May 24. Of motorbikes and hospitals.

We almost miss our morning ride to Namtha. I have the bus tickets and the bus (there are only a few daily) stops at Bryan and Leila's house early. We rush to the streets and take our seats in the crammed minibus. Quick handshakes and best-of-luck constitute our goodbye to these wonderful people. I want to move on to Luang Prabang, but overestimated the bus frequency on the tourist trail. We stay in another guesthouse and book tickets for tomorrow.

Today, we rent a motorbike with the innocent intention to do some sightseeing here in Luang Namtha. We ride around and quickly find out that there are not so many roads we could travel on. In a silent backstreet, Yeon tries the motorbike but unfortunately operates it with the wrong reflex, making the Honda leap forward in first gear and then throw her on the asphalt. It's a flesh wound, and she's bleeding a lot. A woman sees us and takes Yeon to the hospital, giving me the opportunity to follow her on the motorbike - a stressful yet effective way to get to know a vehicle. I still prefer those Honda bikes if I rent a light motorcycle. Anyway, we rushed through the quiet streets of Luang Namtha towards the small local hospital with Yeon holding her arm tight to stop the bleeding.
At the hospital we can explain ourselves and a young doctor will stitch the wound. When I walk to the paying counter I suddenly see a familiar face: Bryan is here. They came to the hospital too for an x-ray, and the unfortunate conclusion was that the wrist was broken, and the couple would travel to Bangkok for decent treatment. Such a coincidence! When I leave that hospital, I am full of mirth.
With Yeon's wound stitched, the bike brought back, we steal into one of the wifi-enabled restaurants and indulge in the internet.

May 19. Lao mores.

We cross the border without any difficulties. The Chinese authorities stamp exit in my passport and we walk to the Lao side, a shack with a line of waiting tourists in front of it. I study the government poster of do's and don'ts in Laos, learn about the status of the monks, the sad occurences of child prostitution and the absolute faux-pas of putting your feet higher than your head or anyone's head. The poster has distracted me from the task at hand, and the officer calls me. A passport photo and 37 dollars please, and there is your sticker. I shuffle on and cash in some more official nods and smiles - I am in Lao DPR.
A short attempt to hitchhike and the quick realization that busfares are dirt cheap here. We get to Luang Namtha, where we contact our first cause in Lao from a nice coffee house.
The food they serve is too salty, but the hypertension somehow keeps us glued to our machines and dawn is setting in when we decide to spend one night in Luang Namtha first.

There are plenty of cheap guesthouses in this town, that seems to emulate the tourist paradise of Luang Prabang eight shaky bus-hours to the south. We pick one at random and enjoy too much luxury for too little again. Our prospect for tomorrow is good: we will finally be able to support a cause with our hands. I dream of that.