Huay-Xai
Welcome to Laos
The shabby tuk tuks looked out of place amongst the clean concrete pillars and steel lights of the border crossing, the oddly named Friendship Bridge 4. In front of us a smooth tarmac road winding through the wild hills headed deeper into Laos. We handed over our fresh currency and were on our way.
The road fell apart almost as soon as the border was out of sight, quickly deteriorating to a borderline dirt track scattered with potholes. We soon came to the first of several homemade bridges consisting of an iron frame with wooden slats screwed haphazardly across it. In the other direction two thin columns of planks bridged the gaps between the slats, making a path for two mopeds or a single tuk tuk if it could line it’s wheels across the tracks. An ingenious design since it looked like it might collapse under much more weight.
As we turned off into the town several vehicles where leaving that I can best describe as drag-tractors. A big bulky engine sat on a platform about 6ft in front of the driver with a cart behind them. Our tuk-tuk dropped us off at the end of a road lined with colorful stalls selling snacks, fresh food and perhaps most importantly for a long boat journey - beer. Laos was off to a good start.
The (Very) Slow Boat to Luang Prabang
We were given a seat number when we bought our ticket but it doesn’t mean much. Any locals get the roomy seats at the front of the boat. Everyone else is distributed, roughly evenly, over the boats that are leaving that day and you just grab the best seat you can. For some people that meant sitting in the aisle - not ideal when your meant to be there for the next 8 hours.
The crew stood on the deck and forced our way out of the dock. Using long poles they were pushing and pulling, boats knocking and rolling together for an age as we slowly wiggled our way free until we were out and onto the wide Mekong river.
On the river the engine rumbles gently, the water stroked the side of the boat and the gentle ebb and flow of friendly conversation amongst strangers filled the cabin. Outside, life was clinging on to every surface it can find. At times the shore is so dense with plants it looks like a huge green wall whilst in the clearer spaces where the land is flatter you’ll see signs of people living off the river - cattle drinking by the river, kids playing in the sand, fishing boats or a small village.
But after 4 hours of stunning scenery and with no end in sight I was thoroughly bored of looking out the window of a boat. Luckily the state owned brewery produces a surprisingly good beer (one point for communism) and after a few Beerlaos the hours just sailed by.
Luang Prabang
Arrival
Two days later, with a nights rest at a purpose built village halfway, we were finally approaching our destination. The boat stopped at a makeshift dock just outside of town where tuk tuks wait to transport (and charge) people the last mile.
The river itself winds all the way through Luang Prabang and we soon found ourselves walking along it as the sun started to set. It’s a confusing place at times, full of winding roads and ever changing architecture. Laotian and communist flags sway gently from the eaves of stern French colonial buildings. The regular measured designs of the European buildings in stark contrast to the flowing shapes of the many temples.
We eventually found a guesthouse halfway down a wide and winding alley. More traditionally it would have been a road but both sides of it were lined with stalls leaving barely enough room for people to pass through. Whether you want something BBQ’d black or prefer your dinner still wriggling there was a meal for any appetite in that alley. We found ours nestled under a small arch where a small mountain of food stood: bowls of rice the size of a car wheel, heaps of fresh BBQ’d meat, spicy sauces - and a splash of vegetables for decoration. I didn’t recognise half of what ended up on my plate but it all tasted excellent.
Looking to contribute to the local economy we set to exploring the nearby bars. First we hit Utopia. A zen garden style bar, completely open to the elements and almost pitch black. Not a great place to drink too much in case you end up stumbling into the river but otherwise good. And after that: well that was nearly it. Turns out Laos is much stricter on it’s curfew than Thailand so the bars actually shut when they’re meant to. We ended up finishing the night in a bowling alley a little way out of town. Surprisingly, to me at least, it turned out to be a legitimate bowling alley and perhaps as a result it was outrageously expensive. Still that didn’t stop some people from drinking themselves into the gutter.
Atovaquone/Proguanil
That night I dreamt of boats.
When I woke everyone else was still sleeping. It was just me and the Laotian man next to my bed, staring at me. His face, a foot from mine, bearing a massive grin.
Largely unconscious I ignored him and went back to sleep.
The next time I woke I sat bolt upright as I processed what had happened. As it turns out one possible side effect of the antimalarials we were taking are vivid dreams bordering on hallucinations. I had vivid dreams of boats every day I was in Laos but the strange man never reappeared.
