Ell in the heart of the village
A MacRodent home delivery
Most villages located on the ridge
Agility personified
Getting stuck into lao hai at the wedding
The effects of lao hai (rice whisky) on these 26 year olds
The wedding banquet - pigs blood, being the show stopper
The Chief on the right
Leaving the first nights village
Kitchen
Wonderful hosts, the chief is in the black & white top, with the elderly female leg squeezers
Sleeping quarters
The leg squeezers in action
Village people
La Petite Generale & Uncle Fester
BounMa, guide & teacher, ex-hunter and all round good egg prepares feast, sticky rice, noodles, fishSteep ascents – sweaty – steep descents – steep ascents – sweaty – steep descents etc etc, thin mattresses and rock hard pillows, all meals preceeded by lao lao – rice liquor, which is fine, but at breakfast time is challenging – washing with the villagers, no privacy – so you’d probably be surprised to hear that this 3 day trek with Bounma our teacher/guide is without doubt the most outstanding thing we have down by a country mile in Laos.
W e had thought of doing a 3 day homestay/trek whilst in another province, but after meeting a couple of other travellers we began to get the impression that though these were well organised, you were really just another client being escorted through tribal villages on a conveyor belt. So it was with some good fortune that after having arrived in Muang Khua we happened across Bounma who should have been teaching, but desks hadn’t been delivered to the school so he had time to hastily prepare permits for the 2 of us and him to visit a number of villages to the NW of Muang Khua in Phongsali province.
Walking as previously mentioned was tough and at the end of the first day, Western was a broken man, Ell as ever was on top form. I could barely make it up the steps of the Chief’s stilted house and I only really revived after having had a very public, cold shower in the village square – the local women were more than curious and would have filmed it had they had a camera - I am sure I heard the word “Steptoe” used. Ell also kept the local men entertained when with poor sarong technique she revealed a little too much boobage.
We had 3 huge meals a day, there was no variation between breakfast lunch and dinner, all were preceeded by lao lao which you take as a shot – in multiples of 2, odd numbers offend the “spirits” – no pun intended. Sticky rice was plentiful and we ate river weed (spinach like) bamboo shoots (not dissimilar to turnip), bean and cabbage soup, wild mushroom, bbq’ed “meat” ( can you tell what it is yet,) pork and pumpkin stew, delicious rice noodles with pig fat and banana flower, pork rind surprise – Ell asked the question “what on earth do they do with the meat?” – because you get the impression its the least favourite bit of the animal. Its tradition with the hilltribe villages for the Chief to house visitors so we slept either with him or his family. Bounma translated the Q & A sessions between us. The villagers hunt but they are not supposed to and they grow opium but they are not supposed to. Fortunatley for them they live a long way away from most administrative centres.
Bounma had made this trip 2 years previously, so we got a big reception “Falang, Falang,Falang” or (French, French, French). After we had lectured them on this rather elementary geographical mistake, we enjoyed great evenings with them. The elder women were fascinated with Ell, they wanted to touch and squeeze every part of her and there was much giggling – fortunately the men were more restrained.
On the second day we arrived at a village celebrating a wedding. The groom was to depart and live at his wife’s village for 3 years, before they both would return to his home. Much Lao lao was drunk and the food was excellent. We were at our diplomatic best in managing to get out of drinking the fresh pig’s blood – a sign that the pork rind and pork fat came from a fresh kill. By the 3rd day, most of our clothes were dirty and damp and we were pleased to arrive back in town, where we enjoyed a double room that we had thought was pretty average when we had stayed there 3 days previously....its all relative isn’t it?
W e had thought of doing a 3 day homestay/trek whilst in another province, but after meeting a couple of other travellers we began to get the impression that though these were well organised, you were really just another client being escorted through tribal villages on a conveyor belt. So it was with some good fortune that after having arrived in Muang Khua we happened across Bounma who should have been teaching, but desks hadn’t been delivered to the school so he had time to hastily prepare permits for the 2 of us and him to visit a number of villages to the NW of Muang Khua in Phongsali province.
Walking as previously mentioned was tough and at the end of the first day, Western was a broken man, Ell as ever was on top form. I could barely make it up the steps of the Chief’s stilted house and I only really revived after having had a very public, cold shower in the village square – the local women were more than curious and would have filmed it had they had a camera - I am sure I heard the word “Steptoe” used. Ell also kept the local men entertained when with poor sarong technique she revealed a little too much boobage.
We had 3 huge meals a day, there was no variation between breakfast lunch and dinner, all were preceeded by lao lao which you take as a shot – in multiples of 2, odd numbers offend the “spirits” – no pun intended. Sticky rice was plentiful and we ate river weed (spinach like) bamboo shoots (not dissimilar to turnip), bean and cabbage soup, wild mushroom, bbq’ed “meat” ( can you tell what it is yet,) pork and pumpkin stew, delicious rice noodles with pig fat and banana flower, pork rind surprise – Ell asked the question “what on earth do they do with the meat?” – because you get the impression its the least favourite bit of the animal. Its tradition with the hilltribe villages for the Chief to house visitors so we slept either with him or his family. Bounma translated the Q & A sessions between us. The villagers hunt but they are not supposed to and they grow opium but they are not supposed to. Fortunatley for them they live a long way away from most administrative centres.
Bounma had made this trip 2 years previously, so we got a big reception “Falang, Falang,Falang” or (French, French, French). After we had lectured them on this rather elementary geographical mistake, we enjoyed great evenings with them. The elder women were fascinated with Ell, they wanted to touch and squeeze every part of her and there was much giggling – fortunately the men were more restrained.
On the second day we arrived at a village celebrating a wedding. The groom was to depart and live at his wife’s village for 3 years, before they both would return to his home. Much Lao lao was drunk and the food was excellent. We were at our diplomatic best in managing to get out of drinking the fresh pig’s blood – a sign that the pork rind and pork fat came from a fresh kill. By the 3rd day, most of our clothes were dirty and damp and we were pleased to arrive back in town, where we enjoyed a double room that we had thought was pretty average when we had stayed there 3 days previously....its all relative isn’t it?
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