Shot of the month
Winner shot of ViviViaggiando contest
by Paola Tartaglino
Mondolowcost
Our travels lead us around the world, always on a buget... on Mondo Lowcost you can find our reviews and Lowcost travel guides.
Our travels lead us around the world, always on a buget... on Mondo Lowcost you can find our reviews and Lowcost travel guides.|
Cycling at night is a fun and enjoyable on a clear road and a slow device, but can become a nightmare from which escape if there is traffic and the road surface is uneven. It's seven o'clock in the evening and the sun went down over an hour now giving us a golden sunset as it often has done here in the south-east Asia. This time we enjoyed it there, however, concentrated on the bike as soon as possible to reach the town of Oudomxai, an infinite distance from our front wheel. The odometer has exceeded a hundred for a while and your legs scream their anger with each pedal stroke. Ascent and descent are the constant of the roads of northern Laos and the one that leads from Luang Nam Tha to Luang Prabang is no exception.  |
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In the morning, in a fit of excitement cycle, we launched out of town in the mountains, continuing our journey north and then veer to the east just before the Chinese border. The wind behind us provide a good pace and the rather simple way invites us to ride daily in the morning fog that covers the valley and then dissolve when the sun rises high in the. The tarmac disappears, consumed by the rains a few months ago and gives way to bare earth, ground by the constant passage of heavy vehicles, insinuates itself into our nostrils and eyes wide open for children who are watching go as extraterrestrials. The huts of the villages on the roadside are covered by a thin layer of dust and we wonder how they can live through the people constantly breathing this air.
Luang Prabang marketThe slow procession moves undisturbed from the earliest light of the day, moving, slows, stops and then restarts again. Old men, children, dogs and women with long blue shorts and yellow, like so many pieces of a puzzle fit together with each other to draw a clear line of people questioned the move. Graceful girls, like dancers on a carillon, moving from one side of the dirt, dancing in perfect harmony and avoiding any collision with the likely customers. A hen is surrounded by her eight chicks squatting scanning the horizon for some worm distracted. Dozens of fish to fumble a bit 'of oxygen, the space is too little in this blue bowl and natural selection takes its course even before the man's hand to intervene. Some frogs are trying to jump to the right, but they all have the left foot nailed to a sturdy piece of wood and therefore any attempt to escape to freedom is the coveted slot. Aromas of fresh bread and noodles seasoned with plenty of pepper are mixed with other herbs, a delicate scent of fresh fruit to the more pungent..., river dried seaweed in the sun with garlic, tomatoes and other spices. With every passing minute the atmosphere comes to life: middle-aged ladies are starting to fill their large bags with new purchases, while the more fortunate children are able to accapararsi the last giants from the banquet al'angolo sandwiches for their school range Today, it is guaranteed a hearty snack. The most skillful buyers give way to a long trading game where only the cleverest matron will be the winner. The gaze of the foreigner is filled with doubts and disbelief before the unknown fruits of many colors, lightness and indifference with which you decide if an animal dies immediately or after five minutes, the smells at the same time, as well as acres and sweet. There is no hypocrisy here, just the everyday, often brutal and heartbreaking, these people. The foreigner, the farang, it can only admire, can only criticize, can only wonder, but can hardly understand the essence of this strange world of Eastern Europe. The market, the hub of social life of the peoples of the East, is a ball of thrills and contrasts of color and joy, poverty and wealth constantly compared to each corner. The morning market of Luang Prabang is a place in itself, timeless and ageless, but with thousands of players every day that make it unique.
