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

Crazy Camden

Amy at large

So my main income at the moment is trickling in from a little Tapaz bar situated just outside the heart of Camden. Walking up the high street you see an eclectic bunch to say the least, big punk/ goth scene, lots of piercings, knee-high black boots with metal projections scattered all over the place. Piercings everywhere, pink, blue and purple hair - it's like entering an episode of futurama. You also have the rasta's, yellow red and green flags, hats with fake dreads and walk into any shop along the high street to take your pick from a variety of bongs, pipes and other smoking devices (not to mention the potent 'skunk' and hallucinagenic 'legal' mushrooms sold over the counter supposedly imported from Amsterdam, but full of perfectly healthy artificial chemicals instead). There are other looks out here but those two are probably the most eye catching.

Up the high street

The vibrancy in Camden is undeniable, the crib of Whinehouse and countless other carefree souls - I walked through 'Camden Lock' the other day, past all the food: Jamaican, Indian, Chinese and Moroccan stalls (that each had sneaky tasters to munch on along the way). Colourful motorbikes were lined up in rows and had been turned into seats and tables to eat at while gazing over the lazy canal. I stood on the edge of the bridge and leaned over the side for a breather, water always seems to have a calming effect. In yoga the belief is water cleanses your aura - and think about it, it makes sense. A shower first thing wakes you up, jolting your sleep-ridden aura with a flash of hot or cold and before bed, the stress of the day is cleansed aswell. There are specific times that it's believed one should 'bathe', and specific temperatures of water. For example, it's believed to be best to shower as the sun rises, in tune with your natural body cycle as our pineal gland responds to light cues and releases the hormone melatonin that naturally wakes us up and puts us to sleep in conjunction with various other hormones and glands. So a cold shower as the sun rises is most beneficial as it rejuvinates the cells and closes the pores, putting you in 'alert and awake' mode as opposed to starting the day feeling drowsy after a nice hot shower. To be fair, living in a cold country, where getting out of bed isn't the most exciting prospect, cold showers may not be the best idea, sending you into a state of hypothermia especially during the winter months. I've grown up swimming aswell and yes, it may feel the same with every sport, but after a good session in the pool your whole mind and body feels completely purified. It could have something to do with the fact that the colour of water (blue) corresponds with the colour of our third eye chakra located between the eyes that's responsible for your intuition and is the primary focus during meditation. Each chakra corresponds to a different colour, and by wearing/ surrounding yourself with that colour you serve to 'expand' if you will, the powers/ properties that the chakra holds. So a dip in the pool may do more thank you think! A lot of my friends think of 'chakra talk' as airy fairy, but this incredible youtube video called 'spirit science' will explain exactly what I mean in scientific terms, for all you logical left brained folk (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLFlJSlD4YM)

Rastafari

But back to Camden:
One of my great girlfriends is in Barcelona at the moment having a crazy time in a crazy youth hostel that never sleeps - and a hot topic of conversation during these summer months, is flings/ romances, just boys in general. I've been given the same piece of advice numerous times on this topic 'go for someone at work', now let's go through the choices that my lovely Tapaz Bar has to offer - A coke head, bitter divorcee's with kids, or pervy Thai chefs. A strange combo or what? Let me fill in the gaps -
My boss is a wide eyed, bald headed, tall, fit and intimidating man who 'used' to have a huge coke addiction. There would literally be white mountains in the downstairs kitchen for a quick sniff 'inbetween-service breaks' resulting in a manic and highly confident restaurant owner. Due to his natural manic and wide eyed nature, none of the customers could tell, but the behind-the-bar gurning (jaw grinding) and the constant eye twitches were noticable enough. In his 40's he's not as 'addicted' per say and brushes it off as a fun few youthful years. But his coked-up nature means no one questions his unfair method of paying our wages (that is dependant on his sporadic mood swings - if he's happy, so are we, if he's not, the pay resembles what you'd find in a hobo's wallet. - but we get something, so we don't complain.) So there's the boss, and as it's a family run business, his nephew (depressed divorcee with 2 kids who lives above the restaurant and will probably still be there in 40 years time), sister (also from a broken family, but the loveliest of them all) and brother in law (one of the many pervy thai chefs) all work alongside him, and hate.his.guts. Literally, the moment he walks out of the room it turns into a full on bitch session with everyone chiming in and saying their part - it's quite entertaining to be honest. The moment he steps back in, it's all halo's and angel wings.

