This is the second of a two-part series. For the first part.
They say travelling together is a hefty compatibility test. K and I have travelled a lot together and I think we ace this test. We plan, but just enough to enjoy serendipity and spontaneity. Give us coffee, bread, chips, nuts, and we’re happy. We decide on places to go swiftly and with ease. We don’t fuss.
Our conversation isn’t instructional. No one’s telling each other how or what to do. We do us, but we do us with each other. And luckily, we like to do very similar things. We have very similar small, but distinct daily habits that have proven to be good couple glue. We sleep and wake at the same time. We’re happy early morning people. We’re never late. We’re always early. We like the same sort of food. We are coffee fiends.
Hopefully, these similarities would be enough as we continued on our bike tour through Laos.
The ride to our next destination Vang Vieng was difficult. Stamina I have, but the elevation gain was a game changer. I wasn’t used to that at all, having done all my test rides in flat-as-a-roti prata Singapore. My legs are used to running, but cycling? I was discovering muscles I never knew I had. And tearing them apart.
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Compatibility test of travelling together
Image courtesy of Kendell Dickinson & Tan Kheng Hua
Another huge, unexpected discomfort was the intense modernisation everywhere in Laos. 40-ton trucks, carrying everything construction, constantly booming, banging, clanging by us, past us, and making the already pool-sized potholes in the narrow under-maintained Laotian roads even bigger.
At Green View Resort, a lovely hotel next to Nam Ngum Reservoir, I more or less decided I should look for alternate ways to get to Luang Prabang to avoid the discomforts. And then, as if the Gods (the real ones, not the google ones) heard me, K lost his phone, his main source of navigation, just before Vang Vieng.
He is an avid and accomplished phone photographer, capturing moments on the fly. So to give himself greater access to his phone while riding, he hadn’t affixed it as tight as it could onto the phone holder. It must have popped off going over a massive pothole.
He was devastated, the poor guy. Navigating is a joy for him. As is taking photographs. Luckily, he’s a doer, not a complainer. Here’s where our unified decision making came in handy. We’d take a bus from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang.
Afterall, I was already having second thoughts about whether I would make it with my skinny weak chicken legs. No cycling days also meant extra free days. No problem. We’d extend time in both Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang.
Exploring Vang Vieng
Vang Vieng reminded me of a less developed Patong Beach in Phuket or Kuta in Bali, but put together with less pride, less taste, less originality and less effort.
We hiked up the popular Nam Xang Viewpoint, only to be reminded of how nature is not as pristinely kept as what we were used to in Canada. Trash everywhere.
And from what we could see, a lot of it was from the locals themselves, just trying their best to eke out a living. When you’ve got children to feed, higher purposes like environment and sustainability get thrown off the mountain. Figuratively and literally.
At the top, the view was exquisite, but there was a young crowd dominating the space, squealing at all and nothing and scaring the hell out of me as they dared each other, seemingly inebriated, to stand precariously near the ramshackle railings and platforms, posing for Insta no doubt.
I felt sad, like they shouldn’t be there, like I shouldn’t be here either. And so did K. We made our way down, so quickly we destroyed our old worn-out sandals.
K gave himself 3 days to mope the loss of his phone. Setting deadlines for pity parties is something we both do and has proven to be a healthy way of respecting our emotions, while not allowing them to run the show.
By the fourth day, we were standing in front of the hotel, marvelling somewhat nervously at how two men were securing our bikes atop this beat-up van obviously not made to carry bikes. Together with about 10 locals, we began our van journey to Luang Prabang.
Image courtesy of Kendell Dickinson & Tan Kheng Hua
The ride from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang was about six hours long, and severely bumpy with many potholes enroute. Lucky me. The rockier the ride, the more I can be rocked to sleep. Which is exactly what happened.
When I opened my eyes, it was several hours later, and we were at the Luang Prabang train station. K and I transferred to a tuk-tuk to get through the narrow streets to our guest house.
The artsy Luang Prabang
Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage city with some of the most well-preserved French colonial influenced architecture. I love architecture. I love spaces. Both have always drawn me in and moved my mind, heart and body in a way that mystically brings rhythm, inspiration, ideas and energy into my being.
All the properties I’ve owned have what I call “ghosts”, or history, in them. They’re either pre-war Peranakan shophouses or mid-century modern walk-ups.
It was no surprise that as we entered this exquisite city, I felt an instant connection. The sort of peace one feels when one is surrounded by space and structures one feels is so aesthetically pleasing. Luang Prabang’s style had that effect on me.
