Buddhist holiday

Festivities at the temple

Today is a Buddhist holiday, the Pavarana. I went to the nearby temple to observe the festivities. People were nicely dressed, each carrying a silver or gold bowl in which they brought their offerings: balls of sticky rice, flowers, pieces of fruit, homemade sweets wrapped in banana leaves, packaged candy bars and chocolates as well as bills of money. They placed all of that on a table before entering the temple for the service, led by several monks. I didn’t feel comfortable taking photos of people praying so I didn’t. I felt enough of a voyeur just watching them.

Children line up for sweets

Afterwards, several men sorted the stuff that was offered on the table, taking the money separately, placing the different types of food in different baskets and they carried it away. Children were allowed to take individual pieces of the sweets so they lined up for their share of the spoils.

Sharing sweets with a group of local men

A group of men who were sitting on a carpet outside the temple invited me over and offered me a banana leaf wrapped sweet. They asked where I was from and I replied as I usually do:

“From Slovenia,” clarified by “Europe” because no one has ever heard of Slovenia in this part of the world.

One of the men surprised me by reciting:

“Slovenia, population 2 million, bordered by Austria, Italy and Croatia.”

Wow, I was impressed! I asked him how he knew that and he just shrugged,

“I looked at a map.”

Sleeping bus. King of bus.

Bunk beds in the sleeping bus

I've heard about the sleeping bus and of course I had to try it out on my ride from Vientiane to Pakse. When my tuk-tuk arrived at the bus station I saw this behemoth of a bus looming over all other buses at the station. There was a sign on the back saying “Sleeping bus. King of bus.” I have to say, it regaled over the lesser buses with dignity.

Inside, it was crammed with double bed bunks, six one after another, on each side of the isle, lower and upper beds, for a total of 48 passengers. My bunkmate was a Laotian woman who unfortunately didn’t speak English. She seemed nice though and I’m sure we could have a conversation if only we could understand one another. All I could do was to practice my two Lao words, “hello” and “thank you” on her. In return, she answered me “thank you” in English when I handed her the water bottle.

The bunks are narrow and short. My bunkmate and I, both small women, were quite cramped on the double bed and bumped each other in the night. When I stretched out fully I could touch each end of the bunk. I wonder how the two huge Australian guys in the bunk above ours managed to squeeze in there.

Sleeping on a bus is not very peaceful, regardless if it’s the king of all buses. The bus has to drive on the road, after all. Even during the night there is traffic, so there are headlights coming in, the driver honks wildly, swerves on the curves, bounces up and down over holes in the road and so on. I felt quite helpless, lying in that bus, not being able to hold on to anything, bouncing left and right and up and down. Compared to a night bus ride on a seat, this one was in my opinion much less safe. On a seat I could wedge myself in and doze off for longer stretches of time. On this sleeping bus, I was constantly shaken awake by the wild driving.

Duct-taped window

Additionally, the window was cracked. Apparently it has been repaired using duct tape. I wonder how safe that was. I was glad I got the aisle bed so I didn’t have to think about what would happen if I leaned into the window too much during the night while I was sleeping.

I believe I’ll skip sleeping buses in the future. I saw it, I experienced it and now I know what it’s like.

My favorite landmarks in Laos

Wat Xieng Thong

There are so many beautiful temples in Thailand and Laos, it would be pointless to visit them all. After a while, they all begin to look more or less the same. They all have lots of gold paint, Buddha statues, and marigold offerings. Yes, I finally figured out why they cultivate marigolds around here. They use the orange blossoms to adorn the temples.

Luang Namtha stupa

Every once in a while, a temple or landmark intrigues me so that I take a closer look. The stupa in Luang Namtha, for example. I was told that this is a new stupa, rebuilt where the old one was destroyed by an American bomber in 1966. What I found interesting is that they left the remains of the old stupa and built the new one next to the old one, perhaps leaving the old one as a reminder.

Detail on Wat Xieng Thong

In Luang Prabang, I was drawn to the Wat Xieng Thong, because it’s different from the usual golden temples. This one is covered in emerald colored glass instead of the usual gold. The outside walls are detailed mosaics in tiny pieces of colored glass, depicting everyday life. Beautiful.

Arc de Triomphe of Vientiane

And in Vientiane, the capital city of Laos, where the French influence can’t be missed, with the baguettes and croissants, wine shops, restaurants serving salade Niçoise, and so on, the most prominent landmark has to be the Lao version of the Arc de Triomphe. They say that it’s just a heap of ugly concrete, but looking from afar, it’s surrounded by a well-manicured garden and I like it.

