Motorcycle Maintenance
One side argued that Brett and Tyson's bikes (now far ahead) seemed OK. Maybe I just had some bad gas that I should burn through. Perhapse now would be the time to relax my ever neurotic mind and adopt the Laos Buddhist tendency to say "Baw Pen Nyang" (no problem - it doesn't matter) when faced with adversity.
Right about this time we chanced (1 in a 1000) upon a real gas station. "Fuck it" I said and pulled over.
After pantomiming the bike's symptoms to the non-English speaking attendant, he opened the gas cap, smelled the contents and said, "Diesel!". This was not good. To give you an analogy - putting diesel into a regular engine is about as intelligent as pouring motor oil into the radiator - all bad. I could easily write an separate chapter concerning the events that ensued over the next hour. In a nutshell, we had to get the diesel OUT of the bike. Upon discovering that there was no siphoning equipment or tools to properly drain the tank, Tyson, Brett (they had circled around by now), and I did the only thing we could. Even with 3 able bodied guys giving it their all, picking up a full sized motorcycle in order to dump the gas out, is not a simple matter. Picture a mini Valdeeze episode. Diesel splashed everywhere except into the pail we'd positioned below. It seemed to especially enjoy rushing down my left leg - the one that was still bloody and festering from my earlier accident, and the resulting wipe out, with Brett.
The crazy part was that as terrible as this all sounds, it was the happiest I'd been in days. The day before, I had entered Laos a broken man. I felt as if I was as far as ever from reaching the goals I had set out to accomplish on the trip, the personal life I was still clinging to back in the states was in shambles, and I had a pimple the size of a grapefruit angrily taking over the right side of my face. Furthermore, I had just spent a month in Vietnam - a country that routinely breaks event the most hardy of travelers. Since this chapter is titled Laos, I will refrain from detailing the trials and tribulations we faced during our last weeks in Vietnam but will simply quote an excerpt from an email Tyson sent Brett and I after he "fled" Vietnam weeks ahead of us:
"Gentlemen, Laos is the bomb, get out of Vietnam. I repeat, get out of VN!".
Earlier that day, since I wasn't in the proper state of mind to make a decision concerning how to properly see the country, I left it to my companions to decided upon the best method - 4X4, Bus, Scooter, or Motorcycle.
A few hours later, they came back to the guest-house with Endouros = BIG BAD ASS off-road motorcycles [see picture]. Any normal traveler that sets out to experience a new country and considers himself/herself an anthropologist, would scoff at riding these things. Unless of course you're American, then you think they are cool! And you know what? - they were. Laos has a very poor infrastructure with horrible roads and is relatively devoid of tour guide companies. The bikes gave us the freedom to go anywhere we wished and the power and agility to actually get there.
We had an entire country to see, rivers to cross, mountains to traverse, and villages to explore. In the back of our minds we held the possibility of discovering opium dens ........what should I expect? Why did the name alone conjure up such a vast array of images for me (from Colonial Romanticism to Trainspotting)? Why have there been wars fought over this stuff???
Once we got going, I quickly realized that Laos (pronounced Lao here) is a wonderful country. It is the antithesis of, and the antidote to, Vietnam. Even though it is land-locked (no beaches) and rained every day, I consider it to be the most beautiful country I've seen - lush vegetation and huge fog shrouded mountains loom everywhere [see picture]. And the best part isn't even the scenery, it's the people. They are the most laid back yet generous people I've met yet. When your glances are met with genuine kindness, it's difficult not to return the smile. The vibe is contagious.
With the exception of population size and the number of foreign travelers (the bigger the town, the more backpackers and backpacker amenities), most of the villages we visited were remarkably similar. On their streets (always dirt roads) you'll find abundant natural vegetation, well kept homes, shops, Wats (Buddhist Temples) and restaurants. When it rains (everyday), scores of little naked kids spill into the streets to run around, shriek, and just have fun [see picture].
