It all Started in Nong Khiaw…
When we grabbed a seat at the Q-Bar we expected to relax and drink buy-one-get-one cocktails before heading back to our guesthouse for the night. After our first round, Travis started chatting with a local about fishing in the area. He piqued our interest when he told us about spearfishing catfish with his friends in the Nam Ou River. After some back and forth, Travis convinced him to agree to take us fishing the very next day. After asking his boss for the day off, rounding up a few friends, and negotiating details with us; we shook hands, exchanged names, and made a deal. Essentially, we paid Phouvong the wages he would lose from missing work in addition to the supplies we needed for the day. As we walked back to our guesthouse, Travis and I felt giddy with excitement.
Meeting the Family
At 9:30 a.m. the next morning, we met Phouvong and his friend, Nok near the Q-Bar and hopped on the back of their motorbikes. We cruised down highway 1C for about 40 minutes until we reached Phouvong’s village. His home consisted of a stilted, bamboo hut, an outdoor kitchen, and numerous hammocks tied around the support poles, sheltered from the hot sun. He still lived with his parents and siblings, a common arrangement until marriage. When his family heard the motorbikes arrive everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the foreign visitors . Without notice, Phouvong and Nok disappeared to recruit friends and gather supplies, leaving Travis and I alone and on display for the village to see.
As word spread of our presence, more and more villagers wandered out of their homes to stare at us. Since Nong Khiaw is fairly remote, many locals rarely see Caucasian foreigners – let alone in this isolated village.Unable to communicate with words, we smiled, laughed and waved to the growing crowd. Most kids hid shyly behind their mothers, but the bravest few waved back or greeted us with an enthusiastic “Sabaidee!” One youngster in particular seemed to crave our attention. He ran around like a monkey, swinging his arms, bouncing off rocks and showing off with tricks. He never did anything unless he knew we were watching.
Learning to Fish – Laotian Style
Phouvong emerged through the circle of spectators with baskets of gear and two more friends, Bus and Nok (#2). Following their lead, we waved goodbye and paraded out of the village. We walked down the middle of the main dirt road for a ways before Nok #2 paused, stepped into an overgrown ditch and pulled back a mass of tall grass to reveal a perfectly hidden trail. We followed the well-trodden path through the woods until we reached the Nam Ou River. There, we scouted the banks until everyone unanimously agreed that we found the perfect fishing spot. Nok #2 and Bus built a giant fire while Phouvong explained the fishing gear and concepts to us.
He outfitted Travis with a pair of antique-looking goggles, a handmade bamboo spear, and a fishing basket with a special opening to prevent fish from escaping. Phouvong explained that they would all dive into the deep water along the shoreline and search for fish by placing their faces in the openings of underwater holes and crevices. He instructed Travis to stick his face as far into the holes as possible to increase his chances of finding a fish. At this instruction Travis and I exchanged a nervous glance. The last thing either of us wanted to do in a jungle river containing unknown creatures was to dive into deep water and stick our faces into dark holes.
As Phouvong, Nok #2, Bus, and Travis geared up and headed toward the river, Phouvong instructed me that Nok #1 would teach me how to fish with a net in shallow water – the implied “womanly” way to fish. I felt a little disappointment but understood the cultural differences regarding a woman’s place in their culture.
Techniques
Nok #1 gave me all the patience in the world, but I was terrible at netting fish. The net was large and made out of a plastic rope with metal chain links around the bottom. Through a series of practiced placements across the arms and shoulders, the net (in theory) will open up in a wide circle and immediately sink to the bottom of the river, trapping any unsuspecting fish. I however, could never get the net to open and ended up scaring the fish away instead of catching them. Eventually Nok and I moved on to just wading around the river and exploring in a comfortable silence.
