After an uncomfortable 6-hour drive to Chiang Khong drive in a minivan with 10 other people, we were abruptly awoken by our driver, and hustled out into the chilly Northern Thailand night air and into cabin rooms where we would sleep until 6am before crossing the border.
We went through Thai Immigration where we were “stamped out” and then crammed into narrow long-tail boats which took us across the Mekong River…and into Laos! It was a bit chaotic at the Laos Immigration booth to get our 30-day visa, but we succeeded. We then had to wait a couple of hours before catching the boat to Luang Prabang; at one point, everyone crossing from Thailand to Laos were crammed into this tiny restaurant where a guy tried to get us to pay 500 Baht for a bus to Luang Prabang instead of the slow-boat, and then tried to scam us for another 600 Baht per head telling us that there was only one hotel at the stop-off place. Fucking scrotum. We decided to take our chances on the slow-boat option, and ignored the ignoramus.
We boarded the slow-boat in high spirits – an 8 to 10 hour SLOW boat journey to Pak Beng, and then another 8 to 10 hour SLOW boat journey to our first destination in Laos: Luang Prabang. We were the last ones on to the boat (because we were buying yummy tuna sandwiches) so we didn’t get any seats; we made our way to the back of the seating area, finding a cosy area of wooden floor next to the toilet to sit on. This was so much fun. We eventually moved into the back of the boat, a separate room with a bunch of locals, and sprawled ourselves across the slightly more spacious wooden floor, wrapping our sarongs around us in an effort to find comfort. I think what got me through it was the view from the boat – hours upon hours, and mile upon mile of pure, organic, Laotian riverside landscape. The land was very unusual, well, compared to other river landscapes I had seen; it converged from rocky to grassy to sandy to silt in a matter of meters…all blending into a peculiarly hypnotising landscape of aridity meeting fresh waters. Every few kilometers we would sail past small tribal villages; they would stare at us curiously, and we would stare right back.
We arrived at our stop-off town, Pak Beng, just before dinner; we found MANY guesthouses to choose from, contrary to what the scrotum travel agent told us in the morning. We haggled with a guy for two rooms – me and Emmi paid 100 Baht each for our room, and Owen paid 150 Baht for his. It was possibly the nicest room I’d stayed in so far.
Pak Beng was basically one short road with a few open-air sops, a few restaurants, and a couple dozen guesthouses. It was very quiet, the electricity in the entire town terminated at 11pm, and we were pretty much far from anything remotely familiar. Of course, I enjoy that kind of new and strange experience – we should all be cut off from our creature comforts once in a while – however, at times, I would feel isolated and suffocated by the remoteness and sameness of everything around me.
We left for out second slow-boat journey at 9am the next morning, this time on an even narrower boat (it didn’t seem possible!). It was a lot more uncomfortable than before, and I spent most of it curled up on the floor outside the toilet, next to some casanova French guy who shared with me his sweet baked goods and some interesting sideway glances. But, like most things in life, the boat journey ended, and we had finally arrived in Luang Prabang. We walked around the town for what seemed like hours – it was very hot and my backpack was VERY heavy and awkward – and then we settled it with a guy on a motorbike to pay 80,000 Kip a night for a triple room with a television and private bathroom at the Soutikone Guesthouse.
We soon found out that we loved Luang Prabang – it is nothing less than lovely. There are numerous chabby-chic, bohemian-looking restaurants, a few wine bars, roads littered with town bicycles, large Buddhist monasteries, and fantastic riverside views. The architecture is very subtle – wooden arches, large windows, orangey-red bricked streets – there are few, if any, buildings taller than an average suburban house. There is a textiles and handicrafts market in the center of town, several temples of sizeable proportions (one of which you have to climb 300-something steps to get to), bicycle shops, arts ‘n’ crafts shops, and the normal splutter-bang of tuk-tuks. We found an evening buffet on the main street – you pay 5,000 Kip (less than 50 pence) and fit as much delicious food on to your plate as possible!
The tuk-tuks in Laos are quite colourful.
Where shall we cycle to next?!
One morning, whilst browsing breakfast eateries, a deep and familiar voice sounded my name, I turned around and before my very eyes, sat eating his breakfast, was Joshua Chapkin. Incredible! We chatted for a little, then I continued in search of a restaurant with Emmi and Owen, figuring that I’d see him later. I didn’t. I knew he was leaving for Vangvieng the next day, though, so I knew he would be busy.
