LUANG PRABANG
Luang Prabang is a UNESCO heritage site because of the beautiful and well maintained French colonial architecture that sprung up in the early 1900s. Even the untrained eye would recognize the beauty of city and natural way in which a French building has nestled beside a buddhist monastery seeming to complement each other. Even the city’s night market had an air of culture offering a mix of products the long-term traveller may actually want as a keepsake. Befitting this UNESCO designation the city had a wide range of quality restaurants to select from.
Throughout the year, Laotians engage in slash-and-burn techniques to clear out trees for farmland. During the short ride from the ferry to the hostel in Luang Prabang, the smoky haze was so bad the farmers must have been working overtime. One of my companions in the tuk tuk pulled out a breathing mask and it was the first time in my travels that I took a mental note to pick up one up for myself.
Throughout the year, Laotians engage in slash-and-burn techniques to clear out trees for farmland. During the short ride from the ferry to the hostel in Luang Prabang, the smoky haze was so bad the farmers must have been working overtime. One of my companions in the tuk tuk pulled out a breathing mask and it was the first time in my travels that I took a mental note to pick up one up for myself.
Throughout the year, Laotians engage in slash-and-burn techniques to clear out trees for farmland. During the short ride from the ferry to the hostel in Luang Prabang, the smoky haze was so bad the farmers must have been working overtime. One of my companions in the tuk tuk pulled out a breathing mask and it was the first time in my travels that I took a mental note to pick up one up for myself.
The tuk tuk travelled along a road that hugged the Mekong River and we passed several bars overlooking the river. Once I dropped of my luggage at the hostel I walked down to the river in search of the perfect Beerlao resting place. Success - comfortable lounge chair, river view, and a Beerlao was on its way. The slash-and-burn haze from the earlier ride was still present but it now had a more artistic effect and seemed to accentuate the sleepy mood of Luang Prabang. After repeating the chair, view, Beerlao exercise at a few other places I headed back into the city center area for dinner.
The tuk tuk travelled along a road that hugged the Mekong River and we passed several bars overlooking the river. Once I dropped of my luggage at the hostel I walked down to the river in search of the perfect Beerlao resting place. Success - comfortable lounge chair, river view, and a Beerlao was on its way. The slash-and-burn haze from the earlier ride was still present but it now had a more artistic effect and seemed to accentuate the sleepy mood of Luang Prabang. After repeating the chair, view, Beerlao exercise at a few other places I headed back into the city center area for dinner.
I spent the morning of first of my two days in Luang Prabang walking the historical area. That afternoon I headed toward the backside of Luang Prabang along the Nam Khan River. There’s a teak bridge that leads to the other side of the river - I walked around this area for a bit then ate lunch. The bridge needs to be reconstructed every year when the water rises from monsoons. Back on the Luang Prabang side of the Nam Khan I relaxed at the chill/party bar Utopia with other backpackers who were similarly stressed and overworked from doing nothing. There was a strong pull to remain with the backpackers and embrace their chillaxing lifestyle (can life really be this easy?) but I was able to break away and took the Phou Si Hill route back to the hostel. From the top I looked at the slash-and-burn haze city below. A French city covered in London fog.
The second day I rented a motorbike and headed east towards Kuang Si falls. Along the route I stopped to take photos of the picturesque country-side and enjoyed a noodle based meal. Children were being let out from school to return home for lunch. There is an Asiatic Bear reserve in the Kuang Si falls “complex” and I arrived just in time for their noon feeding. Further up the trail was the first of the multi Kuang Si falls. The lower falls lack the height and powerful drop of the upper falls but are more soothing and rhythmic with their motion - I found a place to sit and stared endlessly as the water rushed over the rocks into the pond area below. I took enough photos so that if I ever own a home, I’ll be able to recreate such a waterfall as part of a backyard pool.
