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Published: January 30th 2009
Morning
Chilly and misty are Vang Vieng morningsWe left chilly Luang Probang via another mini-bus at 9 AM. Before we departed the guesthouse night guard (All guesthouses in SE Asia have night guards. These are men that work second jobs consisting of sleeping in the lobby all night in a mosquito net covered sleeping bag. Ostensibly they are supposed to let you in and out of the guesthouse after normal business hours. In reality you will already be provided with a key to the front door and you couldn’t wake the guy if you wanted to. He wanted us to pay our room bill, which we had already paid the day before. We refused to pay again and he started getting a little freaky as if he didn’t believe us and was thinking hard about detaining us. Fortunately the owner showed up and calmed him down. He begged our forgiveness, which we refused and ordered his immediate dismissal.
We retraced our previous route encountering only two major accidents this time around. If you are new to this Blog check out the previous entry, Luang Probang; Bright Lights Poor City, for details on the road between Vang Vieng and Luang. Our driver was a rather pudgy fellow. When
we were 30 minutes away from our destination he made an unscheduled 45-minute stop at a roadside restaurant. He parked the van with a full load of passenger and walked into the eatery. After waiting for a few minutes we ventured out to find him snacking away inside the building. We did what any normal Westerner does in these situations: we waited for him to finish. He bought a bamboo container of sticky rice on his way out and ordered us all back into the bus. Ten klicks later we pulled up in front of his girlfriend’s place where he honked his horn. She ran out with a bag of oranges that he swapped for the rice. We were lucky that she ran out of the house. She could have sauntered. In Laos passengers are treated like cargo. Complaining only makes the drivers move more slowly so grin and bear it.
Vang Vieng was warm and sunny when we rolled into town. We were given the best room possible at Lejardin Organique Guesthouse, room 208. There are only 5 rooms in the place so how they came up with 208 is beyond our collective comprehension. The room has two
Monk Consruction
One of the local Wats has decided to re-furbish their entry. windowed walls with a beautiful view of the river karsks. We took it for 5 nights at 100,000 per night but don’t let them know that we told you. We regularly saw them quoting 160,000 for lesser rooms. The owner and her family are wonderful folks. They also have a travel agency, laundry, grocery store, wine shop and taxi service running out of the same building. They have a new baby girl who is drop dead cute and loves to throw kisses to guests. Karen and I always carry around these little light sticks that they sell in the dollar stores. You know, the kind that you bend to crack a vial inside and then shake like a Polaroid to make them emit light. They come in different colors and kids love them. We gave a couple of these things to the baby and the next thing we knew we were getting a twenty-percent discount on everything we bought in the store and any tours we booked. Always remember; it’s nice to be nice.
We ate dinner at the Sunset Riverside Café. A strange name given they’re not on the river and have no sunset views. What they do
have is great food at good prices and free movies. Get there early enough and you get to pick the film. You can even bring your own if you like. The restaurant owner has a high-end surround sound system installed. We discovered that Karen had left her jacket on the mini-bus. I had forgotten mine in Chiang Mai so we were down to one jacket that I insisted that Karen wear. Yeah, I’m quite a guy and besides it was her jacket originally. Vang Vieng can get a little chilly after the sun goes down so plan on wearing pants in the evening. The river water's temperature is downright frosty which leads to other problems that we’ll cover later. On our way to the restaurant we ran into a family of five. The father asked me if I knew of any good restaurants and I said I did but why would I tell him when all he would do would be to bring all of these kids with him and ruin it for me. He laughed so we told him and it turns out that they are some of the nicest people we have met to date. Their names are
Sid, Carrie, Micah, Marin and Leah. The parents are Doctors from Toronto. They have worked together treating Inuits in the Arctic Circle and Africans in Africa and they are sweet as can be and really good parents and probably have the carbon footprint of a goody two shoe and cry at the drop of a baby seal. Their kids are bright, well behaved and engaging. Oh Canada.
