Vang Vieng

I left the massive bomb crater that was Phonsavan to head to the backpacking mecca in S.E. Asia of Vang Vieng. The two destinations could not have been more extremely different. The ride back through the mountains was still beautiful despite the local lady in the back of the minivan constantly throwing up. When she finally got out, she lay on the floor kissing the ground. It hadn’t even been a bad road – I got the feeling she had very rarely if

ever been in a car. She could not work out how to open the van door or the window – I had to show her. Vang Vieng is a small town inbetween Luang Prabang to the north and Vientiane to the south. The Nam Song river flows next to the town and it is here that most backpackers head, to go tubing. Hiring a giant inflated tractor inner tube, they float down the river over some small rapids until they float back to town. Vang Vieng tubing however is renown for the drinking en-route. Many bars used to line the riverside, with cheap buckets of alcohol being available, as well as a variety of drugs. There were zip wires and swings to jump back into the river. Every year a number of drunk backpackers died, due to hitting rocks in the river, drowning and as the death toll got higher every year – the authorities decided enough was enough and they pulled most of the bars down. Only 3 bars remain now – those with the right connections (in fact bar number 2 is owned by the chief of police). Tubing is still very popular here but it is alot less out of control than it used to be. Going to Vang Vieng simply for the tubing is a waste, as the town is located in an incredible landscape. Giant limestone karsts line the river and the area is riddled with caves to go exploring in or waterfalls to go bathing in. You can learn to rock-climb here but that sounded a little too strenuous for me. As well as pottering around town and visiting the easily accessible caves, I opted to go

kayaking down the river. First I needed to build my strength up, I had to find food. The entire north end of town caters purely for the backpackers. It is bar / restaurant after bar / restaurant each blaring out tv’s (usually family guy or friends) at decibels loud enough to make your ear bleed. With such a plethora of places to eat, you would think that finding food would be easy. Wrong. I had the three worst meals of my entire trip in this town. At one place I ordered a veggie burger (they only cater for western tastes). 40 minutes later a meat (un-identifiable meat) burger appeared. When I took it back I was told that it what I ordered. I’m sure that after 25years of being a veggie I had “forgotten” I didn’t eat meat! Eventually when my burger came, it was disgusting, dripping in grease. They even tried to charge me for the beef burger. After my third almost inedible meal I consulted tripadvisor and found a little restaurant right on the outskirts of town. It was a tiny place called AMD with one lady in the kitchen. The food was divine. The owners daughter also kept me entertained as she kept photographing me with her little camera. I also rented a bicycle one day and cycled 5km out of town to a local organic farm, where I tried mulberry wine whilst I sat on the riverbank watching the world go by. I also tried Jeaow Hate which is a spicy mushroom dip. It came with crudities which had been cooked. I could have eaten just the carrots and pumpkin alone. I only wish I had enough space in my stomach to try the home-made goats cheese!

The festival of Awk Phansa celebrates the end of Buddhist Lent and the end of the rainy season. For the past few weeks monks (and villagers) have been crafting boats made from bamboo. Whilst in Luang Prabang I had walked past temples and noticed groups of young monks stripping bamboo and building small longboats but had not realised what they were doing. Small villages also come together and build their own bamboo longboat – I had seen one ready and waiting by the banks of the Mekong as we began our kayak ride. The cylindrical tubes you can see are to hold lit candles.
Saturday 19th October was the day of the river festival in Vang Vieng. From early morning boat races had been held along the river. I saw two boat teams driving down the road at 8am, music blasting out, the team members dancing and cheering at the back of their jeeps. My kayak instructor was himself competing in the yellow team later that afternoon and was visibly excited. This was the morning I went kayaking – it was the only activity running today as it was guaranteed to be finished by 1pm. All other trips by all all companies had been cancelled. The kayaking was great fun. We were driven 15km upriver and left to kayak back. Because another girl had joined us at the last minute – literally as we were driving off, it meant I was no longer in a 2 man

kayak with the instructor but in a 3 man kayak. I didn’t think this would make any difference, if anything I thought it would be a little easier. How wrong I was! These kayaks were different to others I have been in – there was no well or dug out in which to put your feet or legs. Your legs had to go outstretched in front of you, whilst the person in front sat in between your feet. I was lucky in that I was in the front, which meant no one was in front of me so I had slightly more wriggle room . I cannot sit with my legs outstretched in front of me on the floor – I never have been able to. I sit with my legs crossed normally. Within 10 minutes I had shooting pains going up my legs, my right foot kept going into cramp and I had thought kayaking would be hard on my arms and shoulders! Despite this the kayaking was good fun.
By the end of the morning my legs were so sore that I could only walk in a comedy John Wayne manner. I also had a huge blister on my thumb – but it was on my left hand so it wouldn’t affect my eating! I watched a couple of boat races before going back to my guesthouse to freshen up. I was still wearing wet clothing. As I changed I realised that I had also caught the sun – and horrifically so. It turned out to be the worst sunburn on my legs in years. A huge thunderstorm meant

