Flashback to Nong Kiaw

We opted to take the boat upriver to Nong Kiaw, as the Lonely Planet touted the trip as the "best journey in SE Asia." I did appreciate the lovely scenery; however, we were moving upriver in the wet season in a very small and not-so-comfortable yet ridiculously loud boat. That was a bit tough to take.

(My favorite part of the trip was a small stop on the side of the river, where our boat driver tinkered with the engine. [I suppose I should call our "boat driver" a "captain", but it's a wee bit insulting to all the real boats out there.] While disembarking, Jon chose to avoid the walkway plank, and just stepped overboard. Jon was subsequently coated in thick sludgy mud up to his knee. Since I am not a nice person, I laughed. Lots.)

When we finally got to Nong Kiaw, it was raining, and my head was about to explode from the noise of the boat. Therefore, we basically stayed in the first available guesthouse. For some reason, the village had a slew of guesthouses, but they were all very very basic. (Squat toilet, mattress on floor, that sort of thing.) Though the village's economy seemed to depend greatly on the support of tourists, nobody was very welcoming. In fact, many of the people were downright unfriendly to tourists. It was such a bizarre contradiction, I couldn't wrap my head around it. We were there for three days, and if it wasn't for this lovely man and his lovely Indian food, I would have starved to death.

One day we decided to go for a walk down to some caves. The day was clear. It seemed like a lovely day for a walk/caving experience. The caves weren't anything too special. The Lao people hid in them during the civil war, so that's why they were of note. Some kid offered to take us to some nearby caves. After asking whether there were leeches in the area (he said there were no leeches), we agreed to follow him.

It was a bad idea.
A very very bad idea.

There were hordes of leeches. A virtual farm of them. Everywhere. At one point, I had about a dozen crawling all over my foot. I perched on a rock, shrieking and pouring sweat, while Jon pulled them off. Poor Jon was standing in a veritable leech pit, and while he busy de-leeching me, he was watching those bloodsuckers crawl up his legs. (An aside: You know a guy is worth his weight in gold if he'd step in and take a leech for you.)

To add to our little side-excursion into hell, the path to the caves went nearly straight up, and it was slick and muddy. I didn't even bother to look at the caves when we got there. By this time, I was in a catatonic stupor, knowing we had to return the way we came. It seemed a near-impossible feat. On the way back, I fell on the slippery path. I wailed as I jumped to my feet, certain there were leeches in my hair and down my clothing. (Happily, I was clean and leech-free.)

Amazingly, I got back without a single leech bite, thanks to Jon. Jon had three of them in his shoes. As he removed his socks, one fell to the ground, and I ruthlessly attacked it with 100% DEET. (That stuff can eat through plastic.) The leech shriveled up and sort of melted, whilst I cackled with glee. That moment of vindication was one of the most memorable in Nong Kiaw.

The walk home seemed long, because I desperately wanted a shower. (I was utterly soaked with sweat. ) Fortunately, my spirits returned when I saw six baby ducklings paddling in a ditch. I scooped one up and posed for photos with it. Yep, didn't so much think about bird flu whilst fondling the baby duckling. (And no, I did not tick the "Handled farm animals" box on my visa. Wasn't really feeling the quarantine.)

The day after the unfortunate leech incident, we made the decision to head back to Luang Prabang. We shared a truck taxi with a dozen+ other people...and a giant deep freezer. Fortunately, we secured seats near the back of the truck (and away from the deep freeze), so we were both cool and (moderately) comfortable.