The next morning Karen and I headed out to visit another one of the local caves since the first one we stumbled upon was so interesting. On the other side of the Bamboo Bridge (For info on the Vang Vieng bridges and other info check the’ How To Get Into Laos and Reasons Not To’ Blog entry.) we came to a fork in the road and a Christmas tree of directional signs. Hand written crude arrows pointing in every direction imaginable. We picked out one that promised 4 beautiful caves and swimming in beautiful mountain pools. Distance: 300 meters. We headed off as directed down a rough gravel road. Giant bamboo arches turned our path into a cool green arcade, which opened out to a sun lit rice field. A hill tribe
woman with a Goliath-sized walking stick passed in the distance paying us scant attention. The fields were fallow. The diked squares had been given over to herds of dairy cows munching on dry rice straw. A bamboo-fenced garden of squash was the only thing growing this day. We stopped to admire the karsks in the distance and the wondrous silence. You can wander for miles on this rice plain and never see another person. Even though the fields are cultivated you are free to explore. We must have wandered around for another 15 minutes before we came to the brilliant conclusion that we were off the cave path. Retracing our steps we uncovered a tiny little directional arrow buried in some foliage. In the distance we saw a serpentine line heading off to the northwest. Bamboo poles topped with empty white cement bags marked the way. 300 meters my ass. Either the sign maker dropped a zero or the Laotians use a completely different metric system. After two miles the only thing we had run across was a cow trampled snake and an abandoned stilt shack. I peeked inside. The floor was carpeted in dirty white cement bags labeled ‘Product
Infrastructure
This is as good as it gets regarding signage to various attractions of Thailand’. I turned around just as a well-dressed Laotian boy on a shiny new bike rode up and asked ‘Kape?’ which we assumed was his pronunciation of the word cave. We said yes and he raced off ahead along the pole path. We thought that he was setting out to turn the lights on for us. We humped along for another mile before sitting down on a dike to eat a few oranges and review the situation. The cave would presumably be in the karsks. We were getting no closer to the karsks as the path ran parallel to those limestone cliffs. We had walked about 4 miles at this point with no end in sight. We were tired. We were hungry. We did what any rational middle-aged American adult would do under the circumstances. We quit. We wondered how long the kid waited for us before he gave up.
Before we started back we heard activity from the rice straw. Little snaps, crackling rustles and loud pops. Karen and I looked at each other excitedly. Had we discovered the source of Rice Krispies? Laos. Who wouldathunkit? Investigation of the straw provided no clues. No mice lurking about
or lizards leaping. Perhaps it was the effect of sunlight heating the ground. Very odd. I used a riverside karsk to dead reckon our way back, abandoning the circuitous navigation poles. It was a beautiful day for walking and listening and saying nothing except for the occasional ooh and ah. We clambored over dozens of dikes until we intersected the bridge road. As we headed home, confused looking scooter mounted tourists stopped to ask us directions to various caves. We could only shrug. The one cave we had successfully located two weeks before was barely accessible even by a person in excellent physical condition. The cave tour infrastructure in Vang Vieng consists of some kid hitting you for a 10,000 Kip note. For that you get a vague wave towards a compass point and nothing else. Bring your flashlight and a lot of patience if you decide to add a cave to your trip. A rope might not be a bad idea either.
Never being the type to give up the fight we decided to book a river kayak trip. We had considered the tubing angle but the reports coming back to us from veteran tubers were not reassuring.
Shacks
We assume that these pads are used by the farmers during the rice growing season. Tubers are primarily young, male and alcohol oriented. A dozen bars line the river. Tuber stops at bar, tuber drinks, tuber gets back in river, tuber stops at bar, tuber drinks, tuber gets back in river and on and on. You get the idea. The problem is that the water is very cold. Intoxicated tubers do not notice the cold water very much, especially after six or seven buckets of cocktails. You will travel about 5 miles on a river that does not flow quickly. It is very shallow and at some points you may have to push yourself along to get over the gravel river bed. There is one section of the river that is deep enough to allow for diving and it is here that the bars are located. If you tubed the entire distance without making any ‘bucket-stops’ you could expect to spend 3 hours in the water. The river is cold and after three hours you will experience some degree of hypothermia.