I didn’t venture out to watch the remaining boat races, instead I waited till dusk and set off to find out about the lighting of the fire boats. When darkness falls, the handmade bamboo crafts are set alight and drifted off down river. Offerings are also placed on the boats. My kayak instructor had explained that these offerings represent your entire bad luck and negativity for the year, and if you send them off down river, then hopefully they will not come back. As I walked through town, the place was awash with small children with sparklers and firework rocket sticks. These were long sticks that when you lit them a series of small rocket like fireworks shot out of the end. They went quite a distance. The night sky was lit up by these fireworks. The rivers edge was crowded. Families had been buying the flower offerings, inserting incense and sparklers into them, lighting them and launching them into the river. I was stood on a banking watching but I wanted to be more involved so I made my way down the slope. Only I had forgotten that my painful sunburnt legs weren’t working as well as usual and I ended up losing my footing and falling towards the river’s edge. Only my pride was hurt and I hobbled off to watch a lady give a blessing and launch her offering. Slowly I made my way across the bamboo bridge to where I had seen the bamboo boats earlier.Offerings had already begun to be placed on the boat but most people were

hanging back. They had their floral tributes in their hands but they appeared to be waiting. Then the monks came. For some reason it had not occurred to me that the monks would be involved – in this Buddhist ceremony! They lit candles and placed them in the boat, even better, the younger monks were having a go with the firework sticks. Everyone was clearly enjoying themselves. The boat was launched as the flames got higher, and as it drifted off into the darkness of the river, the flickering flames being the only things still visible, you really did feel as if you were banishing all ill-fortune. But still people were hanging back. Then I heard drums. Faintly at first but getting louder and louder obviously coming in my direction. It was a procession of the chief monks, along with nuns and alot of locals shouting and whooping in time to the drumming. They stopped on the riverbank opposite and chanted ceremonially. Then they crossed the bridge and came exactly where I was stood. Somehow by extreme good luck I had managed to place myself at the epicentre of the ceremony. From out of nowhere large straw mats were placed on the ground, covering the muddy path. Those people “hanging back” together with the nuns and the others from the procession were now knelt on the mats. Accompanied by rhythmic drumming, the chief monk began giving a mass blessing. At the same time, another monk in another larger, more decorated raft began firing off firework rockets in time with the drumming. As the blessing finished, the offerings were slowly lit and placed on the raft. The flames crept higher and higher at time seeming to engulf the monk who was still on the raft. When the raft was wholly alight, it was cast off with the monk still onboard to cries of loud cheering. I am assuming that the monk had somewhere safe to stand but from my vantage point it did look as if he was rising from the flames.

There are many clichés often used when describing travelling: awe-inspiring, horizon broadening, mind-blowing, mystical, eye-opening, spiritually awakening, finding your true-self and life altering. But the truth of it is, stood there in the midst of this ceremony – being encouraged to join in by those for whom this ceremony means so much, was truly magical. I felt honoured, bewildered, amazed and in love with the world all at the same time. This is one night I will not be able to forget.
I was supposed to leave the following morning but seeing how much lao lao (rice whisky - up to 70% proof) was consumed by the local population after the monks departed, I decided taking the morning bus would not be a sensible idea. Drunk driving is a big problem all over Asia. Nobody thinks twice about driving home after a big night despite not being able to stand up. Vang Vieng was certainly suffering from the morning after the night before. The place was a ghost town. Nearly every business was shut - even the tubing office was closed and that place never shuts. I spent my last few hours walking through the rice fields, exploring caves found among the way and generally being a source of amusement to the local children. In typically Zoe style, I was wearing shorts and flip-flops for my adventures through the sharp thorny undergrowth and scrambling over rocks in cave entrances. Needless to say my legs which had started off sunburnt and bruised (from the fall down the banking) were now scratched to ribbons and covered in bites from the myriad of small biting insects that live in rice fields and thorny undergrowth. I considered it a successful afternoon. After a final meal in AMD (red curry this time), I packed my bags and said goodbye to Vang Vieng - the town I expected to be a tourist nightmare and ended up being one of the highlights of my entire world travels.

Phonsavan – bombs, bombs, bombs, more bombs and Jars.

After visiting the baguette stall to get a fresh cheese and tofu sandwich to pack up for my lunch, I was on my way to one of the many bus stations dotted around Luang Prabang. My tuk tuk driver pointed out which minivan was mine, my luggage was passed up to the roof and secured and I was off again. This time to Phonsavan – a town which is certainly off the backpacker trail. The journey passed without incident, I was the only foreigner on the van, the scenery was even more stunning than before. The mountain twist and turns does mean that the maximum speed is approx 30 - 40kph – perfect for taking in the views. After going nearly 4 hours, I thought I might actually be the first one to ask for a toilet stop but then the van stopped at the top of the mountain. All the blokes piled out and started to relieve themselves. Luckily my overland truck training meant I can spot a patch of long grass at the side of any road and quick as a flash I was there. I am always prepared for toilet stops and carry toilet paper in my pocket at all times. The remaining three hours of the journey passed quite comfortably.

As the van pulled into Phonsavan I was immediately surrounded my tuk tuk drivers trying to grab me and sell me a guesthouse. I don’t take well to being grabbed – my luggage hadn’t even been unloaded. From my research I knew where the minivan station was in relation to the guesthouse I was going to try first, so I walked. Much to the amazement of the tuk tuk drivers who started to follow me down the road. After 10 minutes I had pretty much walked down the main street and found myself a room. I had come to Phonsavan primarily to visit the Plain of Jars. These are thousands of limestone jars spread across the landscape. No one knows how old they are, or what they were used for. My guesthouse said it did tours to the Jars site, so I enquired. The chap told me alot about the places of interest around Phonsavan – each place of interest roughly 35-70km away. Then he told me the price $90. Of course – it would be a private tour. He doesn’t do group tours. He said he could offer me a cheaper price if we went by motorbike, but still, it was far more than I was hoping to pay. I headed off to the various travel agencies I had seen on the main road. They all had signs outside offering their tours but when I enquired, they all said the same thing. The tours were not running yet, there were no tourists – I was the only falang about. I had one more place to try. A guesthouse on the outskirts was recommended for his tours. I went off to find Mr Kong. When I got there, my heart leaped, I could see other westerners. Mr Kong told me he was running one tour in the next couple of days. It was 150,000k, just under £15. Great. He runs six different trips and the trip that was going was option 2 – he pointed to the noticeboard so I could read up about it. My heart fell again. Of the 6 trips, 5 visited Plain of Jars sites plus various other locations, the other one, option2, visited the local waterfall and a village in the hills. I couldn’t believe it, I was so close to finding a group tour – silly Dutch tourists coming all the way to Phonsavan and booking the waterfall trip! Mr Kong