One of the unexpected benefits of our chosen mode of transportation was that we were a spectacle - Laos has relatively few western travelers tramping around. Few, if any, decide to travel via Endouros. As we rode through the countryside, little kids and adults alike would run out to stare, wave, and smile at us. Wherever we stopped a small curious crowd would inevitably gather to wish us well OR, more frequently, to help us fix our bikes [see picture]. The title of this email should give you an idea of how we spent a great deal of our time:
*3 wrecks - Bennett went over the handlebars once!
*One blown tire [see picture]
*Bad carburetor
*The Diesel episode
*Clutch problems leading to near transmission failure
*Running out of gas
*Numerous sparkplug misfortunes
*etc, etc, etc
"Health Care in Laos is so poor as to be virtually nonexistent. The nearest medical care of any competence is neighboring Thailand."
Regardless of the problems that constantly plagued our machines and the medical care we would never receive had we needed it, I can't imagine the trip without them. There is nothing like getting on a motorcycle and heading into the mountains with your Brothers by your side.
At times, I felt like I was one with my bike; testing it, teasing it, learning it's limits and then pushing them, connecting with it in an almost sexual manner.
At other times I'd totally forget myself and my surroundings. Because the bike demanded my total attention, there simply wasn't room for the usual riff raff which fills my head. As a result, I'd find myself focusing on one thought - really focusing on it, examining it from different angles, exploring the underlying issues and my perception of them......Therapeutic.
Although I didn't realize it at the time, I'd have to say that my best day in Laos was last Saturday. Brett, Tyson and I traveled from Nong Khiaw (a remote village without power) to an even more remote village you can only reach via a river taxi. How this patched jalopy stayed afloat is beyond me. After an hour of fighting upstream, the boat's engine got tired, started complaining loudly, then died. Our driver, who didn't speak a lick of English, steered ashore, tied up the boat, and went to work on the engine. 3 and 1/2 hours later, he coaxed her back to life and we resumed the trip. In the interlude, B, T, and I played chess, read aloud, and told stories [see picture]. Not once did we discuss our situation's implications. It was out of our hands and after just a few weeks in Laos, it just didn't matter.
Baw Pen Nyang My Friends
Philippe
Oh, I almost forgot. Did you want to hear about our Opium Den experience?
During one of our stops, Tyson had heard stories of such a place from a fellow traveler. Right on a corner in the middle of the town sat in inconspicuous little shop. After dinner, we approached the building and made direct eye contact with one of the women sitting behind a table lined with the usual Laotian convenience items (water bottles, crackers, shrimp-chips, whiskey, soap, petrol, dried meat, etc). To our relief, our non-verbal head-nod turned out to be the appropriate protocol for gaining admittance.
Via hand-signals and broken English, we were asked to sit down next to the women. A few minutes passed without a further word or glance. Then our hosts got up, closed the front doors, pulled the blinds, and ushered us into a back room. As I looked around the place I tried to hide my anxiety from my buddies. A quick glance at Brett told me that he was thinking the same thing - "what the hell am I getting myself into?"
The square room with wood walls had a cheap linoleum floor, a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, and a stack of basic, yet clean, mats in the corner. A different woman entered the room and laid two of the mats down - one for herself and one for her first "patient". She was to be our guide - her job was to fill, light, and stoke the pipe - our job was to simply inhale.
Tyson was the first to partake. After a few minutes of indulgence, he got up off the mat, came sat next to me, and Brett took his turn. After examining Tyson closely (he looked normal enough, no signs of hysteria, insanity, cardiac arrest, etc) I gathered my courage (or set aside my common sense - not sure which) and traded places with Brett. I looked into my guide's smiling eyes and inhaled.
10 minutes later, the 3 of us were sitting on our guest house's porch. Since we had heard varying accounts of Opium's effects (which included passing out in a cold sweat), we had previously decided to quickly retreat and post-up while we waited for the drug to take hold..........
I wish I could recount some sort an awakening or enlightenment overtaking us. Unfortunately, it never did. While far from mind blowing - the sensation was definitely pleasurable. Euphoria is probably the most fitting descriptor. Mental distress and physical pain diminished and was replaced by a comfortably pleasurable numbness.
Baw Pen Nyang My Friends
Philippe
