I awoke to my alarm at 7:15, immediately regretted my last drink, and congratulated myself for having made it my last of the night.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the water to brush my teeth. What came out was as brown as the Mekong. Guess I would be brushing my teeth with bottled water on this morning.
I decided to step out of my room and into the adjacent restaurant for breakfast. I turned my door handle. The handle moved but nothing clicked. I pulled gently on the handle and it came off in my hand. Uh-oh.
I put the handle back on and fiddled with it, no luck. I was locked in my room. I looked out my window to the restaurant. No one was in sight. I called out. "Hello? ....Hell-ooo?"
Within twenty seconds a seven year old girl came to my window. She smiled. I held up the handle, her eyes widened and she nodded. She darted away and out of sight. A minute passed and the owner, father, was at my door. Luckily, he was able to open it from the outside. He apologized, I told him it was just fine. I actually found it all entertaining, and now I'd have a story to tell on the boat.
I sat for breakfast. The owner took my order for eggs, coffee, and a bread roll. They had a bakery out front. I walked out to it and ordered a chocolate muffin that looked very tasty. The owner said he would bring it to my table. I sat back down and enjoyed my crappy coffee while I gazed at the river.
The owner brought the chocolate muffin to my table. I pulled off a bite. Hmm, that's weird, I could swear I tasted a fish aftertaste. Nah, I must have been imagining things. I took another bite.
Nope, fish water taste- It was like the Mekong River water was a main ingredient. Okay, done with the muffin.
In a few minutes, the owner delivered my adequate eggs and a bread roll. He asked if I'd like to order a sandwich for the boat ride.
I said, "Yes, please." I ordered a veggie sandwich because the ham on the previous day's journey was a grey-white, possibly another meat, hopefully meat, that I pulled off the sandwich.
The owner asked if I needed beer.
I said, "Yes, thank you. Two big Beer Lao, please."
He looked at me, "Two? ...it is a long trip today."
"Okay, three.'' I said, agreeing with his reasoning.
"Three? ....Ah... No four? ....it is seven hour ride. Four?" He said.
This guys was a good salesmen. Upselling and looking out for me at the same time (He was right, he actually ended up saving me money).
"Okay, four."
I walked down to the dock, boarded the boat, and secured a good seat near the front. I tested the integrity of a couple seats before sitting and chose the most comfortable. More travelers boarded and sat around me. Merta and Joyce sat behind me. I met Kyle and Hayley from New York City (transplants from Florida and Seattle respectively). Kyle had recently asked Hayley to marry him while they were on Ko lanta. Bart and Christiaan sat in front of them.
The boat began to fill and the seat next to me remained open. I began to wonder if I looked too fantastic to sit beside. The boat was about to leave and only a handful of seats were left. That's when Abbie from London sat next to me and my day became awesome.
I would eventually learn from her that "awesome" is a very American term.
Abbie was on the boat that arrived in Pak Bang the day before mine. She had to stay in Pak Bang an extra night, so now she was sitting next to me. We hit it off right away. The conversation never ran out of steam. Bart said that everytime he looked back, hour after hour, he was surprised to see us still deeply enmeshed in conversation. The conversation was light and funny, deep and intellectual, uplifting and emotional. We ran the gamut.
Of course we talked to everyone else in our little neighborhood of seats and those who dropped by for a pop in visit as well. It seemed half the boat was becoming friends.
Abbie was a journalist for a magazine, had done a number of other interesting things, and had plans to do many more. I'm choosing to keep the details of her life out of this entry because they are hers and not fodder for my postings. She was traveling with Hollie and Lizzie, also great people. They were traveling for a 100 days through Southeat Asia. Abbie plans to split off for a bit and volunteer teaching English in Vietnam for a couple weeks.
We made stops along the way, picking up and dropping off locals. On one stop we pulled alongside another long boat full of children who gleefully smiled, waved, and gave high fives, like entertaining the silly tourists was the highlight of their day. Some of them did flips off the dock as we motored away.
An old man from a hill tribe sat a few rows up from us, He was dressed in traditional colorful garb of his people. He played Bob Dylan and Beatles songs on his acoustic guitar and ate crickets from his bag like they were toffee peanut snacks.
I told Abbie my story of searching for the bug man in Chiang Mi but never fulfilling my dream of eating a bug. She said that now was my chance. I told her that if she asks for a cricket, I'll eat it. She asked for the cricket. We split it. She didn't want the head and I didn't want the butt, so it worked out well. It tasted salty, crunchy, and stringy like plant cellulose fibers.
In what seemed a blink of an eye, we reached the end of our slow boat journey. The boat drops you off a few kilometers outside of town where a fleet of tuk tuks await the backpackers. The locals stay on the boat and continue all the way into town.
I learned from the stories of past travelers online that this practice started in the last few years. It was (is) a bit of a scam to create income for the tuk tuks. It started with a boat captain making a shady deal with some drivers and has since become the norm. When it first started, travelers were upset because they were told the boat takes them to town, but there was nothing they could do. It's only a matter of a couple American dollars and it helps the local economy so everyone has come to accept it as the standard.
I didn't take many pictures that day (or even for the next eight days) because I was too busy enjoying every moment. Taking pictures felt like an intrusion into my experience. I had so much fun in the town and with all the great people I met. I wanted it to be mine and mine alone. The memories are now locked away with others in a chest in my mind labeled "best times of my life." (So Abbie, thanks for the conversation and for being a big part of one of the most memorable afternoons in my life.)
Abbie and I exchanged information (which turned out to be unnecessary because everyone kept running into everyone else from the boat for the next few days) and I arranged a tuk tuk ride with Paul, M, Bart, Christian, and Hanukkah and her husband (whose name escapes me at the moment.) The seven of us walked around town together until we found a good hostel.
Next up, four days with new friends and memories that secured their place in that chest...
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
As always thanks for stopping by, we hope you enjoyed the show. Please remember to get your Travelman card punched before leaving. Ten punches gets a free sub sandwich on your next visit (certain restrictions apply).
Please upvote, restee- You know what, I've come to the point that I don't care. I find the steemit voting system to be deeply flawed. When I can get fifteen votes and make $30 dollars, and get 30 votes and make 28 cents just because someone has more sp, that's not a good system. In my opinion one vote from someone with a lot of steem shouldn't be worth anymore than another with less. Is one a better judge of my content, or did one really get only less than a penny of joy from it while the other got $5 of joy? Don't think so. So screw it. I'm posting for myself and my friends and family and anyone else who genuinely enjoys my content. Upvote, don't upvote, //I don't care. But enjoy it.
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