Rainy season and everyday problems

As you can easily gather from the reduced blog frequency internet access is a rarity - also in the south of Laos. Let alone a fast one. At least off the few tourist hotspots. Hence blogging itself is already almost an adventure. 

In the first two months of our trip we did not notice much of a coming rainy season. We always hoped for a cool down from above. But sometimes locals crushed our hopes by saying that there were no classical seasons in the last few years (cold from roughly November to March, hot from March to May, rainy from May to November). Instead it apparently was always hot, especially in the southern parts of the country, and it either rained too little or too much at once which lead to flooding. According to them the climate is definitely changing...

Flooded meadows and well filled rice fields. Bottom: Fisherman at the confluence of a clear side arm with the brown Mekong.

Because this is our first time to southeast Asia we have no frame of reference but we can surely register that the rainy days are a lot more frequent in the past three weeks. If a thunderstorm happens to accompany it then the chance of a power cut is near 100 %. After a stormy night one can see everybody running around with headlamps. And lately we always keep it at hand too. Contrary to our expectations it usually rains between evening and late morning. Rarely for extended periods of time but when it does it is a torrential downpour, usually out of the blue. The black clouds to the west already had us wondering why it isn't raining yet when we hear a loud rushing in front of us. We are confused at first and wondering where this river may be. Suddenly we spot a wall of water 40 metres away racing towards us. We just have enough time to flee under our ponchos before taking a shower. And not an unpressurized one but a full on tropical at four bar. The road is a stream within seconds and we have no idea if water from the top or bottom is breaking into our shoes. But every step is soggy and gurgly. Our feet have a worrying wrinkly appearance by the time we stop walking. 

Elly's feet after a day in wet hiking boots...

A few days later we loose the patience game against the goddess of water (we made big offerings to her in Thailand) and have to trash our Western thinking. We imitate the Lao people and exchange our hiking boots for flip flops. If water cannot be kept out then at least make sure it can drain well. We are marching in the Laos national footwear for 15 km until the rain eases off. But it is admittedly a real treat to get back into our "footgloves" - shaped over almost 2000 km to fit every square millimetre of our feet. 

Don't let the video fool you - in reality the downpours are brutal. But at least you get an impression...

 

Maybe a few have asked themselves how we handle everyday things like going to toilet on such a long hike in sometimes very remote places. The answer is obvious, we improvise. Mostly bushes come to the rescue (as they do for many locals too). It doesn't happen too often though because the body uses the little food very efficiently and almost all fluids leave the body by transpiration. 

Left: Lots of green toilets in the background. Right: typical house of the region (has space for whole families). When asking for a toilet you are directed to the bushes...

But a few days ago it was my turn and I had to "go big". Mysteriously very suddenly and urgently so I ran towards the next opening in the bushes upon seeing it, dropped the backpack, dove into the green and relieved myself. The light feeling didn't last for long. I grabbed my pack and before I knew it my hands were in someone elses heap (man or animal I do not know). I forgot to inspect the landing zone of my bag and paid for it. It was just everywhere and stank abysmal. Trying to clean my companion without water and soap made an even bigger mess. I settled for walking with a brown olive backpack (instead of blue) and in a cloud of rotten fish, sewage plant and manure for the last 15 km. And I thought that not only the people but even the dogs wrinkled their nose when I walked past. But we learnt something new: never drop your backpack thoughtlessly... 

Two days later I had to deal with a set of whole new problems. My head was hammering and I felt feverish and weak. The thermometer only said 37.2 (which most likely excluded dengue or malaria) but I could not picture myself walking in this condition. So we took an unscheduled days rest to observe the situation. I still didn't feel well the next morning but the temperature seemed normal. Knowing that we had not too many days left on our visa we continued our journey on foot. We managed 34 km but I was half absent most of the time. Another 35 km on the next day took their toll and I just fell into bed. My head did not stop heating up. 38 degrees. Threshold to start worrying about malaria. Damn it!

Measuring the temperature - not happy...

 

Should we drive the 180 km to Pakse and see a doctor? I did not feel capable of walking this distance and our health needs to be the top priority. Especially because our body is also our means of transport. On the other hand there was the project which I have come to love. I couldn't fight the thought of letting down the donors and the people we wanted to help if I drove. And it was our dream to walk Laos. Chaos in my head. But finally I made a very difficult decision: if my situation does not improve until the morning I am going to see a doctor in Pakse. Having tried everything and battled for 70 km was cold comfort. I slept very well that night. And in the morning I felt recovered, 36.2 degrees. Miraculously everything vanished and I was very, very relieved. We only walked 10 km on that day to not stress the body too much. But the machine is running well again ever since and we are now 60 km north of Pakse after (once again) walking a marathon today...

Laos never fails to surprise

Even though I have mentioned some differences between Laos and Thailand in the last post we would have never thought that virtually all experiences of 775 km in Thailand are void in Laos. We have definitely arrived in a different country - with new rules and circumstances.

We are an even more exotic appearance than in Thailand - all eyes on us

In rural Laos our eyes have gotten used to seeing naked children chasing tail waggling piglets across the road. Chickens and ducks of every age in their wake. It is an entirely different matter when a feisty wild boar jumps onto the road in the middle of the jungle, looks around and charges you like a kamikaze fighter. Elly who often walks in front lunged an impressive distance backwards despite the 15 kg backpack. I quickly change the grip around my walking pole to turn it into a baton, shouting to her to follow my example. Mere metres in front of us the hog dashes into the dense undergrowth. Adrenaline was a close companion for a good while after...