Please don't vomit on me!

Mean looking old lady

“Why, oh why didn’t I book the minibus when I had the chance,” was going through my mind as I sat on the local bus going to Luang Prabang, desperately willing the old lady who was standing behind me not to vomit on me.

***

My large backpack has lightened slightly since I gave away the school supplies in the Khmu village. This allowed me to be more mobile so I did the take-a-tuk-tuk-to-the-bus-station-and-go-on-a-local-bus maneuver. I’ve been on so many similar local buses previously and by now I believe I have seen it all. This ride was no different; in fact, it might have been a summary of local bus rides.

Local bus

The buses were labeled in Lao writing so I had to ask around which one was bound for Luang Prabang. I like to do a triangulation: ask three different people and if they all point to the same bus, we’re good to go. The luggage handler/conductor took my backpack and placed it inside the bus on the last row of seats. I was relieved that it wasn’t going to the roof, you never know if they strap it down securely. On this bus only motorbikes went on the roof. I have no idea how they got them up there.

The bus wasn’t overcrowded with people but it was full of their luggage and sacks of whatever they were transporting, rice most likely. Surprisingly there weren’t any chickens on this bus, probably because chickens go first class.

Sacks of rice on the bus

The bus ran into a roadblock on the way. An excavator was apparently trying to save a giant truck whose wheel seemed to have fallen off. When our bus arrived at the scene they were fixing the excavator which broke down and couldn't move to unblock the road to allow traffic to pass. Many people gathered around and after much shouting and waving and several men working it was eventually fixed so we could move on.

Roadblock

No local bus ride is complete without a flat tire. This one was no exception.

Flat tire

To spice it up a little, there was the old lady who wanted to throw up on me. Actually, two old ladies boarded the bus soon after we started. One of them sat on a seat across from me and the other one behind me. The conductor fussed over them, not because they were so old and frail, but because they were either carsick or were afraid of becoming carsick or it was just their first time on a bus. He opened the windows widely so they could have fresh air and handed them a plastic bag each which I understood was to be used as a barf bag.

Old lady with a barf bag

The old lady across from me just sat there helplessly, pressing the bag to her mouth. The one behind me was more restless, though. She was standing up most of the time, holding onto the seat in front of her – the seat on which I was sitting. Her hands kept on grabbing the seat and as the bus was swaying she clawed my head several times. I tried moving to the other side of the seat but she also kept moving and I felt like I just couldn’t get away from her grip. In addition, she was also holding her barf bag and I hoped so much she wouldn’t throw up right there, standing over me.

I wanted to take a photo of her but she looked so mean I wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea. She was wearing a baseball cap and she was carrying a machete holstered to her belt (this is not unusual, many locals carry machetes to hack through the jungle when they go to their fields). I debated with myself what would happen if I risk taking a photo, would she hack me to pieces? But I thought she owed me at least this much with the stress she was causing me. I tentatively pointed my camera at her and gave her a questioning look to ask if it was OK. She nodded yes! I quickly snapped a photo (but not quickly enough as she removed her baseball cap for the portrait) and put the camera away, just in case she changed her mind and wanted to hack me anyway.

After about four hours of hoping and wishing they wouldn't vomit, the old ladies finally got off the bus. I was so grateful. Perhaps I still haven't seen it all with respect to local bus rides. This was definitely the most stressful one in my life.

Leeeech!!!

Cooling off under a waterfall

So I wanted to do some serious hiking. And I got serious jungle hiking. So much so that I have officially declared a moratorium on jungle hiking until further notice. The jungle in Laos is about as hot and humid as the jungle in Thailand. I sweated profusely all the time and exploited every opportunity to jump into a river or to cool off under a waterfall.

Hiking in the Lao jungle

Because it is still the end of the monsoon season, the jungle is wet and that means leeches abound. I have never seen a leech before, much less had one bite me. Until now. I was forewarned, I wore long pants and I pulled my socks over the cuffs of my pants, but these yucky pests get in nevertheless. I was actually quite lucky for there was no leech on the first day, only one on the second day and on the third day I was so nervous about getting another one that I finally figured out what our guide did: he checked his shoes about every two minutes and had a lighter handy to burn off any buggers that dared touch him. So I didn’t get any leeches on the third day because I also checked myself every two minutes and I stayed close to the guide so that whenever I spotted a leech climbing or burrowing into the seams of my shoe, I asked him to burn it off. He really enjoyed zapping them. Needless to say, I was so relieved when the jungle was over. I thought I might even dream leeches.