We hired bicycles for the day, cycling around the town center, then across a wooden bridge (built only for bicycles and motorbikes) and over to the quiter suburbs. We found a gorgeous temple, the name of which escapes me now, and had to push our bikes up a very steep dirt track and maneuver between bramble bushes in order to appreciate the spectacular glinting gold structure. Although by this point I was sticky and dizzy, it was totally worth it. We could see the entire town of Luang Prabang and the brilliant surrounding mountains.
We stayed for a couple more days, one evening bumping into four Danish guys whom Emmi and Owen had met in Vietnam – Thomas, Rasmus, Martin and Jakob. They were very sweet and awkwardly funny; we all went out for dinner, eating out of our buffet boxes at the riverside, and then moving on to a cosy wine bar, with puffy cushions, for drinks. I urged that I was in need of some crisp French Rosé, and everyone obliged. The first sip was incendiary. For one evening we were “civilised”, rather than the usual evenings of swigging back cheap Lao whiskey over 10 games of Shithead (which were wickedcool in their own right). It was a merry evening, and it was mighty fine.
Emmi takes the plunge
We left for Vangvieng the next morning, waking up at 6.45am in order to catch the 8am local bus (60,000 Kip). I purchased a plastic bag of hot noodle soup and jumped aboard the very authentic local bus.
The journey turned out to be a 6-hour vomit ride. We meandered across the most breathtaking landscapes – huge grassy plains and forested chasms, rice paddies, small villages, and behemoth limestone mountains that jutt out of the Lao countryside in jagged formation. All the while, as we hastily shot along the meandering mountain roads, the chorus of passengers vomitting echoed through the bus, followed by the crisp melod of whiffy chunks landing in paper bags. Oh, what a special experience that was. I kid not, the entire bus journey was on one continuous winding road of red dirt track in the mountains and the constant fear of falling off of the edge. It did end, however, and the three of us emerged from the bus unharmed, and our lunch just barely digesting in our quivering stomachs.
We found a place called the “Chillao Youth Hostel” for 60,000 Kip per night – discount, yo. After cleansing our bodies of the sweat of the afternoon heat (and the stench of bus vomit), we took a walk around the town. Now, our main reason for going to Vangvieng was just to participate in the “tubing” activities that it is famous for – and it seemed everyone else had the same idea. Vangvieng seems to have been placed in the ground solely to cater to the young tourists in search of drinking beer whilst whizzing down a zipline over a river. After such activities, one has probably quite thoroughly exhausted oneself, and on return to the center of town, one plonks oneself in the nearest restaurant (they’re all identical) where the tables are low and the seats are cushions….and the entertainment is not the person sitting opposite you, but rather the continuously played seasons of “Friends”. It really is such a special place.
One afternoon, we were strolling down the street and Josh zoomed past on a motorbike screaming my name.
It cost us 150,000 Kip to “tube”. On arrival, we were greeted by pumping techno music, the whiff of Lao Whiskey, bamboo-decked bars brimming with sun blushed foreigners in billabong bathing suits, and the shrieks of people jumping off of ziplines. We stood in awe for a few moments, with our human-sized tubes hanging from our shoulders, sort of petrified to enter the river of sin. We slowly descended into the water, half-naked people falling from the sky, drunks singing to themselves, guys dressed in pink shorts and dancing like it was 1999. It was all so overwhelming, whilst also a little disappointing. We floated a little way down the river – Emmi was nearly killed by Josh’s friend Tim who had just launched himself into the river – when some people from a bar across the way started hollering at us and threw out a long bamboo stick to pull us inland. We were greeted by a hippy-looking woman who forced free shots of Lao whiskey down our throats. This was apparently what they did at all of the bars – it was crap whiskey, but in the heat of the midday sun it was quite effective. We hung around for a little while, being entertained by all of the drunken people ziplining and pelting themselves from the bamboo decks, then we plunged back in to the river to continue our journey. Occasionally we would cross a series of rapids, which was hilarious because we would almost always end up crashing into jagged rocks and get covered in slimy algae. We must have floated down river for about 2 and a half hours, enjoying the limestone mountains to the right of us and the giggling children on the banks to the left of us. We began to get tired of paddling, and decided to get out of the river and make our way back to town via rocky road; where other opted for a tuk-tuk, we opted to walk! We walked all the way back to town, in the blistering sun, along rocky roads, our tubes dangling from our necks….barefoot. And after all of that play, we plonked ourselves down at some nameless restaurant, lounging on the awkward flat cushions, and watched almost an entire season of “Friends” before slumping off to our rock-hard beds.