We figured that traveling by kayak would allow us to enjoy the river with minor if any sogginess. We booked the trip with our hotel. The cost was 70,000 Kip apiece. Taking a
tube costs 55,000 and you have to pay a 60,000 Kip deposit for the tube in case it is lost. An outfit called ‘One Day Tubing’ located at the north end of the riverside road controls all of the tubing business. Somehow they got a monopoly on the trade and nobody in town is willing to compete. A pickup truck collected us at 1 PM. There is also a morning trip if you like. In the back of the truck we found everything including the kitchen sink. There were bags of English language paperbacks, doorknobs, quilts and a bicycle. The aluminum sink rode on top of the heap. It was like catching a ride with a moving company. Five yellow banana-shaped two seat kayaks were strapped to the cab of the truck. We traveled with a Parisian couple and a kid from Manchester, England 6 months into a 2-year tour. We took a long dusty ride north where we entered the water. Our guide gave us a quick paddling lesson and a dry-bag to keep our belongings safe. If you plan on taking pictures on the trip bring a waterproof camera as you will get doused sooner or later. After
the lesson we got on the shaky boats. Next to us a large backhoe was noisily scooping up river gravel and loading it into huge dump trucks for transport to parts unknown. Two other groups were setting off at the same time as ours. The scene was chaotic to say the least.
We hit a small section of whitewater almost immediately. I looked behind us and saw a young Japanese couple hit the rough spot and capsize. The girl, obviously out of her element, did the wrong thing and instead of grabbing a hold of her kayak, instead tried to swim to the riverbank where she was dragged face down across the jagged rocks. We never found out what became of them. The river was shallow for the most part. Our guide took the lead. The rear guard consisted of a Laotian teen with a Yankees baseball cap worn sideways paddling solo. He looked and acted as if he had been down the river perhaps once before. After a constant stream of garbled and incorrect directions we learned to ignore him. What little whitewater there was presented neither major obstacle nor danger. We were equipped with lifejackets. An occasional
swell wet our legs but we remained dry for the most part.
Two Western girls garbed in dental floss bikinis, gemstone studded navels and fashionable shades zigzagged across our path screaming haphazard commands at each other. We were so busy navigating between erratic kayaks that we had little time to enjoy the view. After ninety-minutes we heard loud music down river. We came upon a scene right out of ‘Apocalypse Now’. Bamboo towers stretched their reedy arms for the sky on both banks. These were used as diving platforms and zip-line anchors. At their bases were crowds of half dressed drunken boys standing on bamboo platforms and beckoning us to join them. The bikini twins caused many a neck to crane. Music blasted from huge concert-sized speakers mounted next to the bars. Sound waves radared off of the limestone cliffs dislodging pebbles and adding tiny splashes to the din. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Bar touts stood on water’s edge, bent forward at the waist, arms spread wide, begging us to paddle over for a drink. The less ambitious and poorer sailors simply floated by with a wave and a bag of store bought brews lashed to their doughnuts.
We
Private Yacht
Japanese family's river ride paddled through this tableau for another five minutes before our guide ordered us to starboard. We tied off our kayaks and climbed a slippery slope. Topside we found a British born twenty-something crowd of boys sporting point two zero blood alcohols. Their bodies were covered in script done in permanent black Magic Marker. Looked like a collection of flesh colored body casts that had been decorated with messages from ill-meaning friends. ‘Mutt For Hire’, ‘Dick Brain’ and ‘I’m A Loser’ were among the more popular notes. Every body part was used as a scratch pad. Backs were turned into billboards for local pubs like ‘The Bucket Bar’ and ‘The Smile Club’. Someone named Sakura had apparently attained local celebrity status as his or her moniker graced at least a dozen backs. A greasy longhaired disk jockey spun tunes like: ‘Let’s Get This Party Started’ and ‘This Is My Life’, his frowning face geographed with suppurating red continental scabs. Party on dude! A half dozen Thai hookers sat in a corner looking for Johns among the Bill Boards. Imported talent.
