Dong Natad

Luck was on my side on Monday afternoon; a two-day trek to a nearby village in Dong Natad was due to set off the following morning. I signed myself up and spent the rest of the day relaxing. In the evening I bumped into two Israeli girls who were going on my trip, and it was good to get to know them before the trip began.

Tuesday involved five hours of trekking. This sounded a lot, but much of it was in sun-shielding forest, and there were no hills to climb either. At one point early on into the trek I found myself lagging behind the group. Once I caught up I found everyone huddled by the side of the dirt track. There was a foul stench in the air. A dead snake had been placed a few yards away from the track. As I slowly ebbed towards it I noticed another dead snake to my left and then another to the right - but the smell was my main reason for staying back. The locals had probably found the snakes dead and dumped them by the road - if the locals had killed the snakes themselves they would have probably eaten them.

Despite hearing the calls of birds, there was little other wildlife to see as we trekked through the forest. It was an enjoyable walk though, and it was nice to be tired by the end because of the walking rather than because of the heat.

Late afternoon we arrived at the village. Whilst we were walking about it was pleasing to see that the villagers were genuinely glad we were there. They all stood and watched as we made our way about, while some of them would say hello. It felt like we were a spectacle for them as much as they were a spectacle for us; it therefore didn't feel like we were intruding in their lives. The village was very interesting; huge cattle would wander about on their own, whilst people up to all ages would be doing manual jobs such as weaving mattresses or making sticky rice. As with the rest of Laos, however, everybody seemed very relaxed.

In the evening my group were given a welcome ceremony by the family we were staying with. Numerous neighbours also turned up for the event. All the locals seemed to really enjoy it, whilst our group were as much baffled as belated. After a few Lao words were spoken, the head of the household placed a basket containing a whole roasted chicken into the hands of one of the Israeli girls. Being a vegetarian, she didn't seem to enjoy being eye to eye with a dead shrivelled chicken - head intact. After a few more words were said, some white thread was knotted round her right wrist and she was handed a hard-boiled egg into her left hand. After passing the basket on to the next guest she just sat there, egg in hand, looking thoroughly bemused!

Moments later I too found myself in the same situation, and by now it was clear that the egg was for us to eat. I was particularly hungry by this point and was looking forward to some food. I began peeling the egg when I felt a tap on my shoulder - another lady wished to wrap some thread round my wrist. I transferred the egg shell into the palm of my egg bearing hand and let her tie the white thread and say some words. Once she finished I eagerly began some more egg peeling, only to be interrupted by another tap on my shoulder. After some more eggshell juggling I sat there as more thread was tied to my wrist. Upon looking right, however, it appeared a queue was forming; every local in the room was anxious to tie their thread around my wrist. With an outstretched right arm and an appetising looking half-peeled egg in the other, all I could do was sit there as blessing after blessing was made. Apparently they were wishing me a long life, but I'd have felt much more satisfied just munching on my egg!

The following morning we witnessed the giving of alms to the monks at the temple, and afterwards walked to the local school. As usual, the kids were even more excited by our presence than the adults. The toddlers particularly seemed unable to control their excitement. The really young were learning the Laos alphabet and enthusiastically singing songs about how to grow flowers. If we walked into a classroom there would be a perfectly practiced union of 'Sabadee' - meaning 'hello'. All the classes at the school seemed so well behaved, a far-cry from the manic war zones at some of England's schools.

When we visited a class full of older children they were learning English. Being the only Brit of our group, I was asked to read out a few words from the blackboard so they could hear how they were properly pronounced. Whether they were expecting the Queen's English I don't know, but I was happy to go along with it. The words on the blackboard were all about birds. 'Beak' I would say. 'Beak' they would collectively respond. 'Feather' I would say. 'Feather' they would respond slightly more muffled. 'Albatross' I would say. 'Albafloshhh' they would respond, followed by a union of giggles.

After I had finished passing on the wisdom a Croatian woman in my group was asked to read a passage from a book. She was reluctant, but nobody else stepped into her shoes. I would have, but I felt like somebody else should be given the chance. I was unsure if the students would be able to follow her European accent, but many of them seemed okay with it. Furthermore, she taught me a lot of interesting information about birds!

After we visited the school we embarked on a two hour trek. The previous day's five hours had seemed like a good amount, but my tired legs were glad that today's trek was short. After enjoying some lunch (for the first time on the trip), the entire group fell asleep on our picnic mattress as we waited to be picked up.

I am now back in Savannakhet taking a relaxing evening. I will probably get an early bus tomorrow and work my way down to 4000 Islands in the southern tip of Laos. This should be very relaxing, just what I feel like at the moment. Other places between here and there only appear to have trekking, which doesn't appeal at the moment. Most travellers go straight from Vientiane to 4000 Islands, missing out all that's in between, so I'm happy I have done a stop-off at Savannakhet.