A Night on the Mekong

The loud, roaring hum of the massive diesel engine in the rear of this long boat has abruptly stopped. And just when I was getting used to the intrusive sound. I know there is no village in sight, so the sudden quietness of the flowing brown Mekong River is a bit startling, especially because the stream sound is now mixed with unhappy shouts in Laotian. I see that we are shifting into the tropical trees jutting out from the shore. Again, this is startling, but not scary or frightening. A night on the Mekong wouldn't be so bad. We have Pringles (apparently a universal food, little did I know), rice, water and the disgusting Swedish salty candy fish that Karolina insists are the best thing to come out of Sweden. I remind myself that our collection of food will not be as good as the Lao/Thai cuisine we have enjoyed the past few days in Luang Prabang. That and the lovely boat toliet I so gracefully utilized earlier, will not be the most fun. WHACK! A stray stressed tree has just taken ain old German lady in the head. She is fine, but a bit startled, so now I hold back my laugh. The crazy gypsy couple chuckles for me as I smile at them. Its nice to know at least some excitement is occurring when the last 12 hours has consisted of ipod, tropical hills that make up both sides of the Mekong, learning Swedish phase by phase, and teaching Spanish - all in the name of killing time. And dodging salty Swedish fish/the Laotian man's nasty feed from behind me. Rugrugrugrugrugrugrugrugrug... ok they are starting to get the engine to turn...oh..... oh... nope. A night on the Mekong it is. I sit on the side of the boat, while everyone scurries about trying to set up makeshift camps on the boat. The captain and his family make their rounds and notify everyone of a free dinner of sticky rice in one hour as they are clearly embarrassed of their engine's sickness. For the most part, everyone stays calm, remembers that they are in Laos and this is expected. Those who booked their hotel in advance as well as paid for the next 12 hour boat tomorrow to the border of Thailand have learned their lesson: Don't book anything in advance.

Karolina and I bought one of the most impressive and large mosquito nets in a market in Luang Prabang, and we build our fort utilizing a base of life jackets as a mattress and a rain coat as sheets. Luxury living at its finest. Dinner is served in the rear of the boat and it is simple but romantic, with the splash of driftwood hitting the boat and candles illuminating the storied wood of the boat's ceiling. Light conversation ensues with our fellow stranded passengers: a 5 minute conversation with the im-going-to-be-rude-to-you-since-your-American girl from Germany, another 2 minute conversation in Vietnamese about the rain in Hanoi, and a hint that the sticky rice has other things in it from Karolina's mouth. The sleep is rough. Driftwood hitting the boat sounds like animals attacking the tarps surrounding the boat and we end up laughing about which animals these are: anacondas? elephants? tigers? pirates? We wake up to a roaring start of an engine just past dawn and head gracefully on our way to switch boats and in a few short 12 hours hit the border of Thailand...

teepee