Laos Bowels

Vang Vieng, Laos
Made it to Laos after a rather mad cap (if not down right dangerous) over night bus journey from Bangkok. The capital, Vientiane, has to be in the medal list as the world's smallest capital 'city'. It's somewhere around the size of Tunbridge Wells but with an 'international' airport or more precisely a rough strip of tarmac with cow grazing facilities. The old French colonial influence is prevalent in the architecture (including a Siam style Arc de Triumphe), food and coffee (as in proper coffee, not the ubiquitous Nescafe). Odd when getting on a bus and instead of being offered various types of rice (steamed, sticky, coconut etc), assorted bits of chicken and diced fruit from the itinerant vendors, you get offered a beautiful pate filled baguette. Nice one Frenchies!

From Vientiane it was an arse numbing 4.5hr bus ride (covering 170km) to Vang Vieng. I got off covered in what looked like fake tan from the red dust and feeling like I'd gone 10 rounds with Joe Bugner (from Pavenham, Bedfordshire don't you know). VV is a town...well, village built around the 'travellor' industry and has a hundred restaurants and bars serving up banana pancakes and 'happy' shakes (yeah THAT type of happy). Some play episodes of Friends on loop and you're more likely to hear The Streets playing than any Laos style music. Hmmm. It reminds me of Pai, northern Thailand, which isn't helping as I keep having flash backs to the lost passport incident.

There are more westerns here than I've seen in along time, all joining in the bucket of booze fun and riding tractor inner tubes down the Nam Song river. It's probably not a place I'd stick around in for too long not possessing a muscle vest, aviator shades and retro chic beard but I am stuck rather.

I was beginning to think that I might get away without the curse of the traveller on this trip - the squits. After all I have successfully negotiated the Mexican scabby dog taco, the greasy late night burger from New Zealand hole-in-the-wall joints and Thai curry of 'spank my arse and call me Susan' strength. But no. I've been struck down. Don't feel bad or ill at all, in fact haven't lost my appetite (heaven forbid...altho' I should stick to toast and boiled eggs apparently), just that I can't be too far from the dunny just now and the idea of a six hour bruising bus journey north to Luang Prabang isn't really 'doing it' for me.

So this is what Vang Vieng looks like:




And this is what I have mostly seen:


Got to dash. You can guess why.