Bicycling among rice fields

After the jungle hiking I rented a bicycle in Luang Namtha for a day of sightseeing around town. I discovered that bicycling is a much more pleasurable sport than hiking in the hot and humid jungle. There are no leeches on the roads, the wind blows so it isn’t so unbearably hot, the traffic goes on the right side of the roads in Laos (it's on the left in Thailand) which is fine with me and there isn’t too much of it so that is seems reasonably safe to be on the road.

Lao hill tribe villages Part 2: Lanten village

Lanten woman and her children returning from the field

On our second night we visited a Lanten village. This village seemed more advanced than the Khmu village from the previous night. Most of the houses in the Lanten village have electricity which was evident from fluorescent lights on the porches. The houses don't have indoor plumbing, but unlike at the Khmu village, there wasn’t just one central communal water fountain to be used by all. Rather, there were many such outdoor fountains, each one serving a small number of houses.

Curious village children gather around the falang

The villagers were much less shy in this village compared to the previous one. It seems that all the children from the village gathered around the house where we were staying. They mostly just observed, and they certainly didn’t beg. They probably knew that we would buy them candy, which of course we did. They asked questions, showed us magic tricks, played cards with us and so on. Some of the children spoke quite a bit of English so that we were able to communicate basics such as how old they are, how many brothers and sisters they have, how to count, how to name parts of the body and colors. I noticed that some of the girls spoke English just as well as the boys because they all go to school, despite tribal traditions which would allow only men to know how to read and write.

The village children joined us at the table

Upon our arrival in the Lanten village we noticed that the water barrel in the tourist toilet was almost empty. It was my impression that only women carry water in hill tribe villages so I offered to fetch water for the toilet. I asked our guide for a bucket and he wasn’t too thrilled. Apparently tourists, or falang as they refer to us, don’t work. But he obliged anyway and handed me the smallest bucket from the kitchen. I got a surprise at the water fountain: in this village, both men and women carry water! During the time it took me to bring the one small bucket of water to the toilet, someone must have sent the village boys for water and the barrel was full before I even had a chance to go for a second bucket.

Although the water carrying is shared equally between men and women, bathing is still a no-no for women. We all bathed in the river, but just like the previous night, falang women were covered up. One of the girls in our group thought that there may be a way to find a shower in the village. I found that slightly bizarre, because even if there was a shower, the water definitely came straight from the river so it would make no difference if she just soaped up in the river. But she asked the girls who were milling around and they understood what she wanted and were happy to show her where she could shower. I went along because I was curious. The girls danced happily down the path – and led us towards the river! Sure enough, behind some bushes we saw two local women dressed in sarongs washing themselves in the river. So much for a shower.

Village girls playing with our hair

The adults of the village were not as forthcoming as the children, but some of them, both men and women, did join us after dinner. One very old man who spoke some English asked outright if we would buy him a beer, which we did. Another one joined us at the table, bringing a bunch of bananas and we offered him beer in return. It wasn’t until later that our guide told us that the guy wants to be paid for the bananas, which we had mostly eaten by then, thinking it polite to accept what he offered. We naturally assumed that if a guy joins our table and drinks our beer, his bananas were meant as a gift. Well, they weren’t.

Overall, I couldn’t say that I had much connection with the local people from the hill tribe villages on these two short visits. In the first village, they mostly didn’t care that we came and in the second, although they didn’t beg, they knew well enough that there would be plenty of beer for them if they approached us. I did learn a few Lao words such as "hello" (sabaidee) and "thank you" (kupjai). There was no need to find out the Lao word for beer. Everyone, including locals, calls it just by its brand name, Beerlao.

Lao hill tribe villages Part 1: Khmu village

A boy from the Khmu village

Trekking to a hill tribe village in Laos was one of the activities I wanted to do even before I left on this trip. As usual, the actual experience was quite different from how I imagined it.

I was lucky to find a group that I could join on a three day and two night trek from Luang Namtha. October is still the low tourist season and agencies don’t have a number of people lined up for treks so they only book pre-formed groups. Fortunately Luang Namtha is a small town, there is only one major road and a few restaurants where all the tourists hang out and most of us were looking for trekking anyway. It was easy to spot each other and very quickly eight of us formed a group so that we could sign up for the trek at one of the agencies.

