Caulk the Wagon and Ford the River: Our Adventure to Vang Vieng

Let me tell you about how we got from SR to Vang Vieng, Laos, the site of the infamous “In the Tubing” river parties. In VV, is a huge backpacker scene where you rent intertubes and party down the Nam Song River. Riverside bars and “activities” – such as rope swings and a “slide of death” – create a raucous, Bacchanalian spectacle.

Our day started off innocuous enough, with a quick flight from SR to Pakse to Vientiene, the former French colonial capital of Laos. From Vientiene, there is a minibus service that will drive you to VV through the mountains for around $90. We met 4 other travelers (two English girls – Milly and Charlotte – and a pair of guys, Paul from England and Pat from Sydney) at the airport who were going the same way and decided to split one of the minibuses.

The first two hours were smooth sailing, with everyone in the bus getting along and carrying on like old friends. We joked about Frank’s lack of travel insurance, and the fact that we were all going to get pink eye from the river water according to Lonely Planet and various internet forums. The drive up through the mountains was quite picturesque, with random waterfalls peaking out here and there near the road, and with lazy villages and farms breaking up the otherwise undeveloped highway. It was at this point that our minibus started to slow down. Something was happening just around the corner that was causing the cars in front of us to slow. As we pulled into the village we saw it: there was a 100 meter, waist-deep muddy river crossing the road.

Local children had stationed canoes at the roadside to ferry people across. A few brave souls were tying garbage bags over their exhaust and recruiting help from other locals to push the vehicles across. Our minibus driver was having none of it, and refused to attempt to cross the river. We all piled out with our bag, and found a local who spoke enough English to tell us that there was a local bus that ran to VV from there, and that it may be there anytime between 30 minutes and an hour and 30 minutes. Given that there was another local bus stopped on our side, that was making no movement towards crossing the river, we had our doubts that said bus would even get us to our final destination.

Frank, my favorite little problem solver, went out in search of an alternative means of transportation. Somehow, he flagged down a local with a small pickup truck (TIL the British call such vehicles “utes”) that would take us the final 40 km in the bed of his truck for $20, plus a little extra to pay 5 Lao dudes to push us across. We all piled in, stacked our packs up on top of things in case the bed flooded, and miraculously made it across. I now fully grasp the Oregon Trail context of the option to “caulk the wagon and attempt to ford the river.”

We continued on our way, bumping and speeding down the windy mountain road and high fiving at our ingenuity and good fortune and how great of a story we would have for our fellow travelers and friends back home.

We carried along like that for about 15 minutes, when we spotted the second flood crossing the road, this time with a noticeable lack of helpful locals that could be recruited to push us across. So, desperate times, desperate measures, the boys volunteered to unload and push us across, while the girls minded the bags precariously perched on the roof of the cab, losing and recovering several flip flops along the way.

On the other side we met some other “falang” (foreigners) who informed us there were 3 more such rivers between that point and Vang Vieng, included one so deep no vehicle could get through, necessitating a detour around “The Old Cement Factory,” which sounded like something straight out of Scoobi Doo, and that the road to Luang Prabang had suffered dozens of mudslides and was likewise impassable for the time being (it's cool, Frank and I had two days before we had to make that journey).

Long story short, the boys push us through us through two more of the rivers, much to the entertainment of every local that sees us along the way. By this time our driver is realizing he’s gotten himself into much more than he’d bargained for, and is speeding quite recklessly through the mountains of Lao, paying no mind to large potholes or any of the fauna lying precariously across the road. This fauna included just about every farm animal imaginable except for sheep and donkeys, including: cows, water buffalo, chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, piggies, goats, and I’m sure a couple others I’ve forgotten to mention. What a safari.

It’s at this point that Frankie hears it: puddup puddup puddup… Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the truck has a flat tire. Nightmare. Against my poorly rationalized protests (“dude, don’t tell him to stop, we’ll be fine, let’s just get there already”), Frank alerted the driver and we pulled over, only to find the single spare to be likewise flat. Needless to say, morale was at an all-time low by this point. The driver of the truck was attempting to switch one of the two “good” left side rear tires with one of the two completely flat right side tires (2 tires were on each side in the rear) when Frank decided it was probably easiest to flag down another truck to take us the remaining 10 km to our destination. This thankfully was quickly accomplished and we continued on our way.