Up, up again ... stages in the ascent is a constant companion in recent days and almost always perched on the steep climb over the mountains, are small and remote villages of huts. One of them, largest and most populated of the other, shows us that the road will descend, but we do not have time to rejoice that a stone rolls lowest and hidden under our rear wheel by drilling an air chamber. It 's already late and we are forced to unload the luggage from the rack before repairing the tire. The sun slowly behind the distant peaks giving way to a sky streaked with orange and purple clouds. Increase the frequency of our rides, ignoring the distance still to cover. Oudomxai, a border town now overrun by Chinese, is there in front somewhere in the flat that we have reached a bit '. We continue on a dirt road full of holes that are hidden in the shadows of dusk and surprise us every few meters. Our weak fronts serve only to alert drivers, eager to arrive early at your destination, our presence among them and the goal that awaits them in the hope that they are still awake enough to notice us! We thank the luck when it materializes before us a sea of mud caused deliberately and for some reason by some workers, working on the arrangement of the roadway, have totally flooded. We dive, emerged as the best climbers in the Tour de France polka dot! Sirius and Venus are now in good company over our heads when finally the city lights illuminate the track only available on the main street.
Luang PrabangA livable small town is overrun by tourists and you notice just arrived in the center, narrow peninsula formed by the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Than. Guesthouse and resorts everywhere arose not have taken the appeal to the narrow streets where the market comes alive in the morning and evening light up the homes of stalls and restaurant. Many come here for the numerous temples, French colonial villas and watch the sun go down from the hills of the Mekong Phousiin the middle of the peninsula. The baguette to Laos (with pate, pork, vegetables and chili) and the center of the buffet evening meal will be memorable stories in our future.
The next day, still not happy, we decide to respond, because even with a map too rough for a cyclist. After 60 km, with the nose up to 7 km/h we expected to find the junction to the south and with it the small town of Pakmong where we can stop for the night, but we doubt arose when the last ending ascent went sweet and deceitful, way over the pass several times and then resume its slow rise. As you enter the province of Luang Prabang, the mystery has been revealed to us by the milestones that indicated mercilessly Pakmong 28 km, exactly 20 more than expected ... and it's already half past four in the afternoon. But the road starts Swoop 20 km of creeping into a canyon that overlooks a precipice, a pullam crashed on the bed of the river fifty feet from where I base is left to future warnings. Once again, the clouds lit by the sun greet us while we were cycling and the night falls on our silhouettes that stand out against the forest on the slopes that we left behind. Five kilometers from our destination, and perhaps because we are bourgeois enough to take a look to decide that we do not want to pitch your tent. A masonry building draws our attention: it can only be the home of a wealthy or a guesthouse. We are lucky because it belongs to the second category, and though it is still under construction, the young owner is happy to accommodate us in a room with wires dangling everywhere and yet to be plastered walls. The unmade bed indicates that no guests were expected and no one seems to want to trim it. The water can be recovered 150 m further upstream where a small stream was channeled with a bamboo cane, cut cut in half longitudinally to reach the road ... as for the bathroom, a few daring venture in car between these night in the mountains and around the corner is safe from prying eyes of the village, so a ceiling of stars ripped from the Milky Way, the dense forest of the mountains and the precipice of the canyon carved by the river are its walls. A plate of rice with some cooked vegetables are filling too quickly without meeting us, and soon laid his head on the bed (the pillows are still to be purchased) fell asleep soon after.
The labors of these early days Laotian end with an easy but long ride on the side of the Nam Ou River, which flows into the Mekong just before reaching the town UNESCO. Along the way we meet many cicloviaggiatori, some parties away from Europe when the snows began to melt, and a bit of healthy envy creeps for a moment ... then think about what we experienced and what lies ahead and we entered self-described idiots in Luang Prabang. Photogallery Peperoncini a bordo strada  Tramonto Laotiano  Arrivo nella notte  Cascata a Oudomxay  Villaggio di montagna  Duello all'ultima pedalata!  Alba verso Luang Prabang  Tra le etnie del Nord...  Festa nel villaggio  Alghe a seccare  Riflessi sul fiume  Icone sul tempio  Ombrelli di carta di riso  Pedalando nella polvere  Le montagne laotiane  La lunga strada per divenire monaco... |
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