Laos / Goodbye Asia

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In coming back to this blog to publish for my next trip to Israel, I found the last unpublished entry from my last one:

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Laos is actually pronounced Lao. The government and many individually owned stores I passed spelled it "Lao". My dad blames the French, the former colonial patron, "who are always adding extra letters to things." Travelers I meet along the way are equally confused. Israelis in particular seem intent on pronouncing the "s" in Laos in such a way that it rhymes with mouse. Here I'm using the international spelling but when I read it in my head, I drop the 's'.

In retrospect, I'm happy that I chose to end my trip in Laos. I needed a change of scene, a different environment, after a darker experience in Cambodia.

Vientiane

Vientiane, Laos's capital was a big surprise. Wide boulevards, European style restaurants, and most importantly, very few touts. In my search for a bed, a process of comparing hostels that took maybe an hour, I was approached maybe once or twice. This may not seem like a big deal, but in places like Cambodia and Thailand, you can't walk a block without hearing the phrase "Taxi? Where you going?" or being invited to check out "very cheap" guesthouses, restaurants and stores. Oddly, while I was perhaps approached 4 or 5 times in Vientiane, two of those times involved someone trying to sell me drugs, and another involved a transexual hooker trying to get my attention from a motorbike. Where were all the usual touts?

In general it seemed that in Laos, no one cares. I could relax and take a big breath. I could walk Vientiane's wide streets without fear for my life (from cars and motorcycles), even stopping in the middle of one to discuss housing options with a few random Israeli backpackers. My room was on the fourth floor of RM Hotel at US$6/night. The staircase was narrow and the walls were recently painted very white. The common room contained a few French backpackers watching tv with drying clothes strewn about the room. I stopped to give my Dad a call on the balcony, a feeling of peace. My bathroom contained the first hotwater shower I'd had since Korea. I can't describe the wondrous glory of that experience. That night I treated myself to the only expensive dinner of the SE Asian trip, a French-Laos restaurant: a delicious fish dinner, followed by a glass of scotch - the whole thing coming to US$16, a small fortune in Laos. Unfortunately the jazz bar in town was closed for a private function.

Vang Vieng

I took the 6 hour bus ride up to Vang Vieng, up winding, mountainous roads. Vang Vieng is a bit of an anomaly, a Disneyland for 20-somethings. The center of town is a dusty, unappealing place, littered with lookalike guesthouses, bars and restaurants, catering entirely and exclusively to the backpackers. Locals do not appear to come here unless they are selling something. I started walking in the direction of the river, where LP recommended. The restaurants seem to play Family Guy and Friends only, from opening to close. I wonder how the restaurant staff haven't gone mad yet.

Trucking my big backpack, on the way, I hear over my shoulder "need a guesthouse?" I see a white guy on a motorcycle, obviously yanking my chain, pretending to be one of the touts. I laugh appreciatively. Then he says, "Actually, seriously, I'm staying at a really nice place. Do you want to see?" Well why not. He takes me to a guesthouse on the river - clean, family-run and dirt-cheap at around US$2 per night. My cheapest digs yet. My room is on the second floor of their wooden home. There is no glass on the windows and there is a mosquito net around the bed. I have the room to myself. Perfect.

The next day I got up early to join a spelunking and kayaking trip down the river (only $9 for the day!). In a group of 8 or 9, my companions included a Dutch couple, a young hefty Chinese woman, four loud obnoxious Chinese Malaysians and one of their mothers. When I say obnoxious I mean loud, cheery, whining voice, singing, joking, and an utter lack of self-awareness. The mother looked overwhelmed. I may have clung a bit too closely to the Dutch. Our easygoing guide led us on a hike to a simple cave temple with anthropomorphic animal carvings on the walls (see pictures). Each was associated with a mythic story and moral lesson. After lunch, we tubed (a big air-filled donut you sit in) on a line through a cave in two groups. Needless to say, my group consisted of the Dutch couple and the sane Chinese woman. We quickly outpaced the Malays. The farther we got away from the bratty yelling of the Malays that reverberated through the cave, the better I felt.

