After waking up, washing ourselves, brushing our teeth and saying goodbye to the family, we started walking again, first downhill then, surprisingly, uphill.
Although the last days trek was definitely the easiest, following a path all the time (the only one connecting the village with the rest of the world... Imagening them carrying there TV's and steel roofs along this path was... difficult) we were so tired from trekking already two days in a row, that we complained more then on the other days together, wondering how we'd ever make it out of the djungle alive. The fact that Keo had us nearly running the entire way, didn't help. Nor did the fact that we'd run out of water the day before, and only had som chai, from the village, to drink.
We where also more quiet than usal, which Keo noticed, since for once I wasn't constantly asking him or Sasu "Nimen yang, nimen yang?" (What is that, what is that?) pointing at everything around me, in my attempt to learn Lao. Keo was forced to take teaching me into his own hands, but all I can remember learning during the third day is 'gu', which means salt, for my thoughts were too occupied with thinking about the life of the villagers we'd just left.
However, Sophia, Ruut and I were not the only ones who weren't quite ourselves on the third day: Sasu had been drinking too much Laolao with the villagers the night before, and had a hangover. (Luckily we knew when to stop.... we wouldn't have survived the walk) This meant that he, instead of walking infront of us, as usual, lingered on far behind, singing at the top of his lungs and thus providing us constant background music.
Singing in Akha sounds more like animalistic cries, so after calling Sasu Obama for two days (they look rather similar, don't they?) we now started calling him Tarzan instead.
After walking up and down in the jungle, jumping over a stream running down the mountains, or a fallen tree, now and then, we suddenly entered an entirely different world: we where out of the NPA(nature protected area) again, slipping downwards in a tunnel, with walls and roof made out of sugar cane.
When we saw daylight again, ie. made it out of the fields, the scenery had changed drastically compared to the untouched forrest we'd seen for the last three days. Suddenly the trees were cut down to make way for fields, or if there were trees, they were planted rubber trees. Only 10 percent out of Laos forrests are natural forrests anymore, and that's why NP areas are so important, considering all the endangered species that inhabit them. We met a couple of pouchers when walking in the woods though, and heard several gunshots, so not even the NPA's are perfect.
Another thing that was extreemly weird, it wasn't just us, Keo and Sasu anymore. There were people everywhere, working on the hills and looking after their rubber trees. We had a totally newfound respect for these people, who walk up and down hills on a daily basis, when we nearly managed to do it for three days. When Keo told us we still had two hours to go, and we all felt like crying.
Somehow we made it, and by running down all the downhill parts, we were in yet another Akha village before realizing it, and a lot faster then the promised 'two hours'. This 'village' didn't feel like a village anymore though, after the village we'd slept in the past night. Nay, it felt like a city, at least. After getting into the jeep (Sitting! Air-conditioning! Heaven!) and driving to Muang Sing, we suddenly understood why Keo keeps calling it 'Muang Sing city'. Try metropolis. Asphalt! Some houses not made out of tree! Falangs everywhere! So few animals! Stores - we hadn't thought about money for days! Everybody's clothes seemed so clean and tidy as well, and everyone looked so wealthy. Was this really the same Muang Sing, the little countryside town with one main street, which quantity of dogs and chickens we had been so amazed by only days earlier?
We thanked Sasu by buying him two packets of cigarrets (nasty habit, but he became so happy) and Keo by buying him a soccer ball and socks, promising to meet him at the soccer field later.
After this we wandered back to the bungalow we came to call 'home', with our walking sticks and chopsticks made out of bambu proudly in our hands, talking about how nice the warm shower was going to be (that we'd been dreaming and talking about for days, now only minutes away) but promising not to forget anything we've experienced on the trek. I'll keep this walking stick and these chopsticks forever, I said. I can probably not even walk without the stick anymore!
Two days later, and I forgot my bambu walking stick in Muang Sing. I'm still holding onto the chopsticks though, and I intend to hold on to the memories of the thoughest trek of my life (so far) and the my memories of the villagers, however disturbing, even long after the chopsticks are gone.
Sadly, the camera's battery died, so no pictures what so ever from the last day. We're happy there are no pictures of us from the last day though, because we were a horrid sight, and we won't forget the amazing views anytime soon, so no harm done.
The rest of you just have to go do the trek yourselves, to truly understand what I'm rambling on about!
//H
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