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Published: July 27th 2009
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Leaving behind Thailand after nearly two months in the country, I head into uncharted territory; Laos. Alright, not quite uncharted, but pretty damn remote nonetheless. At one point Laos was under the dominion of France; however, not surprisingly the French surrendered their claim to the country in 1949. While it has been over half a century since the French left, their influence in the region is still palpable. More on the later, but first I will tell a tale of the joys of border crossing in second and third world countries.
Ian and I arranged to take what is known as the "slow boat" (which is not analogous to the "short bus" back home) from the Laotian border to the city of Luang Prabang. The actual crossing of the Thai/Laos border was rather painless... except for our hotel managing to extract ฿200 from us in order to get an entry stamp on our passports. A stamp that we were assured was mandatory prior to our entry into Laos, and which if missing would prevent us from entering the country. Inevitably, the stamp was free at the border. I hope the $6 which the hotel scammed from me brought them great
Mountain Top View
The view over Luang Prabang from a mid-mountain temple. joy. Sadly for me this was but a taste of things to come.
After physically crossing the border I find myself waiting on the shore of the mighty Mekong river. This is to be my highway into the heart of Laos. Traveling on the river with Ian and I were approximately 50 other people. We were all set to take either the slow or fast boat, the difference between the two being about a days travel time. We were introduced to our "guide", a Laotian fellow, who assured us he was in charge and would take care of us all the way to our destination. Initially we were told we would depart at 11:00 AM, and so we settled into a cafe of the guides' choosing to kill the time with a game of cards. By 1:00 PM we were starting to get anxious. By 3:00 PM we were livid. Long story shot... there wasn't a boat, slow or fast. The guide claimed that he hadn't received payment from the travel agents of all the foreigners and that we could depart as soon as payment was made. A few phone calls from some quick thinking British girls (there's an
Me in Vang Vieng
Ugly buildings, beautiful mountains. oxymoron if ever there was one) uncovered a sinister plot to steal everyone's' money. The dubious scheme was revealed when the travel agent informed us that she had spoken to the guide who had said that we had departed on the boat over 3 hours ago. He managed to tell her this while we were standing right beside him on the shore. Realizing at this point that his life was in peril from 50 furious foreigners the guide arranged for mini-buses to pick up all the stranded passengers and drive them to their destination. For a nominal charge of ฿300/person. Of course there was no refund of the cost of the boat trip, because the money "never had been transferred" (obviously it was transferred into his pocket). Furthermore, the bus trip would take 14 hours through the Laotian mountains at night. Aside from the fury caused by the fact that the actual cost of the bus trip, if pre-booked, was about half the cost of the boat was the lingering fact that driving through the mountains in Laos in broad daylight is borderline suicidal. We were departing just as the sun set. Miraculously, we somehow arrived at our destination of
Big Mountain
I think the picture title is pretty clear. Luang Prabang 14 hours later alive and intact. Highlights of the trip included watching every episode of "Gossip Girl" thanks to our "cultured female British friends" and seeing an overturned semi-truck dangling over the precipice of a mountain cliff.
On to the good stuff. After yet again enjoying the oblivion of travel weary sleep Ian and I awoke in Luang Prabang and set out to see what there actually is in the city. We soon find the answer... not too much. To be fair it was a fairly large, charming city. As I mentioned before the influence of French colonialism still dominates that atmosphere in the city, most notably the cuisine and architecture. There are baguette and crepe stands settled in front of palatial Colonial-French styled mansions, now converted into boutique hotels. After a rather uneventful day, we find the true allure of the city. The evening. Every night around 7 PM the night bazaar kicks into full swing, blocking the street off to traffic with stands selling every kind of craft/good imaginable. We spend the first night scoping out the goods (much to the annoyance of the local vendors) and the second night actually buying. Our bartering skills
The Lost World
I am sure this image was plucked straight from Arthur Conan Doyle's brain. are put to the test... by and large I would say we did a good job.
Having had enough of night markets and quiet days we head to the Laotian city of Vang Vieng which is literally the exact opposite of Luang Prabang. After a short 7 hour bus ride (comparatively speaking) we arrive in the city of Vang Vieng. This city is notorious throughout traveling circles for one thing only... river tubing down the Mekong. Do not confuse this tubing with something akin back home. It has no equal. The actual tubing is merely a front for the gross indulgence in drinking at river front bamboo bars. Moreover, these bars aren't really bars per se. Rather they are a cross between circ du soleil and a drinking competition. Each establishment has free shots which taste strangely like watermelon flavoured gasoline (if such a wonderful thing actually exists) and trapeze swings towering 10 meters above in the trees. There is a steady line of people queuing to take their turn at throwing themselves from these swings in to the swiftly moving, murky brown waters of the Mekong. Ian and I indulge of course, and I must confess that he
The Begining of the End
A bus station in Laos. The start of so much pain. is far more graceful than I gave him credit for. His wasn't even close to the worst crash we saw during the day. Obviously, this kind of fun has no equal.
After a day of tubing, we spend a day relaxing and licking our wounds. At this point we decide that we have taken all that Laos has to offer and that we best be moving on. Next stop, the Peoples' Socialist Republic of Vietnam. Via a 29 hour bus ride. Pray for my lower back.
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Zach
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Monks
So you travelled across the world, spent hours upon hours enduring the pains of inland travel, finally reach Loas, and were too God damned lazy to wake up at sunrise to see the monks scamming food in their travel lines? Oh Danny, you are a dink.