Luang Prabang

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This is quite a difficult town to spell. It starts off quite hard, but now I'm not actually sure of the exact spelling, so far I've seen Luangprabang, Luangphrabang, Luang-prahbang, Louangprabang, making it all that more difficult.

This is one of the main attractions in the country of Laos. Quite a small town, apparently a haven for those tourists who just want to come and enjoy the slow boat before coming and enjoying nice food. Thus, there are more than the average number of middle age people here compared to Southeast Asia in general. Since we decided to do something cultural for once, we wanted to spend a day visiting the Plain of Jars, a large field in the middle of nowhere full of big concrete containers. Nobody knows how they got there. However, after doing a considerable amount of research, we would have to spend three days and at least 130 USD just to satisfy some of the guilt being cultivated in our culture-free minds. Well. There was another choice - getting the bus to Vang Vieng, like a mini Khao San Road in the middle of nowhere, together with its own attractions. I could definitely settle with that.

We tried entering the palace and the national museum (Luang Prabang branch), but this is closed on Tuesdays (naturally). Instead, we walked up about 300 steps to the top of the hill in the middle of the valley to see a collection of Wats and an amazing view. At the bottom some ancient women offered us two birds in a wicker cage for the reasonable price of 60p (much less than the equivalent of four pounds an American women paid). At the top, the view was, indeed, amazing. There were still some clouds, but all were just brushing the mountains around the valley. You could see where the Mekong and river met in the middle, people walking on the streets, and of course the mountains, with peaks shrouded in fast moving wisps of cloud. This is why people come to this country (not, apparently, for the excellent public transport).

On the way back down the other side of the hill, we met a collection of Bhuddas, one for every day of the week, and two large footprint looking objects. One naturally much larger than the other. Now, either one is a fake and Bhudda could walk down a very large hill with just one step, or they are both his, and as well as having one limb five times the size of the other, he was also in possession of two left feet. I'll leave the answer to that open. Monks appear to be only part way through training - one youthful one actually started engaging Holly in conversation (something I'm sure is not allowed, but then again it's probably more likely that I'm wrong).

Later on, after a drinks stop or two and a shower and turning down some snake whiskey ("It make you real strong!") since we were just a little too sober, we stopped for an amazing feast. Can't remember the name of the place, but I think the rumours are true, and the food is actually amazing here. Luang Prabang (like a lot of Laos) is actually a UNESCO world heritage site, and as a result suffers a curfew from 11.30, save a few select places. According to all the tourists we asked, these select places are a bowling alley and a nightclub. Why not? Well, who should we meet at the bowling alley but the three "Whoaaay!" English guys from the bus the night before. Bowling was good fun. I scored possibly a personal worst of 63. I asked if we should head on over to the club just next door. But no. Apparently that closes before the bowling alley.

The next day we get up early and manage to barter some mountain bikes for half the quoted price. Our mission for the day is cycling the 26km to a waterfall, apparently a large tourist attraction. Normal sized tourists also go there.

It was quite a hot day, and since being out here and eating many spring rolls and fried rices my fitness has decreased significantly. It was still an eventful cycle. Got called "Farang" by some Lao children who may not have seen a westerner in their lives, had to navigate round many a buffalo (or possibly cow) in the middle of the road, and, of course, many, many rice fields. I have no idea what the actual grains look like when under the ground - the most reasonable explanation I can think of is that each clump of grass holds one grain under the water, giving around one field for a plate of rice.

Upon reaching the waterfall and being really tired (after a mean uphill final 5km), we wandered off to look at the bears and tiger. The bears had one of those amazing play areas that anyone would climb into were it not for the risk of having your head torn off, and Holly, like many of the tourists, spent ten minutes looking for the tiger before I told them it had died months before. Trying to get a more positive experience after this setback, Holly decides to go swimming and loses one flip-flop to the river. I suggest she can buy it back from the people at the shop at the bottom.

The waterfall was quite cool, if a little wet. We climbed up a lot of steps to reach the top and hopefully get an amazing view looking down the waterfall (which was all the more impressive given our journey), but up at the top was unfortunately a very wide stream through the trees. We tried walking across it but end up getting stuck after about 100m and have to wade back. A few people fall over to our enjoyment.

The prospect of cycling back again was a little too much for us, so managed to get a tuk-tuk for cheap with four other guys that we met, with the bikes tied onto the top. This took almost as long as cycling would have, but at least we got to sit and nurse our injuries.

That night we introduced everyone to drinking games from our respective countries (England, America, Australia, India and Brazil) - my favourites being "Fingers" and "Farm Animals". I taught them the joys of 21. The Australian guy decides to chat up the four waitresses ranging in age from 14 to 19. I say chat up - his pronunciation was probably poor, and I don't think anyone would get very far with a girl by asking things like "Is there a lost luggage around here?" and "Do you know where I can buy fungal cream?"

Having said that, I wouldn't be surprised if that worked in England.

The next morning was an early one. We had to get a horribly early bus to Vang Vieng - the capital of backpackers in Laos and home of the infamous 'tubing' experience.

We were demoted to the back of the bus - being raised above the engine, we had the luxury of a heated floor, and the windows not opening very far and being around waist-height. The air conditioning was also rather pathetic. And we were next to the toilet, which looked like a saucepan on a plinth. We did get some free sweets, offered round by a member of staff, which I didn't really want but felt obliged to take because he was hiding an AK-47 under his jacket. Was puzzled at people wandering down the street miles from anywhere.

We stopped at a town with a sign boasting "the 3 cleanest village". Not sure in what region this applied to, because it wasn't very clean and I'm sure there were only two other villages anywhere near it.

Eventually we arrived in Vang Vieng, after managing to get some sleep with a grubby curtain flapping in my face. This is a town consisting of about two streets and a river, that would be even less if it wasn't for the activity known as 'tubing'. Almost every bar, it seems, is made of a number of beds facing television screens playing Friends or Family Guy. I now understand why it is so easy to waste three days sitting here, as someone told us in Chiang Mai.

That evening we went for dinner in a hip hop bar, with two friends, Luke and Sally, whom we met on the bus. I ate a fish's eye, apparently a local delicacy. I wasn't going to give a lobotomy to the head on my plate, despite the waiter assuring me the brain was the best bit.

That night was an early one - the next day would be the tubing experience promoted by everybody we seem to meet.

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Photos

Releasing the Birds
Does not show the frantic pulling open of the cage while trying to avoid being mauled by two freedom-crazed finches.

View Back to the Valley
Maybe around 3/4 home on the tuk-tuk.

Waterfall
Halfway up to the top. Ugh.