Sometimes, we found ourselves with literally nothing to do in Laos. In Nong Khiaw (Nong Kiau), a 3.5hr winding, slightly dangerous, and extremely cramped minivan-ride away from Luang Prabang, there was nothing going on after 7pm except dinner in Sop Houn, the area where guesthouses and restaurants are located. The only entertainment was to be had at “Le Cinema”, a little shop housing 700+ DVD titles and two or three “screening rooms”, each furnished with a television set and speakers, and a big carpet set against the wall, with some cushions thrown about on it.
We picked Dodgeball, which neither of us had seen before. Complete with corny and some unbelievably gross jokes, it kept us laughing for a good hour and a half before the ‘cinema’ closed at 9pm. Then, we staggered hilariously across the bridge in the dark, probably talking just a tad too loudly (but with no residents around to hear us, thankfully) and hugging ourselves to keep out the cold.
We thought it was an early night we had – bedtime at about 10pm – but the following night in the same village brought the same pleasant dilemma. We chatted aimlessly (and this time, definitely too loudly, ouch) in the Nong Kiau Riverside Restaurant over dinner, which we stretched as close to 8pm as possible (pretty good considering we started at about 6?). However, we found ourselves back in our room just a little past 8, with no television, a book whose pages I had to ration (again, I underestimated my reading speed/ the time I had for reading while travelling), and pure darkness beyond the balcony. Tired out by our trek in the day and the full meal we had, we lay down under the smooth and cosy blankets and soon found ourselves alternately talking and dozing off.
No epiphanies were had, but I daresay some soul-searching went on before we finally turned the lights off at 10pm.
Then there was the day/night in Baan Donchai, the little village of about 100+ inhabitants, where we had stopped in order to be picked up by Gibbon Experience the next day, so as to save time doubling back from Huay Xai.
Incredulous that we had asked to stop at Baan Donchai, the bus driver had asked in perfect English, “What are you going to do there??”
Indeed, there was little to do except stroll around the village in about half an hour flat, read our books on the porch of the little shed where our room was located (an extension of a villager’s house/provision shop), play with the dogs of the house (Mama and Son – Papa came home from Huay Xai along with the parents of the house only in the evening), wade in the amazingly shallow Nam Nga river, and watch ducks debate about whether to swim in circular fashion or quit the icy waters and get back on the (dirt) road.
The electricity generator was turned on at 6pm, when daylight started fading. At about 8pm, the lights started going out one by one till finally, abruptly, the last light went out at 9pm, when we were still reading in the porch (because our bedroom light had long since expired). Torches came in handy then, and fortunately, we had already brushed our teeth primary-school-style by then, by squatting by the grass patch and gargling from a water bottle.
We talked for a while but were conscious of the proximity of the sleeping household, and soon dropped off to sleep ourselves.
We woke to the crowing of roosters, the agonised mooing of an invisible cow, the barking of excitable dogs, and the chopping of wood right under our window.
