Laos-a Fun
After spending just over a week in Pai, Thailand, we had successfully achieved next to nothing, our major acomplishment of our stay there being a day on a rented scooter, driving around to see waterfalls and enjoy the open road. It soon became apparent that we needed to get back on the road or risk getting stuck in a routine of lazy days and the same run of bars every night, so we made a move to get up the Chiang Khong and hop the border into Laos.
Since we are huge fans of public busses we planned to get up early and catch the local bus back to Chiang Mai, where a connecting bus would take us up to the border. After a few drinks to celebrate our last night, getting up at 6am was a hard task, but one that we rose to and conquered, lugging our packs and guitars into town to find that the 7:30 bus was full and the next one would probably not get us into Chiang Mai in time to get the connection.
As we wandered around trying to figure out what to do, and forming a vauge plan with a couple from Alaska that had encountered the same bus problem, I ran into Sarah (who we met on the bus up to Pai) Helen and Felicity, three lovely aussie lasses who we spent some time with, and who we would encounter again in Laos. Not sharing the same love of the local bus as Captain Timbo and myself, they had opted for the cop-out mini-van-bus-thing and even had time to score a breakfast. It was all a bit too lonely planet for us.
After securing a pick-up truck taxi between myself, Captain Timbo and the Alakans we were soon pacing it up and over the mountains, trying to suffocate from the exhaust fumes that were sucked into the back of the truck. Four hours later we would find that the bus to Chiang Khong was also full and resolve to spend a night in Chiang Mai.
Eventually we make it up to the border just in time to find a bank and get some dollars (there is only one ATM in the whole of Laos, and we were going to be nowhere near it) before catching a long boat across the Mekong. Goodbye Thailand, hello Laos.
The immigration dude on the other side took great pleasure in telling us we should have scored Laos visas before we arrived, and that we would have to go back to Bangkok in order to do so. As we were laughing at how completely screwed we were while saddling up our packs he burst into a fit of laughter and told us he was just kidding. Apparently this joke never gets old, and every day he fucks with line after line of backpackers who wash up on the Laos border. I guess everyone has something to get them through the day.
The next day we caught a two day slow boat down the mekong to Luangprabang which was, in effect, a two day piss-up on a boat complete with my first taste of Laolao, Lao whiskey that is basically grain alchohol, and closer to rocket fuel than a beverage. Apparently it is good to build up and appetite, but after consuming a few shots of the stuff I realised it's actually just an appetite for more Laolao, and I had to consciously decline any more as getting horrendously drunk on a boat isn't going to be fun for anyone involved.
We spent a few days in Luangprabang before I travelled north to Luangnamtha with Sarah and Helen who we bumped into as we were walking around town trying to find a place to stay. Captain Timbo stayed in Luangprabang for a few days with his young (but older) swiss lady before travelling south to Vang Vieng.
Meanwhile, up in the north, we undertook a three day trek into the jungle which was, for me, the best trekking I have done so far. There are no adjectives left to describe the landscape we walked through that haven't been over used to the point of losing their meaning, so all I will say is that if you ever go to Laos, Luangnamtha is the place to go trekking.
Currently I am in Vientienne, where I met back up with Captain Timbo and Sarah for Christmas celebrations, and in about an hour and a half I will be catching a bus up to Phonsavan and the 'plain of jars'. Before you ask, yes, it is just a plain of large, stone jars and no, no-one knows who put them there, or when or why. I could not begin to make my own theories but I will say this, if you can't time travel, isn't the next best thing just to fuck with people in the future by confusing the hell out of them?
I plan to stay only one day in Phonsavan before heading further north-east, up to the border with Vietnam before making my way up to Ha Noi where, if the vauge plan succeeds, I should meet up with Captain Timbo for new years drinks and stories about "being in the shit" and "where were you for Tet '69" and I can barely wait.
So I have loaded my mp3 player with 80 more albums, for the shockingly low price of 30 quid, all thanks to the Full Moon Cafè opposite my guesthouse who not only serves 241 litre pitchers of Beerlao, but deals openly and extensively in pirated music that they load onto your player. The next 10 hours on the bus will be passed nicely with a brand new soundtrack for my thoughts, and I have already spent the morning sitting outside sipping pepsi and exchanging smiles with girls walking past.
I am not scared of the future anymore, or at least not right now. I am alone, I have no definate plan, I have a bag that contains everything I will ever need, and a guitar. I am alive and, at least for today, I am begining to realise what that really means. See you in 'Nam.
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