wished me luck in trying to find another group tour but he did not believe I would be successful. He was right. I was in a foul mood. I had come all this way and it looked as if I wouldn’t be able to get to the jars without spending an absolute fortune. I had already been advised that the road to Jars sites 2 and 3 was atrocious, dusty and dirty and under construction and not really suitable at the moment for taking a motorbike down. After witnessing some of the other Lao roads I knew what that meant. I stomped and sulked for a bit and went to get some food. There was an Indian restaurant close by that had really good reviews, so I thought I would try it out. My aubergine and potato curry was so oily and greasy that I couldn’t eat all of it. Garlic naan was ok. This did not improve my mood at all. It was half past 6 now, which was the same time that a film was being shown free in a local establishment, so I went for a look.
The local establishment was a place called MAG. This stands for Mines Advisory Group. Phonsavan and the surrounding area of Laos has the dubious honour of being the most bombed place on the planet (per head of population). A barrage of bombs was dropped every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day, for 10 years. The most incredible thing is that Laos was being bombed by a country it was not at war with, a country that had sign a pact in Geneva stating it would not drop a single bomb on Laos. Laos was bombed to smithereens by the Americans during the “Vietnam” War. Between 1964 and 1973 over 2 million tonnes of bombs were dropped. Did I mention Laos was neutral towards America. Even more astonishingly was that this was done without the knowledge of the American population or even half of congress. Most of what happened has only just been made public in America – within the last 8 years or so. It is known as the Secret War. The film I was going to watch was made by MAG to raise awareness of what happened and what is still happening today

At first American bombers targeted military operations, then it started bombing the cattle and agriculture trying to destroy the food supply (all in the name of preventing communism) then when the war in Vietnam got so bad that the planes could not close enough to the Vietnamese targets it simply blanket-bombed Laos on the way back to the airbases. It was too dangerous and risky (apparently) to try and land the planes that still had live bombs aboard so they dropped them on the East of Laos instead. [Sometimes they dropped them on Cambodia too – just to make a change. Its not like a revolutionary group who were anti-American and against being bombed for no reason, sprang up calling itself the Khmer Rouge. That worked out fine!] Unfortunately the majority of bombs dropped were cluster bombs. These are tennis ball size bombs full of ball-bearings that detonate on impact. But not if they land in water or in mud – which is what alot of the Laos countryside is. It is estimated that over 30% of the bombs did not explode. Cluster bombs are often referred to as terrorist bombs as they use the same principles as say a nail bomb. They will not do much damage to military

targets but will maim and kill the local population and livestock. The film I watched called ‘Bombies’ showed the work done by MAG to try and clear areas of unexploded cluster bombs. Because they look like tennis balls, children often pick them up when they see them, with devastating consequences. They will explode when hit, and as Laos agriculture is done by hitting the soil with a hoe many farmers are victims, losing arms, eyesight and often bleeding to death. MAG have trained up hundreds of locals (alot of them women) to become bomb disposal officers. It showed them diffusing 4 bombs found outside a school – a school that has been visited 17 times before by the bomb disposal unit. Last year they found 100,000 bombs yet at that rate of disposal it will still take over 100 years until Laos is clear of bombs! After watching the harrowing film, I was no longer in a bad mood – it was worth coming to Phonsavan just to see the work of MAG. Next door was the UXO shop (unexploded ordnance). It had maps of the area showing the positions of the bombs and a list of people and their injuries who have been victims of the bombs within the last few months. It also showed some of the rehabilitation work they were trying to do. It was eye-opening stuff.
I had a slow start the following day pottering around trying to find food. My plate of veg was very uninspiring (think bowlful of watery pak choi) but at least I had realised that the first Plain of Jars sites (there are 3 open to the public) would be accessible by bike. The road was in good shape and it was between 8 – 15km away depending on who you asked. I felt it was a little late to go cycling today so instead I thought I would walk through the rest of town. Turns out the rest of town was a very long street (approx 3km) that led onto the road going south. On the plus side I found the tourist information shop – literally miles away from the tourist main road. There was not much in the way of information but they did have some items to sell from the village of Ban Napia. When you are surrounded by so much used bomb casings – what do you do? Some people turn the bombs into water troughs for animals, window boxes in which to plant herbs, gateposts seem very popular but the ladies of Ban Napia use the aluminum to make tablespoons, bracelets and necklace charms. I bought myself a bracelet and a

spoon. I must admit I am rather taken with my bracelet. On the way back I detoured and climbed a couple of hills to visit the war memorials and take in the views. This area of town obviously sees no westerners at all. I was definitely an attraction and particularly scary for the little children. My blonde hair and blue eyes set a couple of children off screaming. One woman brought her toddler out of the house so he could meet me. He was very hesitant at first but eventually he mustered up enough courage to touch my hand. Oh the joys of travelling – making small children cry!
Treated myself at the foreigner aimed restaurant Bamboozle. I said earlier I was one of the only tourists in town but there was a large western contingent who do volunteer work for either MAG or the UXO people. These are mainly specialists in the bomb disposal world or specialists in false limbs, amputation and rehabilitation field. I had a goats cheese sandwich – it was divine. Also tried a mulberry shake – after the initial taste which is unusual and unknown, it became quite pleasant.
Next morning (after waiting for the thunderstorms to stop) I rented a rather pricey mountain bike and made me way to the Jars. It was rather hilly going but I made very good time. There was an impressive visitors centre – not much in it because not

