We weren’t expecting much of our last night in China; we’d travelled it to a tiny town called Mengla to easily take the bus into Laos. Though the town itself was unmemorable, there were a few memorable moments, with a few China must-do’s ticked off the list for good measure. First, we went into a humble little restaurant to get our last fix of noodles Chinese-style. I’d noticed the chef kneading and twisting dough at the restaurant doorway, but didn’t think much of it. Then I saw him place thin dough drips into a huge bubbling vat of water…he was making homemade noodles! For the Martz family: very similar process to how we made pasta in Italy, except he wasn’t getting as messy as I did! Patrick and I agreed that they were probably the best noodles yet; the already delicious taste and gooey-crunchy texture were only enhanced by seeing them made in front of our eyes.
As we searched for a decent watering hole to toast our time in China, avoiding the dubious brothel-esque places, we suddenly came across a local park. While in the UK, parks at night tend to attract underage teenagers drinking Barcardi Breezers, China pulls a very different sort of crowd. On one side were about 30 people practicing a Tai-Chi routine to slow music; they just all seemed to know the moves instinctively. I particularly enjoyed the shocking karate-chop move in amongst the slow waving arms and bending legs, even if it did make me jump! In the middle of the park, a few couples were playing badminton, though they could barely see the shuttlecock in the semi-darkness. On the other side, another group of around 30 were practicing something very different from Tai Chi; the music was slightly jazzier, with dance-moves that I can only describe as a mix between country-dancing with salsa. Imagine that, if you will! No pictures, unfortunately- I didn’t have my camera! As we people-watched with a kind of curious delight, an old man came and spoke Chinese to us: after a few minutes, he said something like ‘You don’t understand, do you?’, gave us a beaming, slightly gappy smile, and sat next to us silently, enjoying the evening entertainment alongside us.
So, that was one China must-do out of the way- watch a park-based Tai Chi session. Another thing we’ve been searching for since we’ve been in China is the karaoke bars, that have proved more elusive than you’d think. But lo and behold, we passed about 6 or 7 on the way home; I can’t think of any better soundtrack to end my night, and indeed our time in China, then Chinese twentysomethings wailing their favourite Chinese pop songs with all their heart and soul.
The next morning was an early start; our bus left at 8am! Well, it was scheduled to leave then- it actually left around 9am, after stuffing seemingly endless supplies of flower bouquets, long bamboo sticks and melons under the bus. The fairly uneventful journey took about 12 hours, with a few long stops either side of the border to sort out immigration stuff. Being the only foreigners on our bus, we were always holding everyone up; all the passengers seemed good-natured about it, though! Everything went without a hitch; we were stamped out of China, and given a visa to Laos with no troubles (and no extra rip-off extra payments!). The only thing we were worried about was knowing where to get off; it was going to be dark when we arrived in Luang Prabang. But, as ever, it was much simpler than we thought, and we stepped off the bus to the chorus of many tuk-tuk invitations. Ah, it was like being in India again (especially when the tuk-tuk we chose became piled up with 4 extra people, a big white box, and a baby balanced precariously on his father’s lap).
We’d only travelled a short way over the China border, but it soon clear that we were in a very different world. Everybody was very smiley, approachable and spoke a little English. The latter especially is going to take some getting used to- no more exaggerated mimes and wild pointing! We even managed a little cheeky haggle for our room with a very sweet Lao guy, even if he did take a LOT of persuading…
As I write, we are in Vang Vieng, home of tubing craziness, after taking a minibus from Luang Prabang yesterday. If I had to personify both of these places…Luang Prabang would be a classy, pristinely dressed lady in sparkling white, eager to please travelers and obsessed with cleanliness, yet with a slightly wild, luscious side on the outskirts…Vang Vieng would be a crazy raver, obsessed with Friends, Family Guy and Simpsons. There's a potential mellow side to Vang Vieng- the riverside mountain scenery is truly serene and mystical- but even this part of her is permeated by an eternal partying spirit...(more on our tubing bar crawl experience in the next blog entry...)
The Luang Prabang- Vang Vieng journey (despite the vomit-inducing windy roads) was probably the highlight so far: the green undulating hills were stunning, but it was observing everyday life happening in the roadside wooden village huts that really interested me. A little kid running to his grandfather, a man sitting outside his hut writing his diary, women huddled around a leaping fire to keep warm, little girls carrying man-sized wood planks on their head at dusk, little boys rolling down construction site sand dunes…this is what I came to Laos to see. Ordinary people living their lives. I just hope I can meet some of these people first-hand in the next few weeks…
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