Khmu village

We spent the first night in a Khmu village located on the Namtha River. Contrary to what I expected we didn’t actually have much contact with the local people. The villagers mostly ignored us. They are probably used to the hordes of tourists that come to their village and may even be annoyed by the intrusion. They have their own life to live and their own work to do.

A decent road leads up to the village where a truck delivered our food and bottled water. The villagers apparently don’t own any vehicles, at least I didn’t see any. Electrical cables run up to the village, but only a few houses actually have electricity. There was one house with a satellite dish and the village shop has a refrigerator. None of the houses in the village have indoor plumbing.

Water fountain

There is one communal water fountain in the village and it was busy from earliest morning until it became dark at night. Only women gathered around, to wash clothes, dishes, brush their teeth, and mainly to fill water buckets that they carried back to their houses. I approached the fountain to brush my teeth and wasn’t sure what was the protocol, how should I let them know that I’m waiting for my turn at the faucet. The women were very nice and motioned for me to go ahead.

There is a school in the village with two classrooms for the many children who live there. I was able to give them the school supplies that I carried with me from home. They seemed happy to accept them although I got the impression that since so many tourists bring stuff to them they aren’t really all that in need of pencils and notebooks.

Village boys swimming in the river

The boys spent all afternoon having fun in the river. The girls were probably at home because I didn’t see any except when they came out to get water at the fountain. We, the tourists needed a swim after the long hike up to the village. The guys could go right in, but it was more delicate for the women. None of the local women were in the river and the guide told us that we could go if we cover up. I decided to jump in fully dressed since my clothes were so sweaty from the hike, they were wet already. Some of the other girls used sarongs that the guide borrowed from the village women. In the evening, a couple of local men came to join us as we sat around, drinking beer. Unfortunately they didn’t speak any English, but they accepted beer and the rest of the evening was spent singing.

Piglet running freely in the village

It was my impression that while life in the village is basic, the people are not really poor. They appear well fed and nicely clothed. The village is clean, the fields around it are cultivated and they have domestic animals running around.

Cooking a banana flower in the jungle

Here is a step-by-step procedure how to cook a banana flower stew in the jungle.

The first step is to spot a banana tree with a suitably ripe flower. In order to reach the flower, the banana tree must be chopped down:

I was horrified to witness the sacrifice of an entire tree for a single flower. However, a banana is technically not a tree but a herbaceous plant that dies after bearing fruit. So the plant would have died anyway after it produced bananas and I guess it is acceptable to kill a few plants for their flowers before the bananas ripen. The jungle is overgrown with banana plants so I hope we didn't cause too much environmental damage by taking a few banana flowers.

The banana flower looks heavy! It is hauled out of the jungle from where the banana plant was felled:

The outer layers of the banana flower are peeled off:

The jungle is also abundant with bamboo which can be used to make many useful tools. The thinner bamboo stems can be made into walking sticks, the thicker ones into cooking utensils and the thickest to make benches and tables:

Here are the finished bamboo cooking vessels:

A fire was started using dead wood that can be found all over the jungle:

This is how the cooking vessels are placed over the fire. They are first soaked in water and water is added for cooking the stew:

The banana flowers get a final cleaning in the stream and additional outer layers are removed:

Pieces of the banana flower are added into the simmering stew:

Additional ingredients go into the stew including salt, two different types of green leaves (don't ask what they were, I didn't recognize either), slices of pre-cooked meat, mushrooms (also abundant in the jungle), and brown sugar:

The stew is stirred occasionally and the vessels adjusted over the fire so that it doesn't boil over. Finally, after about a half hour, the stew is done. It is served from another bamboo stem that has been cut in half lengthwise to create a trench:

Banana leaves are used as the tablecloth. And little origami boats made from banana leaves serve as spoons:

Side dishes are green beans and mounds of sticky rice that were left over from previous night's dinner.

Chickens travel first class

Chicken in first class

I booked a minibus to get to Luang Namtha. Alternatively, I could have taken a tuk-tuk to the bus station and a local bus for less than half the price, but with my large backpack it’s just less hassle if I get picked up by a minibus at my guesthouse so it’s a price I’m willing to pay. Besides, the guesthouse receptionist who sold me the minibus ticket assured me that it’s much more comfortable in the air-conditioned minibus compared to the overcrowded local bus with the locals and their luggage and chickens.