that much is known. The Jars are believed to be stone-age but they were re- discovered in the early 1900’s by a French archaeologist. She recorded finding bones and other things inside then, but all the evidence and her findings have since vanished so no one can validate the claims. After coming all this way I was a little underwhelmed, if I am truthful. I don’t know what I expected but I got a field full of mainly broken pots. The large group of very loud Chinese tourists (no idea where they came from – don’t say China!) did lessen the mood to be truthful. I walked to the furthest point and waited for them to go. The furthest point involved walking up a small hill to a viewpoint. The path up the hill really caught my attention. It was full of MAG cover stones. I had read on the entry gate that MAG had removed 117 bombs from the site and it was declared safe to walk around. When they removed a bomb they laid a cover-stone to show its position. As I walked up the path I saw cover-stone after cover-stone. At one point I could see 8 cover-stones in my line of sight. It was shocking how many there were and in such a tiny space. For the first time I really understood why they were called cluster bombs and the damage they would do. There would be no avoiding them, if you dodged the first 11 or 12 you would inevitably step on the 13th. Feeling very sombre I returned from the viewpoint back to the now quiet field of Jars. The Jars now looked mysterious and eerie and quite frankly I was surprised any had survived the bombing intact. I spent a couple of peaceful hours here just mulling around, daydreaming. There was a small cave next to the field in which locals had sheltered during bombing raids. Bomb craters were everywhere including right outside the mouth of the cave. You could see the marks from the fires used for cooking and the small hole that had been dug out of the roof to act as a chimney. It was a spooky place. After having my picture taken with the largest Jar – it was taller than me and thought to weigh 6 tonne (which is definitely heavier than me) I set off home. The rain had started again and very quickly it became very heavy rain. As I am cycling, I hear a loud bang. I flinch but the people I am passing at the time don’t seem to notice. Then there is another loud bang, then I remember seeing a quarry on the map – it must be the quarry. Wrong. As I turn the corner I see 4 jeeps with UXO logos on them. Through the rain I can make out an awning in the next field. There are another 3 explosions. They are actually detonating bombs as I am passing. The field was only a couple of hundred metres away from the Jars site. How dangerous must living here be?

Going home seemed to be more strenuous than getting there – don’t know if it was the rain or the thought of bombs exploding the made the journey drag. By the time I got back to the guesthouse I was shivering. The temperature had dropped to 19 degrees. I had to hunt out socks. Had to climb into bed and watch Pirates of the Caribbean till I felt warm enough to venture out again. My final meal in Phonsavan was tofu laap. I am getting quite a liking for the traditional Lao dish of laap. That will be one dish I shall try to recreate when I get back to the UK. Next stop is going to be the backpacker mecca that is Vang Vieng – I sincerely doubt I will be the only tourist there!

Luang Prabang

There is a reason Lao people arrive up to an hour early for the bus – there is one public pus a day that goes to Luang Prabang, its a 10 hour journey and it leaves at 9am. Which is the same time the minivan leaves but it only takes 8 hours, hence is more expensive. Our minivan was being loaded up at 8.40 (the backpacks and other assorted agricultural sacks being lifted onto the roof and tied down) when we heard the splutter of an engine and the public bus pulling out of the station. The bus driver obviously couldn’t be bothered waiting anymore. Our minivan driver left it till 8.55 before departing. The journey ended up being an adventure in itself. The road was across the mountains, so winding roads and beautiful scenery, not to mention a top speed of 30kph. After an hour or so we stopped to pick up a local man who was flagging us down. As we stopped a couple

of children pointed to our wheel, so the driver got out to have a look at it. Turned out it was losing air so he changed the wheel, giving the passengers a 10 min break to stretch our legs. A Lao lady from the van climbed out, her machete swaying from her belt. She walked to the undergrowth on one side of the road and started hacking large branches. The she peeled (de-barked) them and chopped them up into bitesize pieces. As we all boarded the van she had a full bag of edible unidentifiable treats. The flagging down man also climbed aboard but not before picking up his chicken. During the break I had discovered to my horror that the pack up I had loving made for my lunch had become infested with ants and so I left it on the roadside. When we pulled into a local bus station for a lunch stop – not surprisingly I couldn’t find anything to eat, though pork intestine seemed to be the delicacy of the area. My packet of crisps was not the most filling. Back into the van and we drove for at least a minute before the driver stopped to look at the tyre. Back in the van again and this time we drove for a couple of minutes before pulling into a garage. Both the new and old tyre were taken off and patched up whilst the rest of us loitered in the garage. Local man went off to let his chicken run about. Machete lady came over to me to offer some of what she had been nibbling on. She was carrying bunches of what looked like long grasses. She carefully peeled each pod and inside was a tasty rice grain. She gave me a little bunch but after 10 mins I had only managed to get inside about 5 pods. She thought I was highly amusing and probably a little slow. Eventually we all climb inside the van and the journey continues. Lao minivans don’t have aircon they have windows, which is great until you get to certain stretches of road. I was staring out the window when I noticed all the vegetation had turned brown. What on earth could have killed off so much plantlife. For as far as the eye could

