If I were Noah….
By a very tired Rach
Phonsavanh, Laos
If I were Noah….there’s one animal I’d have refused entry to the ark!
Please allow me to explain.
One of our readers commented: I’d love to hear stories about teamwork, group problem solving and other adventures you get yourselves into. We can give you teamwork, problem solving and annoying animals, all in one post.
We think we’re going to Phonsavanh, but when we pull into the station, the signs say something else. We did get on the right bus, didn’t we? Ah, that’s right, there was only one! Judging by all the smiling faces of folks holding guesthouse advertisements, we are at the end of the road. This is it. “It”, however, is very obviously not near town; it’s in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rice paddies. We don’t know where town is. We have no accommodation booked. Children are hungry. Sunset strokes are being brushed across the sky. We have no plan.
“How about I hop off the bus and check out the guesthouse options?” I suggest. Rob agrees, “OK, take ER2 with you. I’ll bring the others and get the bags off the roof.”
“Please may I come with you Mama?” Tgirl4 wonders.
“Not yet Sweetie. Could you stay with Dadda and help him carry the rice basket?”
“OK and I can carry my backpack too.” (Sometimes we get pouts or appeals, but this time we just had teamwork! No menacing animals just yet.)
Alighting from the bus, I’m not sure which cardboard advertisement to look at first. The decision is made for me as two signs are thrust in my face and two competing touts engage in conversation.
“I have room. Two big beds. 80,000”
“I have room only 60,000”
“But you only have one bed”
“It’s a big bed”
“It’s only one bed,” and he turns to face me, “and I take you in a minivan, centre of town. You look first. If you don’t like, it’s OK.”
Free ride into town did I hear?
We fill up the van, tout follows behind on a motorbike. While we wait for him to reach the hotel we’ve been taken to (not the guesthouse we’d been told about!), I zip across the street to check out other guesthouses. Someone is at my elbow, showing me to one for 50,000. He came from nowhere – he’s good at his job! But all full.
“I know 20,000 and 30,000”
Even better. Let’s check it out.
Dark, but with hot showers and toilets in the room, happy to give extra duvets for sleeping on the floor, no limit to the number of people in one room and a stash of war artifacts to rival any museum.
Just right for us.
I race back up the road.
Original 80,000 place has turned out to be 150,000. Problem is, Rob went inside and it was *nice*, very nice, proper hotel room nice. But 90,000 for three rooms, dark as they are, appeals even more.
We drop our bags and head out to find some equally cheap dinner (buffalo stew and sticky rice, actually).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We turn the lights out and something clunks on the tin roof.
“Must be a cat.”
Pity the dogs barking nearby don’t scare it away.
Exhausted, we sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scratch, scratch, scratch!
Startling from our slumber, we exchange questioning glances in the darkness.
“That’s no cat,” I whisper, “Bang the wall to scare it off.”
Teamwork: my idea, he can DO it <wink>
Bang. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
BANG. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
“You go and bang the ceiling.”
What? Rob’s not meant to make those sort of suggestions! And I don’t intend getting any closer to the rat.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Rob stands on the bed and gives the ceiling a jolly good heroic thump. Silence.
It is not until we are snuggled back under the covers that the scratching resumes.
Scratch. Bang. Silence.
Scratch. Bang. Silence.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
We give up. The rat wins. Actually, that should be *the rats win* There’s a whole family of them up there.
Fitfully, we doze.
But you can NOT sleep when the scratchings move from the ceiling above you to inside the wall beside you; you can’t help but wonder if their gnawing is going to break through the bamboo walls, especially when two of your children are sleeping on the floor!
At least we know morning is near – rooster chorus is sounding across town.
Eventually, Family Rat quietens for more than five minutes. Although it would seem unbelievable, there is no poetic license at work here – Family Chitchat starts its squeaking. Do you know how noisy these little lizard cousins can be? Let me tell you, they are no quieter than hungry rats. And to top it all off, every so often, the *something* clunking on the tin roof performs his dance with a rattle, a clatter and a thud.
By 5am Rob is slugglishly suggesting, “Shall we look for somewhere else tomorrow?”
At 6 he insists, “I’m serious.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so we did.
After an early wander to the market in search of noodle soup for breakfast, we started our door knocking. The options ranged from a dark, musty, windowless (and with no working electric light) room to the Nice Guesthouse, which was nice, but also beyond our budget.
In two places we bargained 65,000 kip rooms down to 50,000 kip (take note anyone who might come to this town some day – as for us, Rob has already observed, “Well, you wouldn’t come back here, would you?”)
We are now settled in our first HOTEL. We have stuffed a pillow in the hole in the wall in an effort to keep mosquitos out – and being concrete walls, one storey up, we are hopeful there’ll be no rats. There is, however, right outside one of our rooms, a rooster who is crowing as I type!
But it’s rats that we think should never have been allowed on the ark.
Tags: children, food, housing, money, parenting, postcard: Laos, price, transport
rayres
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