A bottle in time

There he sat, round and solo

Drinking his beer with a sway.

A friend sat close, but in anyone's eyes

His presence was light years away.

The clock ticked, the alcohol flowed, 

We watched with devils eyes,

He walked around, a drink in hand,

Clinging to groups of guys.

He was joined at 11 by an older man,

But one could never tell,

As the beats progressed, the man sped up

As though under a magic spell,

His eyes were wide, his movements quick,

The people turned away.

And then, Alas! He found a friend,

He no longer jived astray.

The large one lunged, the small one hid,

Avoiding a drunk collision,

A hand on his shoulder, a walk to the door

The room swayed with blurry vision.

An hour later the man returned!

Not persuaded bed-time was near,

I looked away, with sorry eyes,

As he threw up all his beer.

In the background the other was zooming by,

No time to stop and chat!

While the poor man, leant over the bar

And belched and breathed and spat.

The tunes died down, the lights went off,

Speedy ran back home,

The drunk man turned to finally leave

And through the night, he continued to roam.

- a poem describing a moment of our last night in don det, Laos.

The last of Laos

The group's down to the original two and J. and I are getting used to not having Lads in every crack and crevice. Suddenly having to research and organize things ourselves, we've entered a rather uncomfortable realm. Usually it's B. with his lonely planet out, giving us directions about how much money we were all going to need for 'this' bus to 'there'. Now it was all up to us, what?
J and I sat on the bus on the way to 4000 islands, it had been an 18 hour journey since Vang Vieng where we'd said goodbye to the troops. The 'guide' at the front of the bus was shouting out the names of various islands between rather loud gibberish that no one understood. We heard '’Don Det’, for young people!' and decided that was our best bet. I looked at J. puzzled 'we're going to the beach right?' I was picturing 4000 sunny islands of paradise with palm trees and pina coladas. 'Jess Laos is Landlocked'.. oh. It turns out over 3000 of the islands are rock formations about the size of my hand, mangroves and mud line the sides of the rivers and the only really affordable island is ‘Don Det’, where we luckily landed ourselves. The other day we floated down tubes joking about how we’d organize our lives on these islands. ‘Grandma can sit on that one in her rocking chair, the rest of the family can go on ‘Don Khong’ (the island attached to ours)’ but the rule is never to cross the bridge. And all our mates would be on ours.’ So that’s a goal to work towards..

