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Woke up insanely early at the monestary, as roosters and monks both wake up early. It was an odd nights sleep, the flourescent lights int he monestary on all night, and sounds of dogs, horses, cows, and roosters coming from all over. I slept alright though. Before I left, I asked it I could take a picture of Bou and Nabr, the two novice monks. I didn’t risk trying to ask Vong, the head monk. They liked the idea, but had to run and get fully dressed in their robes first. They insisted on taking pictures in the temple itself, with themselves seated in front of the main shrine. But, with the sun still not over the horizon, I doubt it will come out. The smiles they put on for the camera were amazing. I wonder if monks practicse smiling. I hope I didn’t get the two of them in trouble with Vong. He seemed generally unpleased with my presence, though several times I wonder if that was just his nature.

I said goodbye to Vong, and thanked him again, and then headed to the market to find breakfast. I had a baguette with sweetened condensed milk, mmm. I then went and found rice, water, and bananas for the road. When I stopped to get bananas, there was a cheeky old man there who was trying to get me to buy various passing women. When I said I wasn’t interested, he’d just move on to the next one. I finally just made a joke out of it, saying I didn’t have any more room on my bike. I’ve had lots of offers of women alond the way, as well as several requests by people asking me to take them with me back to the states, even the monks at Wat Ban Phone, where I stayed.

I eventually got talked into buying what looked like samosas. They were filled with a dry banana paste, and very yummy. The lady I bought them from was pretty funny, saying what I understood to mean that the money I gave her was the first she’d received from falang(foreigner), as though she’d save it as a souvenir.

I’d run into someone at the wat (well, more likely he was directed to come speak to me), who had studied english in Vientiane, and spoke very well. He told me I could go from Nongbok to Ban Na Thai, and take a boat across the river, where I could continue on to Ban Nadeng, on Rt. 13. I spent the morning screwing around getting to Na Thai, taking pictures, taking wrong turns, and playing pied piper to a bunch of kids on their bikes on their way to school. They were heaps of fun, taking a little while to warm up. I spoke a few english phrases with them, and a bit of Lao. My Lao has vastly improved in 48 hours, nearly at the point I can begin conversation. The monestary is to thank for that.

Finally I found Ban Na Thai, and started asking around about a boat. I met a middle-aged woman who spoke French, who showed me where longtail boats go back and forth across the river for 1000 kip (Look it up). I spoke a bit of French with her while I waited for a boat. She wasn’t fluent, but a few words here and there. She seemed to understand a fair amount when I spoke French though. More directions, a few more wrong turns, and a lot more dirt roads in varing conditions later, I made it to Nadend.

At a few points, I was having to make navigation decisions based on “well, this way has more tire tracks” and “hmm, that way goes east, and Rt. 13 is east of here, so…” Not the best way to navigate, but it all works out ok in the end.

I ran into a few young kids (maybe 5 years old) who were utterly terrified of my and went running down a road away from me, ditched their biks, and dove through a fence. There’s not much you can do but smile and shake your head.

I ate some hot tham som (green papaya salad made in a mortar and pestle) and grilled chicken and sticky rice, and then hit the road to Seno. Alond the way, I passed two of the travelling bike salesmen, who have an impossible amount of stuff for sale strapped to their bikes. I talked and rode with them for a bit and got a picture of each. Finally got to Seno, dog tired, and found a guesthouse and crashed, having a shower and promptly falling asleep as the sun went down.

Today I ride to Savanekhet for Christmas.

Man setting bricks out to dry at brick factory

Kilns at brick factory

I took the bus to Thakhek yesterday, unfortunately bypassing a few very beautiful sections, but fortunately bypassing a few hills as well. Not sure I’ll choose to do it again, for fear of missing out.

I had a haircut and a shave in Thakhek today. What a weird experience. The place was little more than a shack by the side of the road. To be accurate, it was a shack by the side of the road. When I first rode up on my bike, there was a lady with a miner’s headlamp on, bending over a guy tilted back in the chair, with all sorts of strange instruments laid out on a towel on his chest. I thought he was having dental work done. Turns out he was having his ears cleaned.

When his turn was up, I was offered the chair. I mimed to the guy that I wanted to have it all about 1 inch all over, and trimmed around the ears and across the back. He proceed, much to my dismay, to, against pretty clear miming, to chave the sides and back, and cut the top to about 1/2 inch. It looks ok, so I didn’t complain. Besides, as with all bull-headed barber experiences in Asia, he started with the least obvious part first, the back and sides, and so by the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late. But he was forgiven, being that it turned out ok.

Then for the shave. Straight razor. He shaved even my earlobes and nose. Which made me want to laugh from the absurdity of it. Which I managed to hold down to a big grin. Which, I decided, wasn’t a terribly wise action, considering I had a very sharp, unprotected blade being scraped racher quickly across my face. So there I was, trying to stifle my grin, desperatelytrying to think of anything other than the absurdity of shaving your earlobes. I don’t think the barber could figure out what was so funny. I had a pretty hard time holding myself together.

I finally got the zipper on my bag replaced. One would think it was the most undesireable tsak in the world, given the reactions I was getting. But I finally found someone who would.

Lao women I was offered at a temple

Sleep now, details later: brick factory, riding south on the dirt road to Nong Bok, buddhist festival, another offer to stay in a village (and offers of women), getting to Nong Bok to find no promised guesthouse, staying at the monestary, pissing off the head monk, being told I’m the first white person to come here, and the first white person many of the children have seen. Too much language teaching, not understanding enough Lao. Baw khao jai! (I don’t understand in Lao)

I was simply too sore this morning to keep going and decided a bussing rest day was much better than getting injured and being relegated to only riding the bus. I spent 3 hours on the internet this morning, catching up on email and installing Moveable Type on my site. I’m inspired by Katie and Chris and going to try to mirror suitable entries from my journal onto the site, as often as I can. I’m going to try it for a little while on my own before I announce it’s presence, so I’m sure I’m willing ot update it before I get people’s hopes up.

