Night market

Another bus station, chill in the morning light,  the early bus north leaving at nine, headed for Luang Namtha, new landscapes to pass through, to fill our eyes. Last time I was here I took the boat, went south, ran out of time, have carried the urge to return with me since...


Out of town, Christiano Ronaldo staring at us from advertising upon the side of a van, the road beginning to rise, climbing towards a summit ridge, high enough to look down upon other hills, the road straightening, levelling out as linear villages cling to the side of the tarmac, poised upon stilts between descending slopes,  woven bamboo or wood, a few of stone, breeze blocks stacked and naked awaiting cement, dogs and cows wandering carefree as we pass. Long nose tractors appearing puffing dark clouds of burning oil...

Unexpected valleys open up as we descend, offer the geometry of rice fields beneath a warming sun, windows open to allow the stifling heat escape, outrageous beauty baffling the eyes as we continue.. 

Plastic littering the side of the road, spilling down gulleys, bags and plates, dumped and lingering, the residue of our consumerism lingering.

And another town, or at least the edge of it, the bus stop once again about 5km from the centre, a tuk tuk ride, a dusty street, almost deserted, a room found, a small night market and, as a treat, a bottle of beerlao...