Vientiane: Rule #6

The manager of the guest house insisted on laying down some ground rules after I checked in this afternoon. Most of the spiel was your run of the mill guest house policy (no loud noise after 11:00, don’t leave valuables in the room, checkout time is 12 noon, etc. etc. etc.). Mid lecture he started going off on an odd tangent.

Like the beginnings of an off colour joke, he recounted a tragic story of an Englishman, a prostitute and a khathoey (lady boy). So it goes, a few months ago, this Englishman invited his two local “friends,” the prostitute and the ladyboy, to spend a night at the guest house. Long story short, the Englishman woke up the following morning with no prostitute, no khathoey, no money and worst of all, no passport. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t report this to the authorities because it would implicate him in some wrongdoing of his own. Laos has a strict law in place prohibiting foreigners from sleeping with her citizens.

It was at the conclusion of this story that the manager pointed at guest house rule number 6:

“No prostitute, no ladyboy allowed in room. We cannot take responsible [sic] for your action.”

I suppose the punch line, if you can call it that, would be that the whole sordid mess took place right on this very bed in this very room (you can’t see this but I’m pointing at my bed).

The floor’s starting to look mighty comfortable right about now.

Travel Day: Vientiane

You know a bus ride’s going to be rough when they issue free vomit bags with each ticket purchased. You know it’s going to be really rough when the guy sitting next to you starts using his 20 minutes into the trip. Followed by the lady sitting two seats in front. Then another guy in the back. The whole bus smelled of sour milk for the rest of the 10 hour ride to Vientiane.

The bus driver also stopped to buy a freshly killed chicken halfway through the trip:

Phonsavanh: Plain of Jars

Laos has the unfortunate distinction of being the most heavily bombed country on the planet thanks to a secret war that ran parallel to the one in Vietnam. The war’s lasting legacy can be seen all over a countryside peppered with UXOs (Unexploded Ordinance), particularly in the region surrounding Phonsavanh.

Other reminders of the war include bomb casings, which are often repurposed as shop front decor:

...and husks of Soviet era tanks and trucks on the roadsides:


Three sites in the Plain of Jars have been cleared sufficiently to allow visitors but their safety is only guaranteed on a few marked paths. Demarcations are sometimes so sporadic that it isn’t difficult to stray into dangerous territory. This tile indicates which side has been cleared – white denotes a “decontaminated” zone and red means that danger is still present. I didn’t step here on purpose:

It happened again at jar site number 2 when I followed what I believed was a trail leading to another section of the park. After a few minutes of walking, with no jars, tourists or signs in sight, I realized that something wasn’t right. Explosions could be heard in the distance as I walked back. Hopefully it was an NGO decontaminating the area, but I’ve read that UXOs still claim victims on a regular basis here.

The origins of the massive stone jars dotting the landscape are a source of speculation for experts. Some argue that the ancients used them to brew lao lao whisky, others say that monsoon rainwater was collected in them for the dry seasons. The most popular theory, however, is that they were used to inter the dead.


On an unrelated note, poultry has been effectively removed from my diet as of this afternoon. I listened in as a tour guide talked to his group. Verbatim:

“I have many chickens die every day but all I can do is make soup.”

Also, because I don't know where else to put this picture, here's an old man in Phonsavanh:

Travel Day: Phonsavanh

Well, it looks like I’m back to traveling alone again. Caroline and Thien An are continuing southward to Vientiane while I’ve decided to backtrack north to Phonsavanh (I figured I might as well do it since I probably won't be coming back to this region anytime soon).

The girls woke up early to see me off, which was quite thoughtful of them. We said our goodbyes and exchanged email addresses over breakfast at the nearby café .

A Laotian doctor of journalism perhaps? (selling tickets at the Vang Vieng bus terminal):


The rest of the day was actually quite non-descript, having spent most of it on a public bus. I should note, though, that a ride on a public bus in Southeast Asia shouldn’t be missed as it’s a great way to sample the local life. To give an example, in order to claim my seat at the back of the bus (with the best leg room), I had to climb over large sacks of rice, newspaper wrapped produce, live chickens and old suitcases.

Winding roads through villages on mountain ridges:

Vang Vieng - High Roller

Break out the fine champagne and gold plated monocles, I’m a millionaire*!

It happened innocently enough with a trip to the currency exchange booth. I handed over a few bills, and in return, got this thick fat brick of banknotes (1,064,000 Lao kip to be precise):

So as a newly inducted member of the nouveau riche, I feel it’s my duty, no, my moral obligation to partake in a few grotesque displays of excess. For example, I’m just about to drop thirty grand for a night in a hotel. Maybe I’ll celebrate later by laying down another five large on a cup of coffee or, God forbid, 25,000 on a fine gourmet meal (tuna sandwich and juice).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to schmooze with the other high society types.

*The current exchange rate is approximately 10,000 Lao Kip to 1 US Dollar. I’m still a no good bum.

Travel Day: Vang Vieng

As the old adage goes, all good things must come to an end, and so too must our stay in Luang Prabang. Today is day seven of a fifteen day visa, you see, and there’s still plenty of Laos left to see.