Look, the Old Cement Factory! Ironically signposted with “Safety First.”

Finally, we made it to Vang Vieng, only to find out immediately from fellow backpackers that tubing had been canceled for the past 3 days due to the incredible 10-foot flooding (some described it as a 20-year flood) that had turned the normally lazy river an absolute death current and washed every single riverside bar off its foundation. Ah well, you win some, you lose some. We eventually found a nice hotel that was offering an incredible discount on agoda.com and celebrated surviving the journey with delicious cocktails.

Whatever you do, please don't tell my Mom I did that.

Frank's New LinkedIn Profile Picture

Friday morning we rose bright and early at 4:45 to see sunrise over Angkor Wat, a Siem Reap tourist staple.

After sunrise we wandered briefly into the Angkor Wat temple to see the hoards of tourists, and returned to our hotel around 6am. I also was fortunate enough to pet a horsie who was tied up inside. At the hotel, Frankie went up to the room to pass out for a couple hours, but I powered through, having a lovely breakfast and calling mommy via my iPhone’s Skype app (so clutch).

A fellow Tuckie, Francis, joined us and our guide for the day, exploring the major temple sites close to SR. Our first stop was Angkor Wat, the mother of all temples. AW is an enormous Hindu temple complex, spread over a square mile, all contained within a large gate and moat. At the center lies the main temple, an impressive structure with multiple spires and huge stairs. All the walls feature impressive bas reliefs, many damaged by bullet holes from the civil war, as the province of SR was one of the last to be rid of the Khmer Rouge.

The sheer enormity and intricacy of the place is amazing, and to consider how large a population it supported in its hayday adds to the amazement (whatever number I put here will be made up so consider it, like, more than a quarter of a million, maybe more than a million, I dunno, A LOT for the 12^th or so century).

Next we hit up the Bayon of Angkor Thom, the most recent of the Angkor temples, which is unique for being a Buddhist temple among many Hindu temples. It has famous carved faces on its structures in addition to defaced Buddha images.

Following the Bayon was a quick stop at Preah Khan, followed by lunch and a tuktuk ride out to the Cambodia-Vietnam Friendship military base. This was easily Frank’s favorite part of the trip.

For a hunk of cash delivered straight to the pocket of the highest ranking officer at the base, you can pick a gun off their “menu,” and make use of 30 rounds in their bunker of a firing range. Frank picked the AK-47, because their Uzi was currently jammed up.

Frank’s new LinkedIn profile pic:

Francis with a rocket launcher:

Me, completely petrified with what’s in my hands:

We later visited Ta Prohm, the temple made famous by the movie Tomb Raider, that has trees literally eating/spooning most of the structure, hampering reconstruction but making for some excellent imagery. As a side note, I will say this is the hottest and sweatiest I have ever been in my entire life. The temperature was nowhere near the highest I’ve experienced, but (sorry for the TMI) the 100% humidity ensured that my pores re-saturated the entire surface area of my body within seconds of me wiping myself down. Nightmare.

Our last stop of the day was a local pagoda that had a memorial to the killing fields, filled with skulls and bones recovered from a mass grave.

That night, after Frank and Francis ditched me early to go to bed, I met a whole bunch of folks at the Angkor WHAT? bar, including Brits Roz and Jazz, Trainspotting-accented Scotsmen Scott (yes, really) and Donal (like Donald but without the last D), and another American girl named Molly. Through the night, Molly and I figured out that we knew no fewer than 5 people in common, proving just how small this white, privileged world I live in truly is.

The next day we slept in and decided to go on a quad bike tour, which turned out to be one of my favorite activities in SR, not for the ATV riding, but for the amazing scenery and friendly village children we saw along the way. Literally every child we passed ran out, excitedly smiling and waving, and smiled and waved even harder when we did so in turn. It was so nice to finally see some Cambodian children that hadn’t been forced into begging or touting or selling something.

