I decided maybe it was time for me to get new shoes: You don't take crisp packets do you?

January 27, 2015

I may not have seen any monks as I slipped quietly away from the temple early the next morning, but I did see them as I entered the town of Attapeu a short while later. The monks were collecting alms, the traditional contributions of food from local people, who kneeled on the sidewalk and passed small amounts of rice to the passing line of orange robes. It was the first time that I had seen it since the tourist farce that the tradition has become in Luang Prabang and, not wanting to turn it into one here, I watched from a respectful distance. I also didn't want to get too close in case any of the monks should recognise me as the intruder that had set up camp on their back lawn practically uninvited.

"Thank you, your kind donations mean we can soon afford to buy the new I-phone 6"

For a while the road east towards Vietnam remained busy for reasons that I could not comprehend, but finally the traffic thinned out as I got into a more remote area. It had very nice trees, I liked it. But then the road went over a couple of very steep passes, which I found hard work in the hot sun. On the first of these climbs I rounded a corner and saw a woman sitting at the roadside in the shade near to her parked motorcycle. I'd remembered seeing this motorcycle pass me a few minutes earlier, and wished I'd got a photo, because it was a contender for one of the most over-loaded motorbikes I'd seen in Asia (and that, let me tell you, is saying something.) To my surprise the woman indicated that I should stop and sit with her.

I loved the trees, although they lacked waterfall directions

I took a seat on the kerb and tried to talk with the woman, but she was from Vietnam and my Lao phrases were as lost on her as her Vietnamese phrases were on me. She was an older woman, protected from the sun with layers of clothes with just her face and hands showing, both of which had a layer of filth on them you might associate with someone who spends a lot of time sitting on the kerb of roads (trust me, I know.) She seemed nice but the conversation wasn't going anywhere fast, so I got up and walked around and took some photos of her bike. I noticed that the excessive cargo was mostly empty plastic bottles. It seemed like she collected these in Laos and took them back to Vietnam - maybe you can get a good price for recycling plastic bottles in Vietnam. And from the number she had on her bike it looked like she'd done a good clear up of the monks' back yard. I generously found a couple of empty plastic bottles I had and gave them to her. She nodded her thanks. "Don't worry about it, I've been looking for a bin for a couple of days. You don't take crisp packets do you?"

I sat back down next to her and offered her some water but she didn't want it and so we sat in silence like a couple of hobos for a minute. Then she pointed at my battered old shoes and laughed. She seemed to be implying that I needed new shoes. Then she dug her dirty hand into her pocket and fished out a 50,000 kip note. 'Oh no,' I thought, 'one of those people who go around collecting plastic bottles is giving me money now. What have I done to deserve this?' But she didn't offer it to me. It seemed she had merely got it out to indicate to me in sign language that money could be exchanged for new shoes. I thanked her for the information.

Looking back on the events of the past few days, I decided maybe it was time for me to get new shoes

The rest of the day was quite frustrating, although I was traveling through exotic, tropical jungle which was almost completely uninhabited. It was frustrating because of the heat and the constant steep ups and downs, but mostly it was frustrating because of the Vietnamese trucks. I'd heard bad things about Vietnam, the one I feared the most being the news that they beep their horns a lot. And if these truck drivers were anything to go on, that was certainly true. They drove too fast on the narrow, winding roads and simply honked their horns at every corner to warn anything else to get the hell out of the way. They also honked when they passed me, presumably just for the fun of it. This stressed me out a bit, but I persevered through the afternoon and evening, and finally found a place to sleep on a wooden platform just off the road. But still the truck horns echoed up and down the mountain, keeping me awake. I already hated Vietnam...

Today's ride: 81 km (50 miles)
Total: 36,434 km (22,626 miles)

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