Our opinion of the island's changed since we've been here. At first it looks a little run down, hippy joints line the main street from the small beach/ port where the boats arrive, the guesthouses generally consist of a basic room, a bed and a fan, all you need really. The prices are more than the mainland due to import tax, especially the essentials: suncream, crisps and rizzla’s, it’s been difficult. But after a few days here, I have a new found appreciation for the place. We arrived, nackered after 18 hours and still groggy from the valium (a necessity for sleeper buses) and dumped our bags in our bungalow at ‘sunset guesthouse’ where we were paying $3 each a night, steep I know. We settled into the groove of the island pretty fast after a drink and a happy brownie at ‘Adams Bar’, our new favourite hang-out spot. They play any movie you want throughout the day and ‘Get Him to The Greek’ was the chosen one. Halfway through the movie we looked at each other and laughed, after slagging off the brownie it had finally kicked in, and the world was a happy place that then got happier after a munchathon of snickers, ice cream and all that good cholesterol building munch. It was funny sitting next to the roti truck, eyes red, mouths watering, to then bump into our opposites – a Canadian couple that we’d seen on and off since Hanoi where we’d bunked together. They walked passed, eyes red, with a bar of chocolate sticking out of C’s top left pocket. Haha, fate. We went back and paid for our food at Adam’s and were directed towards the managers bedroom. I opened the door to see a crate of marijuana, as she sat on her bed delicately picking the buds. The ‘normality’ of the situation just made me gape. On our return to our bungalow, the local insect community decided to welcome us and J. got fully involved in the mosquito war as the cockroaches proceeded to crawl out of the toilet seat, and the bins, and the windows. I lay still, on our bed, feeling the beats of the fan and taking deep breaths through the stifling heat. Our mosquito net was full of holes that kind of matched the holes in our walls and ceiling. The smell from the bathroom was getting too much so J. cello-taped all the cracks in the room, opened the windows and soon joined me, knocked out by the heat, we both lay there in heated dreams.
The next day started with our groups tradition, ‘coffee and Cigarrettes’ (roll the ‘R’ as you say it). A meditation and a swim in the lagoon later we’d rented bicycles and were off across the rickety bridges, bumpy roads and into the bamboo forests that were covered in ash from all the recent burning (they burn the bamboo/ foliage every year to fertilize the ground and make space for new crops). We discovered the waterfalls that gushed around us. They weren’t as ‘serene’ as Luang Prabang but the jagged rocks gave the place a pre-historic feel, dinosaurs would have made the scene complete. After a dip in the top of the waterfalls we made our way down to the bottom, passing a dark sunkissed man that sat inbetween two windswept rods of bamboo that made the perfect border around him. The colours were sandy and the heat was strong, it felt like we were in a desert, and the thought of my empty bottle of suncream made my skin glow. We walked down and found a few other backpackers baking on the beach. The swells in the water were strong and little whirlpools formed all over the place. The sun slowly sank and we cycled to the ‘viewpoint’ before heading back. Never have I seen such a vast expanse of sky and water, it was so still and serene with one or two long boats disturbing the flat water with a ripple or two – the pictures don’t do it justice. We rode back as the sun went down, spotting mini wind-tornado’s that swept up the dry leaves and dust. A full day in the sun had taken it’s toll, we’d stop now and then for breaks as our legs tingled and the world spun. We got back, realizing J. had lost his shirt, and after getting into a new one we met our Canadian couple for a long awaited dinner. The conversation flowed and lead to a game of kings cup, a drunken go at pool and an after party at the beach. Huddles of people crowded in the dark around little candles that had been dotted all over the beach. The flower fumes soon got too much and food was in order. 4 mad-eyed teenagers rampaged around town, asking every person, restaurant and shop if they had any food, we managed to scavenge yogurt, 6 baguettes and chocolate sauce – result. As we got back to our guesthouse we opened the bamboo barrier to get in and I jumped as the buffalo immediately herded their way inside, followed by a pack of barking dogs. We looked at each other in fear and slowly, with panicked eyes we walked back to our bungalow, arriving without a scratch.
The next day was ‘mong-day’, one of a few. We bought a bowl of flowers' that cost less than a bar of chocolate, and ended the day with a social drink at '4000 islands bar’ and a few familiar faces. We decided activities were in need and booked a kayaking trip for 8am the next morning with a group we’d hooked up with. With minutes to spare we jumped out of bed, having missed our alarm and made our way to breakfast that was part of the package. Somewhere between before and after breakfast, J’s shoes were stolen, so he walked barefooted towards the kayaks by the port. We hopped into double kayaks and headed down the lagoon, past the buffalo’s lapping water inbetween mangroves. ‘Check out those Pigs having sex!’ J. screamed out, motioning towards the river bank, the Japanese kayakers beside us roaring in laughter. We stopped at the small waterfalls that we’d been to a few days before, had a little cool down and hopped back in our kayaks to head to lunch. There were huge wooden contraptions all over the place that were used everywhere for catching catfish. The animal diversity isn’t big here, but they do have a lot of lizards. When we stopped for lunch we were greeted by little kids running around. A lot of the little boys held wooden sticks with a circle of plastic string at the end – used for catching lizards. As painful as it was watching them squash and throw around these lizards, it did make me smile seeing kids playing in nature as opposed to sitting in a cybercafé. We ate lush watermelon, banana’s and fried rice before hopping back in the water and kayaking to the border of Cambodia. At the border the guide told us all to stop rowing and look up, there we sat, in silence, as the Irrawaddy dolphins glided in and out of the water infront of us. They were eventually steered away by the motor boats that joined us but it was such an incredible moment that none of us expected would happen. We made our way to the ‘biggest cascade of waterfalls in south east asia’ that required a tuk tuk ride and a walk. As we arrived I look over at the rock with the best view to see a crowd of monks all in light orange attire admiring the waterfall. Behind them was white serenity. Foaming water over jagged grey rocks – we ran up to the rock with the monks and looked down, 2 bloated dogs floated beneath us, smashing against the sharp rocks in time to the waterfall’s blows. It was enough of a warning sign to remind us of the waterfall’s strength. After everyone had enough photo’s, we headed back to the river, where I made friends with a group of little girls – losing a wet towel to the current in the process :s. We arrived back, exhausted and sunburnt. We had a group dinner and a few flower fumes for ‘L’s last night’ as he slowly lay down with a smile after a happy brownie or two... The night ended typical J&J style, the only sounds that could be heard were the crunches of crisps and the rustling of packets.
