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Published: January 27th 2008
Orange robes drying on a line strung between two Wats, probably the best beer in Asia, although Dali is a close second. The emptiest roads, where baby humans chase baby hogs who chase baby chicks and then all three stop and turn to you on your rickety bike and jump up and down shouting 'Sabadeeeeeee!' Hills and valleys, jungle like, empty and yet you don't venture down, there might be a mine, you read it in your guide book and didn't think anything of it until you saw the army mine disposal team taking a quick break at that roadside café.
We flew in to Vientiane via Pakse, not sure what to expect. The city is spacious, and it was easy to find cheap accommodation on the Mekong. We didn't have too much time there so made our way to the famous Wat Pha That Luang, golden and splendid, and dammit, closed. It didn't matter though, we got a great look at it from outside, the gold reflected in the afternoon glow. On the way we visited Wat Sisaket, which is old and wooden, flaking and crumbling, reminding us more of the Japanese Shinto Temples than the usual ornate Buddhist
Temples of South East Asia. We also passed by the Arc de Triomphe, well, their Arc de Triomphe, which is unsurprisingly located at the centre of a roundabout that is impossible to cross. We spent a while trying to play frogger with the cars and then chickened out. After wandering around we took a tuk-tuk back to the Mekong, the drivers have a sort of agreement on pricing and produced a sheet which should have been marked 'Tourist Prices, take them for what you can' but in fairness we were shattered and the lift was well worth it. We even spotted a monk smoking (shock horror) in a passing tuk-tuk, but he drove too fast for us to get a clear piece of evidence.
That night we sat by the Mekong in one of the outdoor restaurants which rustle up magnificent food, the menu is usually as thick as Ulysses, on a gas ring and bring it sizzling to your formica table where you sit on a plastic garden chair and sip delicious Beer Lao. It's all as cheap as a bag of chips from the chippie and you have the added amusement of watching (and if you like
Wat Pha That Luang
The golden stupa contrasted beautifully with the clear blue sky. This Wat is something of a national symbol here.to buying) dried octopus from ladies who wander up and down the tables saying 'you buy?' Alan was overcome with romance and decided to buy me not dried octopus, but an inflated Hello Kitty balloon, which lead to us meeting a really sound American couple from Portland, Oregon, who are jealous of my balloon and also doing a trip like ours, and it was great fun to trade tales over a few more Beer Lao. There's a new favorite food we discovered by the Mekong, to the amusement of the lady working there - 'Curry Rice'. It is such a simple food - fried rice with veg and whatever meat you choose - but absolutely delicious. We were crazy for this and ended up ordering seconds... Ah well, sure when in Vientiane!
Getting to Vang Vieng was easy as pie, we booked tickets through the guesthouse and were picked up the usual fifteen to thirty minutes after the time. Outside we piled into the big moto with all the other travellers and were brought on a big trip around the corner, which amused some of our co-passengers who had been picked up from across the road thirty minutes earlier.
Vang Vieng sunset
One of the lovely sunsets we were priveledged to enjoy from our 8 balcony. Beer Lao and pastry treats not pictured! We all piled into a very nice big bus and waited. And waited. And waited. An hour after our time to leave, the bus full to the brim, some Aussies got on board. There was no room for them, so the ingenious driver and his four assistants brought on some plastic picnic chairs to put in the aisle. Everyone laughed, and then waited and waited. The journey to Vang Vieng was somewhat strung out and I think everyone, the Aussies in particular, were delighted when we arrived.
Vang Vieng is a natural stopping point on the road to Luang Prabang. It is a sortof peculiar town, along the lines of one of the Thai Island towns of Lamai on Koh Samui or Haad Rin on Koh Phangan. In short it is Laos' interpretation of what the Backpackers want. In Laos terms it means some activities - tubing (where you get a tractor wheel tube, sit in it, go down a river, stopping at riverside bars for a drink), kayaking, cycling etc.,. - lots of bars playing bootleg movies (and in some cases Friends, even still). Where Vang Vieng gets it's shady side from isn't the girls of the Thai
Don't do it!