After a few hours at the falls, I went to the Kuang Si butterfly park. Olaf, the owner and my guide, provided an extremely enthusiastic tour of the park and provided an encyclopedic amount of info on butterflies and orchids. I felt somewhat jealous that someone could be so passionate about something in such an amazing location…something to aspire to.
The ride back to Luang Prabang:
For additional Luang Prabang photos see FLICKR ALBUM.
LOATIAN HOSPITALS
After a relaxing first day in Luang Prabang on the second day I decided to head for Kuang Si waterfalls. I opted to rent a motorbike instead of a group tuk tuk because there were a few stops I wanted to make along the way. I wanted to take in the views and cruise through the countryside at my own pace…I think you know where this is going.
If you’ve never ridden a motorcycle you are truly missing out on one of life’s amazing thrill rides. There is an incredible sensation of freedom riding at high speeds with relatively nothing between you and the road. Going up and down hills, around curves, and weaving in and out of traffic it feels like you are on a personal roller coaster ride and inclined to scream out every so often. It doesn’t take long for the imagination to start considering a Singapore to London motorcycle ride.
But you can’t let your mind wander too much. If I were to come around a downhill turn at my speed and there’s no pavement on my side of the road and there’s a truck coming in the opposite direction, I’d probably go flying ten feet ahead of the crashed motorbike and need to visit a Laos ER…and that’s exactly what happened.
On the way out to Kuang Si I had taken mental notes for the ride back, unfortunately in the thrill of the ride I forgot about a section of road that had a Grand Canyon sized crater on the right hand side of the road. As I came around a turn the crater appeared right in front of me and as luck would have it a truck was coming in the opposite direction ruling out any possibility of swerving safely into the other lane.
I hit the brakes, hit the crater, and went flying. Hands, knees, chin - all took a direct hit with the pavement and dirt below. I’m fairly certain the chin hit lead to my brain hitting some part of my skull - I won’t self diagnosis that I had a concussion but I don’t recall the brief time between pushing off the ground and standing on my feet.
I looked back and I was about 10 feet in front of the bike but all things considered, I didn’t feel too bad. All my extremities seemed to work…I could see, I could hear…I thought I’’ll go back, take a shower, pop some aspirin, use some Neosporin, sleep it off and wake up good as new the next day.
The plan hit a snag when I walked back to the bike and tried to restart the engine. The bike hit with such impact that the parking lock was jammed in place and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t disengage and ignite the engine.
Fortunately one of the first vehicles to arrive on the scene was a group of three boys who stopped to help me out. They saw the same jammed parking lock issue and were unable to restart as well. One used his cellphone to contact the motorbike rental agency but after the call was over it didn’t seem as though additional help was on its way.
None of us seemed to know what to do next but I didn’t reach panic mode until other groups returning from Kuang Si Falls started driving past and staring at what must have looked like a bloody and dirty mess of humanity. It didn’t take much of an imagination to put together what had happened to me. Nobody asked the obvious answerable question of “what happened?”. I was still standing within a few feet of the road crater.
The stopped groups seemed to be in more shock than I was regarding my predicament - they encouraged me to immediately go to the hospital and offered me bottles of water to clean up. I shook them off and told them I felt fine but when I looked in the now bent rear view mirror of the bike I saw that maybe they had a point - the scrapes weren’t bad but half my chin had been ripped open. This was going to take a little more than Neosporin to fix.
Sensing my rising sense of panic and desperation the three Laotians went back to work on the bike. They tried repeatedly for about ten minutes to pull the parking lock out of place but still no luck. I started contemplating other options for bringing the bike back into town but each of these options would require significantly more effort than restarting the bike.
Then suddenly VROOM the engine jumped to life. None of us knew what the Laotians did different this time but with the engine started it was time to bid farewell. I had a sudden pang of sadness, the first time I felt any feeling other than the rush of adrenaline and panic since the fall - here were three young boys who had just helped me and I had no form of gratitude other than saying thanks and bowing my head. I had taken just enough money to cover entrance fees and had no way of taking their personal information for a later meetup. I told myself that I would hope to find a charity in Laos and make a contribution to that cause.
