It’s Been Awhile Since I Talked About Food
We spent two weeks wending our way to the southernmost tip of Laos, hitting most of the small towns along the way, and thus, facing the inevitable feelings of not liking everywhere we went. While northern Laos still feels largely untouched by tourism, the south has had folks tromping through for a few decades now and has had time to catch up. Restaurants serving ‘western’ food became the norm and not exactly what I’d deem haute cuisine. And so it’s for good reason that I haven’t been waxing poetic about the cuisine of late.
Until we hit Pakse. Now Pakse is not exactly a charming riverfront town. In fact, it is a town that feels decidedly over-touristed. It is the jumping off point for a lot of other tourist activities and has thus sprung up countless hotels and dozens of average-fare restaurants lining a main drag; but what it delivers in quantity, it lacks in quality. It simply lacks heart. But it is here that we discovered Mengke Noodle House, tucked under a small awning, and though listed in the trusty Lonely Planet, somehow never populated by other tourists. We nestled in amongst the locals for breakfast one morning, and got served up what is perhaps the best bowl of pho I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Until I ate it again. And then again. And then maybe even again. (I’m not sure, because I lost count after the third bowl.)
Mengke’s specialty was duck pho, and if you played it like a local, you knew to order it with their homemade egg noodles instead of the rice noodles. The dish was rustic with round, dark flavors; but like any good pho, it was still light. Buoyant, almost. I don’t usually like duck, finding it overly fatty or chewy most of the time, but this was nothing like that. Someone must have lovingly stoked a fire through the night to keep this meat simmering gently, because it was the most tender duck I had ever eaten. The flavors of the broth permeated the meat perfectly, creating a lovely harmony of meatiness with hints of five spice and a mysterious touch of cardamom. The noodles completed the triangle: eggy-yellow and curly like Ramen noodles, but thicker and with a satisfying, toothsome bite. We never figured out the owner’s origins. The place had a Vietnamese vibe, with Vietnamese-style coffee and tea, but the noodles could have been Chinese. Perhaps it was the drab surroundings of Pakse that made Mengke stand out like a shining beacon of taste bud delight. But I think it was just damn good.
The Southern Swing
The Southern Swing is another motobike trip through rural Laos that can be easily done in two to five days. It skirts up, over, and around the Bolaven Plateau, an area that has recently seen an influx of coffee growing plantations, but has been an important agricultural region since the French introduced it in the early 20th century. It also enjoys ever so slightly higher altitudes, and thus, cooler temperatures. A welcome change from the hotter and hotter temperatures we’d been seeing as we worked our way south. The motobike trip felt like it had a slightly less epic vibe than The Loop, what with not renting from Mr. Ku’s and not having a Log Book to flip through, plus the better quality of roads. It made us feel as though we had graduated to a more ‘grown up’ experience. And, in actuality, I think we had. The journey itself was fairly uneventful: we didn’t need to get anything repaired along the way; we were pretty responsible about switching drivers regularly to stave off arm- and butt-related fatigue; and we were way better at quick downshifts on the harder mountain climbs. We were simply more comfortable. The pictures from this trip were subsequently much more experimental, and deserve to be showcased, as such. They tell the story better, too.
Elephants of Tad Lo
Did I say The Southern Swing was uneventful? That was mostly true except for the all-but-transcendental experience of meeting and riding the elephants at Tad Lo Lodge. The Hubs was determined to find this place that was known to have three gentle female elephants, and though I gave up and went back to our guesthouse, he persevered! Seriously, when does that man not come through? He returned, triumphant, and whisked me off to see the elephants for what turned out to be their afternoon bath time. I felt like I was watching the live-action version of that Sesame Street episode where you get to see the elephant getting its bath at the zoo. It helped that there were dozens of local kids there using the river as a swimming hole, and who happily vacated to watch the bashfully graceful beasts as they were led to their watery task.
We returned the following morning to take a ride on one of the elephants which left my cheeks aching from the maniacally wide grin I maintained throughout. The ride lasted about an hour and took us across a river, through the jungle, and into a small village before looping back again. The mahout, or elephant driver, rode on the elephant’s neck while we were atop a bench mounted to her back. We had to get used to the lilt back and forth with each of her loping steps, but we were on a freaking elephant, so we adapted. As was often the case in Laos, the language barrier was too significant to ask many questions, but just spending time with the elephants proved to be as instructive as it was mesmerizing. Their size and strength would be impressive on their own, but combined with their curious intellect and recognizable intelligence, I think I may have myself a new favorite animal. (Shh… No one tell the goats.) It was pure joy to watch their meandering trunks as they explored their surroundings or to gaze into one of their knowing eyes, framed by those impressively long lashes.
We pulled ourselves away eventually – the road ahead calling to us – but what incredible creatures! And the further out we get from the experience, the more it feels like such an incredible privilege.
Routeless Ruminations 