Dour faced female Laotian bartenders served up over-priced drinks and dangerous looking food to the intoxicated crowd. The most popular
Lao Legalese
If there was a court would it stand up? order was one for a ‘Bucket’. A bucket is a child’s sand pail filled with Red Bull, ice and Laotian whiskey (we know it as moonshine). I saw a rare quartet of British girls (ratio of Western men to women here is about 10:1) order one with 4 straws and then race each other to the rusty bottom. As soon as they were finished they debated as to whom was the most drunk. I thought it a dead tie. As a 1970’s backpacker I shared more than a few beverages with my traveling buddies. John, Pick, Jesus and I had personally discovered over 100 different ways to uncork a wine bottle. The consumption I witness these days is way beyond the pail. I saw a wasted, skinny-assed kid who couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds take a header stepping off of a foot-high platform. It took three people to get him to his feet on the rock strewn ground. As soon as they let go he went right back down, landing on his face. Another friend of Sakura. One of the Canadian doctors told me that she had paid a visit to the town hospital and discovered a Canadian
Water Slide
Check out the safety rails!? Can you imagine what happens if you forget to cross your ankles? boy there in seizure from alcohol withdrawal. When she asked his semi-sober buddy why they drank so much the kid told her that there wasn’t anything else to do in Laos. Tip: Read a freaking book.
Ambitious boys made bulletproof by ethanol climbed a rickety bamboo ladder to a thirty-foot high zip-line from which they hurled themselves into the cold depths with varied degrees of success. This is where the majority of injuries occur. That same night we saw a Canadian girl nursing an ankle that was obviously broken. She had gone to the Vang Vieng hospital where they put an Ace bandage on the injury. That was the extent of the treatment she received. When we saw her she was self-medicating with more alcohol.
A huge concrete water slide sat ignored by the crowd except for the wise few who took advantage of the shade it cast. Meanwhile a large crew of Laotian carpenters occupied themselves with the construction of additional pavilions and bungalows so future parties could run 24/7. A privately chartered umbrella-canopied rubber raft containing a Japanese family put into port. After three minutes ashore witnessing the goings on they hurried back out with Mamasan’s
hand firmly clamped over junior’s eyes. I counted eleven of these operations along the river with a dozen more under construction. Most of the existing bars had no customers at all while the first two were filled to capacity. Location, location, location.
Back on the river of woe minus the bikini babes we finished our tour. Laotians fished from the banks. Some threw cast nets while others used tiny whittled fishing sticks that looked like Harry Potter magic wands. We passed under three narrow bamboo bridges and two other professionally built concrete jobs that were near completion. Occasionally we passed a homeless inner tube signifying a lost deposit. Our trip ended right at our hotel. The kitchen sink truck was there to retrieve the kayaks.
We lingered on our balcony watching our final Vang Vieng sunset. We were leaving the next day. In the morning darkness I walked to a quiet spot along the river. The water was as still and cohesive as mercury. The rising sun slowly illuminated the karsks. Their reflection perfectly mirrored on the river’s surface turning it into a liquid ribbon of languid stone. A man paddled a pirogue silently downstream. In his widening
Cozy Cat
We laughed out loud when we saw this cat warming himself in front of a charcoal brazier but it was that frosty out. wake I saw rock, tree and rosy sky swirled into vortexes of texture and color and light. In a moment time reversed itself and all was made whole again. Vang Vieng. You gotta love this place.
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lifesabeach
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Excellent Blog
another excellent blog......thank you so much and keep blogging :-)