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.