The old quarter of Luang Prabang, where we stayed, was gorgeous. The cafes, the gift shops, the craft and clothing boutiques, the restaurants. There is an easy flow between good taste and cultural specificity everywhere.
We checked in and immediately went for a walk. You could see how the creative soul is fed by this ancient city. Many artistic types were parked in the quaint cafes with notebooks, paper and digital, staring into space the way I know so well – when ideas are floating in and out and in and out of your mind.
But as quickly as I fell in love with Luang Prabang, just as quickly was I jolted out. Luang Prabang is rapidly falling victim to massive over-tourism. Look, I am a big proponent of travel. I believe true understanding of cultural differences is when you get to experience and see how other people live.
But when a city as beautiful and authentic as Luang Prabang is thronged with loud, large groups of foreigners forcing the place and its people to feed, to serve, to entertain them, beauty is killed and learning stops.
There was no space to stand back and admire, no silence to ponder. I found myself spewing Mandarin I didn’t know existed in me at a man who was talking at full volume in a spa with a lady on Facetime who was on speaker phone at full volume back!
We went to many of the magical places, Kuang Si Falls, Pak Ou Caves, Mount Phou Si – but the crowds sucked whatever magic these places had to offer. Where I found comfort, and a clear glimpse into real Laotian life, were in the markets and in the caves. K and I rented a scooter and zipped out to these places every day.
Magical moments travelling together in Laos
When I was a little girl, I would follow my mum to the wet market along Smith Street in Singapore’s Chinatown and be enthralled by the frogs, snakes and other exotic menu items for sale. Well.
The range of exotic menu items at the Laotian markets were infinitely more wide ranging. And compelling. And happily, a turn-off for many tourists, so I found some solace and solitude there.
At these markets, Phou Si market in particular, I could feel the pulse of what this land, this city and its people are about. I could be the unobtrusive, quiet observer, which is my preferred style of visitation.
We put on our head torches and ventured into Pak Ou caves. We craved quiet, we got quiet. With a capital “Q”. I had never been caving, and this afternoon’s excursion gave me a very clear idea of what the challenges faced by the famous Thai Cave rescue was all about.
Absolutely pitch black, you immediately realise the importance of light, and how paralysing it is for humans without it.
The caves can be hugely cavernous, yes, but they can be severely narrow as well. Despite the beam from the contraption sitting on our foreheads, it did feel very much like you’re navigating blind. And I could feel my heart beating double its normal speed. I never strayed a foot away from K. Still, completely worth a visit. But safety first. Never go alone.
We stayed at Luang Phasouk, a simple guest house in the perfect location near all amenities. And although Luang Prabang has lots of gastronomic delights, we found ourselves going back to this tiny Laotian mum-and-pops place called Toutu Restaurant – five minutes’ walk from where we stayed.
We couldn’t leave Luang Prabang without a sunset sail on the majestic Mekong. Terrified of having our space and silence disrupted by badly behaved visitors, we booked a small boat for just the two of us.
And while the Mekong was indeed majestic, and the sunset brilliantly sublime, once again, passing sunset cruises with their blaring karaoke carousing tore through our private space and marred our moment.
When we left Laos, we felt even more militant about our travel philosophy:
- Tread Lightly
- Do Not Disturb.
- Leave No Trace.
- Not All Who Wander Are Lost.
- Travel To Know.
- Travel With Someone You Can Spend All Day Every Day With.
The last was the biggest takeaway for me from this great Laotian adventure, the reinforcement of what makes K and I work, and why this later life relationship is an example of two people trying not to repeat mistakes of the past.
K and I introduce new worlds to each other, new ways of doing things, new things to do. And in so doing, we are constantly putting our relationship, our conflict resolution process and our communication skills to the test.
And when you’ve got so much past, that can really tax your present, which in turn taxes your future. After everything we’ve been through, we know better what we want, and whilst that can drive two people apart, it can also bring them closer than ever.
The trick I guess, is finding someone who wants 98% of what you want. That way, you only have 2% to negotiate.
Relationships are a lot like math, if you ask me. Add a little here, take away a lot there, divide things in half, multiply for greater effect, zero can be a hero and less can mean more. It’s early days, but let’s see how our equation works out.
Wish us luck. We often feel as if we’ve been given a second chance at an exam. And we’re working to ace this one.
Kheng Hua and Kendell can be found on Instagram at @khenghua and @kendell_dickinson respectively.
