Feeling the cold

After a reasonable night’s sleep, and prior to a breakfast of dodgy looking noodles, the downstairs room of our ‘guesthouse’ was already full to overflowing with girls and women trying to sell their embroidered scarves. As I had been the one to broker the deal that they leave us alone until the morning, I made a great display of thoroughly inspecting all their wares before buying the best one at a knockdown price of $3.50. Fittingly it was made by the most wizened and toothless old lady there…and I felt I’d successfully negotiated a tricky situation by showing respect to this elder. The others, grumbling, packed away there wares and left us to ‘enjoy’ our breakfast in peace.
As we walked down to the boat, there was a noticeable chill in the air and the sky had a flat, dull grey appearance. I’d pulled an extra top and my beanie out of my bag to combat this early-morning nip and we all confidently expected another day of pleasant sunshine once the river mist and low clouds had been burnt off. In this, unfortunately, we were sadly mistaken. The whole day was spent huddled in the bottom of the boat, trying to avoid a stiff breeze funnelled down the river valley with hands jammed in pockets and knees pulled up to chest to conserve heat. Once again, as had happened the previous evening, we were handicapped by our inability to move about to keep warm. For the first time on my travels I was genuinely cold and, for once there was nothing I could do about it. In Canada, I’d simply had to step into a centrally-heated house or warm café; in the Korean mountains, brewing up some noodles with tuna on my stove had been the order of the day; and even on that first day’s motorbiking in Vietnam, just stepping off the bike and losing the headwind was enough to lose the chill. Thankfully, our day’s travelling was considerably shorter but still, by the time we arrived at the boat jetty in Luang Nam Tha, I was very definitely not feeling too well and immediately needed to eat hot food and find a hot shower. Our guesthouse was a beautiful wooden building carved in fine Lao style and the provision of food was certainly no problem. Within 10 minutes of arrival, I’d wolfed down some veg fried rice, garlic bread and dessert in the hopes of restoring my body to fitness. However, given the overcast aspect of the sky and the reliance on solar power for heating water, the chances of a hot shower were nil…and it wasn’t long before I felt my glands swelling and noticed my nose running and sinuses beginning to pound. I went out with Jason and Till for second dinner a little later and consumed more garlic bread in a further attempt to boost my ailing immune system but, eventually, I had to admit defeat and slope off home to bed.
We’d had vague plans of trekking for a couple of days in the vicinity but when the following morning dawned, grey and miserable, I knew there was little point in venturing out and making myself any worse. I spent virtually the entire day snuggled inside my sleeping bag under two duvets, occasionally venturing out to blow my nose and once heading downstairs to eat as much garlic as possible. Jason and Till spent the day touring the locality on rented mopeds and had, by all accounts, an excellent time – including being invited to join the festivities at a village wedding. I felt frustrated by my inactivity and was even more irritated when I discovered that the weather was looking set to hang around as cold fronts had dumped massive amounts of snow over southern China, less than 300 miles to our north.
Fully wrapped up, but feeling far better than when I’d woken up, I accompanied Till and Jason for dinner (yet more garlic bread!). We were all agreed that the weather wasn’t exactly conducive to trekking and the two of them had decided to head south to a similar destination, Muang Gnoi Neua, about 150 miles away. Lying in bed, feeling crappy and homesick, I’d decided on a more radical plan. I was going to keep heading south until I’d refound blue skies and warm weather. Despite my ability to leak like a rusty radiator at the slightest hint of sunshine, I guess my body had gotten used to being warm as opposed to freezing. I certainly didn’t want to be ill any longer than necessary…and I certainly didn’t want to be hampered from seeing this beautiful little country by something as unpredictable as the weather. I knew if I went south far enough, the warm winds blowing in off the gulf of Thailand would eventually overcome the cold pressing from the north. Jason and Till had opted for the early morning bus and I had decided to take the afternoon offering to give myself a little longer to recover. It seemed a shame to be splitting up so soon after our first meeting. Till’s fascinating tales of world travel spanning four decades and a dry, observant wit had been pleasant company. Jason’s open nature and tales of his South American adventures had made him an easy companion too…and I was sorry to be parting ways after barely getting to know them both. Still, we were all independent travellers and following our own motives so there was no reason to be sad…after all, a far greater shame would have been if we’d never met at all.
On the way home from dinner, I called in at the herbal sauna for a massage and steam. Partly I wanted to pamper myself after spending most of the day feeling like shit, partly I reasoned that the herb-infused steam was likely to help clear my sinuses and aid my recovery. I went to bed feeling like I was over the worst and looked forward to the adventures of a new day.