The 8:30 AM minibus on which just two of us, a Japanese tourist and I were booked, was cancelled. They said it “was broken”. Which might have been true, or it wasn’t economical to drive only two passengers. Anyway, the 10:30 AM minibus on which I was later seated was full, they sold it out so all seats were taken.

A little out of town after our departure the minibus driver stopped to pick up a local girl. I’m guessing she was his relative or neighbor or friend and he was taking her along as a favor and she probably didn’t pay for a ticket. She was wearing a super short mini dress that was also cut quite low over her bosom. If Mr. Lonely Planet was her father, he would send her to her room to change into something more decent. According to the guidebook, women in Laos don’t dress so revealingly. But this seems to apply only to tourists. Local girls in need of a ride on a minibus are exempt from such dress code. The girl's luggage was a box. She squeezed into the minibus (what was it the receptionist said about overcrowded local buses?) and since the luggage compartment was full, the box was pushed under the seat.

Some time later during the drive, a French girl who was sitting next to the local girl jumped up and started screaming in French. At first I thought she might have seen a spider or a gecko or something but then I picked up she was saying “poulet”. Well, what do you know?

There were live chickens in the box!

The French girl was startled because one of the chickens pecked her leg. So we were riding in an air-conditioned minibus with locals and their chickens (what was it the receptionist said about locals and their chickens?).

These chickens got to travel in an air-conditioned environment and they are probably still telling their chicken friends how lucky they were to be upgraded. And as for us, tourists? For the premium price we paid so that we wouldn’t have to travel in a crowded bus with locals and their chickens we received the special bonus of this very same experience in the comfort of an air-conditioned minibus.

Rocking the boat to Laos

Boats for crossing the Mekong River

I chose to cross the Mekong River from Thailand to Laos at Chiang Khong, a popular crossing where the process is very streamlined. The bus dropped off all of us passengers where tuk-tuks were already waiting to take us to the river. I knew in advance that I needed US dollars to pay for my Lao visa but if I had forgotten I could have changed money at a booth serving just that purpose. I could also get a photograph if I didn't have one.

After the Thai border exit control I had to walk down to the river shore to catch a boat ride across. There is no pier so the boat sits on the sand on the shore. I had to be careful to balance my large backpack and myself and not rock the boat too much in order to get on board. The boat captain just stood there and smoked and didn’t help me (and probably rolled his eyes at another clumsy woman tourist clambering onto the boat with all her stuff).

We made it safely across. The boat stopped not quite touching the shore so that the passengers had to step ankle deep into water before we reached solid ground. Most people wear sandals or flip-flops in this hot climate anyway so it isn’t much of an issue. However, I can’t believe they just dump passengers with all their belongings at an international border crossing to wade ashore. I’m glad I didn’t drop my backpack into the water with all the commotion.

As if that wasn’t enough water for one day, it started raining. The monsoon kind of raining, where it just pours all of a sudden. While I filled out forms and waited for my passport to be stamped with a Lao visa at the border control, the rain had already stopped.

I entered Laos. I checked myself into a guesthouse. There was no WiFi. I had no mobile phone reception (there is coverage but my Slovenian provider has no roaming agreements in Laos). I was too spoiled in Thailand, that country is very modern. Now I have to adjust to being in less developed regions. Without the internet, it’s back to reading books in the evenings.

Thai jungle

Hiking across a field of marigolds

Hiking in the jungle was ... different than I had imagined. I had no idea it would be so hot and unbelievably humid. I was dripping with sweat all the way. Now I understand why all the hiking tours end with water sports: after sweating for two days and sleeping in a hill tribe village without water and electricity, there is nothing that could keep a group of tourists away from jumping into the river at first opportunity.

A makeshift Seven Eleven shop

As we hiked up the mountain towards the hill tribe village where we would spend the night, we didn’t have to bother carrying lots of water to replace all the sweat. The local people set up makeshift Seven Eleven shops with hiking necessities along the way. Beer, Coke, water, and snacks were available whenever we wanted them. I downed a cold Chang beer when we reached our destination. I so deserved it, not from the hiking itself, which wasn’t too strenuous, but from suffering in the stifling humidity.

Hill tribe village

We were told that there is no electricity in the hill tribe villages and we had to use headlamps to find our way after dark. We did notice, however, that the local people all have mobile phones and wondered how they recharge them. A short stroll through the village gave us the answer: they do have a few solar panels. Life in the village is pretty basic. Small children, chickens and cats run around freely. In the evening, the women of the village convened in a clearing where they smoked and gossiped. And laughed at us tourists, who knows what they were saying about us. Unfortunately they didn’t speak any English so we couldn’t communicate.