Rice fields and mountains

Getting cash in Thailand was as easy as in western Europe. ATMs can be found literally anywhere. In the parts of Laos we have travelled so far they are an absoulte rarity. 100 miles without one is not unusual - if you're on foot that means four to five days. You know you're in trouble when on top of that the Laos Development Bank (LDP) ATMs do not accept any of our cards. In less developed regions that is the only bank present. Our reserves had long dropped below the critical threshhold when we finally saw an ATM sign. The disappointment was huge to read the three letters LDP below it. Desperate we still tried all our cards with the same outcome: no cash. Despite that we checked into a guesthouse. After all the camping our gear and dirty bodies desperately needed some attention. However this meant that our budget was now just over 200'000 Kip (100'000 Kip is about 13 USD)

All the money we had left...

Now we needed solutions. 1) Online Western Union transfer and collect the money tomorrow at the bank. Seemed straightforward. Only problem being that the locals look at you as if you're from Mars when asking for internet or a computer. Maybe the bank has one (NOT guaranteed in Laos) and we could convince them to let us use it. 2) Return bus to Vientiane and withdraw money there. Not our idea of a walking project. And who knows if I would have made it back in a day on these roads. Elly would not have known where I am or if something happened to me. 3) Battle with what we have. 210 km to Vientiane, 7 days of walking, 6 nights of camping. If we eat nothing but rice in this time we need about 7 kg (50'000 - 60'000 Kip). 1.5 litres of water cost 5000 Kip. 10 - 12 litres is our daily consumption so in total over 250'000 Kip. Too much. So we have to find water or beg for it. As Westerners who have everything. From people who barely have enough to live. Not that they wouldn't have gladly helped us out. But the mere thought of it upset my stomach...

Left: one of the better bridges in Laos, whether it can bear the promised 18 t is a different question. Right: Main road to Vientiane...

Because option 1) was easy to try (but very improbable) I decided to see if I could find internet in the village. From the corner of my eyes I suddenly see red letters on a white backdrop. 'ATM 24 h'. Two ATMs in one village? Below it the Mastercard and then the Maestro logo. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I had to seriously restrain myself to not shout out loudly with joy, kiss and hug everybody on the way to it. Whistling a tune I hopped to the door like a small child. It said 'Domestic and International transfers'. Now I was sure that we would have money. Insert card, enter PIN and amount. Rattling. 'Please Take Your Card'. Rattling. And then: a bunch of 50'000 notes smiling at me from the slit. I hastily grab them, just in case... I stop at the next restaurant, order three portions of stir fried vegetables with rice, invite the young men, who are sitting there, for a beer. Nothing can upset me in this moment and I feel like the richest man on earth. On the way back I also buy soft drinks and some snacks. Elly thinks I have gone completely mad when she sees me with all the food. How can I spend so much when we're broke? She stares at me in complete shock until I show her the money. "How, where from..." she stutters. I explain and we celebrate very relieved. In the evening we have another meal at the restaurant...

We cannot (yet) walk over water so we have to use the ferry like everyone else

On the next day our pockets are full of cash but we have no water. We expected an increase in population density because a) we were at the Mekong and b) on our way to the capital. Instead: dense jungle, narrow, steep roads, partly unsealed. No sign of any settlement whatsoever. Laos surprised us once again. Luckily I heeded my gut feeling and took 2 L of extra water with me. But we need those to cook dinner and for tomorrow. Our only source of water near the road at this point are the droplets in thrown away PET bottles. So we collect, desinfect and drink them. Because we are on a ridge there is also no sign of flowing water. Our mouths are completely dry and the thighs burning from the punishing ascents when a man stops next to us to offer a ride. Driving never seemed to tempting but we decline. We decide to set up camp for the night on a flat section in a light bamboo forest. As soon as we put down our backpacks we are attacked by bloodthursty mosquitoes. Squadrons of them take turns in blitzing every square inch of skin, ignoring the repellent (80 % DEET). We hastily put up the tent. Elly doesn't like insects very much. To prevent her from going berserk I place the mosquito net around her, cook dinner with as little water as possible before fleeing into safety as well. By then my arms and face resemble the rolling hills of England and I am left to hope that malaria or dengue will not knock on the door...
Sleeping is a nightmare and we are literally sweating litres. By dawn all Water for the coming day is used up. The collected rainwater tastes awfully bitter, probaly some sort of run off from the bamboo leaves. Not drinkable. Dried out like a Swiss army biscuit (and trust me they are BONE DRY) we pack our stuff together and flee flom the flying plague. 8 km later a sign announcing a 15 % decline. And I know there is water down there because it very rarely flows uphill. After the last bend we even see roofs in the distance. I rush to the first man we see and buy anything drinkable off him. We are gulping down the stuff like camels. Luke warm orange squash and water has never tasted so good...

As always we have experienced a million things more, found guesthouses in the middle of nowhere after 39 km of walking just before dusk set in, met unbelievably many people, were invited to litres of Beerlao and gained wonderful insights into the Lao everyday life. Now we have arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, and need to take care of our visa extension. What a shock. In 18 days we saw 3 Westerners. Now they outnumber the locals. The culture that we learnt to know and love is no longer. And even though we are truly enjoying the luxury of a bed, a shower and the numerous restaurants we are looking forward to leaving the beaten track very soon. 1300 km lay behind us, probably already more than a quarter of the total distance. And we are more and more surprised at what sort of distances can be covered on foot in a relatively short time.

Left: we reached the 1000 km mark... Right: typical hiking image from Laos

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We are walking 5000 km through southeast Asia to raise money for MAG (Mines Advisory Group) to help clear mines in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. If you like this project please share the blog with your friends and colleagues. Donations can be made via JustGiving or bank transfer (IBAN CH79 0900 0000 2513 1893 4, PC account 25-131893-4). Your help is greatly appreciated! 

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