Travis described deep water spearfishing as one of the most challenging and terrifying experiences he’s ever had fishing. Although the water looked clear in the shallows, in the deep water it was cloudy & challenging to see. To see anything he had to place his face mere inches away usually ended up face to face with a gaping holes of the unknown. The current also dragged him along pushing him into downed trees or rocks – again sending a sense of panic by not knowing what creatures may be hiding in the trees. In contrast, the Laotians were fearless fishers – they stuck their heads in holes and climbed inside the tree branches spearing fish and disappearing underwater for minutes at a time.
Lastly, we came back together as a group to spearfish in the shallow water. Wading in shin-deep water, we learned how to slowly wade around, overturning rocks with our toes to search for baby catfish about the side of our fingers. They darted in-between rocks and were extremely hard to stalk and spear at just the right moment. We had so much fun but only ended spearing one fish between the two of us. Naturally, the Laotians were professionals and seemed to spear or net fish left and right while laughing at us and giving pointers.
A Jungle Meal
While everyone finished fishing, Phouvong instructed Nok #1 and I to prepare our lunch. This involved cooking the fish over the fire, preparing the other foods, and gathering vegetables from the jungle. Surprisingly the “vegetables” I helped gather were actually baby ferns and leaves from various trees. Nok showed me how to find the most tender and sweetest greens while pointing out other notable plants. I laid out a hand-woven grass mat and arranged our meal on a bed of mature ferns, as per Nok’s guidance. Our meal consisted of fresh bananas, spicy papaya salad, chili paste, sticky rice, fire-grilled fish (15 baby catfish, 2 medium catfish, 2 freshwater shrimps, and 3 medium sized “fish”), and of course – homemade Lao whisky, or Lao Lao.
We all sat cross-legged, poured a round of shots and then dug in. We ate in the traditional Laos fashion by using a small ball of sticky rice in lieu of traditional utensils to grab the food with our hands. Everything tasted fantastic. We particularly liked the chili paste and papaya salad and found that the small fish tasted better than the large ones. Unbeknownst to me, everyone else removed the fish heads and tossed them over their shoulder. I, however, ate the whole fish, head and all, to avoid being rude. When Nok noticed this he told the whole group, who immediately erupted into laughter. Phouvong laughed so hard he could barely translate what happened to us.
While we ate we took turns pouring and passing shots of whisky to the group. We downed two whole bottles by the end of the day! From our prior weeks in Laos, I got the impression that it was rude to decline a drink when it was offered to you. As the shots made their rounds, I started to feel sick but couldn’t refuse without offending our hosts. Thankfully we finished the bottle before I had to confront my fears.
With the liquid encouragement, we began a round of karaoke by singing into bananas one by one and cheering each other on. Even though only Phouvong spoke fluent English, we all laughed and bonded over food, alcohol, music, and an amazing day together. There were many funny moments and uncertainties because of the language barrier, but overall it felt amazing to connect with other people in different ways than speaking.
The Perfect End to a Perfect Day
We ended our day together at their favorite karaoke bar where we drank Beerlao and sang karaoke. Peer pressure forced me into off-pitch screaming “Love Story” by Taylor Swift into a microphone for four minutes. After that, no one asked me to sing again.
We ordered more spicy papaya salad and to our dismay every time we cleared our plates Phouvong would fill them again. Our eyes and noses ran from the spice but Phouvong kept adding more. We didn’t know what to do! Eventually I think Bus said something to him and he looked at us and said “If you don’t want more, say so” it was that simple. Phouvong was just acting as a diligent host.
As the sun started to set many young Laotians started to fill the bar. The men in clean, button-down shirts and the women in beautiful, bright-colored skirts and blouses – a drastic difference from how they dress for work or at home. It was really cool to see this side of Laotian culture and feel apart of it, if only for a short time.
After hours of singing and eating spicy salad, we hopped on the bikes and rode back to Nong Khiaw as the sun was setting. Even getting pelted in the face with bugs, I couldn’t help but grin as I thought about the amazing day we had. We experienced a real day in the life of a rural Laotian and felt accepted and welcomed into a new place as humans and not just tourists. Words will never accurately describe this incredible experience, but I know the feeling will never fade.