We’d planned a mong day but made the effort to adventure on – renting tubes to float down the river, hopefully not missing the ‘last stop’ and ending up like the dogs at the bottom of the waterfalls that lay ahead. J. had bought a $1.50 bottle of tiger whiskey for St. Paddy’s day (on the bottle it read ‘Sweet and Mellon instead of ‘Mellow’, if they couldn’t spell their slogan right, was the percentage of alcohol wrong too?), the bottle was soon gone as it slipped through his hands and towards the muddy bottom in a matter of a minutes – probably best.
We fought the current and gave up, ending up back at the main port in a new group of people who we spent the rest of the night with at the ‘Herb Garden Party’ out in the rice fields. We all showered up and the boys sorted out their lost room key. It turns out they don’t have any spares here, so the manager walked up to the door, squeezed the lock, and it popped open. Fab security. Hair styles were all decided upon and the party begun with many rounds of ’21, bing bang boom, grunt’ etc. all managed without a deck-o-cards. Pizza was all baked in their make-shift clay oven, and the ‘unlimited till 9’ booze was in the bucket in the corner. The toilet was nifty, made out of bamboo with a bin of rice kernels to scoop in after your business was done. The host of the party was a couple that had been here for a year and looked a little loony. She was doing all the admin and looked at us with glazed eyes and huge pupils, her voice dragging out every word. We sat in a group and ‘Manny’ the manager of ‘Happy Bar’ walked over to us, a J in his hand and a cricket on his leg – his new friend, that was soon transferred to K. for the rest of the night (he stopped freaking out after 20 minutes). The dogs that continuously scratched their fleas all over the place proved to be a bit more of a nuisance than the cricket.. We woke up with a hang-over and it turned into another mong-day, lying comfortably in one bar and walking lazily to the next, waking ourselves up with a jolt as we jumped off the 5m plank outside ‘Reggae Bar’ into the Mekong. Tomorrow our Visa runs out so we’ve got to jump the border to Cambodia then.
I can’t believe we’re here already, our time with the lads in Vang Vieng went so fast, here goes an attempt at summing it up..
Vang Vieng was amazing. One day was spent at the swimming pool, hoping to get in without a ticket but having to buy one anyway, boys hanging their goods out over the rails to poor freaked out tourists on long boats, after-sun sessions and fish and chips for dinner, learning about Jn’s mayo obsession in all its glory. One day a huge group of us went cycling to the waterfalls that we never found, arriving home and looking for my wallet, (containing $400 and my debit card), that was never found and having group dinners in front of family guy or friends. The day after was a day for women – whether it was labour day or international womens day I don’t know, but it was awesome – women stumbling over each other by the Mekong, tubing down the river, completely.pissed. It was nice seeing the girls let loose for a change, stumbling men get boring after a while.. Showers were wasted in this weather as perspiration was endless. One night we agreed on fancy dress, pulling together the few scraps we had in our limited wardrobe for ‘Jungle Party’. The night started in the Irish Bar with some incredibly strong drinks, a few games of 21, a bonfire and a rave. The night ended with drunk kisses, tears and a sore heart... Feeling alone in someone’s company being the shittiest parts of travelling away from home... ‘Jn. the stripper’ lightened the mood, followed by a tied up T. a drunk Frenchman in the shower and a tomato on our ceiling – living with Lads is a laugh. The card was sorted out the next morning, and yet another trip to the police station was called for to get a report written – it was fast and efficient, the police here being 10x more helpful than in Vietnam. The night that followed was my last of being 18, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else. We played darts at the Irish bar, danced at Buddha bar and shotted tequila at moon bar. 00:00 struck and the DJ played ‘Happy Birthday’ as I squeezed T. and J. for setting it up. That night we met Lala, avoided the creepy little drug dealer and I met my ‘sister’ who had the same ‘going out alter-ego as me’, exciting stuff. After closing time, our room was soon full again, and we somehow chose one phrase to learn in each of our languages, mumbling in Spanish, Dutch, French and Greek, our food hunt at 3am hadn’t been a success but our acquisition of new phrases had! The bedsheets were inked with multi-lingual ‘Happy birthday’s’ that we only remembered in the morning. (‘Neuken in de Keuken op de keukentafel’ is how you say our phrase in Dutch, if you were wondering ;) ) Daytime came, the police report was picked up and a big breakfast at the Irish Bar was called for. Cake and pressie time came around (& a free bottle of lao wine!) and I laughed as most of them had a message about ‘not losing anything’ on them.. we hopped in a tuk tuk and headed to the blue lagoon. Seeing an older group on the way who’d just falled off their bicycles and scraped a knee made us cringe as we thought back to a few weeks ago. The blue lagoon was beautiful, we floated in rings and swung off swings, ‘No smoking Weed’ signs scattered the place, a volleyball court to the left and a few metres above lay ‘Gollum’s cave’ that we explored for hours. At one point we all stopped to break, and got to know the guys we were walking with. Coincidentally we’re all sharing the same Halls at Leeds Uni – the world only gets smaller. We finally reached the lagoon again, just in time to watch a huge English guy jump from the highest branch of the tree, do a backflip and land perfectly in the rubber ring floating beneath him, it was the cherry on top of an amazing day. By the end of it, we were spent and in denial about leaving so we decided to stay an extra day while time was still on our side. Night time involved authentic pineapple crumble and a movie in bed.. our last night together.

