Sleeping bus. Weird ferry. Rain. Mud. More mud. Cows. Walking around the island in mud. Kayaking. Temple. Waterfall. Dolphins. Mud.
Slimey, wet clinging mud. As we trudged through the mud, as our sandals suctioned down into it, as we almost toppled into it, we laughed at the spectacle we were making. Assuming we would eventually make it to the other side of the island, where the bridge connecting the two largest inhabited islands was, we continued on.
The day before, we arrived from a bus trip from Luang Prabang to Vientiane, and from Vientiane to Pakse, and from Pakse to the four thousand islands. As we got off the final mini-bus, we were gestured into a tiny little boat to be ferried across the river. As we balanced ourselves to keep from feeling like tipping, the boat men jumped gracefully from boat to boat, in only flip flops. We watched the little islands pass by as our boat slipped through the water.
As it was rainy season, some of the islands were covered by water, and this also meant that the inhabited islands had their share of puddles. As we stepped off the boat, we gingerly tiptoed around mud holes. We walked around the muddy paths, choosing which guesthouse to stay in. One woman called out to us and showed us a standard room, so we dropped off our bags and headed out to find the connecting island. Choosing to go right, we continued our trend of choosing our steps very carefully. As we passed more guesthouses, we began to see more cows and chickens, tucked in the space underneath the houses. Then the houses began to disappear and were replaced with fields and families of cows, calmly grazing. As the path became more muddy, we were sure that we were close. But then as no one came along, we began to think that this was way a bit more treacherous.
And so it became more so, as our delicate stepping became trying to not sink into the mud. And then we sank. We squished around with our sandals stuck to the earth. We finally gave up on the shoe idea and walked more easily through the paths. Eventually reaching a hill with actual people, we looked at each other and laughed. I could barely climb up the rocky hill, as the slippery mud that covered my sandals and feet kept me sliding backwards. We finally made it to the river and rinsed off, realizing that we took the long, scenic route. Stopping for lunch, we headed back on the path that cut through the middle of the island.
As we walked, school got out, leaving children biking back home on the path that we were on. Clutching umbrellas, I hoped it wasn’t going to rain on us. Just as I was thinking that, it started to rain, and then children opened up their umbrellas and kept biking. So Becca and I sped our pace up to try and beat it. The rain has beat us everywhere we’ve gone, I don’t think we’ll ever outrun it.
The next day, we woke up early to go on an all day kayaking trip. As it turns out, the rain was off-putting to people, so the trip was just the two of us and the guide. We had to put on bright yellow hard hats and short little life jackets. As we pushed away from the shore, the vastness of the area became more clear, as it did later in the day, when we were wet and tired.
Our first stop was a temple, and then the small part of the waterfall. As we walked along the middle of the island, a huge bug dropped down onto Becca’s shoulder. Laughing, we kept asking our guide about different things, what’s growing here-just a different type of rice-who is the small cemetery for-Vietnam victims. He answered all of our questions and was very cheery, even when it began to rain as we got to the beach. And then it poured. We stood under the roof of a house until it began to taper off, and then we headed out.
We kayaked through some strong rapids (Becca almost tipped), and ended on a little dock. Our guide gave us our lunch (rice and vegetables) and bade us to look for dolphins. And then they began jumping. The Irrawaddy dolphins, kind of a squished, teddy bear looking creature, were playing and jumping around the area that we had just kayaked from. Immersed in dolphin watching, our guide took a quick nap and then we set out again.
This time we went to the large part of the waterfall, but it was more like strong, rushing rapids. Soaked and tired, we headed back to our part of the island. The most interesting way to travel to the four thousand islands? By sleeping bus. Beds on both sides and two levels. We actually slept a little bit, and enjoyed not having an uncomfortable seat to scrunch in. If only there were more of these buses.
Slimey, wet clinging mud. As we trudged through the mud, as our sandals suctioned down into it, as we almost toppled into it, we laughed at the spectacle we were making. Assuming we would eventually make it to the other side of the island, where the bridge connecting the two largest inhabited islands was, we continued on.
The day before, we arrived from a bus trip from Luang Prabang to Vientiane, and from Vientiane to Pakse, and from Pakse to the four thousand islands. As we got off the final mini-bus, we were gestured into a tiny little boat to be ferried across the river. As we balanced ourselves to keep from feeling like tipping, the boat men jumped gracefully from boat to boat, in only flip flops. We watched the little islands pass by as our boat slipped through the water.
As it was rainy season, some of the islands were covered by water, and this also meant that the inhabited islands had their share of puddles. As we stepped off the boat, we gingerly tiptoed around mud holes. We walked around the muddy paths, choosing which guesthouse to stay in. One woman called out to us and showed us a standard room, so we dropped off our bags and headed out to find the connecting island. Choosing to go right, we continued our trend of choosing our steps very carefully. As we passed more guesthouses, we began to see more cows and chickens, tucked in the space underneath the houses. Then the houses began to disappear and were replaced with fields and families of cows, calmly grazing. As the path became more muddy, we were sure that we were close. But then as no one came along, we began to think that this was way a bit more treacherous.
And so it became more so, as our delicate stepping became trying to not sink into the mud. And then we sank. We squished around with our sandals stuck to the earth. We finally gave up on the shoe idea and walked more easily through the paths. Eventually reaching a hill with actual people, we looked at each other and laughed. I could barely climb up the rocky hill, as the slippery mud that covered my sandals and feet kept me sliding backwards. We finally made it to the river and rinsed off, realizing that we took the long, scenic route. Stopping for lunch, we headed back on the path that cut through the middle of the island.
As we walked, school got out, leaving children biking back home on the path that we were on. Clutching umbrellas, I hoped it wasn’t going to rain on us. Just as I was thinking that, it started to rain, and then children opened up their umbrellas and kept biking. So Becca and I sped our pace up to try and beat it. The rain has beat us everywhere we’ve gone, I don’t think we’ll ever outrun it.
The next day, we woke up early to go on an all day kayaking trip. As it turns out, the rain was off-putting to people, so the trip was just the two of us and the guide. We had to put on bright yellow hard hats and short little life jackets. As we pushed away from the shore, the vastness of the area became more clear, as it did later in the day, when we were wet and tired.
Our first stop was a temple, and then the small part of the waterfall. As we walked along the middle of the island, a huge bug dropped down onto Becca’s shoulder. Laughing, we kept asking our guide about different things, what’s growing here-just a different type of rice-who is the small cemetery for-Vietnam victims. He answered all of our questions and was very cheery, even when it began to rain as we got to the beach. And then it poured. We stood under the roof of a house until it began to taper off, and then we headed out.
We kayaked through some strong rapids (Becca almost tipped), and ended on a little dock. Our guide gave us our lunch (rice and vegetables) and bade us to look for dolphins. And then they began jumping. The Irrawaddy dolphins, kind of a squished, teddy bear looking creature, were playing and jumping around the area that we had just kayaked from. Immersed in dolphin watching, our guide took a quick nap and then we set out again.
This time we went to the large part of the waterfall, but it was more like strong, rushing rapids. Soaked and tired, we headed back to our part of the island. The most interesting way to travel to the four thousand islands? By sleeping bus. Beds on both sides and two levels. We actually slept a little bit, and enjoyed not having an uncomfortable seat to scrunch in. If only there were more of these buses.
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