We've been off the map for a few days. Got our Buddha on before leaving Vientiane.
Then we headed north to a little town called Vang Viang. A backpackers haven. But Francis and I are not back packers (in spite of the packs we lug). The town was just full of dirty hippies looking for a cheap high. If I never see another facial piercing or dreadlock again it'll be too soon. The bus dumped us at a bungalow a good half mile from town. Being the weenie that I am in the sun (it's been in the mid-90s), we simply stayed there. Held hostage. Although from the photos (the view from our bungalow) you can see there are worse places to be captive.
I did manage to venture into town on two occasion for dinner. Poor Fran, it was a town that was much more about the 80 cent beer than the cuisine. And even though we've managed to press through the entirety of our adult lives without seeing a single episode of Friends - it was utterly inescapable in Vang Vieng. I kid you not - episodes blared from every single restaurant in town. The theme song still haunts my dreams.
After two days, we paid for a VIP bus to Luang Prabang. I'd hate to see how the non-VIPs travel here. "It made the Long Leg to Laos" feel like a luxury cruise. When we arrived at the station (9:30 AM), our driver was enjoying some breakfast complete with a couple of cans of Beer Laos. The bus left a half hour late (and we were a half hour early), so he had some time to sober up. Brown schmeg from the aircon that wasn't even turned on dripped onto the heads of the Aussies in front of us for 7 hours. Rest stops included pee breaks by the side of the road. (I could always spot the novice SE Asian traveler. She'd be the one who was not armed with tp in her bag.) We also picked up and delivered various chickens and produce. Highway 13 is the most treacherous road I've ever seen. Not much more than a single lane winding up into the mountains. No guard rails. Little villages with paper-thin houses clinging to the sides of cliffs. And our driver was fond of passing the 18 wheelers around the curves.
I've decided that's what this trip needs to be about - remembering what it's like to feel vulnerable and then confronting your fears - occasionally with the help of a little valium.
Luang Prabang is not the bargain we'd hoped for. Francis likes to tease me because I treat the Lonely Planet like the Bible and each accommodation I select based on the book's recommendations is not much more than a crap-hole. We're sucking it up and paying $25/night to stay in a beautifully restored French provincial mansion. The only downside is the construction that is everywhere. In spite of the spotless and tasteful room we can't seem to escape the bandsaws. It makes a good night's sleep or a nap virtually impossible.
I've also had to hone my ignoring skills - a task made easier by 10 years of working with kids who have behavioral difficulties. There are a dozen adorable children on every corner selling cheap beads and begging, "Please, Madame, I need the money for school." Although they speak impeccable English and can charm you to tears. But as I learned in Cambodia - if you do for one you become a mark for all. And so I've had to harden my heart.
It gives me pause about this country where cigarettes are cheaper than water and children are used as begging pawns to secure money for their parents' opium addictions. Where valium in a few cents per pill but 10 ibuprofen cost me $5.
I don't mean to sound bleak. We really are having a lovely time, seeing sights that we'll remember for a lifetime and meeting the strangest blokes.
No comments:
Post a Comment