Travel Stories

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With the Masses on the Mekong.
By Joshua

The two-day trip down the Mekong River, from Chiang Khong, Thailand, into the very heart of Laos at Luang Prabang, is indeed something to write home about. The greenery passes by almost interrupted, with only a handful of small thatch villages to be seen, including Pram Bek, where we spend the night in a dingy, stained room, under a torn pink mosquito net. During the days, our long wooden boat follows the main current of the khaki-colored river, swerving from bank to bank and gently rocking and creaking with the motion. The air is cool, bordering on cold in the mornings, when mists cling to the riverbanks and rising hills.

And yet, booking passage on the “slow boat,” which we did in Chiang Mai, and dealing with the rest of the logistics (immigration, visa, ferry service, etc.) is way too easy, thus ensuring a boat crowded with yahoos so busy yapping, complaining, and slamming beers that they barely notice where they are—passing through one of the most amazing wildernesses in Asia! I am just as guilty of chatting with my fellow travelers and enjoying a cold, overpriced Beer Lao as anyone, but by the second day, the floating frat party takes on new levels when a cocky Brit blasts bad American music on his radio and the volume of the voices reaches new heights.

It doesn’t help that there are 140 people, nearly all farangs, on a boat meant for 80. At one point, I make my way to the bow to take a few photos, and I note that at least half of the passengers are fiddling with iPods, cameras, or other digital gadgets. Every other person it seems, is smoking cigarettes and flinging their butts into the river; a few dozen people are reading, mostly with their noses buried deep inside their Lonely Planet instruction manuals, and a few lost in novels, oblivious to the scenery passing by: I spy two copies of the Davinci Code, one of On the Road, and one older gentlemen reading When Presidents Lie.

Again, I am the pot calling the kettle black, as I plow through Tom Robbins’ Villa Incognito for a part of the ride, telling myself it’s okay because it takes place in Laos. But why can’t we look around and realize where we are!? We take for granted just how simple it is to get on the boat in one town and get off in Luang Prabang where we are immediately coddled by the classy comforts of this ancient capital.

Sitting in the common space balcony of our guesthouse in Luang Prabang, we meet Heather and Matt, a young couple from Vermont and Massachussetts who, with similar opinions of the slow boat trip as us, decided to create their own adventure of it by disembarking in various villages not on the itinerary; they even purchased a dugout canoe for the second half of the trip, but sold it back to the family when they realize the danger and rashness of this plan. Instead, they ended up on “Noah’s Ark,” as they called it, where human passengers were outnumbered by water buffalos, goats, and chickens.

It took them five days to reach Luang Prabang. Respect. This is what is meant by “slow travel.” Matt and Heather also spent time in Darjeeling and Kalimpong, and the four of us wax nostalgic over momos, the steamed Tibetan dumplings that we all loved in northern India. After sharing our favorite momo stories, we take a few meals together, including spicy noodles and Beerlaos at a beach on the river for sunset..

Tourism is a recent phenomenon in Laos, just like in Nicaragua; but like Nicaragua, the majority of visitors stick to only a couple of relatively easy (and totally worthy, beautiful) sites. Our plan is to break from this trail, for at least a part of the 12 days remaining on our visas.

But first, calm and languid Luang Prabang.

Dancing With Whales.
By David Stanley

We've all heard about whalewatching from boats or shore, and a few companies are now offering the possibility of actually swimming and snorkeling with whales in the wild. Is this a good thing?

Some whalewatching operators in the Kingdom of Tonga, South Pacific islands, advertise the possibility of swimming and snorkeling with humpback whales during the cetacean's annual migration from July to October. This activity sounds appealing, yet there are a number of things to consider.
To drop clients off within snorkeling distance of a whale, the swim boats must come closer than the 30 meters laid down in Tongan government guidelines in 1997. Engine noise from a maneuvering boat can startle a whale, and repeated disturbances can lead to the animals changing their behaviour and even abandoning their traditional habitat. The nursing and resting routines of the pods can be disrupted, potentially threatening the health of the whales.

This high-risk activity is not covered by most travel insurance policies. The humpback whales of Tonga are wild animals with powerful fins, and swimming near one always involves some risk. The movements of these huge creatures can be fatal to a human swimmer, either accidentally or if the beast feels threatened, and a nursing mother with calf can be especially unpredictable. Swimming into the path of a whale greatly increases the danger.

In Tonga, sharks are known to frequent areas where there are whales, especially calves, and at least one shark attack on a Tongan guide swimming with whales has been recorded. A tragic accident involving tourists seems to be only a matter of time.