The engine started but I still had one more problem - where was a hospital? I had a map of Luang Prabang but there were no hospitals listed. All of the health “plus” signs were for Pharmacies. I drove back to town and about a mile outside the main center area a huge road sign appeared - “French Hospital —->”. I couldn’t believe my luck.
Within five minutes I arrived at a large, new if not modern hospital. The inside had a reassuring presence that my injuries could be handled, except the hospital was empty. I walked around the hospital for about three minutes before seeing any staff but then was immediately directed into a nearby emergency room.
The staff didn’t speak English but my wounds and reasons for being in the ER were pretty obvious. Two younger nurses put me on the table and then a more senior doctor appeared. They didn’t waste anytime in putting a pain killing shot in my jaw and proceeding to stitch me up.
It’s a pretty surreal experience to be laying on your back in a Laos ER watching a doctor sew stitches into your head. My eyes could dart down and see the needle and thread going in and out. Once the chin wound was completed the staff worked on the arm and leg cuts.
Each swab of iodine over the open cuts hurt more than the pain from the actual fall. About an hour later all the cuts had been dressed and I made payment at the cashier for the services provided. The bill total…100,000 KIP or roughly $10. An hour in the ER, several stitches and my wrists and knees covered in gauze…$10. I understand low cost, low quality, but throughout my time in the ER room I had no concern over the quality of services I received [a month afterwards I still believe they did an excellent job].
I also paid for antibiotic and pain relief medication which was another $20. I didn’t have money on me and I went to an ATM located outside the gate of the hospital parking lot. I jogged back and forth…no pain.
After making payment and picking up the medication I went back into to talk to the doctor. All I really understood from the conversation was take the pills with every meal, have the wounds redressed in a few days, and have the stitches taken out in a week or so.
It wasn’t until later that night, back in the hostel, that it occurred to me that the lack of English skills may have prevented a standard Q&A - no vision checks, no how do you feel, no other checks other than addressing the visible wounds. I looked under my bathing suit and a bruise, which would eventually cover my entire left thigh, had started to develop. I may have been running early, but I’d be struggling to walk in the next few days. My jaw was also in throbbing pain and the jarring hit seemed to have knocked mucus or some other liquid into my ear cavity.
When I looked in the mirror at the hostel, it didn’t look as though I was in a motorbike accident as much as a burn victim. I had bandages wrapped around my hands from my wrist up to my elbow and from my knee to half way down my shin. Everywhere I walked I drew direct and extended stares. For all the craziness you see in SE Asia I’ve never starred as long and hard at something as people were staring at me - I was a more unique sideshow then the guy in Calcutta leading two monkeys down Park Street at noon on a Thursday.
A few notes on the aftermath:
The next day I spent 8 hours in a minivan to Phonsavan - probably not the best idea. The day afterwards I went on an all day tour of Plain of Jars and then caught a sleeper bus to Vientiane - again probably not the best idea. By the time I arrived in Vientiane the leg bruise engulfed the entire left side of my thigh and started to wrap around my inner thigh. The bruise stopped expanding two days later and by the time I reached Cambodia it had started to retract and change to a yellowish color.
I had the wounds redressed at a Vientiane hospital and planned to get the stitches out here as well but after visiting the facility looked elsewhere. The Alliance International Medical Center is a very nice, Western appearing, outpatient facility but from a price point comparison, the 30 minutes to get the stitches out and no wound dressing cost twice as much as the hour in the Laos ER. 220,000 KIP vs. 100,000 KIP. Still that’s $20 - the tuk tuk there and back cost $5.
If you ever suffer any sort of cuts and bruises while traveling in SE Asian, you’re better off getting wounds dressed in a hospital vs. buying iodine, wound, and bandages yourself from a pharmacy. Hospital in a 3rd World Country may not be on the top of a tourist checklist but it provides remarkable insight into how the local citizens live and handle crisis.