Morning time came and adrenaline was ON. Coffee, cigarettes, packing, paying the manager who we’d never met, breakfast at the Irish bar (a last steak baguette), goodbyes, facebook details, bus station. Tears were shed as the family hugged goodbye and their bus headed away from us and towards Thailand. I looked forward to the video of my naked welsh choir singing ‘Happy Birthday’ with smiles on their faces, something that hadn’t happened the day before! J. and I boarded the hot sweaty bus, craving a cold shower. We had to be sensible and responsible now, checking for our passports and money as we arrived in Vientiene, the capital of Laos. We had a quick dinner, getting discounts for the cockroach in J’s soup, and got on the luxury double bed sleeper bus that had 4 bunks, passing out and arriving in Pakse for the last bus to 4000 islands. Soon we’ll be able to say been there Don Det but we’re gonna try and squeeze our visa’s dry and enjoy the last few hours before that time comes, Thank you Laos and family. x
 
 
Recipe of the day: Lao Green Curry
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBKaeNiDldE

From bowling balls to swirly clouds

I sit dozily at an incredibly slow computer in the underrated town of Vang Vieng - Laos. We've since conquered Luang Prabang, the french world heritage site with no loud noises, hundreds of monks in bright orange attire and beautiful french architecture lining the streets. We began by finding our guesthouse that had been reccommended by our french friends in the previous town we were in. We rocked up, picking up a few new friends from the boat E., J. and O. on the way. A cool dude from the Isle of White and 2 lovely Canadian girls that are almost finished uni. The beauty of arriving in a big group (given there's space) is you practically get a dorm for yourself, making it our new home again and again by draping cloth and clothes here and there, lights on when you want them and curtains closed when you choose. J. emptied the contents of  his bag all over the bed as soon as we arrived, and those that shotgunned the shower first hopped in after a long and sweaty 7 hour boat ride. It was funny coming out of the shower smelling like Shampoo and walking into our dorm that 10 minutes ago had smelt fine, but the contrast was appalling as everyone's dirty washing created a not-so-pleasant odour..

V.Ball at Utopia

Veg Buffet

The boys followed their stomachs and were out of the hostel faster than we'd arrived, looking for food in the night market. J. and I decided to follow a different crew for a meal - settling with noodle soup for $2.50 that left our mouths burning and our noses streaming. We walked through the markets after dinner and it all came rushing back. You know when you've been to a place before, and you return to exactly the same scene, it's like travelling back in time. The little ladies selling their wares. Handmade shirts, colourful bags, block printed paintings, metal bracelets made out of bomb fragments, bottles of dead snakes fermenting in rice wine. It went on and on and on, getting hotter and hotter as you walked passed the smoky BBQ's and street vendors, the smoke getting trapped under the cloth above our heads. We bumped into our Israeli friend that had moved on a few days before us - having drinks at a suave french bar after being succesfully seduced with a 'free cocktail' flier. The curfew here as I've said before, is 11pm, which makes everything rather rushed once the clock's struck 9:00pm. The place to be in LP is Utopia, an outside bar with comfy cushions where people lie smoking shisha or watching extreme sports. Round the back is a huge volleyball court where the drunk gather to smash the ball in whatever direction they please as hand-eye-coordination slowly declines. It was so bizaare when you walked around and noticed the huge missiles sticking out of the ground, the missile that had been turned on its side and made into a BBQ or the one that the toilet paper rested on in the corner of the bathroom.

Golden Buddha's

When 11pm strikes, the crowds are whisked off by eager tuk tuk drivers, to the bowling alley, the only place in LP that stays open until 3am. I expected disco lights and dancing but we arrived to bright, fluorescent lights, bowling and Justin Bieber in the background. It wasn't until later that I realized why none of the bars here have dance floors.. dancing in Luang Prabang is illegal. Go figure? I don't understand the logic..
It's nice having everyone staying at the same hostel, it means you can be shuttled away with a group and will most likely end up home -- the second floor being the post-bowling gathering spot where bongs, papers and cups scattered the table and a sign reading 'Stay QUIET after 12!' was prominently stuck on the pillar above the table.
The next morning we all herded to the breakfast vendors selling fruit shakes and fresh baguettes with your choice of filling. We noticed how it was only foreigners eating here, ah well it worked for us. We wanted to do something productive with our day so haggled a tuk-tuk down to a reasonable price and headed off to the waterfalls. We arrived to the garden of Eden, 'a Disney scene', an Oasis. I'd been before but it never ceases to amaze how stunning the turqoise water is. Nothing could spoil this scene but bad weather, luckily the sun was on our side. We swung off ropes all day into the still water, hopping out as the little fish nibbled your toes and later meditating in the serenity.
That evening everyone was starving, so we appropriately found a vegetarian buffet in which they gave you a plate for just over a dollar, and allowed you to pile it as high as you wanted -- the boys came over to the table precariously balancing their piles of food. Utopia and various moments of chunder followed that night.