We spent the rest of the steamy afternoon poolside, sipping mango shakes and reading, and spent the evening eating Khmer food and catching the tennis on Pub Street with Francis. Evening was fairly uneventful, except for when I almost gave this disgusting, fat, old sex-pat a piece of my mind after watching him harass this unfortunate, beautiful prostitute to the point of making her the most uncomfortable I have ever seen anyone, outside of Kelly at Middlesex Lounge in Cambridge. Francis could sense I was getting to the point of outburst (probably because I kept telling him I was) and had us move tables. In another life, I would have liked to have offered her $30 to hang out with me the rest of the night and talked with her about her life and experiences, but maybe that behavior is just as patronizing as that of the fat sex-pat, I don’t know.

Angkor WHAT?

Hello from Cambodia!

Frank and I are enjoying our last full day in Siem Reap before we peace out to Laos bright and early tomorrow morning. A lot has happened since I last posted, so I'll try to give you a thorough but unboring rundown.

Wednesday was deemed a recovery day considering we had just traveled from across the world and had to bridge an 11 hour time difference. While Frank went off in search of a fancy gym and 4-hand massage, I decided to wander the streets of Siem Reap and take in the scenery while most of the tourists evac'd for the temples. First things first, as per my usual I wandered into the first Irish bar I stumbled upon and settled down with a Guinness (miss you Kelly!) and my guidebook to lay out my day. Appealingly, SR has a lot of socially responsible organisations in town, so I hit up a local artisan workshop and Seeing Hands Massage by the Blind, which provides blind locals with a legitimate income beyond begging, and at $6/hour was well worth it. As I wandered up to the open-air shack, 4 half naked children alerted the blind masseurs to my arrival, and provided auditory entertainment with a constant pitter-patter running back and forth through the ordeal.

In the afternoon, Frank and I took a boat trip out on the Tonle Sap (literal translation: freshwater lake; implication: largest freshwater lake in SE Asia) which dramatically changes depth and sheer size depending on the season, necessitating many villagers to put their homes on tall stakes to avoid flooding, and others to live on houseboats, creating floating villages complete with shops, basketball courts, schools, and churches.

 

After a lackluster dinner under a lackluster sunset, we returned to SR and decided to partake in one of the many "fish massages" that permeate the main drag in town. Here, some Khmer hawkers lure you in with the promise of a relaxing foot massage that will all clean your feet of dead skin, all for ~$2/20 minutes. Now what a fish massage actually is is somewhere around 50-100 little starving toothless fish swimming around in a gross 30 gallon tank with a cushion around the edge for seating. As soon as you drop your feet in, the little sons of bitches swarm your feet, sucking violently on your dead skin to extract whatever nourishment they can. Seriously, I am one of the least ticklish people out there, and I was giggling like an absolute dipshit for the entire 10 minutes I had my feet in the tank. The Khmer women chilling in front of the place found this absolutely hilarious, by the way. Frank totally bitched out after less than 10 seconds because he couldn't take it, like a bitch, for the record.

Thursday morning we met our super awesome Khmer guide Khin Leang and began our ancient temple-based sightseeing, and started with a brief hike up a local mountain to view the Kbal Spaen, home of the "River of a Thousand Lingas" - I'll get to what that is in a minute. If I could pass on one lesson from this jaunt, it would be that the jungle is opportunistic as anything I have ever seen. It will suck the nutrients right out of a bare rock, and will do it in the most interesting way possible. My two favs: little leaves sprouting from a moss-covered boulder, and this tree spooning a boulder in a way I can absolutely appreciate:

At the top of the mountain is this amazing carved bedrock riverbed from the, like, 10th or 11th century (at this point don't believe any dates I assign things because I don't care to look them up; pretty much all this stuff is from the 10th-12th centuries, and for our intents and purposes it doesn't really matter which one, all are pretty baller). Lingas are Hindu phallic images. The riverbed is carved into repeating patterns of circles, the current appearance of which indicate the phallices they were modeled after were either, a) um, lacking, b) that the river has weathered them down significantly over a millennium, or c) they're actually just a circle pattern. Seriously, though, I was amazed at how well preserved and not weathered down the carvings were on the mountain given what I know about rock weathering and soil formation in tropical environments (thanks Rox 1!).

Around the carved riverbed there are several other awesome rock carvings of Hindu deities, including one of the 4-faced god, Brahma, the front face of which has been removed.

This brings me to brief Angkor history lesson interlude I call...

