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Published: October 30th 2015
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We had booked a VIP bus to Vang Vieng and were told a tuk-tuk would pick us up for the bus station at 1.30 pm for a 2.00 pm departure. When nothing had arrived by 1.45 I asked the hotel receptionist to phone to check they were on their way. He said not to worry, they often turned up an hour late but would come eventually. And indeed, a 'people carrier' tuk-tuk did arrive, a 9 seater, with three young Korean girls and their luggage already on board. Multiple stops later we had collected a further 10 or so people, plus their luggage and fellow travellers were literally hanging from the rafters, clinging on for dear life. It was really dangerous but no-one seemed to mind and was our first taste of Lao punctuality and Health and Safety concerns (there's none, on either count!).
The 'VIP' bus that was waiting for us was a very shabby looking affair and was already almost full. Steve and I had to sit separately, S beside some hungover Scotsman and me beside one of three fit young Italian men. It was hard but someone had to do it ... When the views out of
the gaffer-taped, dirty window to my right became tedious I could always look left and enjoy the view there! Actually, it was a bit difficult as we spoke nothing of each other's language and six hours with no-one to talk to makes for a long journey. Steve's hungover travelling companion promptly fell asleep for the rest of the journey. I don't normally struggle for leg room, being on the small side, but space was tight even for me and Steve had a hard time of it being that much taller.
The countryside we passed through was initially quite flat and watery, perfect for growing rice. Gradually it became more hilly and mountainous, with the roads starting to twist and turn. We passed through small towns and villages, all arranged along the side of the road, meaning everything was covered in a layer of dust thrown up by passing traffic. The soil was red clay, which gave everything a strange hue. Many of the houses were little more than wooden shacks but huge ornate properties are being built, almost alongside them, and these are generally gaudy, blowsy structures that don't seem to sit comfortably in the landscape. Everywhere has a
small shrine of some sort and animals seem to roam at will but are obviously valuable to the Lao people and every driver went to great lengths to toot at them all, from the enormous water buffalo to the smallest chicken, to move out of the way. The animals all seem to be hefted to their house/road/field/whatever and all of them looked healthy. We saw no road kill in all our time in Laos.
We were dropped off on the outskirts of Vang Vieng, in a car park big enough to take the remains of our VIP (Virtually In Pieces) coach, and were taken into the centre of town by minibus. Whilst waiting for the ride we chatted to a young man from Brunei who had never before met anyone who had been to his country. We separated in VV where we got a tuk-tuk to take us to our hotel, which was literally just two minutes away (though we didn't know that at the time!). We could have walked, which is what Guy from Brunei did; he was staying in the same hotel and almost got there before us!
The Laos Haven hotel was basic but clean
and had the hardest bed I have ever slept in (and I mean hard, not firm!). Steve had a developing cold so we ate at the hotel (we normally eat locally), had a few beers and an early night. The following day we strolled around the town but apart from the almost obligatory temple or three we couldn't find much to commend it. We booked our transport to our next port of call, had a bite to eat (they do wonderful omelette sandwiches!), bought Steve some medication for his worsening cold and returned to the hotel so he could go to bed.
In its recent past Vang Vieng was known as the party town of Laos and the adventure-seeking young gravitated there for its drug scene, vibrant night life and physical activities including rock-climbing, kayaking and 'tubing' (sailing down the river in an inner tube - whatever floats your boat ....). Much of this activity has been stopped by vigorous policing. Indeed, many web sites say that all 'tubing' has now ceased, following several tourist deaths, but Gary could tell you that the Tubeway Army is still very much alive and splashing. I met a couple of travelling companions
who had met the previous year (one lived in the USA and the other was a Brit living in The Gambia) who were visiting purely for the tubing experience and one of them was older than me(!). They invited me to join them for the evening meal if S was not improved. I learned that Americans don't know what a fortnight is, or posh. Hmmm.
Steve's cold had developed into humongous man flu (men always get it worse than women!!) and he was now running a fever too. The packing and prepping for the next day's journey fell to me (ooooh, the pressure). I could hear a group of young people having fun on the balcony at the end of the corridor and was pleased that the party scene wasn't totally dead and almost wanted to join them. The next morning the evidence of their party was apparent with the floor being littered with empty bottles of ..... water. Oh, the youth of today ....
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Cina
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Tuk Tuk!
Thank you so much for your sympathy re Poppy, I'm finding it really difficult and just missing her so much, I know you know exactly how it feels. By the sounds of things you are risking all sorts of lurgy to get your daily dose of dog! The Tuk Tuk journey sounds the height of comfort! You really excelled yourselves there, bet you can't wait to repeat that! Joking aside, the photo's are fab and you are having a holiday of a lifetime, and your blog is so worthwhile, not only is it great for you for years to come, but it is so very interesting and entertaining for those of us who are reading it! Please do not stop! Hope Steve soon feels better, lots of love, Cina, xx