Typical breaky

The next day, after a painful experience at a ridiculously slow internet cafe, attempting to upload photo's as back-up and having the computer turn on and off for an hour. The day got progressively better luckily, as we explored temples around the town and had a coffee and a few flower fumes at a sweet cafe over hanging the Mekong and then ending up with the crew at the notorious Veg. buffet again.. the law of 'no dancing' wasn't an issue that evening as we lay happily watching extreme sports in awe, monged out on the cushions. That evening we met a Kiwi Off-shore worker thats minted mate was having a 33rd birthday party at 'the pool' the next day, with $1000 tab to share. Ah the beauty of bars.

Crazy missiles

The next day was 'Justin's big birthday', we arrived to see hundreds of people and an empty tab that had been cleared of drinks in the first 2 hours, it was only 2pm. We talked, swam and kicked around the ball until dinner time when we treated ourselves to our regular Indian. Seeing the total price made us laugh as for 10 people we were paying the equivalent of 1 person back 'home' (in London). We ended with these little tapioca rice puddings that they serve in little banana leaf boxes on the street, and chunks of vibrant red watermelon. The night brought us back to the second floor of our hostel, with our new Israeli friends 'Tslil and Daphna', it was interesting discussing religious views with the first agnostic Israeli-Jew I'd met so far. We'd be interrupted momentarily by the annoying child that ran around constantly crying and throwing toy trucks at the stray cats that roamed the area.
The following night was the same child's birthday I think, and it was a night of silence for once. The owner of the guesthouse provided everyone with a free 'instant noodle' dinner and birthday cake that lined everyone's stomachs well for the night that followed. I was missing wheat -- having a wheat-allergy restricts a lot in terms of diet. No instant noodles, baguettes, toast, pasta. It's a lot easier to follow in Asia when rice is the main starch but I was missing my western food as well and craved a baguette or an oreo (that's all the rage here). That day had been a relaxed one. We'd spent it reading, writing, sorting out bank stuff and eating banana-chocolate-peanut butter crepes. In the evening 'Life of Pi' was showing at 'the bookshop'. It was upstairs, in an attic almost, where books lined the walls and everyone had a cup of tea of hot chocolate. Cushions were scattered everywhere, and we jumped on a spot right in front of the screen as soon as we could. I was apprehensive about watching the movie when the book had been so good, but it projected the writing so perfectly onto the screen. It teaches you so clearly, in a very hollywood-esque way, about so much. It talks about how the bible/ religious texts are just elaborated stories of the simple and basic facts, how to conquer the 'evil' within yourself to survive (symbolized by a tiger) and realizing via coming across the carniverous island, that paradise/ heaven on earth, can turn into hell just as fast. All part of the Yin-Yang I guess.
After the movie we decided to show our faces for a few hours at Utopia, bumping into the girls we'd lived with in 'Sapa, Vietnam' during our home stay. Listening to their adventures/ horror stories about being in a bus that crashed and covering themselves from shards of glass with thin blankets. We touched wood with sympathetic faces, hoping we wouldn't be repeating the story with us as the new characters. That evening we looked around the table, feeling slightly wavy, and realizing most of our crew had moved on to Vang Vieng. It's funny looking around and not recognizing anyone, apart from the new Swedish boys we'd been speaking to, picking up as many tips about our next (and their previous) destination.

