Hilltribes, Trekking and LaosKao

We had arranged for a flight to Northern Laos to do some trekking, but had been warned that planes are often cancelled for little or no reason, so we were not surprised when arriving at the airport we were told its bad weather. Turns out half of Laos is actually on fire during the dry season, as farmers use slash and burn agriculture to clear jungle and make way for rice paddies. Luckily, a seemingly sober pilot showed up and declared himself confident enough to fly us through the inferno- and we were able to forgo the 18-24 hour busride on windy old roads.

The North was very beautiful. We spent a night with Mike’s boss before heading into the jungle with a guide for some trekking. The forests are varied and the climbing was strenuous- We came across some burned earth and some bamboo forests, rivers (which served as our daily showers) and areas cleared for rice. This remote part of the earth has several hill tribes (Ahka, Kamu, Mong)- and it was in their villages that we stayed. Even Mike struggled to communicate with the locals as they speak their own languages, not necessarily Laos. Our guide had some program for us to follow, but upon arriving and playing with the village kids for a bit, we quickly abandoned the plan. As dusk fell, we strolled around the mountaintop village.. without electricity things started getting very dark, but we found a group of younger guys sitting around. Mike asked if we could sit with them in Laos, and they made space for us.


Unfortunately, hilltribes can’t really afford beer, which would have to be carried for 6 hours uphill. More unfortunately, they still relish drinking, and are thus left making rice whisky ("LaosKao") and drinking it in a large circle by taking turns. The whisky is painful, strong and I was only comforted by the knowledge that it was definitely sterilizing the motor oil cap I was drinking it out of. As I slugged each shot down and passed the cap, I noticed that the locals were not very enthusiastic about drinking themselves, often trying to refuse. We would immediately heckle them “Ginn! Ginn! Ginn!” (drink drink drink!) and they would be forced to drink. Unfortuantely they were equally enthusiastic about inflicting pain on me once the cap has made its round. Slowly I began to notice that some were very good at not drinking! In fact, in this odd man-faceoff drinking game, its apparently totally acceptable to spit your drink behind you, or through some of it on the ground. (the second night we were sitting at a table with some older villagers and they thoroughly sanitized my feet by pouring several rounds out under the table.

Village Kids

Village

Our last day we were able to convince some of the local boys (young men) to take us fishing with them (according to our guide the first time white people and akha villagers have ever fished. We spent a whole day trekking through the jungle and up a river, including a delicious lunch that was prepared from fish they had caught for us. We hiked back out of the hills and picked up a car back to Mike’s bosses village near the airport, where the New Year celebration was going strong. People were drinking and playing music all around. We evaded the masses and made it to Mike’s boss house, where we found him lying down and holding his head saying “I’m veryyy drunk”.



We were very tired and so we ate and joined him, falling asleep quickly… until about 3 in the morning, when a local band climbed into the house and started jumping up and down singing and beating on drums and demanding whisky. I thought the whole structure, which was built on wooden stilts, was going to collapse. Luckily the lady of the house provided some whisky and the band only sang 5-6 songs so that by around 4 AM we could sleep again…