vang vieng

With much anxiety and confusion I eventually felt confident I was on the right bus. You see, Lao people will always answer a question even if they don't know the answer. It's a kind of politeness although to me as a westerner it's highly frustrating. 'If you don't know then just say so'. Dripping in sweat I took my chances on a series of suspect answers. But that said I hold nothing against the Lao in their way of helping me.

I was told it would be a 4 hour bus trip. It took 7 hours. Crawling along on vicious hairbends where if the driver positioned the bus two metres in the wrong direction then you would be assured of death tumbling down off the mountain side into the abyss. I should have taken a nightbus. In daylight it becomes all to apparent that the margin of error is slim. If it happens, it happens.

It was dark when I arrived in Vang Vieng. Booked myself into a cheap and nasty place. It was ensuite! That's my main requirement; bog and fan. I studiousily avoided the lure of 'happy mushroom pizza' and the 'happy, happy pizza'. Only because I was alone you understand. One must be careful.

The next day I sought out things to do and the idea of tubing very much appealed to me. So I paid up and was taken 13km from the town, given an inflated tube the size of which is used for the inner of a wheel for, say, a tractor. I floated down the river for 90 mins, toying with the gentle current and eventually reaching a bamboo bridge. It was incredibly good. Most go in groups but I was decidely happy to enjoy it all in my own little world. Beautiful things to look at, streaming waters beneath me, nice untaxing tidal challenges and all occuring while being soaked in sun. Just lovely.

Although there was one issue of importance. I felt a little old. All of the foreigners tended to be flip-flop wearing, tye dye tee-shirted youngsters with an all too contrived bohemian attitude. Probably just out of university and franky such people bore me. But Vang Vieng is a touchstone on the backpackers trail so it shouldn't come as a surprise.

For the final day I rented a honda dream. The workhorse of South East Asian youths. I toured around and visited the cave and lagoons. Had a swim in some. Really fantastic. I covered quite a few km but as I was motoring toward the end of the places to see, I noticed the front wheel was somewhat ajar. I travelled on but the front wheel started making strange noises. Then the mudguard started making a noise which was undoubtly down to friction with the front wheel. Then the whole bike wobbled. I abandoned the bike then and walked.

I went back to the people who I had rented the bike from (passport as security, max liability agreement USD1,000) and told them the score. We, me and the boss, took the bike to a mechanic and waited together while a nimble kid did his thing for over an hour. Naturally many conversations took place but not knowing the lingo I wasn't in the know. All I could think was I'm f"cked now as they can charge whatever they like. The bill arrived and I was beside myself protesting that USD200 was just ridculous. I stubbornly held my ground. One shock absorber....USD200! You're having a laugh I said.

It would have been much better if I were calm (don't get me wrong I wasn't aggressive or disrespectful just paranoid that I was in for a big loss) as I would have been better placed to calculate the correct exchange rate between kip and dollars. If I had taken a more pragmatic approach then I would have realised from the start that the bill was just USD20! But to me, it put emphasis on the essentially good natured Lao. Many other nationalities I have encountered would have done me in without hestiation. Afterall I had signed an agreement when renting the bike that I would be responsible for damage up to the value of the bike.

The Lao people play fair.