Back

And so we are back. Back to an ashy gray Wuhan, pouring down rain and drizzle and now ice onto us. No sun since our return. Goodbye summer, hello again winter. With a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders.

After a month of the near constant presence of Katera and Megan at my side or in the room, the silence is now defining. After a month of repacking my lowly backpack almost every other morning, I feel like a queen sleeping in my bed and finding my clothes waiting for me in the closet and on the shelf. A place for everything. These are glorious luxuries.

• We spent approximately 100 hours on a bus.
• Slept in 12 different hostels and on 4 night buses and one night train (numbers vary for Katera and Megan).
• Received 12 entry/exit stamps in our passport (4 for Maylasia, 2 for Singapore, 2 for Thailand, 2 for Laos, 2 for China) and one visa sticker (Laos).
• Did laundry once.
• Attacked by bedbugs once.
• Saw 3 movies in a theater.
• Lost ZERO passports.
• Traveled to the southernmost point on the SE Asian peninsula.

To recap the close of our journey in Laos:

We loved Vang Vieng, with it’s river tubing and bamboo bridges crossing the river and Friends’ bars (on the main road, nearly 1 in 3 restaurants is equipped with a tv that shows episodes of Friends from open to close. Walking down the street, you are greeted by the sounds of Ross, Rachel, Joey and the whole gang and refrains of “I’ll be there for you..” It was so strange! But I’ll admit, after a day on the river, we didn’t mind one bit enjoying the ol show while munching on a pineapple pancake!).

Moving on from there, we took the less frequented path to Phonsavan and the mysterious and ancient Plain of Jars. This was possibly the most bumpy and curvy road in the history of the world. I’m really not exaggerating. You must cross a range of mountains and they’ve built the road winding back and forth along the upper shoulders of the mountains—6 to 7 hours of constant, unrelenting switchbacks and jolts. Seriously—I’ve spent my time in the back roads of mountain Virginia and in jeeps along cliffs in Tennessee—and I’ve never experienced anything like this. I was grateful for a strong stomach—but on the ride out I had to avail myself of Dramamine to survive it. That said—the sights were incredible and stunning as we passed tiny villages and beautiful vistas.

Once in Phonsavan, we joined a tour to the Plain of Jars. This is exactly what it sounds like! There are fields throughout this area of Laos filled with 2000-3000 year old stone jars. Researchers have hypothesized that these jars were used to keep cremated remains—but there is no definitive explanation for them. The local tradition says they were used to make lao lao, rice whiskey. It’s really neat to see the jars.

Unfortunately, the Plain of Jars area was also the hardest hit by US bombs during the Secret War in the 1960s and 70’s. For years the US dropped 2 million tons of bombs on Laos in an effort to combat Vietcong forces from the neighboring country of Vietnam. Many of these bombs never exploded, leaving Laos filled with UXO’s—highly volatile unexploded bombs. Now in 2009, only a tiny percentage of the land has been cleared of these US bombs, and over the years countless local people have been killed or injured by coming across them. Restaurants and hostels in Phonsavan use old bomb casings as decorations (the ones that now longer contain explosives of course). At the rate that these UXO’s are being cleared, a dangerous and slow process, it will take 100 years before Laos is free of them.

So although there are dozens of sites in Laos featuring the ancient jars—there are only three sites that are actually safe to visit—only these three that have been cleared of UXO’s. Everywhere that you go, there are markers indicating where it is safe to walk and the boundaries of the land that has been cleared. Wandering past these markers means risking your life.

Our guide told us how his parents evacuated his village when the bombings began. When they returned, their fields were filled with skulls of soldiers (Vietnamese and Laos). For so many years after, while villagers were preparing their fields for rice, walking in the hills or forests, there were accounts of people “having an accident,” --coming across a UXO (the words of our guide). And then, as poverty settled in on the nation, more were driven to look for the bombs to drain the explosives or gather the scrap metal to sell for a profit, often “having an accident” in the process.

In our tour group, we were joined by other backpackers--a woman from France, from Chile, from Slovenia, two from Germany and one from Japan. I’ll confess that at points when we were asked where we were from--it took me a second to answer. Wishing we could somehow make penance with the people of this country.

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After Phonsavan, we hit the winding road again for Luang Prabang, our final stop in Laos. This bohemian village is filled with delicious cafes, roadside stalls and a bustling Hmong night market (the Hmong are a minority that originated in China and over thousands of years eventually moved into the highlands of Laos. Many fought for the US during the Secret War and were forced to move as refugees to the US after the takeover—there are now large Hmong populations in the US). We enjoyed the sun and some final chances to eat the Indian food that we’d become addicted to over the course of our trip.

Megan and I spent an afternoon out of town at the Kuang Si Waterfall—hiking/climbing hand over foot again up one side of the waterfall and jumping into the swimming hole on the second tier of the falls—feeling the rushing water overwhelm you with its power and the throb of the water falling down right next to you—it was exhilarating! The water in the pools along the tiers and at the base was so vividly blue that you would think it had been artificially colored! It was literally turquoise! I just kept blinking and saying again and again to myself “I am swimming in a waterfall in Laos.” I still can’t believe it!

And our final bout of good luck came on our bus ride into China. We went from travel agent to travel agent in Luang Prabang trying to get details on how to get back into China. Our options were taking a bus 10 hours back to Vientiane, spending the night, and then taking a flight into Kunming—or trying our luck on the bus…which we were told would be anywhere from 26 to 33 hours. 26 to 33 hours. Quite a window for change there, we thought. Explanation? Uhhh….sometimes the bus takes longer than other times. Greeeaaaattt.

So travel weary, we climbed on the bus and hoped for the best. It wasn’t looking good when we discovered there was no toilet aboard and then when we found our bus taking breaks from the road at an interval of every 1.5 to 2 hours! Ack—the lack of efficiency was about to break our American minds down to insanity! But to our surprise, we arrived in Kunming after only 23 hours. It was a travel miracle!!!

From Kunming, we made a beeline to the nearest airport and booked the soonest flight to Wuhan. The price wasn’t much different than the cost of a train…and in this final leg of the journey, we were not interested in adding 25+ hours of rail to our homeward path.

And so we are returned to our China homes. Safe and sound and hopefully a little wiser and a lot tanner.

Pictures will come soon.