The Waterfall

*Published on **2018-02-06** by **Kelley** | Categories: Travel, Uncategorized*

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Ew What? What are you? I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. I had to get a little closer, but not too close in case this thing tried to kill me. I’ve been biking now for half an hour. Thanks to maps.me I’m even heading in the right direction still. I’m pedaling along when I see a ghost. Orrrrr, a cow ghost? I’m not even sure. This thing is an albino something and I burst out laughing. I wonder how the animal makes it in this hot sun with that sensitive skin. If it wouldn’t gore me I’d hop off my bike and slather some sunscreen on it right now. I stopped long enough for a pic and when I realized it was trying to hop up where I was I thought it might be safest to move on before she did.

Ten minutes later I found my spot. I locked up my bike with the little piddly lock they gave me and slinked past this restaurant. It must be nice chillin on the side of a hill waiting for people to pass by in search of a coffee or some tea. “Here’s a snack. Rest your weary bones at my place. Get that energy up before you hike to the waterfall. Where are you from? How long are you traveling? Where to next?” Then again, maybe these conversations seem monotonous. I can’t be sure. I’ve ever owned a restaurant on the side of a hill.

I crossed the bridge. (Yes, I know this pic was in my last post. Sue me and stuff.)

Looking down gave me an interesting view of the world. A little familiar and a little unique all at the same time. I stood on that swaying bridge for half an hour, listening and committing these nooks and crannies to memory. It felt good to be back by rushing water. Water with a story to tell, not water just waiting around to hear what you have to say. The lazy passing of drink replaced by acrobatics and song. I liked it here. The change was good. The green sung to me in a way that surprised me. It tickled my soul. It felt like getting to know quiet in an intimate way, learning to truly love it. Then being reintroduced to ballads and arias the likes of which no one had heard before. In reality it probably wasn’t that dramatic, but I was kind of in love.

Finding the waterfall didn’t really involve a hike. I wouldn’t call it a walk either. There was some jumping and rerouting involved. I could have brought a kid with me but they may have fallen in the drink. Either way, after some lovely challenges, I started to hear it. This waterfall was the kind that spoke to you long before you arrived. I felt my excitement swell as I got closer. When I crested the last hill I was surprised by what I saw. There were some structures from who knows doing who knows what all lying about in the water. I was stumped. Maybe you can help?

A few more jumps and I unearthed my space of wonderment. I actually had to sit down on a rock for a while to take it all in.

I sat there long enough to come up with this ridiculous sentence about what I was doing. “Lunching in Laos ‘longside legions of leaping liquid, listening to its lyrics”. Check out that amazing wordplay. Writer game strong. One day when I’m all grown up and stuff I’ll be an excellent writer. You’ll all have to do with blurbs about this travel life for now.

I sat long enough to let the chorus of water wash me. Only figuratively though. Listening to the soundscape of nature finished the internal rinsing started by my last island. All the problems are now washed clean. Im ready to move forward and deal with growth instead of the unhealthy anger left in my past. I went back to camp, this time with no ghost cows around. I looked for DhamiBoo but he was nowhere to be found. That’s the perfect thing about traveling solo. You create the space you need in your life. I needed plenty. So I just hung around on his porch for a bit.

And a gorgeous porch it is. I passed some time thinking about what would come next. I’d be heading to Cambodia. I was excited for what was in store. You never know what comes when you show up in a new country. The possibilities are pretty impressive. I snuggled into my hammock and whipped out my book on my phone to wait for my friend to return. As the sun slid down, giving me it’s last Loatian goodbye, I put my book down to reflect on the significance of the closing of this country for me.

Not long after, my friends came to send me off. A few beers in a bar together and some good conversation about life rounded out my final moments. When we were done I started for my humble room, my mind zapping with the potential Cambodia held. I honestly never imagined it would be as good as it turned out to be.