Foot down

Laos - Cambodia

It suddenly dawned on me that the sands of time were slipping away with only five weeks left to get down to Cambodia and travel up through Vietnam. I needed to get a wriggle on! So I put my head down and hot-footed it for Cambodia, bowling along, or more accurately bouncing vigorously along, through southern Laos. Here's a whistle-stop picto-tour and some of the conversations I had with my trusty if slightly grumpy companion Dusty Sandals.

Right, chop chop, get on the bus.
But it's got a massive crack in the windscreen.
Never mind, never mind!
[Chug chug, splutter, bouncy, bouncy.]
Is that a box of chickens?
Yeah.
And a basket of ducks?
Yeah.
And a pig in a poke?
Yeah.
Wow.

Oh look, a Che Guevara t-shirt. Nice to see some things don't change the world over.
Don't just stand there and stare...come on!
Hey, Dusty, did you see the Che Guevara mud flaps on that lorry we past?
Nah.

Ooh look, the crumbling, fading grandeur of French colonial architecture. Smashing.
Are you just gonna gawp and take pictures? For the love of Christmas, hurry up.
Keep yer hair on!

Wow, look a catholic church.
[Hech hem]
Yeah yeah, coming.

Shall we go to Don Khong in the 4000 Islands on the Mekong?
Why not? Just a couple of nights though.
Hey. Don Khong sounds a bit like Don King doesn't it.
Idiot.
Ooohhh, someone's had a sense of humour failure, haven't they Dusty?

Cool. They're big rapids aren't they?
Yeah.
Do you think you could canoe down them, like if you were really good at canoeing?
How the hell should I know?

Hey, the Cambodian border immigration office looks a bit like a garden shed doesn't it?
Yeah.

Hey, fancy an orange froggy snack, Dusty?
Not really.
Nah. Me neither.

How about some locusts?
I feel a bit queasy.

Spiders??!!
Bloody hell, I think I'm going to be sick.

Phew made it to Phnom Pen. That was quite a few days of hard travel, huh?
Yeah.
Fancy a glass of beer?
Sure, I think we deserve one.

Hey Dusty, what do you think that's all about?
Dunno.
Bit weird and slightly scary ennit?
Yeah.
Want to go in?
Not really.
Nah, me neither.

Siam Arc de Triomphe

Vientiane, Laos
What do you do when you are donated thousands of tonnes of cement (by the US, probably feeling guilty about all that bombing) to build a new airport? Knock up a Siamese version of the Arc de Triomphe of course!

To be honest, there are probably not enough flights going to Vientiane to justify anything other than a roughly cut field and tea trolley.

Laos Chintz - it's the bomb

Laos
Thought you might like to see some of the delightful guesthouse decor I have been experiencing in Laos.

Stick this whole chintz look into a boutique hotel in NYC and you'd be charging $195 per night instead of...let me see...$3.


I liked this bureau arrangement in my guesthouse in Savvanakhet upon which I could do my paper works whilst applying mascara (should I have wished to) using the vanity mirror.



I'm not sure this is the sort of scene you want to be promoting in a bathroom. It also brings a new dimension to the word fresh in air freshener.


Laos is one of the (if not the) most heavily bombed countries in the world. Called The Other Theatre during the Vietnam war, more ordinance was dropped 'secretly' (although probably not that secretly for those living in Laos!) by the Americans in order to disrupt supply chains from north Vietnam down to south Vietnam through Laos, such as the Ho Chi Min Trail. Don't wallow in self pity at the millions of tonnes of unexploded ordinance that still litter the country - decorate your home with it! Good on ya!

Red eyes & brown pants

Savvanakhet, Laos
I had another red-eye start today and have sped down to Savvanakhet, sort of half way down the taily bit of Laos. Decided to get a wriggle on as time seems to be ebbing away a little.

To say the bus journey here was terrifying would be like saying there were a few teething problems with the new Wembley Stadium. My Laos bowels almost returned and my old friend Strangely Brown almost reappeared on the seat next to me. The road (or surface of the moon with patches of tarmac) was awash with confused, dim and rather reckless water buffalo, cattle and goats. However, the bus driver was seemingly more confused dim and definitely reckless. He seemed to think that heavy handed use of the horn was a safer tactic than more light footed & judicious use of the accelerator pedal. At one point he had to swerve to avoid a calf that had got confused by his honking horn, or just had balls the size of water melons and was playing chicken, and the bus was almost tipped onto two wheels. Now wait a minute pal, choosing to drive at breakneck speed on livestock littered 'highways' isn't clever, but if you do, then DO NOT kill me trying to swerve out of the way of a beastie. Just hit the frikking thing and live with the consequences of your own stupidity! Better still slow down, and do everyone a favour. Maybe he lived in Savvanakhet and had just been told that his house was on fire. Maybe he was just a stupid nutter with a death wish!

No pics from me (trouble with the computer) but here's a pic of what could have ended up sitting in seat 13B of the bus:


Oh, and I know my viewing public that return loyally day on day for morsels of wordy nourishment and visual titillation are desperate to know this...I think I've got to the bottom of the rice issue previously mentioned. I shan't go into it here for fear of looking like a complete rice geek, but suffice to say I envisage nights of uninterrupted sleep and perhaps gaining some colour in my hair that has gone grey with worrying about the conundrum. If you really want to know, TAG me you saddo!