see, everything living by the side of the road looked dead. Plants 4 metres away from the road looked fine – had some sort of mass pesticide spray happened? Then it dawned on me. The plants were not dead – they were all covered in a very thick layer of brown dust. The road was also covered in it – in fact the dust was now coming in through the windows. To avoid death by suffocation, all windows had to be shut, which did not help the temperature levels. The dusty dirt road continued for another 3 hours – the only road I’ve known worse than this one for dust was the infamous northern Kenyan road. Somewhere in the middle of this dust nightmare, man and his chicken got out. The chicken had not made a sound all journey – very well behaved – if only the Lao children could be brought up in the same way! Eventually, an hour later than scheduled we arrived in Luang Prabang. Sun had already set so I could not see any of its famed beauty but what I did find only a couple of minutes away from my guesthouse was a small roadside stall that sold fresh baguettes for only 10,000k. After my paltry crisps my cheese spread (laughing cow) and tofu sandwich was bliss. There was even a tv in my room, so I settled down, breathing in deep clean air, eating my sandwich and watching the remake of the Italian Job – in English!The next day I strolled leisurely around Luang Prabang. Some people claim this is the most charming city in South East Asia but I am not one of them. Unesco does alot of work in the city and whilst the buildings have been preserved well and are not covered in tacky plastic advertisements, it can not disguise the fact that all the shops along the main road are either travel

agencies, tourist restaurants, tourist handicraft shops or upmarket boutique hotels. It is almost surrounded by the Mekong river and the Nam Ou river and I love to sit on the banks of a river watching the world go by, but when the river is a murky brown colour, it loses that magical quality. The Mekong was the same sludge brown colour when I was on it in Vietnam during the height on the rainy season so I do not know if that is its natural colour or whether it would revert to a blue colour during the dry season. If the river itself was a disappointment, the bridges crossing it were not. Lao bridges are more temporary in nature tending to be made out of bamboo. I found a main bridge that would allow motorbikes across but not cars. There was a little walkway for pedestrians on the outside of the bridge. Crossing the bridge was an extreme activity in itself. I scared myself senseless edging across the bamboo slats while peering through the iron girders. I am going to have to toughen up if I am to survive Laos! From 5pm onwards the main tourist street is closed to all traffic as stall holders setup for the daily night market. Unlike the Thai markets – there was not a huge food selection but there was alot of different handicrafts for sale. The market was vast – walking through took a long time. I found a cafe near the

entrance to the market where I sat, ate and watched the comings and goings of the market. The next day I hit the tourist trail and visited the former royal palace. There was the most amazing temple in the grounds (although as it did not contain a Buddha – I don’t know if it was officially a temple) which was decorated unlike any temple I have seen before. It was stunning – with red walls and gold overlay. The former palace was an eye-opener for its sheer size. It was tiny! Apart from the main reception room with its glass mosaic walls and thrones, this could have been the house of your well off grand-parents. Lao royalty ended after the 1975 revolution but the palace was last decorated in the 1950’s. The kings bedroom consisted of a bed, a small 1950’s wardrobe (very similar if not identical to the one Grandad use to have in Paul’s bedroom) and a small desk. The dining room had a 1950’s plain table and a simple sideboard. I was gobsmacked. As well as the former palace I walked around the former garages which still contained some old (classic) cars and a 1950’s speedboat. Admittedly most grandparents don’t have one of those. I also spotted the old petrol pumps – long since abandoned in a corner of the garden! There are loads of temples in and around the city – it is sometimes called the city of 100 temples, so I actually consulted my lonely planet for recommendations on which ones to visit. (After 4 months of carting the

thing around – I finally found a use for it). By all accounts Wat Xieng Thong was the one to see. They were not wrong. I have visited so many temples on this trip but this complex was so different to all the others. The minor temples had pink walls and were covered in glass mosaics. The main temple had black walls and were covered in golden designs – both visually stunning. The back exterior wall of the main temple had a beautiful drawing of the tree of life. There was so much gold and glass that the reflection of the sun off the temples made photography very difficult. I had timed my visit well, so that I would still be in the temple complex at 4pm. This is when the monks symbolicly beat the drums. Unlike some other temples, the monks here have made the drumming into an art form which lasted over 20 minutes. It was beautiful to listen to and very strenuous for the monks – the main beater had to be replaced twice during the drumming. The gong the main beater was drumming was enormous and he had to use both hand to hold the beater. Even whilst swapping over, they never missed a beat. Listening to them you can understand why drumming is used to go into a religious

trance. As Luang Prabang is situated on the mighty Mekong, it was only right to take a boat trip down the river. I visited the Pak Ou caves which were over an hour away by boat. It is planting time here and many people were working on their stretch on the river bank, tilling the soil or maintaining and building fences for their plot. The caves themselves were more of openings in the rock face in which people over the years have left hundreds of tiny buddhas. The climb to the top cave offered great views over the Mekong and a workout as well! On the way back we stopped at a tiny village that sells alot of the local rice wine to tourists. We were offered a free shot – this stuff is 50% and it was still mid morning and asked if we would buy some. The guy also had bottles of snake wine for sale. This is the same cheap distilled rice spirit but with a snake or perhaps a scorpion in the bottle. Traditionally in S.E. Asia these drinks were considered good health tonics. The girl on the boat with me could speak fluent Northern Thai and that is similar enough to Lao for them to understand one another. She asked about the snakes and found out the chap doing the selling actually goes into the forest himself and catches the snakes. The snakes are not killed though. They go into the bottle alive. If the seal isn’t put on the top of the bottle correctly, the snake can live for a couple of months. In fact in Thailand a woman had opened a bottle only to be bitten by a live snake. The girl had read this news story which had prompted her to question the chap today. So if any of you fancy a bottle of snake spirit – always check the seal carefully!

