“Would you rather lick the thing in the sink or…?" (Vientiane and Vang Vieng)

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After being dumped in Vientiane by our Tuk Tuk driver nowhere near our hotel, you think we’d be a bit annoyed. But we were not, oh no. The opposite in fact. You see, it was hot, sunny (no water buffalo freezing to death here people!) and Vientiane is the smallest capital city in the world (don’t quote me on that, I haven’t checked out the facts, but it is the most uncapital capital city I have ever come across). So it didn’t take us long to find our hotel.

We'd not been in the room 5 minutes when Lizzie cried from the bathroom "What the FUCK is that in the sink?". I tentatively joined her in the bathroom. What greeted me was not pretty. I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to take a photo, so you will have to rely on my description. It was basically like a massive mouldy tumour. On the sink. It was the most revolting thing I’ve ever seen. Lizzie called the man on the reception to our room. "What is that?" we asked. "Oh! Oh no worries!", he chuckled. “No worries, sticky sticky!" Right, that’s cleared that one up then…

The Growth in the Sink incident has given us a fun new game to play though: I like to call it 'would you rather, lick the growth in the sink or….' For example: 'Would you rather, lick the thing in the sink, or get back on the bus from Hanoi to Vientiane?' (I’d choose the bus, every time). Or, when amongst the sunbathers on the banks of the Mekong in Luang Prabang, 'Would you rather, lick the thing in the sink, or lick that old german man over there?'. Hours of fun!

Growths in sinks aside, we found Vientiane really rather charming. We’d been told not to expect much, that it wasn’t that exciting – but it was such a lovely contrast from Hanoi in every possible way (sunny, laid back, less chance of death by scooter…) that I couldn’t help but like it. We decided to have a nice relaxing couple of days there, so indulged in a foot spa, pedicure, and Lao massage. Lovely!

If only we'd known what was ahead of us. We’d decided, to break up the what would have been 12 hour bus journey to Luang Prabang, to stop in Vang Vieng for a couple of days. If you’ve never been to Vang Vieng, don’t. Just don’t. I’m sure if I’d been 18 and on a lads holiday it would have been delightful. But at the rather more discerning age (and gender) I am now, I just found it horrible. Magaluf in the making! As my friend Milla said when I told her my thoughts, there’s nothing like Vang Vieng to make you hate the world.

It's a shame actually, because it’s a really pretty place. Tubing is the big attraction, and the whole town has become a backpacker ghetto. But not in a so-bad-it’s-actually-quite-fun way like the Khao San road. It’s just a bit depressing – the bars loop play either Friends or Family Guy episodes, and everywhere does the same stodgy Western food that drunk teenagers will love because they don’t care about the taste.

We actually had a really nice day doing kayaking and cycling, which was lovely. We ended up cycling about 18k m in search of the infamous Organic Mulberry Farm – it claimed to be a few kilometers from town. Whatever Mulberry Farm! I don’t believe you exist (if anyone has visited said Mulberry Farm please correct me). And yes, I did say that I cycled 18 km (if you don’t know me this may not sound like that much – but I never exercise, let alone cycle, ever).

And then night fell. And my stomach hurt. And I was sick, oh so sick. I kept both myself and Lizzie up all night with my bout of food poisoning (to Lizzie: you are a very good friend). I blame the chicken tikka I ate at Nazim’s Indian – which is weird, because it was bloody tasty. Whatever it was, it has meant that I cannot think about Vang Vieng without feeling sick. Which is probably quite apt actually.

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Comments

[Laura]

Food poisoning
Hope you are ok now my dear! XX