...and don't turn left either bars, it is from 'Special Menus', which you get in some of the bars. The 'Special Menu' which contains many 'Happy' items isn't McDonald's attempt to increase childhood obesity, rather it is a handwritten menu that has all sorts of goodies on it - to name a few: 'Happy Shake' (Gange); 'Super Happy Shake' (Magic Mushrooms and Gange); Opium Tea; Bag of Opium... the list goes on, the handwriting less decipherable. Spazzed westerners laze around smoking happy cigarettes, drinking happy tea, eating happy pizza, garnished by happy garlic bread probably seeing Ronald McDonald.
What I loved about Vang Vieng was the scenery - it is very green with those strange Karst Mountains that resemble camel humps on the landscape, the river rushing past over which rickety bamboo bridges are built. We were delighted to get a room with a balcony in the Orchid Guesthouse for the grand sum of ten dollars (they are quite keen on the mighty dollar in Laos, not so much as Cambodia, but still they love when you use it) where we sat with an afternoon Beer Lao and some delish cake from the Luang Prabang Bakery, listening to birds caw and westerners going 'wahey'
Wat Si Saket, Vientiane
The only Wat to survive the Thai invasion of Vientiane in 1827. as they spun down the river in their tractor wheel tube. One day we hired bikes and cycled through the countryside down the long empty road. It was thirteen kms to the caves we wanted to visit, through fascinating villages with bamboo huts, houses on stilts and where girls washed their hair in water from a communal tap.
In one of these towns, I had this great moment where a little gang of five babies who had been playing in a river, saw me coming and rushed to the middle of the road, jumping up and down, some of them half dressed, some of them naked shouting 'sabadee' (hello) and then giggling wildly when I said it back to them and waving away as I (admittedly very slowly) cycled by. At one point I almost ran over this man in his sixties who was holding his trousers up crossing the road (I'm not sure why - I mean the trousers, and of course the running him over - we were both moving extremely slowly) which he laughed away about and then hiked his trousers up even higher, and his wife who was at the other side of the road
laughed. Later I passed a group of people around my own age who were lounging on one of these outdoor sitting room deck things that they have built on stilts who shouted 'sabadee' and I said 'sabadee' and then one shouted 'hello' and I said 'hello' and then another shouted 'ni hao' (Chinese for hello) and I shouted 'ni hao' and everyone laughed, and then thankfully I had passed them by - we were rapidly running out of languages, still we all did our bit for the UN I suppose.
In all this merriment we overshot our mark and when we realised, hot and tired, we decided to stop for a coke (I had a Miranda - kindof Fanta drink) at a wooden cafe on the side of the road, which also housed a whole load of chickens and chicks, who ran through it at regular intervals. Our pitstop coincided with that of a Mine Removal team which reminded us that this is the most bombed country in the world and made me very wary of taking any detours off road.
Refreshed, we found the unsealed side road to the caves and parked our rickety bicycles for the
Patuxai
Vientiane's very own Arc de Triomph. princely sum of 10c each with a man who told us that we couldn't take our bikes any further and then stood watching the empty bushes for potential miscreants. We wandered down to the rickety bamboo bridge and passed a couple of cyclists with their bikes making their way back over the bridge (hmmm). At the other end of the bridge a kind lady brought our attention to the bridge tax of 20c each, which we of course paid, how silly of us not to know we had to pay a bridge tax. As we wandered past a sad looking monkey who was picking his hairs out one by one, trapped in a cage, I suggested we free him but I think his owner thought we wanted to have our photo taken with him so we shook our heads and made our way sadly to the caves. On the way we were stopped twice by helpful men who wanted us to pay them and stood right by our side, following us through rice fields despite our protestations, mild and then strong, that we wanted to find them on our own. When we assured them of our autonomy they then just
Millionaires!
Aoife holding One Million Laos Kip! (75) asked for money strong and then mildly, and then cigarettes, and then just for anything. Eventually they left, leaving only my guilty conscience arguing whether we should have given them money or not, which I dismissed after a few seconds, as the foliage and butterflies, buzzing flies and bees were too fascinating. It was quite empty and we only ran into a group of Australians who joked with us about the persistent locals.