Losing Face

A lot of the statues and bas reliefs around the Angkorian temples are missing their faces or more in some cases. The three principle reasons that I heard for this are:
1) When the invading Siamese (Thais) captured the Angkor kingdom, they knocked the faces off the lion statues adorning some of the temples as a symbol of removing the Khmers' power. What a bunch of assholes.
2) When the new Hindu king took power after the building of Angkor Thom, he defaced or fully removed many of the Buddha images from the Buddhist temple. Typical.
3) Modern antiquities theft. The most blatant of this was a Frenchman (quelle surprise) who was later appointed Minister of Culture by Charles de Gaulle. So French (cf. the entire f'ing Louvre).

Alright, enough about Kbal Spaen. On the hike down I saw a neat little salamander living in a water-filled hole in a rock.

After lunch we visited a couple of the older Angkor temples, Bantei Srei and Preah Rup. Highlights from these visits include the intricacies and incredible preservation of the sandstone carvings, and Frank racing Khin Leang up the steeeeep stone stairs. Frank was super bummed that he and KL actually hit the top at the EXACT same second. Video replay confirms this.

A stop at the Landmine Museum was very moving. A former Khmer Rouge kidnapped orphan child soldier who spent his childhood laying mines around Siem Reap has devoted his life to clearing mines and unexploded ordinance (which regularly maims/kills children and the like all over the world's most densely mined nation) and uses donations to his museum to fund an orphanage and school he has set up for child mine victims. Take a few moments to look into the past 40 years of Cambodian history. In brief, it had the living hell bombed out of it during the Vietnam War, experienced 4 years of heavy Khmer Rouge-inflicted genocide, and went through a 19 year civil war which put many children, included our guide, Khin Leang, at the forefront of battle, and ensured that an entire generation experienced nothing but misery, famine, and war. Incredibly sad, and incredibly moving to think of how far the country and its people have come since the Khmer Rouge were considered officially completely defeated in 1998. Yes, 1998.

After the museum we went to our last temple stop of the day, viewing sunset from a hill temple overlooking the Angkor Wat general area, an ungodly collection of tourists that make me NEVER want to come here in the high season. Seriously, the heat/humidity hasn't been THAT bad, and the place is already tourist city in the low season. Before we went up we fed a big bunch of bananas to two lovely elephants. Swoon.

Sunset itself was lackluster, buuut Frankie spotted a Tuck insignia on a guy's shirt from a distance, so we approached him and it was none other than a fellow T13 chap named Andreas who I had never met before but previously worked with two friends of mine, Amy and Tyler, in NY! What a small world! It just so happened that another T13 that I knew about was also in town that evening and we decided to all get dinner together at a super authentic Khmer BBQ place recommended to us by two separate Khmer dudes, where we were somehow the only non-locals. After good times and good conversation, Frank retired, and my future classmates and I wandered into town to have a drink and eat some roadside fried crickets, which were surprisingly delicious and not at all disgusting, although I was glad to have some liquid courage in me for the undertaking. See daytime picture:

Alright so I'm tired and have to catch a flight to Laos in a few hours but there are two more riveting SR days to cover so stay tuned! Lemon out!

Frankfurt: Geschlossen on Montag

Frank and I had a lovely day in Frankfurt yesterday. We arrived from Newark at noon and, although there were two departing flights for Bangkok prior to our scheduled 10:45pm flight, we were unable to fly standby on the earlier flights, because they are ze Germans and ze Germans love rules. So, we decided to spend several of our many hour layover in the rainy town of Frankfurt rather than stay at the airport.

After checking out the Frankfurt guidebooks at the airport and sketchily snapping photos of relevant pages and maps on our iPhones, we ventured on the S-Bahn into the city, with the hopes of checking out the Jewish Museum and maybe the Zoo. After about 15 minutes on the train we realized we had taken it the wrong way and were venturing farther and farther into the suburbs. Eventually we righted ourselves and made it into the center city. Here's where I tell you I totally appreciated bringing that fleece I was bemoaning last time, because it was about 60 degrees and raining the whole time we were there (Frank even ended up buying a 10 euro sweater from H&M).

