Luang Prabang, Laos

We descended into the tiny Luang Prabang airport on a Sunday evening, through a curious haze. As we stepped off the plane, we were hit by a warm, dry wind carrying the smell of burning grass. It turns out that we arrived near the end of the dry season, this being the driest dry season in recorded history. This region is rugged and mountainous, with all available flat ground cultivated for rice and other crops, and many of the gentler slopes terraced for rice and bananas. Some farmers are burning off the leftover stalks from the last rice harvest in anticipation of the next planting that coincides with the rains that will (hopefully) come soon. I think some of these fires have spread to nearby wooded hillsides, quickly burning up steep slopes through the shrubs and grasses at the foot of cultivated teak trees and native forests.

After the noise and hustle and tangy air that stirred memories of 1980s Los Angeles that we experienced in Hanoi, this place is about as peaceful as it gets. Our taxi drove us out onto the peninsula where the main town sits, flanked by the Mekong River on one side and the smaller Kahn River flowing into it on the other. The quiet street was lined with lantern-lit cafes and restaurants and we quickly tucked into some of the best coconut curry soup we'd ever had. Before long we were resting in our quaint hotel with dark hardwood floors and a separate sitting room with a balcony over the street.

We spent Monday morning wandering the well kept gardens and patios of the city and stopped in at the main buddhist temple, where robed monks scurried about. That afternoon, we boarded a van for a short trip to a nearby waterfall. It was a busy tourist attraction, but spread out among dozens of gardens and pools, cascading from one limestone bowl into the turquoise depths of the next. At the base of the largest, upper waterfall, Cinda found a scrawled sign that said "To The Top" with an arrow pointing at a rugged, steep, slippery slope that could hardly be called a trail. She immediately started her special determined march (high knees, clenched fists, many of you know what I'm talking about) in her skirt and flip flops, leaving me to mutter to myself "I guess we're going 'to the top'". After a couple hundred feet of climbing, we reached a plateau and waded across the headwaters to the other side, only to find a sturdy wooden staircase to take us down the other side.

After a few leaps and rope swings into a chilly blue pool, we headed back down to the van, but first stopped at the large enclosure for rescued Asiatic bears. The local organization takes in orphaned cubs whose parents have been poached, and now they live in bear heaven, full of natural streams and pools, hammocks, tires, swings, and platforms, with plenty of room to move about. Being nocturnal, they were just starting to wake up in the afternoon, and had us rolling with laughter as they played pranks on each other, shoving each other when they weren't looking and crashing sleeping bears in their hammocks.

On Tuesday we had big plans. A local group looks after Asian elephants that are retired or rescued from working in the logging industry. An adult elephant can haul or drag as much as 2,000 pounds of lumber at a time, and are often injured or underfed while doing it. Since such logging is now discouraged by the government, many of these elephants instantly have become ravenous, unwanted guests to their former owners. In the pictures we saw of working elephants, it was surprising to see their taught skin and bulging muscles, instead of the usual sagging skin. I could imagine a wild elephant seeing one of these hulking work elephants and saying "Do you work out?"

Cinda was getting dressed, and I could see her carefully choosing her wardrobe in order to impress the elephants (apparently they like rainbow socks). I did think she was going a bit far when she started putting on lipstick though. But it was great to see how exicted she was. Our van pulled into the compound and we got our first glimpse of an elephant and I felt the seat shudder as Cinda quickly bounced up and down with delight. The program we had signed up for was called the 'mahout' class, after the Hindi word for an elephant trainer. The facility offers these tours (for a steep price) so that the eight retired elephants can pay their own way, with much of the expense going towards the 500 pounds of pineapple and and banana leaves each elepant eats every day (washed down with about 50 gallons of water).

Within minutes of arriving, we learned the basic commands for mounting and controlling the big sweethearts, many of them blinded from a snapped logging chain or jungle vine in their former lives. Cinda jumped at the opportunity to be first, and she approached her elephant slowly from the front right side, so the elephant could see her and get comfortable (look for a curious trunk, flapping ears, and swaying. Keep your distance if the elephant freezes!).

"Seung!" Cinda called. The elephant gently raised her front right leg to form a step. Cinda stepped up and using the top of the elephant's ear, vaulted herself onto the elephant's neck. After hauling loads for several decades, Cinda's weight barely registered on this elephant's back. "Pie! Pie!" Cinda called, and the elephant lumbered forward, ignoring the calls of "Sae!" and "Kwa!" ("left" and "right") and heading for the mountain of pineapple leaves at the edge of the clearing. After the elephant ate a few huge stalks, another mahout handed Cinda a bunch of leaves, which the elephant saw and immediately demanded by reaching her trunk over her head and right into Cinda's lap. Cinda complied, and the elephant stuffed the leaves into her mouth while turning to go back to the pile for more.

The real highlight came after lunch, when we took six elephants down to the river. We were in shorts and bare feet, with the insides of our knees near the tops of the elephants' ears and our outstretched hands planted firmly on the top of their skulls, hoping not to go over the bars on the way down the hill. As soon as the elephants stepped into the river, it was obvious that this was the highlight of their day, too. Cinda's elephant immediately got a trunkfull of water and sprayed her with it, and we marched out into the center of the river, which brought the water as high as our feet. Without prompting, my elephant decided to fully submerge herself, trunk and all, with her hind legs stretched out behind her and her front legs in front of her. I was up to my armpits in water, as she stayed under for a good 45 seconds before rising fully out the water. Each of the elephants had their own habits of how they liked to dunk and drink and wheel around, and we scrubbed their giant skulls and ears with rough brushes while they played with each other.

Our final destination was a 10 minute longboat ride down the river, to a nearly dry waterfall that was devoid of tourists. But they did have a zipline course through the treetops, so we woke up the sleeping proprietors and they put us in harnesses. A hundred feet up in giant swaying trees, standing on delicate looking but sturdy platforms, we zoomed through the forest on a dozen wire cables, sometimes lifting our feet above treetops and at one point being instructed to 'brake' on a particularly fast section, using a bamboo stick with a downward-facing crook to pull down on the cable. After a quick dunk in the small pool that remained throughout the year, we were off and headed back to town. A small temple sits at the crest of the hill that anchors the peninsula, so we hiked the 400 stairs and watched the sun set over the quiet city and the smokey valleys beyond.

This brings us to Wednesday morning, which was reserved for our Lao cooking class. After meeting our classmates - a young Belgian couple (Nicholas and Perrine) - we headed to the open-air market to learn about traditional foods. Can you imagine if beef jerkey still had hair on it? Water buffalo jerkey does! Back at the restaurant, we chose several recipes and learned how to prepare them - coconut curry soup, spring rolls, fried noodles, and sweet and sour catfish. Our teacher was great (and patient) and somehow we put together a spectacular lunch, washed down with travel stories and a little lao lao (rice liquor/antiseptic). And now we're up to date and going to pick up clean laundry, getting ready to fly to Kenya after a brief layover in Bangkok. I hope the next post is as filled with good times and unexpected adventures as this one has been. Traveling with Cinda, there's really no doubt it will be...

-Nate