Next, we prepared to kayak down the river back to town (Vang Vieng), which had mild rapids. I have never done this before in my life. With the Dutch couple paired together, and with no intention of getting stuck with any of the others... "Okay, who is going with who?" asks the guide. "I'll take the single boat" I say. My Dutch companions and the Laos guide chuckle. The Chinese girl looks a bit hurt. She'll go with the guide. I feel a little bad. One of the Malays asks our guide a question about boating before launching into another long joyful rant. Our guide quietly mutters something about her weight sinking the boat. He smiles. Eek. She either didn't hear him or doesn't take him seriously.

Kayaking was fun. I got the hang of basic steering quickly and felt the exhilaration of independently navigating a flowing river on my own for the first time. But it was tiring. After 20 minutes, my arms ached and I started to fall behind the 3 other boats. Rapids were problematic. You lose most of your control and I couldn't decide whether to attempt to steer or let the waters go where they may. In the former, with all the rushing water, you run the risk of steering against the flow and throwing yourself overboard. Which I did. Thrice. The second time I lost my shirt.

Three hours later...

The most popular feature of Vang Vieng is the bars lining the river. There are maybe ten bars, spaced 500 meters from each other. Most backpackers throw themselves into a tube and barhop down the river, getting increasingly inebriated. Most bars have ziplines, i.e. creative ways to fling yourself into the river. Our stop was the Mud Bar (see pictures). A playground for 20-somethings, it had a bar; a volleyball court where the knee-deep mud-pocketed floor made moving about more of a challenge than fielding the ball; a tug-of-war over a mud pond; and a zipline that hurtles you into oblivion and back until you decide to let go and plunge into the cool waters (a word of advice for guys, ALWAYS close your legs). After a hard day of kayaking, I was simply happy. I ended the afternoon kayaking down the last 45 minutes of (calm) river, watching the sun set, chatting with an Israeli I met on a tube, and then walking back to town with the Dutch couple.

On the Low Side

The next day I got to see the organization behind my fun. Apparently, the tubing/bar industry is a government monopolized business, which townmembers rotate through (each getting a 3 month stint every year for example). Hmm. The police, meanwhile, have implemented a strict anti-drug policy. $500 "fines" are not uncommon. Neither are the drugs. All of which must make for a lucrative business. The hordes of drunken Westerners also attracts less savoury types. Or maybe just opportunists. An English guy I hung out with was attacked and mugged while walking drunkenly back to his hostel alone at 5 in the morning. Ya I wouldn't advise doing that at home either.

My last day at Vang Vieng was anti-climactic. The river bars were less fun. The Mud Bar, no longer a novelty, did not produce the same silly smile of the day before. My English and Canadian acquaintances were not really the type I wanted to hang out with long-term. Again, I longed to have some friends from home with me. Most of all, I longed to explore the rest of Laos. To follow the mountain roads north into China, east to Vietnam, or west to Chiang Rai.

Goodbye Asia

I flew back to Toronto via Bangkok, Beijing and Seoul (in that order) - a decompression chamber of sorts. In 72 hours I went from a $2/night hut in Laos to the bright lights of Toronto.

When people ask me about the trip, they're most surprised to learn that I did my first backpacking trip abroad alone in the Far East. "Weren't you scared," and "I could never do that!" are two common responses. I don't think I was ever scared, though I was 'concerned' at times over how to deal with problems. And I passed on a few experiences where I might have taken a risk to try something new.

If you have the opportunity to backpack alone, here's what I would say:
- Traveling with someone else provides security but denies you the freedom to have your OWN experiences, to go wherever you want to go, on a whim.
- It also forces you to meet new people constantly.
- I'm inherently a social animal, so the grind of travelling alone began to wear on me, especially in places without English-speaking locals and frequent backpackers. It helps to keep yourself busy. And if you're feeling in a rut, move on to the next town.

So when people tell me "I could never do that", I try to remind them that what you can and can't do has much more to do with your mindset than with the realities. You CAN if you tell yourself that you can.

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Comments

[jordan]

i wonder where the lost shirt ended up...
much appreciate the last, inspiring bit. good luck and be safe in Israel bro!