Champasak - Wat Poo? Jan 16 - 17
Carl, Charlotte and I catch a local bus to the Champasak turnoff (this means pigs, chickens, 50kg bags of rice and anything else that can get on the bus including tonnes of red dust from the road, are all permitted passengers). We catch a tuktuk to the river where a longtail boat (think of a long canoe with a propeller on the end of a pole as long as the canoe) takes us to the other side. There waiting for us is Mr Buddha (well that's what I ended up calling him - a chubby, jovial man with a smile and a laugh never far from his lips). He takes us to his guesthouse where we have very basic bamboo rooms with a deck right on the river. We picked up Giles on the way, a librarian from Toronto, and the next day, the 4 of us hire bicycles and ride the 8km to Wat Poo, a mountain temple built 1000 years ago when Indian Hindus travelled through this part of Asia.
As a prelude to Angkor in Cambodia it is interesting though not spectacular and after a few hours exploring the ruins and looking at the countryside we ride back. The most impressive thing for me was the GIANT frangipani trees bordering the steps up the mountain. This tree always reminds me of my grandfather who had a small one in his backyard. He would have loved these (check out the photos).
There are hundreds of geckos on the deck at night, trying to catch the millions of moths, mosquitoes and other insects. I find a bamboo pole and make a lagger for them to climb to the light where all the insects gather, but they must have been scared off either by our voices or knowledge of my construction skills, so never attempted it.
The next morning, Carl, Charlotte and I get our communication mixed up and they catch the 8.30am bus to the ferry while I wait for them on the deck (or....maybe they ditched me? hmmmmmmmmmm? (No, I actually see Carl later on Don Det and they thought I'd already left)). So I head off on my own, catch the ferry across the river, and there are no tuktuks to take me to the road. No problem, I start walking, singing songs, looking at the countryside, drinking water and broiling in the 35 degree unshaded heat with my 40kg pack on. When tuktuks eventually turn up and offer a ride, do I take one? Noooooooo, I'm having too much fun, singing, walking, broiling. I thought it was 2km, ends up being 4km. Even when I'm exhausted, burnt and out of water, with the end of the road in sight and tuktuks in abundance, do I take one? Do I? Nooooo. I walk on, singing "We are the champions"as if I've conquered Everest!!!
Anyway, get to the road, and 2 minutes later, Heike, a German woman also staying at Mr Buddha's guesthouse turns up. She was going to Wat Poo that morning. "Didnt you leave hours ago?"she asks. Don't ask, I say. We wait for the bus to Ban Nakasang, the nearest town to Don Det, one of 4,000 islands in the Mekong where is stretches to 14km wide. Only 3 of the islands are inhabited, and only 1 has electricity. And we wait. nd we wait. Eventually, we ask if there is a bus coming every hour as Mr Buddha said, as we have been waiting for 2 hours. No they say, buses only in the morning. So, how do we get to Ban Nakasang we ask. You wait for a songtheiw (imagine an elongated ute with bench seats down each side, one in the middle, and every kind of farm animal imaginable inside, as well as quite a few passengers) and hope its going where you want and not too full.
Eventually one passes and we flag it down. The fare should be about 30,000 kip ($3US). Driver asks for 75,000 kip. I say, it's only 30,000. He says for locals. Foreigners are 75,000. Now if every traveller in Asia, including India, had not been experiencing this from the moment they arrive til the moment they leave, it would get a bit frustrating. Normally I would haggle and get the best possible price. Not today (I'd obviously spent too much time in the sun). I say we'll wait for the next one. And we wait. And we wait. And we wait. And 2 hours later, another one comes past.This time we just get on.
I sit on one bench, a 50kg bag of rice between my legs, a hessian sack with a baby pig on my left foot and sacks with chickens on my right. A young boy stares at us as if he's never seen white people before. I pull out my MP3 player and really blow his mind, with Silverchair, Deep Forest and Ministry of Sound. I'm sure his parents will blame me for whatever kind of degenarate he may turn into. We arrive at Ban Nakasang and repeat the routine - tuktuk to the river, boat across, and walk to find a guesthouse.
posted by flamethrower77 at 4:52 AM
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