Island…. Paradise?

I spent all of 24 hours on the islands of Don Det and Don Khon.   However, seeing as a tip to tip bike trip only take a few hours, 24 hours is plenty!

I thought I was going to stay in Pakse  (a bigger city) after the night bus, but it had been days since I’d been to a small town, so I decided to continue on to the islands.   I had planned on going to some larger islands about 20 miles north (known as the Four Thousand Islands), but decided at the Four-Thousand Islands bus stop that the smaller, quieter, tropical river scene suited me better.

My guidebook didn’t sport an accomodation  map of the islands, and, to my surprise, there were no touts waiting at the shore to provide  commission-based assistance to the bamboo shack of their choice.   The lone traveler disembarking at my stop, after rolling up my pant legs and lashing my sandals to my pack, I hopped off and shoved the boat back into the Mekong’s current.   I was so road weary that I practically fell into the first bungalow I saw.   It was pretty shabby, and my second biggest dismay were the here-and-there ants on the bed.   My first was the damn white boys on the porch next door swinging in their hammocks blasting gangsta rap on their travel stereos reading Pot Growers magazine.

An aside:   it’s the strangest thing.   Helmets are not always so popular in third-world countries where motorbikes are the major form of transport.   SE Asia has been an exception, and I see about 2/3rds  of riders wearing helmets.   However, like many similar countries, entire families still cram onto the bikes, sometimes riding three adults and three children at a time.   And not on a Harley.   Just your average scooter.   The strange part is that so often I see a family of three or four, and the adults are all wearing helmets and the children are not.   Maybe they don’t make children’s helmets here?

Anyway, I finished my loop around Don Det and came to the bridge the connects it to the island on Don Kong.   My guidebook warned me of the toll – about $1 – which I am all too happy to extend to a poor island community.   As I was crossing the bridge below was the (particularly rude) European tourist who had been on my boat taxi.   She was part of the same crowd who tried to argue the price of the taxi (a whole 5,000 kip – less than $1) because her bus driver had told her it would be 15 and not 20.   Well, true it’s fifteen to my island, but it’s 20 to hers since it’s farther.   As they argued with the ticket sellers, I jumped in to point out that the price was clearly posted, and it made sense since it was a bit further and the taxi’s weren’t operating independently.   The point of all this background is that she was now fighting with the toll taker.   In her Slavic accent, she yelled, “”You want me to pay 9,000 kip just to walk under the stupid bridge?!” I almost thought to go tell her how lucky she was to have made it to this place and experience these folks’ home, and how they would never have the resources or access to do what she was doing.   Instead, I got on with my day and shared a look and a smile with my toll collector instead, which I hope will keep her from influencing too much the local opinion of first-world tourists.

After a long and bumpy bike ride over paths so rough and marked with craters that I thought it might be better going just to walk the bike, I arrived at the Tat Somphamit falls.   Hot and sweaty, I was glad for the shade from which to view the massive falls.   It wasn’t a straight drop like you might imagine,   Instead, over about 50 yards, there were several tiers of rough granite over which the water flowed.   Remember that the Mekong is a massive river running a huge distance through several countries, and you’ll understand the impressive volume of water that coursed over the drops.   WOW!

Afterwards, it was back to the bumpy to see if I couldn’t add on  to a boat tour to the dolphin viewing point to see the “rare” Irrawaddy dolphins.   Not another tourist was to be found at the beach where a boat is 90,000 kip no matter if you’re one person or four.   I wasn’t too disappointed.   The put in is just below the falls where the river is still rather raging around tiny islands, the boats are dangerously close to the water, and calling them “sketchy” is an understatement.

So, I biked  back home and headed for a big Beer Lao (equal to an America “Forty” basically) and tried to catch up a little on the pricey island internet.   I heard, by way of the Australian woman next to me, that there was to be  a big party on the next island over that night in honor of the boat races the next day.   I got to see some islanders practicing the equivalent of dragon boats in the U.S., and the rower in me thought about sticking around for the fiesta and to see the races.   However, a woman traveling alone can’t afford to attend a drunken carnival solo, so I ended up at a restaurant indulging in some sub-par pasta. (You can only eat so much fried rice!).   I tried a Beer Lao Dark with my dinner, which topped off my tipsy.

The bike ride home down the one track island path in the dark was a bit… interesting.   I made it home alright, tied up my bike in my room, and couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with the ants in anything less than my head to toe clothing.   It made for a slightly uncomfortable evening (my second night sleeping in my clothes), and I woke up hot several times.   However, I had decided, after gathering some advice on the way home, that I had no choice by to leave the next morning for Phnom  Phen  in Cambodia.   My original thought was to piece together a four-point hop to include the boat races and the largest falls by volume in SE Asia just down the river.   However, I learned that the border crossing was a desolate land with only share taxis waiting to take you on the eight hour journey into Cambodia.   If I arrived alone, I was sure to either go broke taxi-ing alone, or sleep on a bench at the border waiting for the next days’ crowds.

A whirlwind morning complete with snoozing well into my packing time and racing to get my ticket followed, and who’s company do I find myself in?   The Irish girls!   Again!   Going to Phnom  Phen!   So… across the river we went, me with my pancake in a plastic sack, and them with their chronic hangovers…