Often overlooked on many Southeast Asian travel itineraries in favor of Thailand or Vietnam, Laos is sandwiched between the two countries, along with Cambodia, its neighbor to the south. While every aspect of travel in Thailand comes with ease, there was no shortage of situations in Laos in which I found myself simply shaking my head and laughing it off because, well, what else could I do?
The adventures started with our arrangements from Siem Reap, Cambodia, the jumping off point for Angkor Wat. We were meant to take one bus to the remote Laos border, then another from the border to the edge of the Mekong River, where we’d cross by boat to Don Det, a backpacker-filled island within the region of Si Phan Don (translated to Four Thousand Islands). What really happened was we took one van, one bus, one 2-hour rest stop, one kilometer-long walk across the border, one covered truck-bed crammed with 15 backpackers and backpacks, and finally, one rickety boat across the river to reach our island home for the next 3 days. The trip became progressively less comfortable, capped off by the 30-minute walk in the dark along the dirt path to our accommodation. While the road was rigorous, we reached the beach / boat dock just in time to watch a blood-red sun sink into the river behind the hazy skies of the remote paradise of four thousand islands, a reminder that the trip was well worth the trouble.
There’s not much to do on Don Det, with no cars or other transport options, bicycles become the preferred mode of transportation, assuming you can navigate through the soft sands and potholes around. Simple guesthouses line the shores, each with their own small restaurants and coffee shops and hammocks. There’s a sunrise and a sunset side of the island, best enjoyed with a coffee or a beer, depending on which side you find yourself. While there is a small amount of debauchery and hippy-ish life going on, the island is very mellow compared to many of the party islands in Thailand. We spent our days cycling around Don Det and the neighboring island, enjoying the calm river views, the small hikes to waterfalls, and the overall sleepy vibe of an oasis in the middle of nowhere.
Si Phan Don’s famous residents are the Irrawaddy dolphins, who live in the waters of the Mekong River between Laos and Cambodia. While quite shy compared to other dolphins, and with their populations currently on the decline, we were fortunate enough to be able to catch a glimpse of a small group while in the area. They proved to be too quick for the camera lens, however. It takes no more than a day to check off all the must-dos in the region, leaving plenty of time for watching the sun make its way from one side of the island to the other, hammock hopping between riverside restaurants and juice shacks, and reflecting on the simplicity of a so-called travel adventure.
Once bicycles could no longer cut it, we traded pedals for gears and found ourselves atop a motorbike once again, this time headed for the Bolaven plateau, the coffee growing region of Laos, where homestays and coffee plantations are nestled between waterfalls and roaring rivers, for another few days of getting lost off the tourist trail. Our first stop, after passing by quite possibly the longest string of watermelon stalls on earth, was at a local coffee plantation turned homestay, where we received a makeshift tour of the crops and coffee processing facilities by Mr. Vieng. We were also treated to a tasty appetizer of tree ants smashed between the leaves of the coffee trees. They actually tasted delicious, just the right amount of zest! We enjoyed a home-cooked meal under a thatched roof that Mr. Vieng had slowly built up from a roadside stop to a full-blown compound, basic bungalows and all. We walked the roads, admiring the adolescent’s skills while they played a game that looked like volleyball, with the use of feet instead of hands, and the thousands of cassava roots drying out in the evening sun after a hard day’s processing. We awoke to fresh roasted coffee from the plantation, and stocked up for future brewing before heading out to our next homestay, the infamous Captain Hook’s.
Captain Hook’s homestay was an eye-opener, in both the best and worst way. The small village consists of a few hundred people, and since Hook wasn’t keen on the normal agricultural duties that make up life in the village, he began taking in tourists a few years back, giving them tours of the village and coffee plantation, and offering affordable homestays along with home cooked meals. What we soon found out, though, was that we were about to receive a whole lot more than we bargained for. Upon arriving to Hook’s home, we gathered in area underneath the stilted house, home to 20+ of Hook’s relatives. Hook was roasting fresh coffee beans, while his young helper was smoking out of 3-foot long bamboo bong, eyes glazed and bloodshot. The tour started simply enough, as Hook walked us through the coffee plantation, telling us all about the origins of coffee that he’d Wikipedia-d over the years. Most of the information seemed legitimate, but after 45 minutes without much walking, we were ready to move on. Meandering through the village surrounds, we found many foreign plants used for medicinal purposes, and even a leaf and nectar we used to blow bubbles. Throughout the walk, we saw many locals picking coffee beans, large bamboo bongs by their side. We learned many a disturbing fact about the village along the way, ranging from 5-year old smokers to unattended forest births, from child marriage to family banishment into the jungle whenever accidents occurred. The most disturbing were the animal mutilation and sacrifices, too graphic to mention here. The animist beliefs and practices of the village were enlightening, if not disturbing. There’s a dance the governments are forced to play with many of the indigenous groups, a balance between allowing traditions to remain, while ensuring everyone is playing somewhat by the rules when it comes to health and safety, particularly for the children.
It became apparent that the villagers don’t exactly take too kindly to Hook, as we were not introduced to anyone outside his family members, and our lodging for the evening was far outside the village. I imagine they allow him to continue the tours solely because it brings a steady stream of income to the village. Nevertheless, the basic bungalows proved to be a peaceful place to reflect on all the craziness we’d experienced during the tour, as we watched another blood red sun fall behind the mountains and valley below. When the time for dinner came, we gathered in the large family room while naked babies ran around, kids smoked from the bongs, and the rest of the family gathered around the small television to watch Muay Thai fights. We traded stories with the English-speaking young adults, and chowed down on some delicious dishes, family style. Following dinner, we went dessert hunting, catching as many crickets, grasshoppers, frogs, and even catfish as we could. It was hilariously awkward, as I think our young guides waited anxiously every evening for this event. We ended up with quite the haul, and watched them clean and cook our findings with some lemongrass and chiles, another surprisingly delicious treat that we hadn’t planned on partaking in earlier. We sat around the campfire and watched the family interact joyfully with each other, smoking their bongs and laughing away as if we weren’t even there.
I can’t decide whether the whole experience at Captain Hook’s homestay was a positive one, or worth recommending. I often found myself conflicted, which, when on a short vacation isn’t necessarily a positive thing, but is something I embrace during these long escapades of adventure and reflection. I found myself full of both joy and disgust for what I saw and experienced in the middle of absolutely nowhere, geographically and on the moral compass as well.
Leaving Hook’s homestay, we completed the loop, stopping along the way to visit more waterfalls, farmhouses serving passionfruit jams and fresh coffee, passing village after village in between the green jungles of the surrounds, asking if the last week had really happened or if it was all just a strange dream.
With no real way of knowing, we shook our heads, laughed, and made our move to Vietnam…