Before we knew it, we’d reached the lovely Long Beach, from where we intended to take a boat trip to see the rare Irrawaddy dolphins in the turquoise Mekong river waters. First, though, we had the pleasure to meet the man who organized our dolphin boat and would later become our friend: Mr. Bounsom. Immediately likable with his baggy white t-shirt and HUGE white smile, Mr. Bounsom ran one of the two restaurants on the beach, and had a pretty good command of English. I’ve also never met anybody else who laughs so much- although everybody laughs with him, because his laugh is so contagious!
Anyway, more on Mr. Bounsom later! As I sported a very fetching SE Asian-style conical straw hat, we set off with one of his friends in a wooden canoe-style motor-boat along the sparkling river: as much of a highlight as actually seeing the dolphins. So close to the water that you almost feel you’re zipping along on your bottom, we dodged trees rising out of the river that would be swamped in the wet season, whilst looking at the forested borders of Laos to our left, and Cambodia to our right. Just as we were really enjoying the ride, we were taken to a rock for some dolphin-spotting, and came across a bizarre sight: some sheepish looking tourists in one boat, and gun wielding Cambodian border police in another. We found out that the former had been chased all the way back to this rock by the police after trying to see the dolphins up close! Obviously enjoying the flirtation with danger, they soon zipped back to the border; hopefully they were more successful the second time! Though we were standing atop the rock in the baking midday sun, we caught a few glimpses of the elegant creatures, rolling around in the water- though they were too far away for a decent look. Still, it was an experience to see Mekong dolphins, swimming just in front of Cambodia…
Now, we thought our fun was over in Don Khon, and we were ready to cycle back to Don Det to try and track the elusive Mr. Hoy. However, as we once again got chatting to the affable Mr. Bounsom about his family, and shared an eggcup (?) of LaoLao whiskey with him, I casually mentioned that Patrick wanted to go fishing later that afternoon. He didn’t take much persuading, immediately saying that he’d take us out for a few hours fishing at 4pm, coming back just in time for sunset. Perfect, we thought, just enough time to try his wife’s delicious fish laap and fresh spring rolls, and to go for a quick swim. Aside from the slightly chilling sight of a 4 year old Lao girl playing with a big meat cleaver (bursting into tears when she had to leave her precious toy behind as she was heaved onto the back of her mother’s scooter), we had a very chilled few hours.
Before we knew it, it was fishing time! Grabbing the fishing essentials- some scales and three Beer Laos- we set off on the river once more. Mr. Bounsom stopped every time he saw a fisherman to ask his verdict on the fish situation, but it was always the same: ‘no fish’. So we zipped further into the Mekong, with big, angular boulders rising out of the water instead of trees. Suddenly the boat stopped, and Mr. Bounsom was telling us to get out and walk up the sandbank. So we obeyed, and were greeted by seven or eight crudely made wooden huts on stilts, as well as the same number of Lao men, women and babies looking at us curiously. One little boy looked almost possessed in his shock! Mr. Bounsom explained that this is a fishing village, where the fishermen and their families stay for ten days every month before selling their goods in the nearby villages. A very interesting, and unexpected insight into a Lao fisherman’s life, as well as a good place to pick up LaoLao whiskey in a BeerLao bottle, apparently!
With sunset gradually descending into night, it was time to get back…but not without a quick stop at a giant wooden fish trap, onto Mr. Bounsom quickly clambered to throw a HUGE fish right in front of me! If I’d shuffled forward one centimetre, it would have slapped me in the face! I don’t know who looked more shell-shocked, me or the fish! Anyway, after a quick phone call from his wife (because of course, you can get signal in the outer reaches of the Mekong), we zoomed home in the semi-darkness, with a few swigs of that LaoLao whiskey on the way for luck.
By pure instinct, Mr. Bounsom picked out our starting point of Long Beach in the darkness, and quickly banked on the shores. The only people left in his restaurant were the dolphin-trip boatmen, all eagerly counting their wages from that day. They were all very smiley; one boatman in particular was keen to chat, and had pretty good English. He told us that we should come back for Lao New Year’s in mid-April- ‘no work!’ he said, with the biggest smile on his face! In the meantime, Mr. Bounsom’s wife had fried us up some of those fish her husband had caught from the fish trap- delicious!
But then it was time for the really fun part- riding home- made even more fun by the dark night…Mr. Bounsom was at front, Pat and I were in the middle, and Mrs. Bounsom and her adorable kiddies brought up the rear; we had quite the convoy going on. Thank God it was a smooth ride- the headlight that they gave me didn’t stretch so far! They took us as far as the Don Khon-Don Det bridge, before bidding us goodbye. Only a fool would have tried to ride from that moment on, armed with only the lamps at the ends of two lighters for a light source. As we crossed the bridge, Pat told me to look up into the sky; I lifted my head, and the two of us just stood there for a few seconds, mesmerised. Millions of stars were clustered together, almost more stars than night, just like they had been near Thorong-La in Nepal; there’s something beautifully comforting about having a blanket of stars above you.
If we had been anywhere else in the world, the walk back would be terrifying- walking through wooded areas, unable to see immediately behind you…but Don Det feels so unbelievably safe that I only had one minor freak-out on the half-hour walk back. They’re so laid back and friendly here, I doubt they even have a police officer on the island. Once in a while we reached a lit house, where the people inside would shout out a big ‘Sabai Dee!’ in that warm, drawn out manner with which Lao’s greet you. Anyway, no need to panic: we made it back safe and sound, slyly depositing our bikes back and hoping they wouldn’t charge us for the late arrival. Who were we kidding- they probably didn’t even realize it was past the designated time of 6pm!
So, we can’t really think of a better way to have ended our time in the lovely, laid-back Don Det. All I can say is that, despite its slightly touristy side, there were still many moments, apart our crazy fishing experience, where I managed to find the real Laos that I was hankering after in Vang Vieng. I even found it at breakfast, at the great restaurant we went to; all they serve is noodle soup, their only advertisement was a board nailed to a pole that had ‘noodle soup’ painted onto it. Definitely the best noodle soup I’ve had in a long time- they could give China a lesson or two about flavourful, non-spicy soup- but it wasn’t just that. It was the grandmother doing the laundry a few feet away, the cows chewing on big hay bundles in the garden whilst cats, dogs, ducks and chickens stepped over their feet, the adorable little girl who was pleased as punch to help her family by clearing our plates, the whole family’s friendliness without being overbearing…just their general generosity, both with their smiles and portions!
We’re back in Pakse at the moment, after running out of money- no ATMs on Don Det! We leave for Bangkok today on the sleeper train- it’s going to be a VERY different experience from the last week, but I still can’t wait! New currency, new food (mmmm-Thai green curry)… it’s always fun to cross to another country! Goodbye Laos, and do me a favour- keep up your laid-back attitude, your flavourful laap and noodle soup, and your open smiles, and you won’t fail to win people’s hearts as much as your more famous neighbours. I’ll be back, I’m sure!