At the caves we were ready with the invariable 'cave tax' and then dismissed the half-hearted offer of a guide and made our own way in, climbing around and fumbling with our head torch, which Alan smugly put on his head his look saying 'see, I told you so, you laughed at me when I bought it, you laughed at me in Siberia when I last had the courage to wear it, and now, you'd be lost without it, so ha.' He wasn't wrong. The caves were pretty amazing... in the camera viewfinder (it was seriously dark down there, and I made my way using photographs... and the head torch, of course). In one of the caves we found a Buddha, which reminded me of the
Mekong sunset
Goes down well with Lao curried rice (x2)! Holy Mary in the slate mines of Valencia in Kerry (not in Italy, silly).
We made our way back through the sad village of tax collectors, across the bridge and reclaimed our bikes and regrettfully put our bums which were quite sore already back on. A few people who had rented moped drivers relished their moment and revved off leaving us in their stead. We bumped up the unsealed road, stopping to talk to a cow who told us to go away and leave her alone. We then slowly, with many pit-stops, went the thirteen kms back to Vang Vieng, being overtaken by the strange engine-tractor vehicles (Mad Max style) that many Laotian families use to transport their huge families. At some point we smelt the excellent baguettes they bake here and sped up, arriving in the Luang Prabang bakery in time for a freshly squeezed lemon drink, poured over crushed ice (seventy cents) and a baguette (a euro).
I think we overstayed our time in Vang Vieng but we got out - I have a feeling lots of people don't from the state of some of the spazzed westerners - and caught a mini-bus to Luang Prabang,
which is the 'fast option'. Ahem. We sat in the front seat with the driver who was very friendly and unfortunately I don't have a clue what he was talking about, but I smiled and frowned at appropriate times, although he did take many stops and disappeared at one of them for an hour, so perhaps I upset him, I'm not sure. Anyway the drive was one of the highlights of the trip so far, the bus wound its way through villages of bamboo homes on stilts where women and children bashed the hell out of this grass that they had drying at the side of the road against the tarmac. I laughed out loud at scaredy-pigs - you know the story of the 'three little piggys' well there are loads of baby and adult hogs which are domestic but run wild around the villages and our bus, one of the few vehicles passing by, scared the daylights out of these guys who would go trotting across the road in a line. There were babies everywhere - baby pigs, chickens and of course the baby humans a lot of whom wander around in their nip, and then older school kids
French connections
Laos does not rue its colonial past (sorry!) driving three to a scooter. The road winds high into mountains where you look over the vastest green valleys and hills which look mostly jungle, not really inhabited at all.
And then we arrived in Luang Prabang, which is a bit of a shock after rural Laos, it's very western orientated, and when we arrived we originally shared a moto with a few American girls, a Japanese father and son and a South African couple who went from mellow and smiley to ferociously angry, shrieking that we were all being ripped off and should get out of the moto immediately. At the start I felt ripped off, until I calculated that they were talking about twenty cents. I suggested that we ask the driver if he would compromise and give us the price they wanted but I don't think they heard me, they were so angry that they abandoned the moto. Luckily for the rest of us the driver gave us a discount, so thank you to the South African couple, and I hope the walk was ok.
In the town we wandered around looking for a room, it was busy and many were taken or too dear
Never mind the view
Three monks spot the path to enlightenment for our budget, but we were delighted to get a nice room for six dollars fifty (no bathroom 😞 I like me own bathroom - and for anyone wondering, after the great hostels in China, I wasn't sure what to expect but in Asia we've found we can arrive in a town and knock on doors and accommodation is reasonable anywhere we've travelled, although we've mostly stayed in Guesthouses, which is good as you meet the family, and a bit different from home as a lot of the time the family tend to live there, sometimes sleeping in Reception type thing) and then the next day we got a bathroom for slightly more which was purrr-fect.