For the most part, Frankfurt is a boring and unattractive tourist destination, a consequence of getting bombed out during Dubbya Dubbya Two along with the rest of Germany. Immediately out of the S-Bahn we walked through several malls in order to gain a perspective on international consumerism. It's about the same as the US, except a little more German:

Eventually we made our way to what was left of the Old City, a small square with some German looking buildings and a tourist info center. At the tourist info center, we confirmed our greatest fears: just about everything in Frankfurt is geschlossen on Montag (closed on Monday), including the money changer near the info center, and the Jewish Museum.

We did, however, spot a sweet restaurant called "Schwartzer Stern," which I'm pretty sure means "Black Star," or something, and would explain why I love Zwarte Piet so much (hi Emma!)

Having quickly burned through the 20 euros I had scrounged up from old drawers at home, we needed to find a way to get money. Finding a bank proved more difficult than anticipated, and when we finally did find one we discovered it, too, geschlossened early on Monday, leaving us only 12 minutes to navigate our way through the bank and find the sketchy counter in a back room that would give us some cash.

After grabbing some food and wandering around town a little longer, we made our way back to the airport, and onto our flight to Bangkok. In Bangkok, we made our connection to Siem Reap, and, miraculously, so did both of our bags.

Frank and I have been told by several Cambodian people now that we look alike, so we've decided we're going with "cousins" for the trip. We grabbed dinner (a smorgasbord of authentic Khmer eats) and watched some Wimbledon in downtown Siem Reap, and are now settling in for the night in our fabulous hotel room at the Golden Banana Resort just outside of town. Night night everyone!

And we're off!

Greetings from Newark Airport, which my father was kind enough to drive me to from western MD on father's day. He totally beasted all Google Maps expectations and got me here three hours before my 10:05pm departure.

And so the first leg of the grand adventure begins. I only hope that I, Frank, and both of our packs make it through two layovers, a change of hands at BKK between Lufthansa and Thai budget airline Bangkok Airways, to make it to our first official destination of Siem Reap, Cambodia, gateway to Angkor Wat.

Defining the Flashpacker Stereotype

Cargo pants? Check.
Hiking books? Check
Super lightweight netbook that's bound to get stolen? Also, check.

Not pictured: Northface backpack, Moleskin notebook, Lonely Planet guidebook, morally loose universal power adaptor (no seriously, you can plug anything into it and it will plug in anywhere - enter Bangkok-themed that's-what-she-said-esque joke here), worldphone I got on study abroad in France and forgot how to use because I forgot French and have no idea what the PIN is (but I'm hoping some sketchy SE Asian dude will unlock for me for like $.75 if I overpay, cf. Greenhouse Apts sketchy resident emails), baby wipes, Nalgene brand travel bottles for brand name shampoo and conditioner, Ben's DEET 100, antimalarials for when that DEET doesn't do shit, 3 courses azithromycen, a baller ass Lumix camera that is waterproof/shockproof/also bound to get stolen, 4 days worth of clothing that I expect to last me 5 weeks, and to top it all off a lightweight fleece pullover that I will invariably regret bringing when I don't ever use it past the airplane ride but would have invariably wished I had brought had I left if at home.

So psyched for the trip. So psyched for the journey. So psyched for the adventure. So psyched for the heat. So psyched for the food. So psyched for the animaux. So psyched for some serious karst landscape. So psyched for Ambien to crush my jetlag like a BOSS.

Oh, I almost forgot! My phone will receive texts for free in Cambodia and Thailand so feel free to say hi whenever. Maybe if you're lucky I'll respond with one of the 50 international texts I purchased from ATT for $10 for the trip. Otherwise, email, Facebook, and Skype (sarah.stern08) will I'm sure all be viable ways to get in touch with me.

Au revoir mes enfants! Miss you all! See you on the other side!

XOXO,
Sternsy-poo

When we was young, oh man did we have fun: Bonnaroo 2011

Hello friends! I have returned from Bonnaroo and am wallowing the days away at home in Cumberland before I take off for my Asian adventure.

Bonnaroo was absolutely fantastic. As anyone who has spoken with me for more than 30 minutes knows, I LOVE music festivals. Mostly because I love music, but also because I'm more fond than I should admit of getting absolutely disgustingly covered with dirt and sweat and spilled beer and ~15 layers of sublock, all while remaining in a constant state of pseudo-dehydration and surviving solely on vendor food... at least a couple times a summer.

