Travel along the Mekong: from Luang Prabang to Huay Xai

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The Mekong, literally "mother of all waters" extends to 4500 kilometers and is located in the twelfth place in the ranking of the longest rivers in the world. It 'a very important road to river, the real "highway in Laos." It mean to navigate a journey of the past. We are limited to climbing just about 300 kilometers from Luang Prabang to Huay Xai, enough for a full quilted into this world by remote villages.

Luang Prabang is a city of departure. The day before we contracted the rental of a speed-boat on the first day until Pakbeng (about 160 km in just over 3 h 30 ') and a slow boat on the second day, from a Huay Pakbeng Xai (about 140 km in 7 hours). Since air is breathed by craft of adventure. The little shack that serves at the same time, from ticketing and restaurant, diffuses into the air, which smells strongly of the river, the sound of a nenia always the same. From here we start looking for places isolated and far from the civilized world.
For 25 km, ending at the first stop, to the caves of Pak Ou, fear does not dissipate. On the colorful boat speed, the seats are uncomfortable, muscles thesis, not for the position, but the anxiety of going to flip or crash against a rock outcropping by the water. The engine noise is proportional to the speed. All the more deafening is the more we run fast on the surface of the water.
The Pak Ou caves, where in the sixteenth century. Setthatirath the king led all his statues of the Buddha to escape all'invasore Burma today welcomed more than 4,000 performances of the Enlightenment. Start. Little by little, we take confidence with the medium, with the river and with the speed so much to encourage the rider to take a race with a speed-boat that goes up the river on the opposite shore. Won the initial concern sull'insicurezza of means of transport can now look around. The river has a vast ocean and is surrounded by a spectacle of forests and cliffs that fill the horizon and are dotted with tiny villages. With the passing of the day increases the heat and also the smell of mud that rises from the River. Every time we stop, the mosquitoes will attack from all sides, but when we start, speed away everything: mosquitoes, heat and smell of mud. The second stop is in a village a little 'bigger than so far seen from afar. Just do not understand why until the stop by a check box is not floating a boy with a "pump". The young s'infila the tube in the mouth and aspires strong - not just the gas escaping - begins to fill. The process is slower than we are used to stretch my legs down so the legs. The interior of the dilapidated hovel exposes all sorts of cans and chocolate. To all intents and purposes we are finished in a "motorway of the Mekong." Pakbeng we reach in the late afternoon. I spend the night in white, tortured by the hot humid from mosquitoes that seem to easily pierce the canvas of the mosquito net in constant alert because of the many gigantic GECHI that s'aggirano on the walls of the room.

To dominate the scene the morning is the market with the sound of vendors s'apprestano to set up stalls on improvised benches, sbilenche boxes or on the ground, just above sheets. We hit the merchants. They carry sacks of rice, vegetables and vegetable backs bent on keeping them, supporting them with a strap that goes on the front, walking on uneven paths and with only slippers infradito feet. Pakbeng has become a "tourist" in the sense that there are two guest houses, hotels, some restaurants and some travelers with the traveler backpackers. Pakbeng is the starting point to visit the Hmong villages in the surrounding areas, where growing opium poppies. We can not find anyone who is accompanying us, and so skips the trip. C'immergiamo, then, in calm confusion in the market. Alongside the traditional traders, and those that do not sell well identifiable insects, animals, confined in small plastic bags of which the people do 'incetta, there are some who are trafficking illegal opium, just bought in villages that we wanted to visit . The area of the butcher is horrifying because of the bloody pieces of flesh exposed. Children in the shoulder kalashnikof s'aggirano for the market.

Resume navigation on the Mekong with a slow sail-boat, a barge long and slow. Hence we see and discover the unfolding of life on the Mekong. We observe the inextricable forest monsoon climbing peaks and steep slopes, the different types of plantations.
Stop in some small villages that rise on the shore, which, perhaps, not even a name. Are reachable only by river, the houses are piles of wood with roofs of straw and palm leaves. We note, with astonishment, deadly cluster bombs used in the war in Vietnam, recycled as homes and support to channel the water into paddy fields. There is nothing new, no roads, no cars, no televisions and even satellite dishes, no radio, no electricity. Fishing is the main activity along the cultivation of rice. The rents there are gardens on the banks. Hospitality is the same for everyone.

Immobility forced the craft left the calm waters of the placid river, which flows to fatigue, there is occasionally lament the speed boat. Penetrated, finally, after 300 km of broad valleys and narrow gorges in the heart of the notorious "golden triangle", the region sadly famous due to the cultivation of opium, which trade across the borders of three states became particularly profitable among the sixties and seventies, when the Americans s'intromisero in this lucrative market, expanding markets worldwide. Opium for the CIA became the means to finance the operations of war in Indochina.
Huay Xai is a city that runs quickly towards the vortex of opulence that the television screens projecting. There is no unit that is not tuned to channels or radio waves from nearby Thailand. Progress will not wait, as the fake rolex and the first mobile phones in the stalls along the Mekong, near the fish and fruit.
The following day we visit the villages of the surroundings. Are taken over one another and different ethnic groups coexist peacefully with each other so much that it is difficult to distinguish. In a Thai ethnic Mon women are trying to work on rudimentary looms, in a few other people, with ample and convincing gestures, invite us to follow them. Perplexing, we find ourselves in a small Catholic church built by a French priest. In an Akha village we see an old woman smoking a pipe of opium, confirming that the elderly are traditionally to find support. The market is now limited dell'oppio so much so that, officially, the two-thirds of production is not comes from the provinces in which it was produced. The elderly lady tells us to follow and takes us to a house dell'oppio, one of those places where men gather to fumarlo. The invitation to enter, this time, we reject! Visit, finally, a village of Lao Huay, curious why the people all dressed in dark blue and women are distinguished by the characteristic coin (one plate Indochinese) hung with long straight hair.