My final afternoon in Luang Prabang was spent visiting the Krungsi Waterfalls. At the entrance to the park there is a bear rescue centre. Here Asiatic or Sun Bears have been rescued from farms where they are kept in cages hooked up to syringes so fluids can be “farmed” from their livers and stomachs. These fluids are vital (apparently) to Chinese medicine. The enclosures here were a decent size and more importantly the syringes were gone, replaced with climbing frames and tyres. I could see three bears lolling around in the afternoon sun and they did look ridiculously cute, however they were very far away and my blind mans eyesight wasn’t doing me any favours. I’ve never seen a brown bear before – they reminded me very much of the pandas. I continued walking through the park until I came across the most dazzling blue set of pools. Krungsi consists of a number of small waterfalls and pools and a much larger skyscraper sized waterfall. Some of the lower waterfalls are safe to jump from and alot of westerners were swinging from rope swings and jumping down the waterfall. Despite the heat in town – it was 33degrees, the water was very cold. I had come equipped with my bikini but like alot of the visitors, once I had a quick paddle, I decided to remain fully clothed and walk around the pools rather than through them. I walked up many layers of staggering blue pools – this is one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have visited, second only to the amazing pools at Huanglong National Park in China. I spent a couple of hours here walking around but as the sun began to go down it was time to head back to Luang Prabang and pack , ready for the next town.

Laos – what a difference a river makes!

I packed up my bag and set off to the riverside passport control to make the crossing into Laos. The building was that small I missed it until a friendly local pointed it out. 2 minutes later I had been stamped out of Thailand. I followed the same local and watched her buy a ferry ticket. Hah hah – thats what I do. I gave over my 40B and almost immediately was engulfed in what seemed like thousands of full Tesco shopping bags. Just to clarify, a brand new Tesco Lotus superstore has just opened on the outskirts of Chiang Khong. It must be one of the biggest in Northern Thailand. In fact I had spent the previous afternoon having a sneaky look round and buying (and eating) a full tub of Philadelphia. (You can’t get cheese normally in Thailand). I had been impressed at the variety of goods on sale –as well as normal supermarket stuff, they had an opticians, an electronics store, a travel agents, lots of cafes inc a KFC and a good selection of Florence and Fred clothing. If I had known sooner I would have restocked my limited travel clothing.You might think that a small town is a strange place for the region’s largest hypermarket – but they get so much custom from Laos. Many Laotian’s from the surrounding areas make the trip across the river to stock up on essentials. Laos is still one of the poorest countries in the world and has to import nearly everything. Most of the stock in Tesco is not available anywhere in Laos. Which is why I now found myself stood in a sea of supermarket carrier bags. I had arrived riverside at the same time as a Laos family doing what appeared like their yearly shop. Disposable nappies were the main contents of the bags.

(This is not my photo but you should get the general idea) Now I said earlier I bought a ferry ticket – not strictly true. The ferry is a longtail boat, which in reality is a long canoe. I could not find a path through the shopping to climb into the boat. Remember I am weighted down with backpack so climbing and clambouring is not that easy, but eventually I topple onto a seat. 5 minutes later and we have crossed the river. I very sensibly wait for the shopping to be unloaded and then I practically fall out of the boat. Embarrassingly I am caught by a little old lady. Stumbling up the vertical river bank I make it to Laos customs. $35 dollars later and I am in Laos. The town here is called Huay Xai and it is chalk and cheese when compared to its Thai counterpart of Chiang Khong. The poverty difference is astute. The prices are double with limited stock in the shops. I found a guesthouse and went to explore. After 15 minutes I gave up – the weather was unbearably hot – it was reading 37 degrees. A local lady said the heat had just started – it wasn’t like this yesterday. I blame the start of this heatwave for my lack of balance in the boat! When it had cooled enough to go outside, everywhere had shut. By 8pm nothing was open, not even the bar! I caught the first bus out of town the following morning.

The minivan was scheduled to leave at half 10 – we set off at 10. The rest of S.E. Asia runs very late, maybe Laos is going to be the exception. I was headed north to the town of Luang Namtha. The drive took us through some steep winding mountain roads, but as a survivor of the Pai road, my stomach can cope with alot more twists and turns than it could. The views helped the passing of time – they were spectacular. Unfortunately public transport doesn’t go in for photo stops. It was a short journey, only 4 ½ hours. The bus station however was located 11km out of town – helpful. For the first time this trip, a driver tried to really rip me off. A songthaew driver quoted 80,000kip for the journey into town. Thats $10 and more than the price of the minivan journey. There was another westerner in the minivan, an English lad who had just started travelling. He was about to cough up – mind you he had no concept of the currency exchange, he had no idea how much he had paid for the original journey – in fact he did not even know the name of the Lao currency! (For the record the currency is Kip and there is approx 8000 to the US $ and 12,500k to the £). I was not happy with the driver and he could tell – I was doing my teacher face. I walked into the bus station and asked an employee the correct price – it was 10,000k. The lad and I got dropped off in town and I left him to try and find a guest house. I had been recommended a place and headed straight for Zuela. I was lucky – I got the last room. In fact the room wasn’t in the guesthouse but above the restaurant next door. When I saw the room I thought I was in heaven. It was so large and so clean. I even had a desk. All the guesthouses charge the same price in town – around $10 per night. Laos is not going to be as cheap as Thailand. It didn’t take me long to walk up and down the main street and quickly come to the conclusion that the place is empty. Luang Namtha is the centre for trekking and kayaking in the national park. There were loads of trekking companies on the main street but none of them had anybody signed up for any treks. I later ran into the English lad who told me he had not been able to find any trek to join – there are downsides to travelling solo in low season. Speaking to a German girl later, she had told me how much she had enjoyed the kayaking but she was travelling with 3 friends and 4 people seem to be the smallest group the treks / kayakers will take. English lad went off sulking claiming he would rent a bike for a day then he was leaving. There was a small night market in town where I became acquainted with Lao food. The Lao people really like their meat. If it moves, they will generally eat it.