Crossing rivers

After our night in the village we descended a different way than where we came up. It was very steep and slippery due to frequent rains. Almost each one of us in our group slipped and fell down into the mud at least once along the way. The path ended at a waterfall where our guide invited us to take a shower. Yes! Cold water after two days in the hot jungle! We all jumped right in.

Waterfall to cool off

The vegetation in the jungle is made up of many plants that are grown as houseplants or annuals back home. I recognized bamboo, bananas, hibiscus, and for some reason that I haven’t yet figured out they seem to cultivate marigolds (tagetes) in fields. Some interesting wild animals that we encountered included termites, huge spiders, beautiful butterflies, and this fellow, about 20 centimeters long (I'm not exaggerating!):

Unknown animal

The guide told us that it may bite and it is poisonous. If anyone knows what it is, let me know.

On the tourist trail

Riding an elephant

We all have the same Lonely Planet guides. We all visit the same places, take the same tours, stay at the same hotels, and eat at the same restaurants. So it's no wonder that it's all touristy wherever I go. Even the Lonely Planet guide warns that the hill tribe villages specialize in Coca Cola and souvenirs. Still I underestimated the tourist factor when I booked my hiking tour.

I only wanted to go hiking. I can’t go alone into the jungle in a remote place so I had to book a tour. There were dozens of tour options to choose from, none of them just for hiking. When I asked the agent for a tour with “no elephants, no rafting”, she dug through the many leaflets and all she could offer was a visit to the orchid farm. While I’m not generally opposed to orchid farms, it’s not the kind of hiking I had in mind. In the end I had to choose one of the tours that included elephants and rafting in addition to hiking.

I’m not much of an animal lover so I decided just riding an elephant was enough, rather than also feeding, training, and bathing the beast as some tours included. I’m not much of a water sport fan so I wanted to avoid rafting. But all the hikes go up the mountain to a hill tribe village and descend by way of water one way or another. Rather than whitewater rafting I chose bamboo rafting which seemed calmer. It’s just a raft made of bamboo poles tied together and it floats on the final leg of the river where it’s very flat and shallow.

Long neck woman

The tour included a side trip to what they call the “long neck” village near Mae Raem. The village is populated by the Kayan people of Burmese origin, whose women wear rings on their necks. According to the Wikipedia, the village makes a living self-sufficiently on tourist revenue. I have to say they do their jobs well. The entire village reminds me of a Hollywood movie set, all prettied up and ready for filming. The people in the village, including children, are dressed in what I believe to be costumes. Whenever a tourist points a camera, they immediately snap into a smiling pose. Each house sells souvenirs such as hand woven shawls or jewelry and they also demonstrate how it is made. There is a school in the village where children sing happy songs (a performance for the tourists rather than a music lesson was my impression).

Children in the long neck village

I don’t know what to think about the situation in this village. In a way, I find it fortunate that the people take advantage of a source of income that allows them to make a living, even if it means being on display for tourists. On the other hand, is this really an authentic village, where everything is staged to look pretty and happy?

***

There was one more tourist related incident on this trip. Our group stopped for lunch in a restaurant before we started hiking. Another group of tourists came along and they were making a scene. We could tell they were English guys, totally plastered and it was only lunchtime. To ensure they wouldn’t run out of fuel, they each carried a plastic bag with extra cans of beer.

Raining again (yes, an elephant is passing by)

As luck would have it, it started raining during lunch. Both of our groups had to get going because we were on a schedule, so we bought raincoats from a vendor outside the restaurant and got going. One of the guys in the drunken party decided he didn’t want a raincoat and just stripped naked, displaying a large Arsenal tattoo on his back (he also displayed his entire front obviously, but I thought it best not to take photos of that side, I don’t want my blog to be flagged as a site with inappropriate content). 

Drunk Arsenal fan

We laughed at first, but we were hiking through a village area where local people could observe the wonderful tourist behavior which was far from funny. The guide frantically tried to get the guy to put on pants, to no avail. Someone from the village must have called the police, because eventually a policeman on a motorcycle caught up with us. Our group continued our hike while the drunken guys had to deal with the police. I don’t know how it ended, I can only say that once again I am disappointed at the impression tourists leave when they visit foreign countries.