’t want to be around others like us, ruining our photographs with their selfie sticks and getting in the way of our fun; we wanted to experience the place authentically, quietly, and selfishly; we wanted to experience it how it should be experienced – in calm and peace and with no pressure and no queueing, and especially without the frustration of having to be tolerant when little Jonny decides to spew up in the water, or Susan and Diane decide to take a million selfies in front of the view you were so eager to inhale in solitude. So we were relieved when upon arrival, the whole place seemed peaceful and still. It was perfect.
As far as waterfalls go, Kuang Si is pretty spectacular. Situated around 22km south west of Luang Prabang, it consists of several different pools of clear blue water, with bridges and view points that enable visitors to take in the musical sounds of its flow and majesty. Feeling adventurous and craving some kind of physical exercise, we chose to climb to the top of the waterfall, for it was there that you could swim and frolic in the waters close to the source.
Had we been sensible and actually surveyed our surroundings first, read some signs, or even just consulted maps.me we would’ve found that there was a far easier way to reach the top of the waterfall than the route we took. All gung-ho and guns blazing though, we began the steep, slippy ascent through what I can only describe as ‘Jungle’. Now, the climb was nowhere near as boggy as my Sapa experience had been but it was definitely a tougher gradient. And with no clue as to whether there was an alternate route to take us down again, we hesitated half way and considered turning back to re-think our options. It took all of twenty seconds for me to banish the uncertainty and not wanting to deliberate any more, we trekked on.
Luckily, the route flattened out a short distance further and up ahead we could see our destination. And it was wonderful. Small pockets of still water sat among the trees; our very own private infinity pool lay before us; clean, clear water splashing over the rocks to form the waterfall below; makeshift bamboo bridges had been placed between the pools creating walkways for us. And the best thing of all – someone had made a rope swing!
Not wanting to be shy, I stripped down to my bikini and immediately took the plunge into the cold water. And boy was it cold! But after a little adjustment to the temperature it felt pleasant to swim in, and I hurriedly paddled to the swing like a kid in a sweet shop, eager to get on and have a go, yearning to recreate memories from my childhood when my brother and I would go down the park and play on the ‘ropey’ that was suspended from a tree, and swing out, fearlessly, over the murky waters of the Lancaster canal.
And it was brilliant! For a good hour we messed around at the top, jumping in and out of the water, taking a bamboo boat to the source and generally having the time of our lives. I’d heard there were leeches, and the mosquitoes were out in force but I didn’t care; what was the harm in a little blood loss if we were having fun? Fortunately, no leech tried to suck on my haemoglobin that morning and as we descended to the foot of the waterfall (this time finding an easier, safer route), rosey cheeked and full of life’s energy, we saw the crowds beginning to arrive. For the second time on my South East Asia adventure, timing had been on my side.
Once back in Luang Prabang, Chicago, Brazil and I quickly changed into something less revealing and more respectable and headed to the monastery to fulfill the promise we made yesterday: we were about to help some novice monks and eager students practice their conversational English.
The experience, for me, was very humbling. I’m not about to lie and say it was easy because it wasn’t; at points throughout the afternoon I felt a little drained: trying to ask people who have very basic English skills the right questions so as to provoke answers that don’t just consist of one word is difficult. And it takes patience. Something I have been known to have very little of at times. But with perseverance I managed to extract some good bits of information from the students; they were keen to find out about where I was from and where I had travelled; and they enjoyed talking about their families and their life dreams. When asking them about music though, the only song they seemed to know was “Tell it to my heart” by Taylor Dayne! This worried me slightly – a part of me shuddering inside – and I was half tempted to offer my services as a voluntary musical history teacher, if only to save these poor souls from a future of inevitable bad taste and bleeding ears. Alas, I decided that music was probably not the most important thing on their agenda and that learning the basics of the English language was their primary aim.
Feeling fulfilled, happy, humbled and full of life, I concluded that socialising with others while on this trip instead of spending all my travelling time in chosen solitary confinement was maybe the way forward. And despite still needing my own space from time to time – space to breathe and to collect my thoughts, space to write and space to do my own thing – being around like minded people, people from all walks of life and people from different cultures, well, it can feed the soul, it can open your eyes, and it can also make for some bloody good memories.
Chasing Amy-Lou 