LaosStratení v Laose

Laos put us through the wringer. Right on the second day after entering this diverse country, we reached down to the very bottom of our strength, both physical and mental.

In the morning we leave the asphalt that had faithfully accompanied us since the border with Vietnam. After about 40 kilometers of dirt road we arrive at a wide river. Only the pillars remain of the bridge, but on the other side we see a ferry. "Ferry" is a grand word for it, this vessel has a motor like a lawnmower and looks like it might not manage another crossing. We board and wait to see what happens. Despite the first impression, we make it across the river successfully.

But here's where the trouble starts. Even though according to the map a road should continue for another 50km, the opposite turns out to be true. All around us stretches nothing but burned forest with dried-out clay soil. Not a trace of a road. We continue roughly by navigation over hard ground through the burned trees. We wander around, but after a while we find our "road", or rather, what's left of it: a forest trail. Turning back isn't an option though, that would mean the ferry, 40km back to our lodging, and a detour of about 250km extra. We have to keep going.

The trail gets worse. Hard ground gives way to sand, in which we push our bikes. Sometimes we get lost, the navigation is outdated, the trail apparently changes with every rainy season.

We cross streambeds and riverbeds. We wade through, doggedly forging our way through the jungle. The trail is now made up of nothing but large sharp rocks with sand spilling between them. We push more than we pedal, every meter is a battle.

Night falls at dizzying speed and we're still in the jungle, with a headlamp and no signal. Dark as a corner, jungle sounds we can't identify. We support each other, meter by meter, step by step. It takes a long time, but the jungle finally does come to an end. We take the first lodging we see and, exhausted, collapse into bed.

Today was one of the hardest days we've ever experienced on bikes. It tested us in every way, brought us close to our limits, forced us to dig all the way to the bottom. It confirmed to us that, as in everything, in cycle touring too, respect and humility come first. Toward people, toward the road, and toward nature.

We spent New Year's Eve in a settlement in the middle of the mountains in Laos. Together with the locals we cooked dinner, ate it sitting cross-legged on the ground, and after some cheerful dancing with the local kids, slept the night under a mosquito net.

Life here is very different from ours, as a local villager with the pirate name "Hook" explained to us. As their religion they have "spirits" for everything from a stone, to rice, to the house; they wash their hands with ground-up ants which have a low pH, and if they're sick they go to the local shaman.

Unlike the other Lao people in the settlement, Hook is very sociable and exceptionally gifted. He taught himself English, built the village's shower and toilet by himself, and even electricity, which he uses for lighting and charging batteries for smartphones. When you see Laotian children who eat tiny insects, live in a hut, and wash in a stream, scrolling short videos on social media on their phones, it really drives home just how much power the top tech companies in Silicon Valley hold in their hands.

Hook explained to us how his parents found him a wife when he was only 5 years old. The two of them grew up together, and by puberty they were expected to have children. In the meantime, though, he had learned English and, through the internet and the occasional tourist, had seen a life different from his own in the settlement. Having sex, or even children, with someone he'd known practically like a sibling suddenly felt foreign to him. Threats and ultimatums followed, but in the end his parents gave in and found him a different partner. Them again, of course.

Women are, after all, family property in Laos. Hook paid 20 water buffalo, 30 cows, and 40 chickens for his wife. Since then she has been the property of Hook's family, and if Hook were to die, she would go to Hook's brother. Polygamy is common in Laos, Hook's grandfather had 11 wives, his father has three, and Hook so far has one. Women are a symbol of social status. Hook, for example, said that just recently a local 17-year-old girl from a poor family married a 60-year-old man who could afford to buy her. Meanwhile, the women themselves do most of the work in the village, from cooking, running the household, to hunting small animals, snakes, and even the occasional leopard. According to Hook, the man's role is more focused on thinking and preserving traditions. One of these, for example, is banishing a woman from the settlement right before she gives birth, so that the settlement isn't polluted. After the birth she returns so the man can decide whether to accept her and the child or not.

We spent one night in the settlement, but I have to say that was quite enough for us. Seeing the conditions and social customs of Laos up close was a fascinating experience, but it's undoubtedly something that left a deep mark on us, along with a lot of negative emotions.