It took about a week for the scabs and wound dressing to end - I spent time in Gulf of Thailand and that seemed to expedite the wound healing process. The thigh bruise and jaw pain started to subside after a week and completely gone during the second week.
A month later I hiked to Everest Base Camp and summited Kala Pathar without any issues.
If you’ve never ridden a motorcycle you are truly missing out on one of life’s amazing thrill rides. There is an incredible sensation of freedom riding at high speeds with relatively nothing between you and the road. Going up and down hills, around curves, and weaving in and out of traffic it feels like you are on a personal roller coaster ride and inclined to scream out every so often. It doesn’t take long for the imagination to start considering a Singapore to London motorcycle ride.
But you can’t let your mind wander too much. If I were to come around a downhill turn at my speed and there’s no pavement on my side of the road and there’s a truck coming in the opposite direction, I’d probably go flying ten feet ahead of the crashed motorbike and need to visit a Laos ER…and that’s exactly what happened.
On the way out to Kuang Si I had taken mental notes for the ride back, unfortunately in the thrill of the ride I forgot about a section of road that had a Grand Canyon sized crater on the right hand side of the road. As I came around a turn the crater appeared right in front of me and as luck would have it a truck was coming in the opposite direction ruling out any possibility of swerving safely into the other lane.
I hit the brakes, hit the crater, and went flying. Hands, knees, chin - all took a direct hit with the pavement and dirt below. I’m fairly certain the chin hit lead to my brain hitting some part of my skull - I won’t self diagnosis that I had a concussion but I don’t recall the brief time between pushing off the ground and standing on my feet.
I looked back and I was about 10 feet in front of the bike but all things considered, I didn’t feel too bad. All my extremities seemed to work…I could see, I could hear…I thought I’’ll go back, take a shower, pop some aspirin, use some Neosporin, sleep it off and wake up good as new the next day.
The plan hit a snag when I walked back to the bike and tried to restart the engine. The bike hit with such impact that the parking lock was jammed in place and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t disengage and ignite the engine.
Fortunately one of the first vehicles to arrive on the scene was a group of three boys who stopped to help me out. They saw the same jammed parking lock issue and were unable to restart as well. One used his cellphone to contact the motorbike rental agency but after the call was over it didn’t seem as though additional help was on its way.
None of us seemed to know what to do next but I didn’t reach panic mode until other groups returning from Kuang Si Falls started driving past and staring at what must have looked like a bloody and dirty mess of humanity. It didn’t take much of an imagination to put together what had happened to me. Nobody asked the obvious answerable question of “what happened?”. I was still standing within a few feet of the road crater.
The stopped groups seemed to be in more shock than I was regarding my predicament - they encouraged me to immediately go to the hospital and offered me bottles of water to clean up. I shook them off and told them I felt fine but when I looked in the now bent rear view mirror of the bike I saw that maybe they had a point - the scrapes weren’t bad but half my chin had been ripped open. This was going to take a little more than Neosporin to fix.
Sensing my rising sense of panic and desperation the three Laotians went back to work on the bike. They tried repeatedly for about ten minutes to pull the parking lock out of place but still no luck. I started contemplating other options for bringing the bike back into town but each of these options would require significantly more effort than restarting the bike.
Then suddenly VROOM the engine jumped to life. None of us knew what the Laotians did different this time but with the engine started it was time to bid farewell. I had a sudden pang of sadness, the first time I felt any feeling other than the rush of adrenaline and panic since the fall - here were three young boys who had just helped me and I had no form of gratitude other than saying thanks and bowing my head. I had taken just enough money to cover entrance fees and had no way of taking their personal information for a later meetup. I told myself that I would hope to find a charity in Laos and make a contribution to that cause.
The engine started but I still had one more problem - where was a hospital? I had a map of Luang Prabang but there were no hospitals listed. All of the health “plus” signs were for Pharmacies. I drove back to town and about a mile outside the main center area a huge road sign appeared - “French Hospital —->”. I couldn’t believe my luck.
