To and from the Waterfalls

Today Ramsey tells me he's taking me to see some nearby falls...they're ten minutes from the school. So doesn't want to go, because she generally doesn't like hiking, or getting dirty. It's only ten minutes, how dirty can we get? As we make plans, So reminds us that Ramsey can't go with me alone because it will look improper to the villagers without a chaperone, Ramsey refuses to take students out of the snacks workshop to accompany us, and in the end, So reluctantly agrees to come along. She is not overjoyed, but it doesn't kill my enthusiasm.

Ramsey's idea of ten minutes turns out to be forty...fifteen of which is spent trying to cross a fast-moving stream with slippery rocks. Did Ramsey even mention this stream crossing to me? Nope...of course not...that would've been too easy. At the stream edge, Ramsey tells me to leave my camera behind because I am going to fall in. No way am I leaving my camera! I strap my sandals onto my belt loops and tie my camera close to my neck and wade into the water. I am determined to surmount the stream with a bone dry camera. At one point I get submerged up to the shoulders and have to hold the camera strap with my teeth, but of course I make it - did you doubt?! Crossing is a little challenging and a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to re-crossing the stream on the way back.

On the other side of the stream, we pass by coffee plants - the Robusta variety they grow around here. (There seems to be a lot of controversy and misinformation about Robusta vs. Arabica vs. Robusta-Arabica hybrids in the West. A book I read about the history of coffee, called Black Gold, may have misled me a little. A lot of the mainstream Arabica out there, though claiming a more refined lineage than Robusta, and marketed as superior, is actually inferior to many Robusta varieties at this point in their domestication and cultivation.)

We see children all going to the stream to collect water in various containers. I swear, parents have so many children here just so they can collect water and steal fruit from trees.

We trample through woods and farmland and each pick up two pound of mud on the bottom of our feet. So eventually takes off her flip-flops and walks barefoot.

Corn on one side and rice on the other.

Pretending to be a rice farmer...um...I think.

I always love the approach towards waterfalls. Before you can see them, you can hear them, and as you get closer the soft buzz of them becomes increasingly louder, then before you know it, the last scrap of foliage parts before you…and there they are…the roaring sound of them enveloping your head. In this case they are small, but still nice. I see a thin little bridge that some villagers have put across two rocks for crossing. It doesn't look like it would support human weight. Ramsey suggests we try crossing the falls and I agree and feel intrepid, scared and excited. So tells us it's a really stupid idea and Ramsey looks reluctant and decides not to go ahead and I feel both relieved and disappointed. I think we could've done it.

At the falls, So washes her feet. I find this silly and tease her.

Why is she doing this when she knows she’ll have to walk back in the mud on our return. She tells me because washing her feet makes her feel good. All the Lao people have a foot washing obsession. They brush their feet with this extremely harsh brush very vigorously when they bathe. I can't even stand the feel of its abrasive bristles on my skin. It feels like my skin is being ripped off by tiny hooks. Many of them use this brush on their whole bodies. Lao skin must be different. I refuse to use the brush - I'm content to be only as clean as my hands can make me.

On the way back, Ramsey machetes the trunk of a rosewood tree to reveal the "blood" sap that gives rosewood its colour. It truly looks like it's bleeding. Rosewood is being harvested from "protected" forests at an alarming rate. This poaching goes unabated as more affluent Lao create a market demand for rosewood furniture.

I hear laughter and squealing and I turn to see this perfectly quaint and delightful Huck Finn moment. A bunch of cute, shoeless and carefree kids running and rolling tires up the hill with sticks. Am I in a movie? They get shy when I ask them for a picture, but they like it when I show it to them after.

We take a different pathway home through Gong's village to see how he's doing. I'm a bit disappointed that there's no need for another stream crossing .

Here's a family in Gong's village.

Gong says his foot is a bit better, though he is still limping badly.

Here we see his pouty little sister again. It's pretty uncharacteristic for children to be so emotionally coddled in Laos, and this kid is going to be spoiled for sure. Her father is the chief of the village, her family is the richest in the village, and she's the youngest of eleven kids. She's going to be a heart breaker.