The national dish is laap which is a spicy meat salad. Various kinds of sausages are also popular as are meat stews and broths. As I walked around the stalls it became painstakingly obvious that I could not eat a single thing. Luckily there was a great western restaurant which made amazing risotto. A couple of nights later and I found a little place that had mushroom laap on the menu. The lady manager told me she had developed it for veggie customers over the years. Laap consists of the mushroom/meat marinated in shallots and spring onions, chilli with alot of fresh mint and coriander. Doesn’t sound that great but it was mighty tasty. It is serves with sticky rice which is served in bamboo containers as in the above picture – that’s my mushroom laap. Sticky rice is eaten with the hands, you break off a small amount, roll up into a little ball and dunk in any sauce you have on your plate. It is all done with one hand. I must admit I am developing quite a liking for sticky rice. As I couldn’t get into the nearby jungle to do any trekking, I decided to rent a bicycle and explore the surroundings. Laos is certainly beautiful, especially at the moment as the paddy fields are lush and green. However it appears the Lao people are not a great fan of roads, preferring instead gravel paths with large loose chippings that are very difficult to cycle over. Neither do they like things done to scale. There was a signpost informing me that a certain guesthouse was 30metres away – it was 5 strides away. I had been given a crude map when I rented the bike and naively I thought that the two streets indicated as being next to each other in the same town would indeed be next to each other. Turns out there was a 12km gap (yes 12km – or 8 miles) between the two streets! The bike ride I planned out for a leisurely 15km turned out to be closer to 30km. I was rather exhausted when I returned, especially as the mid afternoon sun had been relentless. I did see some local boys playing in the river, they were wearing masks but I could not make out what they were searching for on the riverbed. I also came across two water buffalo rutting in a field. Never seen fighting water buffalo before. I had missed a dirt track turn off and found myself on the main highway – the road that leads directly to the Chinese border. I had expected this road to be busy especially with freight lorries but I was the only vehicle on the road. My knees were not impressed that I had avoided this beautiful tarmac road in favour of the off-road terrain. If only I had known there would be no traffic! My poor knees could not cope with another day of cycling so I left Luang Namtha to head south, to the famed city of Luang Prabang.

Chiang Khong - Border Town Extrordinare

I was up early to catch a local bus out of Chiang Rai to Chiang Khong - a town that sits on the banks of the Mekong River and is where the border crossing over to Laos is situated. Thailand is on one side of the river whilst Laos is on the other side. I have caught local buses before but they have always been first or second class. These buses are in fact long distance coaches with air con and storage for backpacks under the coach. This bus was third class. That meant proper rickety bus, that looks over 50 years old – the air con being the windows and the seats being small and uncomfortable. The seats are benches designed for two?? Even two small Thai people couldn’t sit on them without putting their feet in the aisles!

The lady conductor indicated I should stack my luggage up on the back window seat, which I did, and was lucky to get the final window seat. Conductors are on all buses over S.E. Asia. The driver is there to drive, nothing else. The conductor issues tickets, asks where people want to get off, and shouts at the driver when the bus gets to a place a passenger wants. You can get off anywhere – it doesn’t have to be ay a designated stop. The journey through the mountains took 3 hours, after we pulled up at the local Esso station to fill up. We pulled up at a dusty station in what appeared to be a one road town. Tuk Tuk drivers asked me if I wanted the border, when I said no, they completely ignored me. They obviously don’t usually deal with people wanting to stay. Not to worry I had walking directions to a guesthouse. The guesthouse was in the other direction to town, which was a worry and by the time I got there I was too exhausted to go elsewhere. The single room was another cell like option with no windows. I told myself I would give it a try for the night. The guesthouse did give me use of a free bicycle though to get back into town. I quickly discovered this bike had no brakes whatsoever as I got to a junction and barely managed to avoid the motorbike (I did this by shouting and waving my arms at him, whilst the rider laughed at me).

I knew from research they was a place in town I could hire a decent bike so I set off to find it (carefully avoiding the road which had a steep descent on it). Alan Bates is a chap from Liverpool who has lived in Thailand for a number of years. In 2010 he broke the Guinness World Record for fastest bicycle circumnavigation around the world. He has a pub and bike museum in town and to say he likes bikes is an understatement. As soon as he saw me approach he came out of his pub and ordered me off the bike, declaring it a death trap. He then spent the next half hour trying to fix it so I could have least have working brakes. He told me to come back later that evening and he would give me a proper bike. I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the one road town (but at least I didn’t run into anyone else at junctions). I did go back later but I never got the bike. The night quickly turned into a mad party complete with flavoured vodka shots, toe-wrestling (I was paired up with a real life muay-thai boxer, but I managed to keep him at bay for a while before he beat me) riding an impossible circus bike (should that be falling off a circus bike), dancing with the local ladyboys and Irish ballards – a couple of very drunk Irish lads joined us. At 3am I walked back home via the local market which was in full swing.

Next day I changed accommodation so I could be central in town and sat by the riverside watching people on the Laos side going about their business. The giant lorries are loaded three at a time onto what looks like a simply bamboo raft, to get them across the river to Laos. The riverside was a popular place, lots of locals go down early evening to watch the boats, sit and eat and drink or exercise. The ice cream van only caters for children as the only lolly I could get was one in the shape of a bunny!
Alan had asked me the night before if I could run his bar whilst he and his wife had their first night off. That would not be a problem. Turned out he only kept the bar open a couple of hours then we all went next door to drink at his friends bar. It was a 4am finish this time but you have to love a place that will give you a bar after being there only a day. Finally I got a bike and cycled out of town into the hills and mountains. The scenery was stunning. I passed tiny villages and workers burning the corn and pulping it. Not many foreigners go out this way and the locals thought I was mad for cycling in the heat. Not one person drove past me (either on motorbike or lorry) without pipping their horn and waving. It made such a difference having gears on the bike – I actually got up the hills thought I didn’t quite manage the 60 degree slope on the mountainside.

