huay xai

I promised myself I would abandon water travel for ever once I arrived at Huay Xai. At the very least I would demand a minimum speed of walking pace. Predictably the slow-mo boat arrived too late for me to pass the border to Thailand on the same day as the crossing had closed. So I had another day in Laos. No bother.

I soon found a place to stay with a merry, drunken hotelier. He was seriously plastered which amused me greatly. I ventured out to find somewhere to have something to eat and naturally, to drink. Last night in Laos and all. I made my way down a crumbling main road and soon stopped as the bridge had collapsed. As I hesitated wondering whether to turn back, two kids showed me a route which was pretty much an obstacle course. They were unfazed. I found a nice place to eat by the river and sat down to eat.

The town sits on the Mekong with Thailand visible on the other side of the river. It is quite a contrast to compare the sides. There is poor old Laos with no street lights, everything falling apart and little sign of material wellbeing. A sorry sight really. Then cast your eye across the 200 metres of water and you will see confident, shinny, sparkling Thailand. All sodium street lights, fluttering national flags and motorcars racing along. It is striking. I wondered what the Laos people think when the gaze across the river and see all the things others have but they do not.

The remarkable thing about the Laos people is they probably don´t even care. They are a very relaxed, happy race of people. Regardless of their seemingly endless hardships, regardless of being the most bombed people on earth ( thanks Uncle Sam and his ´secret´war), regardless that things never seem to get much better, the Laos people still rise above it all. They smile with sincerity, they shrug off lifes disappointments, they help and care for each other. I hope that some time soon things to improve for the average Laos person as they truly deserve it. It can be quite an inspiring place and I really enjoyed being there.

pak beng

I thought it would be nice to exit Laos and enter Thailand by boat so I enquired around as to getting a boat. There were two options; slow boat and fast boat. I had heard the fast boat would take six hours but was pretty dangerous as the boats are no more than slightly large canoes with a huge outboard engine. Plus you had to wear a motorcyle helmet which I didn´t fancy much given the sweltering heat. Instead I choose the epic and strenously boring slow boat that takes two days. It stops at Pak Beng over night. In retrospect I should have risked my life and spent a few extra dollars by travelling by the fast boat.

The Mekong river is pretty and all but looking at it for some 22 hours isn´t. I envied those suicide boat pilots as they flew past our chugging little barge. It was hot, noisy and boring. After a twelve hour journey I arrived at Pak Beng. It´s a small little town by the Mekong that it is no more than a staging post for those travelling to Thailand. The Electricity cuts out at 10am. There are a few overpriced eateries. My hotel was expensive and came with the added thrill of rats happily roaming around my hotel room. One ended up running across my back at one stage. Cheeky little rodent. Further bliss was sensation of being eaten alive by swarms of nasty insects who seemed actually attracted to my insect repellant. Just lovely.

So the next morning I was glad to leave the place and figured I would try to switch to one of those boat missiles. Regrettably nobody could understand the request so I had to board another slow, slow, slow boat for another day of water watching. It could have been worse I suppose; the boat could have sunk.

luang prabang

As the bird the flies this journey should have been a hour or so but it amounted to 8 hours of hairbends while traversing a series of mountains. Now that wasn't so bad but the presense of a horde, and I mean horde (they mainly travel in hordes), of Isrealis made the journey somewhat worse.

Firstly, they bagged as many seats as possible without actually occupying them by leaving a bottle of water on their preferred seats. Reminds me perservely of the Germans and their sun lounger infamy. Then when they decided to get on the bus, they started ordering people about into other seats so they, the Isrealis, could be together.

At the first toilet stop, I left the bus for a smoke and returned to see that someone was seating in my seat. One of them confidently told me that it was okay, my stuff was at seat so-and-so. No more of this I thought and not to me either. So I told the f*cker the get the hell out of my seat and return my things to their original spot. The polite thing would have been to ask me first. I don't like to make a scene but the manner of these people is really too much. It seems the rely on the fact that people don't wish to make a scene so that the horde can all sit together in one solidified unit. A security barrier so to speak.

My temper was clamed when I got to my guesthouse. It was beautiful, all wooden paneling and spotlessly clean. I took a room with a TV which was a pretty pointless request as I arrived at the start of a 9 hour powercut. Ah well, there's only so much BBC World re-runs I can take. So it was onto the beer.

Met an Irish bloke, 42. who sobbed about having missed out on life as he nursed his elderly parents over the past ten years. They had recently died so he decided to do a little world jaunt. I felt sorry for him at first but then he started taking lustfully about all the dough he was in for once the family home in Dublin 4 was sold. Okay now it is becoming clearer.

The next night I ended up in a drinking den (licensing hours are restricted elsewhere) with two Dutch girls and then the ejjit walks in, off his head and comes up to our table mumbling loudly about me being bank manager and some other nonsense. Embarrassing to say the least but he soon left to bore other people about.

I have probably said this before but looking at temples, etc is definitely not an attraction anymore for me, I have simply seen too many to be impressed now or even interested. Please don't misunderstand me, they're nice and all. That said, Luang Prabang was the Royal capital of Laos. So I looked at the Royal Palace and decided to leave it at that. On my way home I usually take a shortcut through another temple complex. It's generally a very quite place but I saw a top of the line Mercedes in the forecourt. I was thinking to myself that it was probably a politician or military topdog who was visiting but there was no commotion annd no one was about. And who should come around the corner and stumbled into me but old rubber lips himself, Mick Jagger. We exchanged pleasantries ( I enjoyed not asking him for an autograph) and off he went with his muscle bound bodyguard and some tall, skinning bird (probably an Italian model) who had just dreadful skin. All the heroin, eh!

Luang Prabang is a very nice spot nestled against the mighty Mekong. It is unique and deserves its reptation for being relaxed and comfortable. Many of the colonial architectural masterpieces of the French are in good order. The people are all smiley and friendly. It's such a small little town that everything is within walking distance. I enjoyed the place a lot.