Most whale encounters occur in deep waters where unperceived currents and wave action can soon tire a snorkeler and possibly lead to panic. For these reasons, responsible whalewatching companies like Whales Discoveries do not offer snorkeling with whales.

Of course, the demand is there, and pressure has come to bear on the Tongan Government to revise its guidelines to allow boats to come within 10 meters of a whale. Several new whalewatching licenses have been issued recently, raising the number of commercial operators in this small area to about a dozen, and vessels often have to queue to drop off swimmers. Cases have been observed of boats approaching to within five meters of whale pods, and of mother humpbacks and calves being pursued out to sea.

Visitors should be aware that by purchasing such an excursion, they could be adversely affecting the noble creatures they came to see. It's a good idea to discuss these matters with the operator before booking your trip, and to avoid those who seem most interested in maximizing their own profits at the expense of the whales.

Even if you decide to book such a tour, be aware that only 10 percent of swim-with attempts are successful and there are no refunds. These concerns only apply to attempts to actually swim with whales, and whalewatching from a boat at a safe distance is no problem.

Biking Solo from Maine to Pennsylvania.
by Bob Neubauer

For two weeks I pedaled alone through New England, meeting people, getting invited into their homes and learning about their lives.

North Barnstead, N.H.--The pickup truck rumbled past me on the pebble-strewn dirt road, kicking up a thick, brown cloud in its wake.


Grimacing, I ducked my head against the dust storm and peered down at my feet on the pedals and at my tires spinning in the loose dirt. My balance wavered and I threw down a leg to keep myself, my bike and my 50 pounds of gear from toppling into the thick, thorny underbrush at the road's edge.

And this was supposed to be my vacation?

I was five days into a two-week, 800-mile solo bicycle trek from Maine to Pennsylvania--and things were not going as planned. I had anticipated an idyllic romp through fragrant meadows and small villages. I hadn't counted on sweltering heat, bugs and dirt roads that seemed to have no end.

So much for idealism.

I approached a small cottage at a dirt crossroads, surprising an elderly woman out watering her garden. She gaped at me, a tall, unshaven, sunburned 27-year-old on a ridiculously overloaded bicycle, bumping along a dirt road in the woods.

"How far to the nearest paved road?" I asked.

"About seven miles," she yelled back.

My heart stopped. Seven miles! I'd die of heatstroke!

"Awful hot to be doing that, isn't it?" she chastised.

"Well, I've come this far," I countered. "I'm sort of committed now."

"If you don't watch out you will be committed," she muttered.

At that moment, the security of the rubber room would have been a welcome relief. That was where most people thought I belonged anyway for undertaking this little excursion.

Iberian Road Trip – A Scary Story
by Christophe Rosseel

Diving With Elephants
by sharkeyscuba.com

Diving With Elephants

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The Amazing Antarctica
by Diane Ross