And now, the run-down of the fun-down:

After driving from MD to Charlotte, we beasted over to Manchester TN in our 'bago, beer and Joey's birthday Knob Creek in hand, only to wait in a 4+ hour line to get into the festival.

After bribing the security dude $20 to let us keep the glass-encased Knob, we finally settling in our campsite and all bunkered down for a much needed nap in the cool A/C of the RV. Naturally, we were soon rudely awakened by the failure of our generator in the 90+ degree heat and the return of the 'bago to ridiculously high temperatures. In that sort of situation, the only thing one can do is have Rex liberate a beirut table from the neighbors and crush a bunch of super-refreshing Bud Light Limes (don't knock it til you try it). We then went off to tour the scene and to see the bands.

Bands I saw Thursday:
Freelance Whales
Sleigh Bells
The Walkmen
Deerhunter

Gabey-baby arrived bright and early Friday morning after taking the red-eye from the WWDC in San Fran, bearing absolutely no pertinent information regarding the launch of the iPhone 5. Luckily after a couple conversations with CruiseAmerica and the rigging up of some sort of shade contraption, we were able to get the A/C to stop failing in the heat. Kelly ditched us (naturally) to wang out with some Kentuckians for most of the day, and Hanley and I went on an epic quest that took us all over Bonnaroo and left us dehydrated as could be. All in all, Friday was a fantastic day for Canadian music (woo Decemberists and Arcade Fire), and was even more fantastic after I chugged 4 bottles of water and some hippie Chia Limeade. Sadly we ended our evening before Lil Wayne and Ratatat, but we needed to be refreshed and ready for a lovely sunny Saturday so it's all good.

Bands I saw Friday:
Sharon Van Ettan
Decemberists
Ray Lamontagne
Florence + the Machine
My Morning Jacket
Arcade Fire

Saturday I buckled down and brought out the fancy hat to shield me from the blazing sun. Much thanks to all my friends for reminding me all day how much I looked like a mom, or, as Hanley put it: "that aunt you have that's kind of cool but never got married and buys you beer when you're underage." Awesome.

We met up with Kelly's Kentucky friends for much of the day, and met some girl named Mel from Southie that had the exact same cheap-ass Timex Ironman watch as me: "all I know is this shit is waterproof and costs $30." I couldn't have said it better myself. The Kentuckians told us of a secret Deer Tick show we missed where they played Nirvana covers. It was described to me as such: "I have never seen a lead singer so coked out in all my life. After 2 unsuccessful crowd dives he eventually just jumped straight into the drums. This was after starting off the set by saying 'I don't know about these guys behind me but I am wasted.'" Later that night I learned that I have at least one friend who can get drunk enough to make a trip to the Bonnaroo portopotties without wearing shoes (for the record that's super gross, even for me). The most amazing LED lights were dropped from the sky by parachuters and tumbled down into the crowd. What a sight.

We partied and listened to music long into the night, making it this time all the way to 4am with Girl Talk. Thanks to everyone that held my hand throughout the evening, and to Kelly for helping me face that jambalaya/crawfish etouffee combo.

Bands I saw Saturday:
The Low Anthem
Old Crow Medicine Show
Deer Tick
Allison Kraus & Union Station
Portugal. The Man.
Mumford and Sons
Black Keys
Eminem
Girl Talk

Sunday was pretty rough, as was to be expected given our behavior over the previous 3 days. However, we persevered, like a BOSS, and saw some pretty incredible music, in addition to some not so incredible music (I'm looking at you, Neon Trees). Yeah, that's about it.

Bands I saw Sunday:
Smith Westerns
Neon Trees
Bruce Hornsby
Aunt Martha
Galactic
Iron and Wine
Beirut
Strokes
Superjam with Dan Auerbach and Dr. John
Widespread Panic

Monday we got us, cleaned up, and beasted it back to Charlotte, stopping "along the way" for some El Canteria in Oak Ridge.

Gabe was kind enough to get a hotel room for the stragglers, where we cleaned up, watched the Bs beat the Canucks, and slept soundly in lovely comfortable beds.

Tuesday morning everyone departed, and I made the long drive back home to Cumberland, stopping as per my usual to check out some road cuts and scenic views