The sun-bears by the waterfall

The waterfall

The morning after was the day we were supposed to leave. And it was rather rushed to say the least. J. jumped out of bed at 11.00am realizing he had to pick up forms at the hospital, as I packed his bag and rushed to Utopia to re-claim our clothes that we'd left (who's surprised?) the night before.. We all arrive back in-sync realizing we had over an hour to relax before the bus came. That hour was spent getting breaky and doing a bit of basic chemistry.. extracting Codeine from Paracetamol to crash out on the long, and windy 6 hour bus ride to V.V. 'What's the time' someone mentioned, and when the response was '1:34pm' when we were supposed to leave at '1:30pm' we all slumped our shoulders, realizing we'd indeed missed the bus. Luckily our manager set us up with a 'VIP mini-van' for less than the local-bus price and we all hopped in an hour past 'leaving time'. The mood was wavy until we hit the windy roads, and everyone bit their tongues and kept their stomachs in check as we sat through the very long first couple of hours that lead us into the clouds. We got out at last, letting out a sigh of relief that we were somewhat closer to our destination, and gaping at the thick fog that surrounded us. It was cold again and felt like we were back in Hanoi, the jumpers came out and everyone dissapeared pronto as you couldn't see a metre infront of you. We finally arrived to a dark and quiet Vang Vieng, jumping out at 'Santii-villa guesthouse' that had been reccommended by the Swedes. It was exciting having such huge rooms, clean beds and our own showers. That evening we ate our noodle soups in silence in front of 'Friends' that was showing on TV at the restaurants. Half-way through the meal running into our mates from LP made us all smile. We passed out in front of HBO and a few flower fumes that the bar next door sold in great variety on his 'Happy menu'.
Being in Vang Vieng feels like being in a fairy-tale. It's like the Amsterdam of Asia - menu's selling 'shroom-tea and opium shakes' like it's the most normal thing in the world. We skipped a day at the blue lagoon the next day for a pineapple shroom shake and a day of reflection. Stumbling across a magical bridge that lead to a surreal reality of a stunning lord-of-the-ring'esque river, mountains, locals washing their clothes and people floating individually in tubes down the river. Hot-Air-Balloons rose above us and everyone closed their eyes to experience the visuals and the understanding of the world beyond our shallow perception. We made our way back in time for sun-set to our rooms for a boogie to Pink Floyde, that suddenly seemed so much clearer. That evening was full of laughs on every level.

The day of reflection

Funny tea

The day after we joined the crowds and came back down for a bit of tubing down the Mekong. Though It's changed from a crazy, drunk-tourist centre, it's changed for good. We floated in peace, with the optional bar or 2 a long the way, through spots of sun and in front of gigantic fictional mountains all the way to the end-point that was a few hours down the line. Seeing people get stuck on rocks and tumbling in rapids making everyone giggle a long the way. Sticks were our method of paddling and hooking onto each others feet our way of sticking together. The evening ended with hot showers, a big family dinner, free banana milkshakes and a movie night infront of the 'big screen' at 'Sakura', everyone grunting in frustration as the end of 'Snatch' froze. Banana-chocolate crepes made it all better, and our soft pillows awaited beaming faces back at Santii-villa, our home for the moment being.

Recipe of the day: Rice dumplings

http://www.thekitchn.com/recipe-kenny-laos-rickshaw-dum-74872

A bumpy start

The little Laotian lady & J's injured arm

Our first meal by the riverside

The tables seem to have turned concerning a number of things. 1) I started off travelling with 1 girl and 1 boy.. crazy J. came a long and the female vibes just kept coming. Now, I'm one girl in a group of 10 lads. "It's like a fucking Forest down south, can I borrow your razor?", "RUGBY TIME!", "Beer, beer, beer!". I exaggerate slightly because they're all genuine and wouldn't hurt a fly but it's a funny turn of events. 2) We left Vietnam expecting calm and tranquil. I've picked up a tummy bug (sticking to a vegetarian diet for once) and on one of our slowest motorbike excursions so far, we skidded on a dirt road and managed to land ourselves in the hospital for the second time in an hour. The doctor looked happy as our money bags jingled in regret. I sat on the ledge watching J. on the bed nearest to me and a little boy on the one furthest away, both being stitched up. I sat there with a few cuts and bruises, tears streaming down my face as I swelled with the pain of J's arm, and the little boys foot on the other side of the room. The little boy had his eyes squeezed tight as they ruthlessly clamped down his legs to stop him from squirming. I attempted to distract J. from his pain by talking to him about home, mum and dad and his best mates back in Aus. choking on my own tears didn't seem to help the situation. I held my thumbs up and strained a smile to the little boy on the other side of the room to keep his spirits up, but mine weren't in full functioning order either so the attempt was in vain. The nurse came around and squirted some white alcoholic solution on my cuts and bruises and after a quick job (that turned out to be infected only days later), the doctor wished us good luck, put on his jacket and walked out. I turned to the window behind me to see the other boys waiting patiently, rolling around in wheelchairs, it made me grin. I just didn't understand where all this bad karma was coming from. Only hours before I'd been lying here having a blood test to check whether I had malaria or not (thankfully it's just food poisoning) and wanting to just be cradled and looked after..Lying in a hospital bed is never fun, i could just think of how only weeks earlier I'd been lying in one in KL, hospital environments are just so unnatural. The smell, the equipment, the people, the energy. Thankfully the blood test came back negative for malaria, and while the doctor attempted to convince me to have various stomach scans that would cost a ridiculous sum of money, I payed what I owed and left with a sigh of relief that it was only food poisoning and I wouldn't have to admit defeat and fly home in a few days time.  It was only until later that we saw it as a sign that R&R was in need. A few days of no drinking or doing, just settling for a little. It was ironic that on our day of recovery i watched the clip my mum had sent me a few weeks earlier, that was so appropriate for the situation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lx-AtPKWf9k&feature=share&list=UU1KIUp4PNCyIwCPTq1hYzWQ). One of the best things I got from it, besides a lifted spirit, was reaching enlightenment is like learning how to surf in a sea of waves. The waves can be both good and bad, sometimes you catch a great one and ride it for a while, and other times you tumble under the surface. You can't convince yourself you're always in a happy place because it's cruel to deny the dark side of the yin-yang. It bought me to the thought of intuition.. Just before the crash happened I was holding onto the back of the bike, imagining a scene in which we'd skid around a dirt corner and topple over, brushing off the thought with a shake of my head. Only minutes later did it actually occur and I was suddenly lying ontop of J. our wheel spinning and a dust cloud settling over us. I rolled over with a bruised knee and the boys all pulled up, gaping at the scene. J. pulled his sleeve up to reveal a deep gash, more were to be found on his hip and grazes in various other parts. We groggily drove back to the hospital, the thought of biking through the rest of the country losing all appeal.