A sad inevitability to be sure, the group is starting to dissolve bit by bit as we begin heading in our own directions. Andrew is going to the north while the rest of us are taking the southern route to Vang Vieng. We said our goodbyes in front of the girls’ guesthouse before hopping on a sawngthaew to the bus terminal.

While researching this leg of the trip, I’d read all sorts of horror stories regarding route 13, the winding mountain road to Vang Vieng. There have been reports floating around about Hmong rebels attacking buses along the stretch in recent years. I’d also heard that accidents (over cliffs, no less) and breakdowns occur with amazing frequency in this country. Ignorance is bliss sometimes.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the bus pulled up to the town’s dusty old bus station (at the end of an ancient U.S. landing strip) with little to report.

The term they use for towns like Vang Vieng is “Ban Farang” or “foreigner village” because of its high concentration of tourists. The at times hedonistic lifestyle of some members of the backpacker community (at least in my admittedly conservative opinion) has introduced businesses and products that probably wouldn’t exist here otherwise. For example, I could walk out across the street right now and order up a “happy pizza.” What makes it happy, you ask? Magic mushrooms. I’ve been approached several times by local kids selling marijuana and opium as well.

But beyond all that, it’s a nice little town, with dirt roads for main streets and tractors dominating the almost nonexistent traffic. The area surrounding the town is chock full of activities as well (though I probably won’t be here long enough to enjoy most of them). We (and by that I mean the remainder of our group - Thien An, Caroline and I) plan on a relaxing afternoon tubing down the Nam Song river tomorrow.

At dusk, the streets were bathed in a warm orange glow, giving our surroundings a film-like ambiance. Thien An, one of my lovely Swiss companions asked what the English word for it was. My best answer was “surreal.”

My guess is the glow is a byproduct of all the dust kicked up during the construction work prevalent everywhere in the town center. With the relatively recent opening of Laos’ borders to tourists, towns like Vang Vieng are expanding exponentially.

The sun setting behind a limestone mountain:

Luang Prabang: Kuang Si Waterfall

There were enough clear patches of blue in the morning sky to warrant a trip out to the Kuang Si waterfall so, after breakfast, we piled into a sawngthaew (the same one as yesterday) and braced ourselves for yet another bumpy ride out of town.

A slight detour from the path to the falls leads to a few caged bears and tigers, apparently rescued from poachers. The guidebooks don’t mention anything about this, probably because it’s only good for a quick ten to fifteen minute diversion at best.

Most of our visit centered on Kuang Si’s lower tiers where we cooled off in emerald pools and swung off vines into areas of questionable depths.

A local guy showing us how it's done:

Nearing the end of the day, we found our way onto a trail leading to the top of the falls. A small path branching from the main stairway provides access to the best spot in the park, a small pool right on the edge of the waterfall. Fewer visitors make it to this area as the main obstacle, a climb up a steep cliff, is quite discouraging. The cliff face offers only a few slippery footholds and a slight misstep could have tragic consequences. Considering I’m not the most graceful of creatures, it took a little convincing before I finally hoisted myself up.

The view was better than expected:

The view from the bottom:

A shot taken before breakfast:

Luang Prabang: Pak Ou Caves and Ban Xang Hai (Whisky Village)

We spent a good portion of our post-breakfast morning going from dock to dock trying to line up a cheap boat ride out to the Pak Ou caves, 25 km upstream. The boatmen weren’t cooperative on their end of the bargaining process so we hopped on a sawngthaew (modified pickup truck) instead. It was probably for the best since we’d already seen enough of the Mekong, having already traveled on it for two days straight.

It's unbelievable how many people can fit on a motorbike:

People watching is more fun with a camera:



For centuries, people from the surrounding regions have made pilgrimages to the Pak Ou caves, usually depositing a Buddha statue or two behind in the process. The result is a collection of hundreds of statues in various stages of decay.

On the way back to town, we made a quick stop at Ban Xang Hai, also known in travel literature as “Whisky Village.” As its westernized namesake implies, the village’s main commodity is rice whisky (known to the locals as lao lao). You could think of it as the Lao equivalent of bathtub hooch since the government has placed a ban on its manufacture and sale. No one here seems to care about the restrictions though, and bottles of the stuff are readily available in Luang Prabang’s night market.

A few bottles had exotic ingredients added:

Kids at Ban Xang Hai:


We bee lined it to Nisha’s, our new favourite hangout, when we got back, for a much needed dinner. Perhaps part of the reason we keep coming back to the place (aside from the excellent curries and naan breads) is for the unintended dinner entertainment. For each time we’ve eaten here, our meals have been interrupted by a series of children selling “lucky lucky” bracelets. Amongst these kids is “Noi,” quite possibly the most, um… flamboyant 12 year old I’ve ever met.

His sales pitch, heavily laden with lisped mithtah, mithtah‘s (mister, mister) and thithta, thithta’s (sister, sister) kept us in stitches for a good long while after the meal. I finally caved and bought some fabulous scented Buddha beads from him.