Whiskey woman
The bus ride to Vientiane is one I don’t think I shall be taking any time soon – it was only four hours but it was so jam-packed that people had to stand…for four hours! At one point, the conductor came over to my seat, pulled it out so that it would fit three people – however it meant that one of my buttocks had the pleasure of cushion comfort and the other was squished between two metal rods. It took two days for my arse to recover. I was not impressed. I also made a complete prat out of myself; I was teetering on the brink of sleep, my body hunched over and sticky with sweat, when my forehead hit the metal handlebar of the seat in front, and I jolted from the shock and cursed from the pain – all of the locals around me just laughed. Ah, good times.
The city of Vientiane was nice. It was like any other city really; buys, loud, and a little smelly by midday. We visited a few temples, got lost in a corpse-smelling market, and ate Indian food. We didn’t really do much at all. I think we were a little disappointed with Vientiane, perhaps the magic of Luang Prabang just set an incredibly high standard for the rest of Laos, and up to this point it had failed to be met. We bumped in to Josh, for the third time, and I agreed to meet him and his new friends for drinks later. It was strange, although I was so happy to see him and hug him, I didn’t feel like I should split from the Canadians just because my best friend was around. One might have thought now that we were reunited, we should continue traveling together, but it didn’t feel right. It was a wonderful twist bumping into him in Laos, but what was even greater was the fact that we could see that we were both okay and still continue on our separate journeys. We seem to take a lot of care ourselves, our own ideas and plans, and we’re better of for it. Of course, I felt that familiar warmth that I always feel when I’m with Josh, but I knew that we had found our own traveling styles, and we should just keep our reunion short and sweet. I think, also, that I fell under the spell of the Canadians – Emmi and Owen are quite brilliant company.
Next stop: 4,000 Islands.
The sleeper-bus journey lasted 16 hours. I bunked with a young English guy, he was quite out-of-it from taking 3 sleeping pills, and kindly gave me some too. I was knocked out until 6am – I felt like I had lost 12 hours of my life.
We arrived in Pakse and decided to take the local bus to Don Det (30,000 Kip). It turned out that the “local bus” was actually a large tuk-tuk and it would take 3 hours. So there we st, with no backs to our seats, in a tuk-tuk of about 15 people. Sitting opposite us was this cool Canadian girl, Jess, her boyfriend Jeff and their new friend Ollie were sat behind us. They were awesome. Jess spoke in the most ‘far out’ manner, sported slick silver nose hoop and “traveler blonde” hair. Jeff was quiet, but very sweet. Ollie was an experienced traveler, very matter-of-fact, and a blotchy-eyed pothead. He lived for the road.
We would stop every few miles or so in small local villages; the villagers would run towards the tuk-tuk, holding dozens of chicken satay sticks, bunches of turnips, cockroach kebab sticks, and bags of roasted beetles. Jess persuaded me to try beetles with her – it turns out that I love roasted beetles! For realz! They taste like salted popcorn, with a bit more crunch, and a bit of juice.
We arrived at the ferry port a while later, jumped on a boat and took it over to Don Det (one of the 4,000 islands),traipsed around with our bulging backpacks in tow looking for cheap bungalows, and finally settled on a set of bamboo bungalows for 20,000 Kip per night. Hammocks included.
Everyone in Laos is laid-back, even the cats.
Home!
We spent about 4 days, I think, on the island. It has one short road, a few restaurants, and the rainstorms are awesome. Mud galore! The point of being there is to wake up, escape your box mozzie net, stroll down the muddy track to a Cafe Rouge and eat a pancake with maple syrup, read your book, stroll back to your bungalow, swing on your hammock whilst reading your book and gazing out to the river landscape…and continue that cycle until bedtime. Occasionally you will find the energy to go to Reggae Bar, drink some rum, smoke some pot, and walk through the mud in the rain. It’s bliss that I cannot begin to describe.
I will return. There is a charm about 4,000 Islands that is just too good to pass up.
4,000 islands at sunset
The journey back into Thailand from Laos was a long one. This is how is went:
- Boat ride from Don Det to the mainland – 15 mins
- Songathaew from ferry port to Pakse – 3 hours
- Tuk-Tuk from Pakse bus station to a different bus station in Pakse – 5 mins
- Tuk-Tuk from Pakse to Laos/Thai border – 1 and a half hours
- Songathaew from Phibun (Thailand) to Udon Ratchathani – 1 and a half hours
- Songathaew from Udon Ratchathani to Udon train station – 45 mins
- Local bus from Udon train station to Udon bus station – half of my life
- VIP bus from Udon Ratchathani to Bangkok – 16 hours
Needless to say, not every part of this journey was enjoyable, but that’s budget traveling for you! However, Emmi and I played 21 questions all night that turned into 3 billion questions and a lot of hushed giggling.