Me and 'Mama'

The bus ride earlier wasn't fun either, sitting on bags of hard rice as we rocked side to side, the number of passengers increasing constantly and the number of goods (whether it be chickens, cabbages or potatoes, they just kept on coming). The pangs in my stomach would come and go in waves and I attempted to breathe into them and continue discussion with the boys or nod off to sleep against the hard glass window.. neither of them really working as good methods of distraction. We arrived and got into a tuk-tuk to get to the strip of guesthouses that we hopped between before settling on first one we'd seen. 4 in one room, 3 in another.. a few valium later I was passed out and in a happy place, the pain temporarily gone for the time being..
Laos had started with a bang and now we were at a crash. We'd began in a little border-town village that was tranquil and cheap, exactly what we needed. We stayed at a little guesthouse on the edge of the Mekong and after a swim with the locals, we checked out the town to take a few snaps and get a feel for where we now were. Passing an internet cafe with huddles of boys playing 'WOW' and 'Runescape' - it's funny how no matter what country you're in, the universal habits stay the same. At our guesthouse every night, there was a huge 'family dinner' for everyone staying there. Unlimited vegetarian food piled on plates that you helped yourself to, a long with unlimited shots of their local rice wine, that they continuously filled up during the meal. When the staff had gone to bed, they curiously placed 2 full bottles on our table, and left the fridge full of beer, unlocked (not smart when there's a group of drunk tourists stumbling around). We conversed with our new french friends, a drunk mix of languages spanning the room while we slurred words about a trek we were all set to do early the next morning (which of course never ended up happening, given that we were breathing rice wine till well into the afternoon). After a few days there and enough shots of rice wine we moved on to the next town, checking we hadn't left anything behind this time.

As we sat and ate our meals, Jack turned around to brush away a 'mosquito' that he heard in his ear. Only to realize it was another of the little old Laotian women wearing traditional dress and chewing beatle nut, making their funny 'shh shh shh' noises and trying to sell us 'bracelets'. After a few 'no no's' they opened their little bags to reveal huge bags of weed and little packets of opium. They'd go as far as to stuff it under your T-Shirt to get you to buy their (disappointing) products. I laughed as they tried to convince Jn. (a policeman in training) to buy their class A drugs.. but a few poppy fumes did help lighten the pain, only in Laos. We later bumped into our french friends from the first town, who'd made the trek the next morning, and spent the evening discussing picking clementines in Corsica  the next move on my agenda when I return to Europe. We all groggily got into bed, talking about aliens, the supernatural and how crazy the concept of wiki-leaks was, before drifting into a deep and beautiful slumber.

We didn't want to hold back our boys so for the day they went Kayaking while we rested and recovered.. before booking our tickets for the 'long boat' to Luang Prabang, our next stop. I'd been 2 years ago so was interested to see how different it'd be without the family, nice restaurants and no budget. We'd lost one of our boys N. who'd just finished his national service in the Israeli army and had a limited travel period so had to move faster than us, hence the group had shrunk again, (which did make it slightly easier to keep track of everyone.) We'd missed check-out time again, and were waved off by a hard-faced woman who was running the guesthouse (but I could understand as a single woman running a guesthouse you'd have to be on the ball the whole time, especially when people don't follow instructions, we couldn't exactly expect a friendly response).While on the bus, going up a fairly steep hill, we suddenly came to a halt as the engine stopped working and we narrowly escaped a crash with a local truck full of people. We began rolling backwards before the driver cleverly started the bus in reverse and we continued on, sighing in relief that this wasn't the end of our journey (for the second time). I'd stopped taking all the pills i'd been prescribed, my tummy ache was easing (ironically) and my mood was lighter. J. and I played word association games and laughed non-stop as the rest of the crew nodded off to their music.We had a quick toilet-break before the 7 hour boat ride, seeing the sign 'pay for toilet' annoying everyone. I hate it when they expect you to pay for something that's so basic and necessary. So everyone turned the corner and went in the bushes behind the facility.. almost expecting to see 'pay money' signs behind the bushes.

