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Lao People's Democratic Republic/Don Không Round the world trip 2008
3/3/08
We rode our first 40 mile day in well over a month, making it to Buan Kuen, the wonderful river town we stopped in while motorcycle riding several days ago. We revisited the delightful restaurant above the fish weirs and settled into the Vansara Resort to swim in the pool and read (our daily routine for the past several weeks).
The Laos PDR (please don’t rush) gentle, quiet life-style is soothing. The broad river rushes by but the silken surface reflects the opposite shore like an inverted photograph; river markers leave traces of silver threading downstream; all is calm and still. The small ferry traverses between the shores; long dugout canoes carry one or two people per boat as they haul up their fish lines or harvest greens from river bottom. On the wide and spacious river banks farmers tend prosperous vegetable plots. Below us a fisherman splashes about with homemade spear and a work crew is shoring up the bank below our crow’s nest deck. The workmen giggle as they play with water hoses and three watch as one digs and probes the earth. We observe feeding of the fish raised in the weirs; the water writhes as hungry, leaping, swirling multitudes froth the water’s surface. It is hard to explain how all this activity equates calm, but like a steady heart beat or breath slowly inhaled, then exhaled – observing, being here is like meditation.
March 04 Lao People's Democratic Republic/Phon >
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March 08 Lao People's Democratic Republic
We rode our first 40 mile day in well over a month, making it to Buan Kuen, the wonderful river town we stopped in while motorcycle riding several days ago. We revisited the delightful restaurant above the fish weirs and settled into the Vansara Resort to swim in the pool and read (our daily routine for the past several weeks).
The Laos PDR (please don’t rush) gentle, quiet life-style is soothing. The broad river rushes by but the silken surface reflects the opposite shore like an inverted photograph; river markers leave traces of silver threading downstream; all is calm and still. The small ferry traverses between the shores; long dugout canoes carry one or two people per boat as they haul up their fish lines or harvest greens from river bottom. On the wide and spacious river banks farmers tend prosperous vegetable plots. Below us a fisherman splashes about with homemade spear and a work crew is shoring up the bank below our crow’s nest deck. The workmen giggle as they play with water hoses and three watch as one digs and probes the earth. We observe feeding of the fish raised in the weirs; the water writhes as hungry, leaping, swirling multitudes froth the water’s surface. It is hard to explain how all this activity equates calm, but like a steady heart beat or breath slowly inhaled, then exhaled – observing, being here is like meditation.