Same Same But…
The mad little alley near our hostel looked very different in the early morning. Most of the morning market had left or was leaving, carrying away exotic foods I hadn’t even seen sold in the evening.
Sadly outside of that alley I found much of Luang Prabang to be a bit ‘meh’. To put it bluntly it seems to be lacking imagination. Every stall that sells a sandwich will sells exactly the same ten sandwiches. Every bar or restaurant has the same Beerlao branded signs crates, placemats, table clothes… The night market is especially bad for this. It must be nearly a quarter of a mile long but every one of the hundreds of stalls sells the same junk. If you ever find yourself with a pressing need for hundreds of beerlao t-shirts or overpriced rugs or otherwise fancy a cutlery set made entirely of exploded ordnance then you need to visit the Luang Prabang night market. Otherwise, give it a miss.
I’m sure there is more to Luang Prabang than we saw and sometimes I caught glimpses of something behind the curtain. When the tourists head to bed the women on the night market pack up their wares into wheelbarrows and head off to somewhere far away in the night. Whilst we sleep, a truck quietly rolls down the alley whilst workers pick rubbish off the street with their bare hands. There are stories to find here if you have the time but in a scant few days we were moving on.
Route 13
There are two ways to get from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng. A minibus that goes directly to Vang Vieng winding over the mountain in between and a conventional bus that is too large to climb the mountain and instead works its way around it. We’d been warned before that the minibus route although quicker was more dangerous. The road over the mountain winds sharply and steeply. Much of it is unfinished and most of what is completed has cracked and slipped leading to 1/2 metre drops to navigate. On top of that there were whispers of ambushes on buses, not common for a long time but that had never really stopped. Of course we stopped listening at ‘quicker’.
Littering the road were others failed efforts at the climb. Around one corner we saw an overturned car that must have tumbled off the road. The driver didn’t even flinch and we slowly drove past a bewildered looking woman. A little further up a huge truck had slipped into a deep ditch on the side of the road. You’d need a tank to move it but a van about a third it’s size was trying to tow it out. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s still there now.
At the top of the mountain the temperature dropped to that of a pleasant British summers day, cold enough for locals to be shivering, where we pulled into a rest stop. The man I was sitting next to was describing the grim history of the road. Despite being one of the main roads through Laos most of it is very quiet making an ideal ambush point for the remnants of Royalist insurgents. Apparently they’ve been fighting since the 80s, so long their children have since taken up the cause.
We left the rest stop and rounded the corner to see three men with machine guns.
They waved us down, had us to step out and checked our passports whilst one of them searched the bus. I’d have been more nervous but the bus drivers were relaxed enough they’d gone for a wee behind a rock. Eventually they thanked us and waved us on. As we rolled on we passed by a small hill that overlooked the road. A young boy stared from the top as we passed, wearing shorts and a t-shirt with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
The road became straighter and less terrifying as we came down the hill. To compensate the driver began speeding down the hill with one hand on the wheel and one on his phone. As the sun set we got a glimpse of rural Laos speeding by. Water buffalo ambling lazily down the river, kids cycled home from school and no one - apart from our manic driver - in any kind of hurry.
As seems to be Laotion tradition we were dropped just far enough outside of town that we’d have to get a nearby tuk tuk. And as is the British tradition upon arriving somewhere new, we set to trying to drink the town dry. Unfortunately Vang Vieng is a recovering party town and put up more of a fight than Chiang Mai. I have a hazy memory of what happened the rest of that evening but judging by my headache the next day, I think Vang Vieng won.
Vang Vieng
The Best Medicine
Vang Vieng is the best place in the world I’ve ever been hungover. If I could I would wake up there every Saturday morning after a Friday night, in the restaurant around the corner from our hostel collapsed on piles of soft pillows in the shade on a warm morning.
And if I felt the need to do some sightseeing I would only need lift my head for a moment and see this…
…to be content for a few hours more. As it turns out as well as it being the party town in Laos, Vang Vieng is also surrounded by some of the most stunning scenery in South East Asia. A good thing too as it’s is suffering through a hangover of it’s own at the moment.