[By the way, managed to add a title at LAST! Away the puns!]

The post with no name...

(...fitting of the shame...and for some reason Blogger won't let me add one!) [But I can now so I have given the post the name as previously stated, just for consistency]


Luang Prabang, Laos
It's a sure fire sign that I am feeling 100% better when I decided it's time for a beer. Maybe that was what was ailing me - lack of ale. Anyway, I have been bumping into this Irish fella, Owen, on my travels (Thai border, Vientiane, Vang Vieng and now also in Luang Prabang). He is a cheeky imp and it seems that a night out with Owen registers something swinging wildly between 'Wha Hey' and 'Uh Oh' on the fun-o-meter.

I re-bumped into Owen at a bar in Luang Prabang called the Hive Bar, a buzzing (oh dear) joint for a sleepy town. Well, after catching up on what we'd been up to, it seemed we were fairly merry and it was closing time...which in Loas is a rather nanny-ish 11 o'clock. We bumbled (stop it) out of the Hive Bar and Owen was convinced he knew somewhere 'to go on to'. I was easily coerced.


So, that was how I ended up at a Laos bowling alley at midnight. It's hardly mopping the high brow of culture is it? To add to the sordid situation I think I chucked maybe eight balls down the track and not once did I trouble those ten wee fellas at the other end altho' the gutters got a thorough working out.


Here's a (the only) snap of the back of Owen's head in the bowling alley, clearly wandering off to cause more mischief. I think the quality and composition of the shot says everything you need to know about the night.





Things didn't get any better after I left the bowling alley. I had 'forgotten' the guest house I was staying in had a midnight curfew. I mean, why not? Bars all closed at 11pm so what could anyone in their right mind do after midnight...right? Apart from go bowling...but that would be ridiculous. So at 3am I was presented with not only a tightly shut guest house but also a dangerously spiky and firmly closed gate. I decided I'd scale the gate and proceeded to do so. It didn't go well. Climbing hazardous obstacles in flip flops and when perhaps a little bit dulled in the senses isn't clever or indeed easy. I got stuck. One leg was in front over the railings, one was precariously holding me up and I couldn't seem to move from this yoga-esque position. Fortunately my attempts to be 'quiet' had clearly been far from that and a young lad working for the guest house opened the main door and sleepily rubbed his eyes, clearly bemused by the vision in front of him. Thankfully he helped me down and I have to say if he didn't save my life, he certainly saved the precious runner up in the chart of 'Things You Mustn't Lose'. Fortunately he saw the funny side of it and we had a giggle about it the next morning.

Here are some snaps of the less seedy side of Luang Prabang:

Luang Pra-bangers

Luang Prabang, northern Laos I didn't want to leave you in dreadful suspense and nor did I want the last picture I posted here to be of a loo, so you'll be glad to know that I have regained complete control of...well, me I guess. Back to feeling tippety top, in fine fettle and firing on all two cylinders once again. Many thanks for all the messages of sympathy and get well notes, bottles of Lucozade and bunches of grapes that came flooding in. I was truly underwhelmed! 'Aaannnxxx. So I have wove/wended/weven (whatever) my way to Luang Prabang further north in Laos and a more delightful spot I couldn't imagine outside of Bromsgrove. It's a World Heritage listed 'city' (yeah, market town size) dozing on the banks of the Mekong River. All sleepy, green and picturesque with intriguing alley ways, vibrant markets and even a breeze that doesn't feel like you've just opened an oven door. Could it get any better? Actually, yes it could, and it does. Luang Prabang is famous for its sausages and having sampled them, deservedly so. Never thought I'd be in Laos eating medal winning bangers and having a genuine ethnic meal, but there you go. Right, it's that time once again to make a spirited attempt to annihilate LBP's sausage stock. Let's GO!

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.

Off for a Laos-y time

Bangkok, Thailand
Hardly stuck up a post of worth regards Myanmar and it's time to hit the trail once again for what is likely to be the penultimate leg of my trip: overland around Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia. It's all very much a campaign under the banner 'Failing to plan is planning an adventure.' We'll see.

Time for some thank yous. Have to say a massive, massive thanks to Ros, Dan (and Ruby) who have acted as base camp for all my SE Asian exploration. Just totted up and I have been resident at their house here in Bangkok four times over the past two months. Having just spent an hour and a half banging my head against a wall in the United Airlines office here in Bangkok trying to organise my return flights, it seems I'm going to be passing through BKK once again around the 14th Aug. That really will be the last time...promise. Here's a snap of family ColliRussell at Dolphin Bay Resort t'other weekend. It's a shame Ruby has a bent cotton bud stuck in her ear.

And news hot off the press - I can confirm that I shall be back in Blighty from the week starting 20th Aug! There is after all a certain cricket match to play in, right!

Here are some more snaps of Myanmar for those too lazy to go and look at my Flickr site! I best boost as I have a bus to catch!