No Fixed Abode: Drunk and Disorderly

Thu 07 Apr 2016 - Motorbike tour day 3, Son La to Muong Lay

After sticking out for an ‘eggs and bread’ breakfast for most of our time in Vietnam we both decided to try the noodle soup that all the natives eat. Not wanting meat we opted for two fried eggs. Tricky eating with chopsticks but tasty. Asking what the soup was made of we were told it was water boiled all night with pig bones and by way of proof Flower removed the top from a huge metal vat to reveal virtually an entire pig skeleton - spine and all.

Immediately we left Son La it was straight up the mountain on a narrow winding road. At the top we contoured along the ridgeline passing several minority villages and although we waved cheerily at the children we got a mixed response. Some, especially groups of girls, wave enthusiastically back with a shout of “hello”. Others look at us plain terrified, as if we’re from another planet.

At one point we spotted a great view of some terraced fields and asked the boys to stop for a photo. They pulled up outside an old wooden stilt house and left us to walk back a short way to find the best view. When we returned we found them sitting on the upstairs balcony chatting to the owners, an old couple in traditional Thai dress who beckoned us up for a cup of tea. With Flower translating we were introduced to the family and before being poured some strange tea made from the bark of a tree and the lady of the house promptly scurried indoors and produced four chipped tea cups in a dirty cutlery divider as a tray. Obviously, the best china for guests. When one of the young girls went indoors, Yvonne heard sounds of cooking and asked if she could see the kitchen in action. Before long she was being given a full tour of the house including the bamboo floored kitchen complete with glowing fire contrasted by a recently added western style toilet, of which the lady owner seemed very proud. Knowing these married Thai ladies wear their long hair up in an massive bun, Yvonne mimed if they would put her hair up which caused great hilarity among the women, saying it was way too short, gesturing arm lengths of hair needed.

Parting as friends we dropped down into a small town for lunch and as it was still a little early we walked up and down the market, which is always good value, admiring the bright clothing of the minority people. We spotted four western tourists and we shocked them by saying hello in Vietnamese until they realised we were “one of them” too and laughed. Returning to the cafe we spotted a barber so, after negotiating a price by mime, Glenn nipped in for a trim and Yvonne read the dogged eared two year old copy of Vietnam Cosmopolitan but oddly with pictures of white models and outrageous western fashion, hair and makeup.

At the busy cafe we had a super lunch watching the owner flit from table to table to keep things moving. When we finished we sat outside at the tea station with some locals and learned that the owner was really pleased we’d eaten there. Apparently most westerners take one look inside and move on. To be fair, we probably would have done the same three weeks ago but the Dalat Easy Riders, Hai and Harry, showed us how tasty the local food is and, while they are nowhere near western standards of hygiene, we’ve always been ok.

Many cheerful handshakes later it was back up into the mountains past small village after small village of different minority people. Outside one we stopped to look at the view and Yvonne asked Glenn if he’d seen the water buffalo wallowing in a roadside puddle a short way back. He hadn’t so Flower took him back to get some photos. On the way they passed a wild looking local man walking up the road towards us waving his arms crazily. Flower said he was drunk and they carried on our way. When they got back they found Yvonne a little shaken as the guy had come up to Jin and her and made a bit of a commotion. Luckily Jin had diffused the situation brilliantly, with high 5s, man hugs and kisses and taken him home.

Pushing on to Muong Lay Glenn missed the photo opportunity of a lifetime (one he deeply regrets). As we passed a small school two very young boys, probably 3 or 4, in traditional dress were walking up a small track clutching either end of a broomstick, beneath which was suspended a bucket of slopping water as they frantically tried to wave and yell hello. They looked simply adorable.

With Glenn cursing both his bad timing and not asking Flower to stop, we continued down to Muong Lay, watching the km marker posts counting down. As we approached the valley we could see a large new town on the far bank of, what looked like, a large river but on reaching the long bridge across it Glenn noticed that Muong Lay was no longer signed. When he quizzed Flower about this he learned that the river is in fact a large lake, at the bottom of which is the original town. Submerged as a consequence of a hydro generating scheme the residents were forcibly relocated to the new town we’d seen earlier.

We checked into a grand looking business hotel and had a rather subdued meal in its restaurant, allowing us all to have a well deserved early night.