Eazy Rider

So me and the American have decided to crack on with our plans to bike through Northern Laos. There are plenty of reasons to oppose doing this; certain death on the craggy roads being a prominent one; but the fact of the matter is that doing so is unquestionably the best way to see this country, for me the only real way to get an authentic snapshot of this land and it's people.

It's no exaggeration to say that I have already fallen in love with Laos. I cannot eulogize enough about the intense beauty of the landscape here, and if common word is to be believed, the North of the country is as rustic and dynamic as it gets in Southeast Asia.
After much consideration I've decided to ride on the back of my travel buddies bike as opposed to manning a separate vehicle. Since crashing a scooter in Pai my confidence has been shot when it comes to automobiling, and seen as though I ate concrete on a reasonably developed highway in Thailand it's probably best I leave it in the hands of someone who knows; and Tripp can handle a motorbike.

We set off from Luang Nuamtha, a reasonably developed town in comparison to whats apparently in store. Tarmac road soon becomes dirt track. Within an hour we are in real wilderness. The jungle continues to thicken as the roads deteriorate. The scenery is so graphic, a complex labyrinth of green's entwine to color abundant hills. Around each bend the countryside expands in a new way, similar but completely different. It's impossible to get bored of this. Tree's clamor for space on steep cliffs, fighting like school children in a dinner queue. The scene is motionless but somehow entirely vibrant and active, like a William Hogarth street scene, or more poignantly, a Van Gogh interpretation of Southern France. However this picture needs no embellishment.

The fields and mountains have a mystical quality, we are riding through intense jungle now. Four or five hours North of the town we initially departed, a few kilometers from the Chinese border, I begin to get thirsty. Time for another beer. Riding on the back of the vehicle I can indulge in alcohol as I wish, and I frequently do. As though the Cosmos is reading my mind we pass a remote village were some kind of celebration occurring. A marquee of sorts has been erected with a band playing and a carnival atmosphere pervades the small community. We've passed a dozen villages like this but you usually only see a handful of locals, predominantly children playing by the road as the rest of the occupants are at work tending animals or rice fields. It's seems everyone in the locality is involved here.

Me and Tripp discuss whether our presence will be welcome at such an intimate looking affair. Traditional dances are performed whilst some people don symbolic head wear and attire. It's a tough call. After a brief discussion I cajole the Yank into engagement. We apprehensively stroll over to the gatherings solitary stall, locals simply stare at us, it's hard to ascertain what their thoughts are at this initial stage. We order a beer each, remarkably warm I should add, and take a seat on a dusty mound at the side of the road. From this position we can observe the developments of the humble gala. Within a minute a swell of locals begins to grow behind us on the driveway. We cant see it necessarily, as we have our backs to them, but their presence can be felt, sixth sense like. With an occasional turn of the head they appear to be just gawping at us and talking amongst themselves. They still give no indication of their feeling towards us, be it good or ill. At this point my heart is racing.

Suddenly an elder, or at least somebody with some kind of authority in the tribe, intervenes, shouting at the collective of watchers that has impulsively amassed. We try to decipher what he's shouting about. Is he telling them the attention they give us is unwarranted? That we are undeserving of such a response? Or is he telling them to back off and give us some peace? Tense moments. Fortunately the latter is true. Within seconds the same man is ushering us away from the dirt floor to his table. The mood has completely changed. We are given fruit and whiskey shots; the foulest whiskey Ive ever tasted I have to admit, tastes like excrement; regardless I of course proceed to drink a succession of them. They are so welcoming and friendly, so hospitable and genuinely nice, it's all a little overwhelming. Everybody wants to say hello, apart from those who are seemingly quite disturbed by our presence, those who cant work out why we are there?

We buy a bunch more beers and share them with the collective of guys we have settled with at a table. The beer is poured over ice into a dish and passed around, I guess this is common practice. What's mine is yours in this operational communist country and our beers have soon been consumed, as have my Marlboro Red's, which have been set upon like a bloodied carcass by a pack of Piranha. Again, we buy a whole load more beer and cig's, anything to prolong this wonderment. We are suddenly encouraged to join the circular dance under the marquee. We're not sure if there is a religious element to this but with a twist of the arm me and Tripp are dropping shapes with the locals in the loop. It seems that a traditional dance and a more contemporary effort alternate through the day. The former is a slowy. Men and women have set roles here, interchanging rhythmically, synchronized in their movements and performing some kind of specialist hand movement, a wave of sorts. The second dance is crazy. The records are fast and upbeat, the style of the music somewhere between rock and trance, think of an instrumental version of 'BOB' by Outkast. Genuinely good stuff! This boogie is far more liberal and free and unrestrained, youngsters gyrate on each other like rampant dogs. For such a sexually conservative society this is far out. After a few songs I'm in the mix, girls and boys alike basically humping me to the music, unbelievable scenes.

The kids at first were hugely suspicious of us. They aint seen many whitey's before, up close and personal, but before long me and Tripp are chasing them around pretending to be dinosaurs. They are genuinely in raptures, fear becomes fascination within a few hours.
After many hours we decide it's time to move on to the next town, however light is diminishing rapidly. We ask if it's possible for us to sleep in the village, they nod their heads but I'm not sure they understand the request. We depart to a cluster of waves and wide smiles, only to return an hour later when we decide we are totally onto something good and should see the night out. Upon return they haven't broken stride, partying the night away and so pleased to see us again. They trust us now, good and proper.

Me and the American proceed to drink a shit load more of the whiskey shots, I estimate I've had twenty by 10 o'clock, as well as a hamper of Beer Laos, a fine brew. before long me and Tripp are leading a junior dance troop on the make shift dance floor. Kids copy every move we do as elders laugh at their tables at the peripheral edges. I get the 'Lawn Mower' out, they get the 'Lawn Mower' out, Tripp leans back like MC Hammer, they lean back like MC Hammer. Leading a twenty/thirty strong dance procession in a Laos village is surreal. We have them headbanging and doing star jumps, then Tripp finds a large stick and curates a limbo competition...I genuinely don't think they've ever encountered this concept before. Amazing.

It took a while to win the tribe over but by the end of the party we are all good friends. The Laos people are a fine breed, so laid back, and these country folk are as friendly as I've ever encountered. Laos is a Fourth World Country, incredibly poor, in the bottom twenty nations world wide. Looking at the fertile, lush land and fine nature of the natives I find it difficult to comprehend. I can only assume that these people don't want to 'develop'. 80% of Laotians live outside of the cities under communist rule and judging by my insight into their lives they seem reasonably content with their lot.

Today, as a backpacker, I got what I've been after. An exotic, subterranean, rustic experience. After a misunderstanding about where we were staying we had to head to the nearest town which was 42 km away. The journey to Muay Singh was a challenging one, pitch black through mountainous jungle on the back of Tripp's bike who is riding drunk as shit. Well worth it though. Today we experienced what every sincere backpacker craves, some kind of transplantation into another world.Today we achieved just that. It was special, gorgeous and glorious. Tribal partying in Laos is good.