Within five minutes I arrived at a large, new if not modern hospital. The inside had a reassuring presence that my injuries could be handled, except the hospital was empty. I walked around the hospital for about three minutes before seeing any staff but then was immediately directed into a nearby emergency room.
The staff didn’t speak English but my wounds and reasons for being in the ER were pretty obvious. Two younger nurses put me on the table and then a more senior doctor appeared. They didn’t waste anytime in putting a pain killing shot in my jaw and proceeding to stitch me up.
It’s a pretty surreal experience to be laying on your back in a Laos ER watching a doctor sew stitches into your head. My eyes could dart down and see the needle and thread going in and out. Once the chin wound was completed the staff worked on the arm and leg cuts.
Each swab of iodine over the open cuts hurt more than the pain from the actual fall. About an hour later all the cuts had been dressed and I made payment at the cashier for the services provided. The bill total…100,000 KIP or roughly $10. An hour in the ER, several stitches and my wrists and knees covered in gauze…$10. I understand low cost, low quality, but throughout my time in the ER room I had no concern over the quality of services I received [a month afterwards I still believe they did an excellent job].
I also paid for antibiotic and pain relief medication which was another $20. I didn’t have money on me and I went to an ATM located outside the gate of the hospital parking lot. I jogged back and forth…no pain.
After making payment and picking up the medication I went back into to talk to the doctor. All I really understood from the conversation was take the pills with every meal, have the wounds redressed in a few days, and have the stitches taken out in a week or so.
It wasn’t until later that night, back in the hostel, that it occurred to me that the lack of English skills may have prevented a standard Q&A - no vision checks, no how do you feel, no other checks other than addressing the visible wounds. I looked under my bathing suit and a bruise, which would eventually cover my entire left thigh, had started to develop. I may have been running early, but I’d be struggling to walk in the next few days. My jaw was also in throbbing pain and the jarring hit seemed to have knocked mucus or some other liquid into my ear cavity.
When I looked in the mirror at the hostel, it didn’t look as though I was in a motorbike accident as much as a burn victim. I had bandages wrapped around my hands from my wrist up to my elbow and from my knee to half way down my shin. Everywhere I walked I drew direct and extended stares. For all the craziness you see in SE Asia I’ve never starred as long and hard at something as people were staring at me - I was a more unique sideshow then the guy in Calcutta leading two monkeys down Park Street at noon on a Thursday.
A few notes on the aftermath:
The next day I spent 8 hours in a minivan to Phonsavan - probably not the best idea. The day afterwards I went on an all day tour of Plain of Jars and then caught a sleeper bus to Vientiane - again probably not the best idea. By the time I arrived in Vientiane the leg bruise engulfed the entire left side of my thigh and started to wrap around my inner thigh. The bruise stopped expanding two days later and by the time I reached Cambodia it had started to retract and change to a yellowish color.
I had the wounds redressed at a Vientiane hospital and planned to get the stitches out here as well but after visiting the facility looked elsewhere. The Alliance International Medical Center is a very nice, Western appearing, outpatient facility but from a price point comparison, the 30 minutes to get the stitches out and no wound dressing cost twice as much as the hour in the Laos ER. 220,000 KIP vs. 100,000 KIP. Still that’s $20 - the tuk tuk there and back cost $5.
If you ever suffer any sort of cuts and bruises while traveling in SE Asian, you’re better off getting wounds dressed in a hospital vs. buying iodine, wound, and bandages yourself from a pharmacy. Hospital in a 3rd World Country may not be on the top of a tourist checklist but it provides remarkable insight into how the local citizens live and handle crisis.
It took about a week for the scabs and wound dressing to end - I spent time in Gulf of Thailand and that seemed to expedite the wound healing process. The thigh bruise and jaw pain started to subside after a week and completely gone during the second week.
A month later I hiked to Everest Base Camp and summited Kala Pathar without any issues.