The Nam Song river that runs near the town used to be packed with bars, rope swings and slides which mixed with hidden rocks and cheap drugs led to paralysis, drownings and other grim ways to end a holiday. After news of the injuries and deaths couldn’t be contained anymore the government stepped in and the army forcibly closed down the bars tearing everything down. Without the river Vang Vieng dropped off the map for many people and much of the money went with it.
Still the futures bright for Vang Vieng. The huge stone karsts that erupt from around the town are stunning and will be a draw for other kinds of visitors now the party has ended . Plus due to the huge amounts of unexploded ordnance that the Americans left behind after the Vietnam war there will always be a need for local guides.
The Morning Market
Earlier than usual one morning in a slightly drunken haze I was heading too my favourite restaurant to sleep and eat fried rice till I felt human again when I stumbled across a long road either side which sat several people with their wares in front of them. Plastic sheets with fresh meat, plastic bags of chillis, fruit and… a snake? Perhaps because I was the only tourist I was drawing more than a few looks at the time so I walked on through. Remembering my promise to get off the beaten path a little I made a mental note to reappear when I was more presentable and then passed out on some cushions.
The next day after a more sensible evening and a much earlier morning I headed back to where I’d last seen the market. It was early enough that if you listened you could hear the monks out on the town, chanting prayers and collecting offerings. The market wasn’t quite bustling, the number of people selling far outweighed the number of people actually buying anything and it barely took up more than two streets but it was one of the most fascinating things I saw on the trip. One man sat holding a bamboo hat with a snake inside. Every few minutes the snake would try to slither to freedom and the man would simply tilt the hat up and swirl it around to bring the snake back to the centre. Next to him was a confused ball of frogs. Each frog had one foot tied to anothers foot so that they could only progress if they all moved at once. Being frogs it didn’t look like they were going to make it far.
But the best part was a little to the side of the main market. A large stall was preparing something that smelt delicious even over the raw meat and amphibians. It sold all sorts of pastries that I’d never seen before but the one that caught my nose and my eye were these small deep fried buns sprinkled with coconut. I bought one to try. I then bought six more so I had three to share.
I got pretty addicted to those glorious little coconut buns. As it turns out pretty much every restaurant in Laos sells them if you can get there early enough, but you do have to get there early as they’ve usually sold out by 7:00. This lead to one of the few periods in my life where I’ve been happy to get up at 6AM.
Cycling
We couldn’t leave Vang Vieng without having a look at this karsts ourselves so we decided to rent a bike and try one of the cycle routes going out of town. This part of the story is probably best told through pictures:
Phang Som cave near the blue lagoon. A popular tourist spot apparently but it was mostly locals when we were there. It’s pitch black inside and the cave is massive. I wouldn’t say we got lost exactly but we did end up spending a bit more time finding the exit than we’d planned for.
The cycle isn’t particularly long but the quality of the road varies enormously. Most of it is dirt tracks, well trodden down by people and animals and relatively nice to cycle on. At other times though there were long stretches of gravel or thick mud that are exhausting to cycle through. Still it was well worth the effort.
The sun was threatening to set on us on the return leg of the cycle. Shortly after taking this photo I went over a bump that made a distinct metallic noise. We cycled pretty quickly after that.
Leaving
The day we left I was up early once more and as had become my routine, I headed to the morning market for some breakfast. The frogs were still looking well but the snake was especially still that day, having had it’s head removed. I picked up some of the coconut puffs. Everything was going well. Usually at this point I’d head back to the hostel to sleep or into town to, well, sleep but today we had a bus to catch so there was no sense going far. In front of me I saw a sign that I thought read ‘Pad Kapow - 5000’. It sounded a bit made up but it was cheap, I was curious and the stall hadn’t let me down so far so I went for it.
Back at the hostel I pried open the styrofoam box withholding my mysterious meal. Inside lay a mound of sticky rice and a glorious pile of meat and chilli. Lots of chilli. Underneath all that chilli was quite possibly the best meal I’ve eaten. Definitely for the trip. Possibly ever.
It was over all too soon and I was left with an empty plastic bag and a oil soaked styrofoam box - sad reminders of the meal that had just been. I considered getting another but knew it would not be the same. The many missed opportunities struck me as I picked through the last of the rice. I took comfort knowing that I would carry the meal with me always, or at the very least till the next hostel.
I came to terms with my meal just as a rusty old minivan turned up. We stepped on to leave Laos and I was glad to have seen it.