Luang Prabang is full of monks in their orange robes, and their cloth monk bags, which Alan wants one of. They even man another bamboo bridge, collecting a tidy profit in bridge tax. It's a very pretty old Colonial town, full of travel agents. The French influence is everywhere, in the buildings, the fact that everyone plays boules, the delicious baguettes, the wine (we treated ourselves to a glass of wine, first in ages, and boy was it good! Although at three dollars
a glass, expensive for here) and Tin Tin - who is celebrated in artwork sold in craftshops in the town. We paddled in the Mekong which we were satisfied to see fulfilled our expections, i.e. was silty, wide, brown and slow. The old Royal Palace museum, where the royal family lived before (ahem) disappearing somewhere in the north of the country never to be seen again, was amazing. As I said before it is very touristy, and we got the impression a lot of people fly in there for a stop on the way to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, as there were an awful lot more tourists than in Vientiane or Vang Vieng.
That means all the western mod-cons, and yet it is still Laos so you have funny things happen, such as our experiences with trying to get a boat to go down the Mekong at sunset. One boat driver we met in the afternoon suggested it to us and we said we'd think about it. He said, 'come back at five' and I said, 'look, we may, it's a great idea, but we're not sure so we'll think about it.' Well we thought about it and decided
it was a great idea and went back. We spent about ten minutes wandering around, but our boat driver wasn't there and the sun was setting so another guy suggested we go with him. Of course no sooner had we reluctantly agreed to go with him than our first boatman was back saying 'I wait for you!' and imploring me with the saddest eyes. I told the first boatman the situation and he kept saying 'but I look for you! I wait for you!' and then the second boatman started off with 'you go with me! you go with me!' I felt like the biggest meanie since Cruella deVille. So I said, 'I don't know who to choose, we don't need two boats - so you guys sort it out.' Unfortunately they didn't talk about it, they both just decided to continue guilt-tripping me, and pleaded with me with their big imploring eyes and their statements of utter devotion, which I'm afraid is the worst tactic to use on me. Now while you might think I'm mean and you're probably right, my sympathy rapidly ran out, and I said 'well, if you can't agree it, neither can I' and walked
Light in the darkness
Evening prayers, Laos off stubbornly. We also tried to get a tuk-tuk to a waterfall and agreed a price. However when the driver took twenty five minutes to leave the town (a five minute walk), and then stopped to collect his entire family, who began to squeeze in two at a time, we hopped out of the tuk-tuk.
You're never sure if you behave rightly or wrongly. Should Alan and I have had separate romantic boat rides watching the sunset? Should we have chosen one guy over the other? Would it have been more ethical to take the tuktuk despite the delays and had a chat with the family - I mean we've done that before, but for some reason that day it stuck in our craw? Ah shoot, you do what you do. I felt that the boat-men needed to cop on and communicate - perhaps agree some recompense with each other if necessary. I think that if you agree to pay for two people to travel by tuk-tuk at a certain price then that's the agreement - any additional travellers, those at the behest of the driver or the passenger, need to be communicated about by both parties.
Luang
Prabang has a wonderful night-market with the most talented seamstresses I've ever seen. They make beautiful bedlinen, aprons and throws that are sold at really great prices, even though they are all handmade. I was so tempted, but my backpack is seriously heavy. When we climbed Phousi hill to watch the sun set from the height of the Wat, I had another 'tourist dilemma'. There were the cutest little birds caged in tiny woven cages which ladies sell for tourists to free at the top of the hill. Do you buy one and free it? Or do you try to discourage them from catching more. I did the latter. But as I watched other tourists releasing the birds, I did feel bad for the little bird I could have set free.
The sun was very slow setting so we made our way down still in the light to see the Buddha's footprint, which the monks are eager to point out, he had made at the base of the hill. Having paid our hill and footprint tax we were eager to see it too. There are actually two, and the first one was carefully marked with a handpainted sign which
the American man in front of us read aloud for our amusement 'Buddha Foof Print.' We all tittered discreetly and made our way to the second, which is located in a concrete cavelike structure, I bent first to go in, and the American eagerly awaited my analysis. 'Boy did he grow' I said. And the American agreed, he had. Buddha's second foof print is epic, like the good man hisself, whereas the first is a men's size nine, the latter is at least two metres in length.
We were running out of time. Already the Australia flights had been changed once, and the clock was ticking. Having maxed the time we had, we reluctantly booked a ticket to Chiang Mai in Thailand. It was great, but there is so much to see. It seems the longer we are on the road for the more time we feel we need, 'next time, next time' I said, as I boarded the plane.
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