Diary Entry
The tuk-tuks leave the city of Luang Prabang, where I learned a lot about the soul of the country. With Glen and the girls, I drive through the plains into the forest and into the mountains, where the scenery changes to overgrown rocks and rice terraces. Water buffalo graze in the rice fields and small horses stand by the side of the road, watching our tuk-tuks go by.
Farmers and fishermen walk along the road, wearing linen shirts and the traditional rice hats; if they have a free hand, they wave to us. The mountains around us are once again shrouded in mist. A little rain is dripping down on us.
This is how I imagined the wonders of Asia!



We stop at a family that Ian says raises bears and a tiger. We buy some bananas and some meat in the village and pay a visit to the family and the animals. We have to fight our way through the jungle before we get to the enclosures. The bears howl for the bananas. They are Asiatic black bears and the adults are about the size of a St. Bernard. There are three adults and three small ones.
First we feed them through the bars and once they have gotten used to us we can go into their enclosure to feed them and even pet them. They have the soft fur of a teddy bear, but I never lose my respect for the animals. Especially in Japan we hear about many incidents with wild Asiatic bears, which sometimes even end in death.











We have to continue through the forest to get to the tiger’s enclosure. In the forest I almost walk into a huge spider’s web that hangs almost invisibly between the trees. You can see it against the sun and in the middle hangs a spider the size of the palm of your hand, black and white striped and with very long legs.
Phet, the tigress, is really a beautiful animal. She is still young and not yet a fully grown Indonesian tiger, but she has a radiant coat and elegant strength. Anyone who dares can hand her pieces of meat through the bars. I hold a piece quite high up in the cage so that she has to stand on her hind paws to snatch the piece from my fingers. I can pull the latter back just quickly enough.
A short walk finally brings us to the waterfall, which is truly breathtaking. The waterfall rushes over several terraces from the forest into the river. A small wooden bridge leads over the river. Ian says there is a path that leads up the waterfall and that it is very beautiful. I ask Glen and he comes with me. Ian tells us that our shoes might get dirty while he and the others look for a nice place to just enjoy the atmosphere for a while. I am wearing leather sandals at the moment, but that doesn’t bother me and I can’t change it. The other bank, which can only be reached via the bridge, is flooded. The water flows over a small staircase that leads into the forest. That is where we get to dry land again. A path leads up the forest to a slope and branches off again and again, so that more and more often we find ourselves at dead ends, i.e. directly in front of the raging waterfall or fallen trees.
Wir klettern den Berg etwas weiter hinauf, mit BaumstΓΌmpfen und FelsvorsprΓΌngen als Hilfen.
Finally, we are standing in front of a stream that rushes steeply down a rocky slope of the mountain. You can see some kind of steps in it, but not whether they are natural or artificial. We don’t want to turn back after the long walk, so we climb the stream. Now and again you can hold on to trees. Glen has more difficulty climbing the slope, he is not used to the mountains. I often have to wait a few minutes or pull him up on a few rocky ledges. It takes about twenty minutes until we reach the edge. We are very wet, but happy to finally be at the top. But we are not at the waterfall yet. And when we see the surroundings, our hearts stop. The forest thins out a bit here and we are standing in front of a swamp and a small mud path winds through a muddy reed landscape. Glen glances at me and we look down the slope again. No, we really don’t want to go back down there now. I strap my wet sandals onto my back, roll up my trousers to my knees and put my foot in the mud. It is very slippery, you have to carefully consider each step to avoid slipping. The mud becomes so deep that I sink into it up to my knees. We make very slow progress. The mud is quite warm and pleasant on the skin, but it is deceptive, because there are occasionally large, flat stones in the mud that you slip on if you put your weight too quickly on a spot that you have not tested out sufficiently beforehand. There is nowhere to hold on to.


We struggle through the swamp for ten minutes, then we reach the river bank. The muddy path continues to wind in an arc around the forest in the direction of the mountains. We test the path further, but quickly turn around when I sink up to my thighs in some places. We look at the bank. The river flows through the middle of the forest, mangroves and roots grow out of the water. The water depth varies. I break a branch off a tree, which I use as a stick and sound out the water depth. This is desperately needed, because I notice that there are shallows or holes in the murky water that I would sink into up to my belly. Some places are suitable for briefly stepping onto the bank until the bushes force us back into the water. Now and then we can also take a few steps on tree trunks lying in the water or stones sticking out.
We finally reach the waterfall. The water is at its strongest here. I want to reach the middle of the waterfall so I can look into the valley. Glen stays behind; the current is too strong for him. I need two minutes for every meter I walk because the ground is covered with roots and sharp stones. Every now and then my stick disappears into the water, a meter and a half deep. But the view from the middle of the river over the masses of water rushing down makes up for everything. The water rushes down into the valley and the river meanders through the forested mountains into the distance. I savor the moment for a while before I find my way back. A shallow area costs me my balance and I fall into the water. I flail my arms around to find something to hold on to, but I can’t find one.





Dripping wet, I find my way back through the mud pits and climb back down the slope. A heavy thunderstorm begins, the sky has darkened and the thunder echoes off the mountains.
We hurry and I silently curse Ian for mentioning dirty sandals.
In the valley we meet him again with the Scots having dinner. The others have already taken tuk-tuks back to Luang Prabang.