I’ve decided that if something serious ever happend, say, I got hit by a bus, the locals would laugh themselves to death before they actually got a chance to help me. The laughing is definitely unnerving at times.

Dirt road near Pakxan

I probably rode at least 30 km, maybe more, probably 40-50, but ended up making no real headway south. I only stayed 2km further down Rt.13 than the night before, still in Pakxan. That brings the total Rt. 13 kilometers to 150km, truck kilometers to 35km, and ridden kilometers to about 150km. I’m pretty sore this morning, and my knees are complaining, so I’m thinking about having a rest day and bussing/trucking to Thakhek or so.

Yesterday was a day of technological disasters and cultural wonders. I had heaps of pannier rubbing problems [Added later: My panniers are jerry-rigged from two smallish granny bags (those squarish bags made out of tarp material with two handles and a zipper)], and I nearly bent my seat post in two. And then to finish it all off, I got a flat tire in town as it was getting dark.

Which ended up being a blessing in disguise, as the mechanic I took the tire to to get fixed, also turned out to be a genius with metal, and did a wonderful job realizing my seat post lengthening/strengthening ideas. Now it’s heaps high and heaps strong. Plus I got a new spare tube that my pump fits, plus one of the boys at the shop helped me jerry rig my rear fender higher so it doesn’t interfere with the rear brake. And all for 10,000 kip (about US$1). A bargin, to the point i felt like i should have given the guy more.

A village store

I spent the day riding along dirt roads through small villages and rice paddies, at first in search of a cave sign posted off Rt. 13, and then in search of an alternate way back to Rt. 13. At one point, the crude tractor path I was following ended in a river. A big one. Never completely trust directions advice when there’s a big language barrier and you have bad maps.

School children

At one point I stopped to fix my seat near a school, and about 50 kids came running up to loot at me and my bike. I took some pictures and played some frisbee with them. They were really good at the frisbee, though I don’t think they’d seen one before. It was good fun, and a good ice breaker.

I find it a bit strange how much people, particularlly kids, laugh when they talk to me, particularlly if their english isn’t good. And it’s not jsut giggling, it’s full on belly laughs. I know it’s all in good fun and because they’re happy, but it’s still weird.

People beep their horns a lot here. Problem is, I can never tell if it’s a oh-my-god-there’s-a-bicyclist-right-in-the-way-that-we’re-going-to-hit sort of beep, or a wow–a-white-person-let’s-honk sort of beep. [Added later: there’s also a I’m-an-empty-bus/truck/tuktuk-looking-for-passengers honk]

Saw people planting rice today. It’s so green.

Kids don’t wear pants a lot here. Nudity isn’t any more in fashion here than in the rest of SE Asia, it’s just that diapers aren’t either.

—

The end of today finds me in Paksan, or rather, 2km from Paksan. I thought I was in the center, and was a bit surprised, as I expected it to be bigger. But then I went for a short ride around town and found the 2km gravestone. So I guess there’s more to be had. I’ve got my hopes up there will be an internet cafe, we’ll find out tomorrow morning.

I saw a television add which I presume to be gecko resistant paint. I thought having geckos on your ceiling was good luck. Maybe the geckos falling off the wall in the commercial is only a metaphor.

And I saw a bad Chinese kungfoo show dubbed into Lao. Which makes it all that much worse, and more comical, as not only are they speaking a strange, tonal, monosyballic oriental language I don’t understand, but also, the mouths are out of sync.

As far as first days go, this one’s been pretty good. About as well as can be expected, I suppose. I find myself in Thabok, 90 some-odd kilometers from Vientiane, in a very nice, though rather expensive guesthouse.

The bike and gear is working out well, despite minor problems. The biggest of which is that it’s still slightly on the small side. Which means I have the seat up all the way. Which means that the post is starting to bend, presumably because of the amount of leverage. It’s not bad so far, and i’ve only just been bending it back into shape every now and then. But I do wonder if it’ll become cataustrophicat some point. If so, I hope I can get someone with a welder and some steel to jerry rig something. Which I’m considering about doing before the fact, both to strengthen it, and to lengthen it, if possible. If I can find someone who’s willing to think outside the box a bit, it shouldn’t be too hard a task. I’ll ride on it another day to Pakxan and see what happens. My other biggest problem is that my butt is incredibly sore from the seat. I think that’s just a matter of breaking it in. My butt, that is.

I had accompaniement on my ride at two point, once by two high school girls on a motorbike, and once by a guy about my age on a bicycle. The guy offered to let me stay at his house, as his village was only a few kms away, and it had gotten dark. I felt really bad about turning him down, but I thought it best to stay in guesthouses for a little bit, until I could adjust to life on the bike. Oh well, there will be more chances.

The mile markers look like gravestones.

Most people only know one english word, “hello”, and they practise every chance they get. Which means I have to say “hello” about every 50m. Which could theoretically get old after a while. I think I’m starting to get the wave of someone who gets waved at a lot.

I feel very much as though this bike trip is the culmination of my year of travelling - as though everything I’ve learned is feeding into this. In some ways, I guess it’s a test, one which I think I’ve already past the majority of.
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My bike

I bought a bike. Woohoo! I spent far too much - $120, but it was better than it could have been, seeing as we started at $140, and were going down in dollar increments. I’m pretty sure it’s still a high price, but it was obvious she wasn’t going any lower. It’s pretty hard to bargin a price on something that you and the seller both know is the only one in the country that will work.