After all this effort, only one thing remained. To have my last Thai massage. Up until this point all my masseuses’ had been tiny little Thai women. Today’s lady was rather bigger. In fact she was obese. This makes a big difference when she came to stand on me. I was told I was a “good farang” so I obviously bore the pressure and pain well. The parlour had individual cubicles so I actually managed to get a photo before drinking my blue tea made out of local flowers. Strangely it tasted like corn. I have really enjoyed my time in Chiang Khong and didn’t particularly want to leave. Everyone here has been so friendly. But my visa has run out. Laos is literally over the river and I can see it, so how different can it be...

Chiang Rai

After the relaxing cake laden, food filled frenzy that was Pai, I could not have been happier as I pulled into Chiang Rai. I had already seen some photos of the White temple from fellow travelers and it was breath-taking. Unfortunately I did not realise that the White Temple was the extent of things to see and do in Chiang Rai. The minivan I was on tried to drop us all off at a shopping centre 8km out of Chiang Rai. Luckily when I said I had been told we would be dropped off more centrally, he let us all back on and drove us to the centre of town before doubling back with the rest of the passengers going towards to the border. This doesn’t normally happen – tourists are usually dropped off in the middle of nowhere (when they are on the tourist buses as opposed to the local buses). Again I took this as a good omen and I was in buoyant mood. It didn’t last.

I had to walk around with my backpack (getting heavier by the day) for quite some time before I found accommodation that was not only affordable but had a bathroom attached and also had windows. They do like their windowless prison cell like rooms here. The room I found not only had a window and hot shower but also had the comfiest mattress I have had in a long time. My mattress in Pai had left alot to be desired and my back was rebelling. I took a walk to go find some food. Its Thailand, you normally cannot get more than 5 metres without finding some sort of eatery. Not in Chiang Rai. The people here don’t appear to eat. I found one restaurant and honestly thought there had been a mistake on the menu. Pad Thai was advertised as 130B for the veggie version without shrimps. Thats over $4. To put it in perspective, from a food stall it usually costs 30 – 45B. At the western tourist restaurants I have never seen it above 80B. It got worse. The next restaurant was selling it at 170B and the third at an eye-watering 210B ($7) I wondered if the place was full of millionaires. That the only shops in Chiang Rai appeared to be air-conditioning units and an obscene amount of stationary shops convinced me that they were not catering to a millionaire population! On my first day I walked around the town a couple of times. I did find a great deli and spent alot of time chatting to the lady who owned it. She also made feta and spinach samosas (two for 25B) which solved my eating dilemma’s. I also got chatting to Orn, a German who had been living here with his family for over 20 years. He had the only bookshop left in the city and we talked books for hours. The next couple of days were a wash out, but I was ensconced with some good books, cheese and a really comfy mattress – I certainly wasn’t missing out by not been able to wander around the city more.

During a break in the rain I did go visit the White temple or Wat Rong Khun to give it its proper name. Despite its appearance it is a functioning Buddhist temple. They started building it in 1997 and it is not completed yet. There are many skulls incorporated into the design, the railings and even the traffic cones are also adorned with skulls. The place is teeming with tourists and a man with a loud speaker shouts at anyone who tries to double back and not follow the correct path around the temple. You are not allowed to take photographs inside the temple which is a shame – the walls are amazing. Artists are still painting them, there were 5 working whilst I was there. The back wall is not traditional Buddhist images, there are spaceships, explosions... and cartoon characters. How many characters can you spot? I found Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Elvis, Ben 10, Predator (there is also a model of Predator in the garden) Japanese Manga Characters and someone who looked alot like George from Rainbow but I think it was an Asian character. It’s one of those places you really do have to see to believe. The same chap who designed the temple (Chalermchai Kositpipat) also designed the other thing of interest in Chiang Rai – the Clock Tower.

It is also a roundabout at the busiest junction and at 7pm it lights up for 10 minutes and changes colour, whilst spectators stand in a purpose built traffic island to watch it. So how else did I fill my time – massage of course. With the help of Orn, he gave me directions to the only massage parlour that wasn’t a front for prostitutes. It was the place where the locals go. I decided to be brave. I have had a number of thai massages now – it was time to advance to the two hour massage. The Thai’s will tell you that a minimum of 2 hours is required – they consider the 1 hour ones more for tourists. In fact this massage parlour did not even have the option of 1hour sessions. Now I have mentioned massage alot but I do not think I have explained them properly. The Thai massage is always done clothed. You will usually be given clothing to change into. These resemble hospital scrubs and the key element is that you should be able to move freely in them. You will not be on a massage table but on a mattress on the floor – neither will you be alone, they is usually up to 5 other mattresses in the room. It is not considered a private relaxing experience, the masseuses and other clients will be chatting and laughing across the room. The masseuse sits on the mattress and starting with your feet presses down on pressure points. She will use her thumbs, elbows, palms and her entire body weight at times to press down. As well as the pressing, there is also the “assisted” stretching. She will manipulate your limbs into position and then twist them round. Alot of these positions are familiar yoga positions. She will push her feet into your back whilst holding your arms backwards to ensure you fully arch your back. She will also stand on your feet and maybe your back. The Thai’s believe this type of massage is medicinal and a weekly massage is considered a requirement to maintain health. You do feel better at the end but I have yet to achieve the zen like state that some claim the massage will bring on. At no amount of massage could have made me feel any warmer towards Chiang Rai - I had to get out of there...