Vang Vieng - Tubee or not tubee...

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Saturday, 14th August
Without the jars Phonsavanh has little to offer, unless you are open to making a day out of looking at cutlery made of reconstituted bombs. We weren't. We caught the bus to Vang Vieng all alone, just us and a driver determined to pick up any shady character from the side of the road and willing to go any route to get his car filled. Might as well pick up his shopping whilst on the way too. You don't cr*p on your own time, do it on the clock. Long bus ride = longer.

At Vang Vieng the tuk-tuk driver insisted on up-front payment. To take us to a different guesthouse than the one we asked for. Little kn*b.

Vang Vieng is Laos' Bangkok, Magaluf, Benidorm and Barcelona on a weekend. Kids getting smashed and creating tomorrow's abortions. The place is famous for its tubing, although how it managed to create itself this little niche with the number of rivers out here is as an answerable a question as how your sperm beat all the other identical ones. We set ourselves up in the Vang Vieng Orchid where the woman on reception left her baby on the floor as she checked us in. Sitting on the river with the mountains behind would have been a spectacular view had it not been for the bars decorated by blind children.

Never have I felt so old. Except the time they put the sign up at Flitwick rec that no-one under 12 could use it.

Sunday, 15th August
We decided against a tubing trip. The river is so sh*tty that half the people who float boozily down it get pink eye. When I look at people with pink eye I think "wow you had sh*t in your eye and you probably swallowed some too" and then I internally vomit. Pretty girls, ugly girls. One and the same with sh*t in your eye.

Tubing avoided. Kayaking instead. Same river. Oops. We'll try hard not to fall out. The drill was much the same as Luang Prabang only with the constant showers of the last few days it was choppier than a knife made of helicopters . Just what you need with a paranoid girlfriend in the front seat. Tipping out banter will not be greatly received. Nor nearly tipping out that isn't banter. Nor splashing. Nor jokes about splashing. Nor splashing other people in case they splash back.

Our brief dice with floating turds took us to the Elephant village, a local tribe village so name for the rock formation inside a cave on its outskirts that looks like...well...an elephant. It had a large buddha inside too, just not a tourist pull with all the other ones kicking around. These Laotians know a trick or two about commercialism.

We trekked across the village and paddy fields out to the tubing section of our bumper day (alright, don't get carried away it's different) where a dark and small cave awaited. At least it was small when the river was this high, one storm short of a national incident kind of high. Head torches were handed out with "waterproof" batteries dangling by our sides. The guide had me labelled early, my torch was a disco torch. Fine except for the complete lack of any light and huge rocks jutting out inside the cave.

The entrance to the cave was less than a few feet high and required some chicken limbo to get the tube and body under without the need for a dentist. Hayley almost turned but bravely continued. We pulled ourselves along the rope attached to the cave side and up onto a sandbank to be faced with real challenge - a low cave wall. Did they not realise the size of my arse when they dragged me in here? It was well and truly scratched at its exit 30m later.

Much of the remaining walk was through new deep water on a surface bumpier than a teenager's face. The guide has clearly made little effort conversational English but was able to communicate the practical joke that the place is littered with snakes. Priorities. I'm more worried about bats, there's been a massive rabies outbreak in the news in the last few weeks and I have had only 2 of the 3 necessary jabs 4 years ago. Wonder if I am covered adequately? Without the need for Michael Buerk was all got out safely.

Back out onto the kayaks and the ever choppy waters. There were six boats in total including one for the grossly unqualified guides, 2 filled with Chinese tourists who, somehow, can't swim. Guess whose boat tipped over? Cue unprecedented panic. Horror film screaming. Jaws type splashing. It was all over in a minute or two, when they were rescued. It never ends that happy in the movies.

The last stretch of the tour hit the tubing part of the river. Suddenly my Southern accent put me in the ethnic minority. Drunken volleyball in the mud, rope swings into the river and very cheap boozing would sum it up in a sentence. There were tons of bars along the stretch, every one cleverly claiming to be the last one and the last place that you can get a taxi home from. Some not so cleverly, since you could see the next bar a stone's throw away. Little kids were employed to throw out ropes and drag the stragglers in. In dry season it takes a couple of hours to do this trip, in this season it could all be over in 45 minutes.

I have no clue how people drowned out to sea at this spot. Seems so far away.

We helped ourselves to a pint before the final kayak back to town. Uneventful. Except for the man on his hotel balcony standing b*ll*ck-naked. Thank God my eyesight is poor. I offered the man a wave. He waved back.

In the evening we had dinner with Mitch and Alyssa, two Australians who were on our trip. Possibly the most enthusiastic couple in the world. Say what you like about religion, the only religious people I know are relentlessly happy (but then I have few non-Christian friends). These two volunteered in Cambodia for half a month AND didn't speak positive of "bible-bashers", just did it for goodness' sake. They lived in a shack out of their own pocket. Don't tell me the World is dead yet.

We chowed at Milan Pizza - the owner couldn't even pronounce Milan let alone have any affinity to it (he watched an AC match once) but the Tikka pizza was spectacular. We resisted menu B - weed, mushrooms or opium on your ham and pineapple. Later Mitch came with me to watch the season opener v. Arsenal in an Ozzie bar. The owner was from Milan. I missed the last 10 minutes because the hotel shut at 12. I ran home in the worst storm to date.

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Photos

Buddha inside a cave
Because sometimes you need to have a buddha inside a cave