Vientaine et Vang Vieng

I heaved my pack onto my back and avoided the overpriced airport taxi by beginning to stroll the few kilometers into town. It was before 8am, but we were already steaming into disorientating humidity, somehow Laos felt more toasty than India, a suspicion which stifled me thoughput South East Asia. Thankfully a jolly Laotian pulled up beside me, in a new breed of tuk tuk I'd not yet seen (each country seems to have its own metamorphosed configuration), and took me into town for a fairer price. As a first ambassador for the country, my tuk tuk man was admirable. And the people of Laos did little to deter my esteemed opinion of them enforced by invariably joyful faces and hearty greetings that were perennially recieved. The first known record of civiIsation in Laos is apparent in the bizzare and numinous Plain of Jars in the central East, a stretch of many hundreds of enormous inexplicable stone jars containing relics from 2,000 year ago thought to have perhaps been used as funeral pyres.  the history is that of misappropriated people as firslt Vietnam and Thailand battled over land rights for many years before the 19th century when the French came bowling in, followed by the Japanese settlling in World War II, until finally the Prime Minister himself allowed the US to fly in Laos airspace in an attempt to shut off the Ho Chi Minh trail in the Vietnam war during which time over 2 million tons of explosives were dropped on Laos soil. Since the royal family were arrested and exiled to malaria ridden camps in the late 70's Laos is now a socialist state with a single party, and everyone seems ostensibly calm and happy.

The streets of Vientaine, the capital, of Laos, were laced with a sapid spectrum of delicious street delacacies and I heartily consumed many sesame seed fried bananas, fresh fruit and steamed sweet corn before finding my way to the tourism centre. Although the food gave an impressive introduction to Laos, the small capital contained no real excitement and I was happy to head on out straight away in search of adventure. Like Malaysia, the approach to tourism was proud, well-developed and friendly. The staff in the information centre were beyond cordial if not jovially insufficient as the erroneous nature of advice I recieved sent me on several hundred sweaty metres of misinformation before I returned, with an admonishing look under the weight of my bags, for more accurate directions. Languishing slightly under the stifling heat I found myself on a bus heading North to Vang Vieng.

3 hours later I pulled up in a sleepy little town beside the Nam Xong river, a wide and picturesque trickle flanked by precipitous but steep, stout little green tufted mountains all around. Heading into town the guesthouses began to thicken, as Vang Vieng was once a popular haunt for backpackers looking to get slaughtered on the rivers in the infamous tubing culture, where rambunktious groups float on tractor inner tyres past beer bars and shot dispensers. It's not difficult to concienve how people began getting seriously hurt. The dangerous rope swings and perilous fusion of alchohol and water took its toll and the activity was publically outlawed, although it has unfortunatly began clandestinly creeping back. I couldnt help but plantitively percieve this dichotomy between backpacker convenience and the squandering of indigenous tradition with a certain sadness which I thought may well be trait of the smaller more busy routes in South East Asia when compared with the more rigorousoy rustic settings of India. However, best not to be overly sententious when the system clearly works for both parties providing and warm and cosy beautiful Eastern retreat for the world, and a reliable economical flux for a country which struggled after the 1997 Asian financial crisis.

                                                                The view from my room

A Belgian run Guesthouse at the North end of town supplied glorious river views of the lustrous sunset over the green capped hills, and despite a chilly shower installed more or less directly over the the toilet in the miniscule bathroom which slopped somewhat into the bedroom I was pleased with the settings. Waking up before the sunrise for a sweaty spot of yoga on the rickety wooden balcony was more than remedial. I wanted to venture into the greenery via suitable methods and so rented a bicycle for about 50 pence to head to various hills, caves and lagoons with the furthest an ambitious 8km away.

A most dubious staircase

This suddenly seemed slightly imprudent after I crossed the calm comely bridge and crashed perilously onto the rugged road which was my perilous path into the countryside. The cracked dirt track littered with small boulder-sized stony obstacles made for an batteringly bumpy ride, but I tried to form an approach with some yogi training to attempt to support some of my weight in a internal bandha muscle lock, lightly cupping the handle bars for vague steering and hoped to sail suspended over the uneven ground the best I could. Ultimate futile as I was destined to take an absolute beating, skidding ominously on the downhills. Before the day was through I'd cycled over 20 clamorous kilometres, climbed two small yet precipitous mountains, ventured into the darkest depths of an astoundingly large and silent cave alone, and taken a well earned dip in the bright blue

Mouth of the enormous Tham Phou Kham caves

lagoon before the gruelling ride back. The scenery was awe-inspiring, broken by reams of green tufted moundish islands, so unlike vast and pyramid shape mountains which make up most ranges although I am yet to learn why, replete with thousands of deep and perilous caves to intrepidly explore had my stay been more protracted. However, I was hurriedly heading North that evening to drift into Luang Prabang very briefly before turning on my heel and heading South through the country in order to meet my uni buddy Mia in Cambodia in a few days. I was unsure about making the trip 7 hours over night away from my ultimate destination in the South, but was spurred on by good advice it was worth the trip. It turned out that my return journey in two days made it all worth while.