Coffee and Cigs

The long-boat was great fun. We motored along slowly, watching locals wash rice by the sides of the Mekong  pink water buffalo lapping water on the rocks and little boys frolicking by the sand as the older men stood behind them patiently with fishing lines. We read books, snoozed, jammed with guitars and harmonica's, sketched and talked. The time flew by and we were soon at the next town, that bordered Thailand 'Houeiai', where we stayed at 'BAP' guesthouse that was recommended in lonely planet. The woman running the guesthouse told us to call her 'mama', and was adamant that if we left we weren't allowed to come back. 'That's not fair mama' I said, 'no no you no say that's not fair, you go you no come back!' She made us laugh and obviously knew how to run a business. We played a new Spanish card game that night 'Escola', had some Lao tea and fresh mango while watching the sun set behind the red hills in Thailand (that was only 100m away across the Mekong). We then moved on to 'Pakbeng', the next town, before we caught the second-half of our long-boat journey to LP. A man stood where we arrived, with a sign saying 'BuonMey guesthouse' and shouting 'Bone me! Bone me!' that made us all giggle childishly. On the back of the sign was crossed out 'happy shakes, opium shakes, happy pancakes, opium pancakes' and that made us laugh even harder. We followed him up to his guesthouses, he'd sold it well, an odd character, completely ADD and switching between mocking English accents, to telling everyone to 'shut-up!' to giggling hysterically. I couldn't keep up. A group of others followed him as well  they'd pre-booked and weren't impressed with the steep walk up the hill, not what they'd read in the description when they were promised a 'free-ride to the guesthouse'. His excuse being 'oh the bus was late'. He claimed his name was 'Marco Polo' and we soon realized, like his name, his pitch was a scam as well  The rooms were dingy, the hot water didn't work, the extra bed never came, the happy shakes weren't happy enough and half the items on the menu were 'unavailable'. We still fell asleep happy that night, discussing childhood memories of 'Clifford the big red dog, spot, smurfs, Baba the elephant, Postman Pat' and so many more that bought fond smiles to our faces. Jn. smiling more than he had been 20 minutes ago when he'd discovered the giant spider in the corner of our bathroom (his one weakness besides heights).

Our make-shift meals on the boatride

We were awoken for the second half of the long-boat journey earlier than we'd have liked, with a bang on the door from 'Marco Polo', "GET UP! BOAT LEAVING!" We quickly ordered our fried rice, fruits and snacks to take on the boat, trying to avoid the extortionate rates that they tried to charge us. The first day we'd made make-shift meals of sticky rice, cans of tuna, soup from pot noodles.. borrowing bowls and cutlery off of our new Lao friends sitting in front of us, that were more than happy to practice their English as we tried to slip in a few words of Laotian. On the boat I thought back on all the people we'd met so far and how many had left their mark.. one in particular eliciting a furrowed brow .. the man we'd met in Nha Trang, Vietnam. He was 57 and had been in the British army, working as a sniper for the last 22 years. I remember talking to him over buckets of alcohol, crying as I watched the pain in his face as he told us about his best friend dying in his arms, the children he'd seen shot by their parents, the missions he'd had to be on and the amount of people he'd had to kill. The shadow loomed over him but rays of light still shined. The one most harrowing story he told me was of the brothel he'd had to break into. The men running it would sexually abuse girls from the ages of 7 - 20 before killing them and roasting their heads on spits, he'd killed each man involved and told us this with shaking hands and salty tears. J. and I couldn't imagine the pain he'd been through, and felt lucky to live so free of so much trauma and death, inspired by his strength we felt like that was the most we'd gained from any conversation at 'Why Not Bar' so far..

The boat ride passed faster than the previous one, I closed my eyes and 'a minute' later, we were already in in L.P, the French colonial buildings greeting us on arrival - I love this town, a world heritage site with no loud traffic, noisy rude people or big buses. We Followed our friends advice and trekked with other groups of backpackers to 'Spicy Lao', the hostel everyone was staying at. The adventures of which will be saved for the next post..

Recipe of the day: Laotian prawn curry

http://anhsfoodblog.com/2007/01/coconut-love-laotian-prawn-curry.html/