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The "Fishing Village"
by Kristina
The Vietnamese fishing village is said to be a good option as a break from "temple overload". The Tonle Sap lake, which is one of the largest freshwater lakes in the world, rises and falls with the yearly monsoon tides. During the monsoon season (May to October) the Mekong river rises and actually reverses its flow back into the lake, casusing the lake to more than double in size. The lake provides most of the country's fish as well.
The fishing community has it's houses either on top of boat hulls or in the form of small shacks which sit on stilts. As the tide rises, the entire community packs up their homes and moves to higher ground. If they did not, they would be stranded out in the middle of the lake, or under water. As we got closer, we could see many houses, not much more than sticks and boards, literally being moved on the back of a truck, to places further inland due to the rising of the water. Once out on the water, we would also see boats being tugged inland toward the shallower water.
We arrived at an area set up just for tourists to take boat rides out onto the lake. There had to be at least 50 empty boats waiting for customers. Since Ponheary set up everything in advance, we did not need to haggle with the many people who wanted our business. Phall brought us directly to the boat, which, as it turned out, we had to ourselves. The boat sat at least 16 in wooden chairs set on the deck. Our fare was $15 total, for the two of us (Phall again staying with his car), and the trip took a little over two hours. This is overpriced according to the LP guidebook, but the book is out of date. Plus, if we'd had more people with us, my guess is that the price would have been the same. The trip was well worth the money.
The boat captain pushed us out of his space in the canal, much like a Venetian gondolier. He had a difficult time maneuvering the large boat through the shallow water and the reeds. The further we got, the deeper the water, and the wider the channel became. I don't know why I had expected the "village" to be out on the lake, but in fact, it lined the sides of a small tributary. He motored slowly along and we had an excellent opportunity to take it all in. We were passed a few times by quicker boats, crowded with more people, but I'm not sure how they could enjoy the scenery while going so fast.
Along the way, we saw all the trappings of a regular, land locked village. There was a school, a billiards hall, markets, agriculture and aquaculture, and many homes, all floating atop variously sized boats. Some of the markets reminded me of the produce trucks that ply the streets of Latino neighborhoods in Los Angeles. These were small boats, filled with the basic necessities of life (bottles of fish sauce, produce, plastic baskets, etc.) paddled about from houseboat to houseboat, usually by a solo female proprietor. The farming techniques were quite interesting as well. We could see that some families had planted vegetables on a sort of floating island or in pots on rafts along side their boats. There was also some sort of aquaculture (fish farming) going on in large, cage covered barges.
When we finally reached the mouth of the river, the boat's captain took us out onto the lake and turned off the motor. It was a bit unnerving, since he did not speak English and we weren't sure why we were stopped. Was he going to ask us for more money? Was it a scam? My traveler's paranoia was suddenly in full force. Fortunately, he spoke a bit of French and David was able to determine that this was part of the "tour". To appreciate the vastness of the lake, one had to sit in silence on the calm water.
On our way back in from the lake, the boat made the standard "restaurant/gift shop" stop any good tour makes. Though we weren't really interested, we got out of the boat anyway. At the restaurants on both sides of the river mouth were huge birds, some sort of stork I think, sitting on top of cages with more big birds inside. I'm not sure why they were there, but I think they were fed to keep them there for the benefit of the tourists. Inside the shop I bought a bottle of water and noticed the shop owner had a pet monkey. Forgive me, I do not know what kind of primate it was. Maybe a gibbon? Anyway, I was torn between my horror of someone keeping it as a "pet" (though common here in South East Asia) and wanting to play with it and check it out. He was quite a tiny fellow, not even as big as our cats. I didn't attempt to pick him up (not after what happened to me with the monkey at the Bangkok Zoo back in '98) but I did get a couple of photos.
After our busy morning we stopped in town for lunch at Cafe Kampuccino. While standing outside reading their menu, we met a woman named Kim who said she'd eaten there before and that the food was very good. We invited her to sit with us and like any good travelers, got to hear her life story over lunch. Kim, a Canadian, was in Cambodia with the N.G.O., "Doctors Without Borders". She's stationed in a remote village and was in Siem Reap after spending 10 days traveling in Laos on her own. She was 6 months into a 9 month stay in Cambodia and it seemed like the stress of the job was quite high. Two other doctors that had started with her dropped out after 3 months and she was the only doctor left. Still, she didn't seem to have any regrets. She also confirmed something that Ponheary had told us, that there is no malaria in Siem Reap. Of course, the CDC still recommends the medicine, so, better safe than sorry, we decided to continue taking it, at least until the end of our trip.
In the afternoon we went for a traditional Khmer massage at Angkor Massage. The place is run by the blind and helps to support and give jobs to the blind community in Siem Reap. The cost is $3 per hour per person. We walked in and there were 8 or 10 massage tables set up side by side in a large room. We were asked to change clothes and given pajamas, but I declined as I was already wearing loose clothes. Each of us was assigned a masseuse, who was indeed blind, and asked to lie face down on the table. It was then that the torture began.
Let me begin by saying that I've had many a massage in my time. I've had traditional Thai, Balinese, Swedish, all different types of massage. Never have I had a more painful massage than in Siem Reap. Imagine someone taking their thumb and pressing it into the most tender part of your body, like the inside of your upper arm. This is the type of move that is taught to commandos to incapacitate people. Now, imagine the person taking all their body weight and putting it behind that thumb, again and again. It was one of the most excruciating experiences of my life. All of my "ow!" exclamations did not seem to elicit any respite, just the occasional "sorry" and then more of the same. I'm not really sure why I didn't just get up and leave, but I guess I kept hoping it would get better. David, on the other hand, said his massage was excellent, and only hurt a little. Maybe I'm just too "sensitive". Oddly enough, afterward, I felt strangely good, if only a little bruised.
Next, we visited the artist's school, Les Chantiers Ecoles. Here, we saw how students from rural areas learn the ancient arts of stone and wood carving and painting. And of course, at the end was the obligatory visit to the gift shop. The quality was much better than what was available in the central market, but very expensive. Had I the money, I would have loved to purchase a giant stone buddha or angkor era goddess, but these were in the $300-$500 US range.
After a trip back to the market where we bought several more silk scarves and a couple "Danger:Land Mine!" T-shirts (of questionable taste if you ask me) for gifts, we went to the Red Piano, a popular bar/restaurant where we had an early dinner. Tomorrow we're off to Phnom Penh....