Another big blogger - 'the rock and roll Camden bride'

One of the waiters, who no one particularly warms to, (though I seem to have cracked his bitter shell and seen his soft side which isn't half-bad when he lifts out of his cold-hard comfort zone) has been working at the restaurant for the entire 30 years it's been open. Ironically he went to school with the boss, and was the wealthy kid who grew up in Chelsea, while boss-man grew up in the dodgy side of south London - didn't turn out to foreshadow their future professions. He's divorced from a drug addict who he hates with a passion, has 2 kids and works as a sandwich man, a chauffeur and a waiter all part time, and purely to earn money to survive - with no hint of love or passion for what he does whatsoever only adding to his bitter list of things to complain about (that we get to hear about every day, woop!)
And lastly the chef's, they're lovely really; it may just be my naivity, but they cook me amazing food and teach me Thai so I don't complain. It's when the comments like 'let me take a picture of you' and 'I love you' start rolling in that I become slightly more weary of what I'm getting into. There are 4 of us waitresses, I'm the baby of them all but we all get a long really well and have a laugh about the men we've landed ourselves with. Each of us have a secret admirer, J was chosen by the depressed divorcee/ nephew of the boss - all of us egg him on just for the fun of it. E was chosen by the cleaner from the Congo who's a Jahova's witness and constantly going on about his 'brothers and sisters' from the church and lecturing us on the dangers of alcohol and tobacco. L was chosen by the sweetest Thai chef Max, who doesn't speak a word of english but spends his days smiling away washing dishes and helping us with the laborious task of ice cream scooping. I've landed myself the head chef - quick life summary: Married to a  crazy Thai woman, has 2 kids, very good looking, gave up drinking and smoking but still a huge gambler - and cooks amazing food. If it wasn't for the family situation and the fact that he's 20 years older than me, he'd be up for consideration - but for now, getting great food and the odd compliment doesn't sit too badly - the pervy grins and comments are just something i'll have to deal with.

This is what customers see. Behind the scenes
is a whoole different ball game

Last Friday J and I had a double shift together (13.5 hours of running up and down stairs with plates of food and glasses), the running wasn't so bad, it was more dealing with the bosses constant drone and finicky requests, sharing the pain with someone definitely made it easier - what's nice about working with this bunch is we get offered copious amounts of amazing wine (wine education - what a bonus! Got my cocktail-party talk down), and since I only need half a glass to knock me out, my waitressing experiences have become slightly more exciting, and blurry. Given, I do get slightly clumsier (demonstrated by the various trays of glasses I've managed to drop as a result of tripping over my own feet...), but customers suddenly seem more interesting and the banter picks up. The Asian glow isn't a great look though - so I tend to stick outside in the garden, shaded inconspicuously by the overhanging trees. But anyway, on Friday we were given our usual glasses of wine, and were planning on going out for drinks after work anyway, so it seemed a perfect time for pre's - by the end of the shift I was talking nonsense and spinning around between the tables in circles, J was laughing at me uncontrollably, trying to polish wine glasses, the boss was downstairs in the walk-in, gurning like a machine, as was the bitter waiter S. What made the scene even more bizarre, was the bosses unsuspecting 16 year old nephew who was sitting like a cherub with all of us, cleaning the coffee machine, completely unaware of the intoxicated crowd surrounding him. The rest of the night followed suit and our heads entered into the blurry Friday night buzz of Camden - the morning-after-thumping that only I could hear, was not as pleasant.
I um'd and ah'd about mentioning my crazy workplace to my parents, expecting the defensive response of 'get out of there as soon as possible', but to my surprise, my mum replied with 'my ex-boss was a coke addict too!' And my dad gave me the seemingly obvious advice of 'don't accept any if you're offered, it will change the dynamic completely'. This 'being-treated-like-an-adult' thing is still something I'm getting used to, but the level of respect on the parent-child relationship scale has been bumped up a notch.

Our boss, to a T.

So that's my part-time life at the moment, i've let go of the reigns a little, and take waitressing in my stride instead of thinking of it as a strain just to get through.
My honey-soya chicken is sitting in the oven and the smell has dispersed into every corner of the room, i'm absolutely ravenous and can't wait for dinner. (Little side-note, lack of sleep decreases the amount of Leptin in your body - the hormone responsible for inhibiting your hunger drive - hence no sleep basically leads to uncontrollable munch - an experience I've found myself dealing with a bit too much as of late.) Mm, the timer just buzzed.


Recipe of the day: Baked soya, honey chicken with rice and salad 
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/baked-asian-style-honey-chicken/