Naturally her parents were concerned for Jody’s safety and a few days before she was due to leave, they phoned me from their home in Australia. They wanted to know everything about the village and in particular the people. The one thing that stuck in my mind about my time in the village, and in rural Laos for that matter, was how friendly the people were and how safe I felt. I remember when I was a lad growing up in rural Ireland, we used to wave to everyone, including the occasional passing tourist. Even as a child I was aware of how some of the tourists found it entertaining that we should say hello to all and sundry. But that was our way and there were never too many to say hello to anyway. This same simple friendliness is a feature of rural Laos, particularly when you go off the tourist trail, as we did. When I made this comparison to Jody’s parents, having visited Ireland themselves, they immediately felt reassured. That was until I mentioned that Jody should get travel insurance which included helicopter repatriation as there were no hospitals about for hundreds of miles. Now, they said, they were worried again. So much for my words of reassurance.
As for Jody this was going to be a big adventure. Going down to Pak Beng by “slow” boat on the mighty Mekong would only be the start of it. The “slow” boat pulls into Pak Beng in the evening time, and the pack backers then make their way up this one street village in search of a room for the night. Although Pak Beng has electricity, accommodation is basic to say the least; cold showers, wires hanging from the ceiling and if the light or fan in your room doesn’t work, the landlord will use the tried and trusted method of knocking at the electrics with a stick or lump of metal. It usually works.
The next morning the back packers will make their way back down the hill to the Mekong to board the boat for another day’s trip to the historic city of Luang Prabang. From Luang Prabang, the back packers will spread out into Laos; some heading north, some east, but most south to Vang Vieng. But Jody would not be among this group. Jody would be heading further inland from Pak Beng in the opposite direction of the other westerners. From here she would very much feel like the foreigner. Each day there are two buses from Pak Beng in the direction of Oudam Xai. Along the route there are many villages, one of which is Ban Faen. Jody’s big concern now was, how would she know where to get off? The bus would be filled with Laotians, none of which would speak a word of English. In fact Jody being on the bus was going to be literally a tourist attraction for the locals. There is no doubt in my mind that that evening, each and every passenger on that day’s bus trip would have recounted the story in their respective homes, by candlelight, of the funny looking westerner who had travelled on the bus. Where had she come from, but more importantly where was she going and who was she travelling all alone and with so many bags? They would wonder. |
