Si Phan Don, otherwise known as 4000 islands is a series of small islands within the Mekong at the very southern tip of Laos. Although many islands are not inhabited some have a real backpacker vibe with bamboo huts on the waters edge and hammocks to while away the hours in. I decided this was exactly the sort of place I fancied seeing in my 32nd year so off we headed for some R&R. It was possibly the most chilled out place I have ever been. After visiting several cafés and perusing their menus it became clear why it was just so chilled out.
We checked into a very cheap hut and in the night realised why when I woke to the sound of rats in the roof and 2 giant cockroaches on my face. From then on we assumed the position buried deep within our sleeping sack and covering as much of the face as possible. As a birthday treat Mark moved us into a lovely concrete rat free room for our final few nights.
Caz and Asa joined us for my birthday and we hired bikes and rode to an impressive waterfall on a neighbouring island. On the way back we did a bar crawl all the way back to town where we opened my lovely gifts and carried on drinking. A local shopkeeper had given me a free bottle of Whiskey so we necked shots from that which were pretty horrid but did the job. The following day we took a tour to another impressive waterfall (South-east Asia’s largest in volume apparently) and then onto view the fresh water Irawaddy dolphins. Very shy creatures but they were great to see when they did make an appearance. Slightly more entertaining was a group of young monks who were far more fascinated watching us, particularly when Mark and I shared a Beerlao directly from the bottle.
We left Vientiane on a night sleeper bus bound for Pakse. Despite being a foot too short for our height the double mattress style sleeping arrangements was surprisingly comfortable, even with my water slide injuries. We arrived feeling remarkably refreshed and checked into a lovely hotel with free wifi and cable TV and that’s pretty much were we spent the rest of that day after sorting out our impending motorbike tour. The ‘Southern Swing’ is a classic route around the south of Laos’ Bolaven Plateau. Mark was very excited about the whole adventure but I, as usual, was just worried about possible crashes, fatalities and complicated insurance claims. Just when I had reassured myself that we were responsible adults with 24 years collective road experience and all would be well we picked up our 125 Suzuki ‘Smash’ and it just felt like a sign from above.
It turned out however to be one of the real highlights of our Laos experience. Mark rode very well, assisted greatly by my expert pillion positioning. We rode 350km around spectacular scenery of coffee plantations, tribal villages, weaving communities and a series of truly impressive waterfalls. Many of the roads were sealed and in surprisingly good condition but others were impassable on anything other than a bike or 4×4 vehicle. The people were the real highlight calling out “Sabaai-dii” (Hello) and waving as they realised 2 large white folks on a tiny bike were heading through their remote village. Aside from our first visit to a familiar fuel station when we started the journey every other top-up was done by stopping at a little wooden shack. A kid would usually appear from nowhere and syphon off enough dodgy looking pink fuel to keep us going until the next one. On our return to Pakse we were sad to give the bike up and I think if we have any money left over after this trip that will be one of our first purchases when back in Blighty.
Boarding the ‘King of Bus’ in Luang Prabang we should have known it would be anything but. The six hour journey escalated into a ten hour epic after a flat tire and a series of radiator related breakdowns. Fortunately every time the engine overheated there was a good supply of water drenched over it to cool it back down. Unfortunately all of our rucksacks got equally soaked in the process. The first hotel room was quickly turned into a Chinese laundry with the entire contents of our bags hung out to dry on makeshift washing lines.
The main order of business in Vang Vieng is getting wasted on Beer Lao and Lao Lao cocktails whilst floating 4km down the Nam Song river in a tractor’s inner tube. The first kilometer or so is lined with bars that throw tow ropes out to passing tubers. Each bar has its own gimmick; rope swings, zip lines or slides. Once on land and out of the tube the steady stream of free shots and cheap beers make the once absurd looking ‘rides’ seem extremely appealing. With our dutch courage we gave nearly all of them a go, smashing back into the river and scrambling back out to try again. That was until Helen bruised her ribs and I broke my arse. The camera was left safely back in our room so take a look at this for a flavour. Along with Caz and Asa the evening was spent back in the town continuing the days drinking with buckets of lethal cocktails until we all passed out on the floor or in nearby hammocks. The next day was spent managing a punishing hangover and our aching bodies.
After we’d our regained our ability to leave the hotel room we continued our journey south through Laos to the capital Vientiane. With only a night there we weren’t expecting much, but after being turned away Mary and Joseph style from nearly every guest house in town we soon discovered we’d arrived for the culmination of the That Luang full moon festival. Taking place in and around the Pha That Luang temple it seemed like a music festival for Buddhist monks, with stages, stalls and thousands of people milling around. With a motorcycle trip on the horizon we thought it would be wise to make an offering and ask for a blessing from the monks to keep us safe. Armed with incense and flowers we joined the throngs and said our piece, later wishing we’d remembered to include a host of fully-functioning buses for our future travels.
Leaving the sheltered world of Siem Reap behind we flew to Luang Prabang, nestled in the Northern Laos hills. The flight in took us right over the Mekong river and the views of the surrounding lush jungle were stunning. The town is a sleepy provincial capital, full of French colonial buildings and dotted with orange robed Buddhist monks from the many local monasteries. We were shocked not to be mobbed by any tuk tuk drivers upon our arrival at the airport and actually had to ask for directions to the taxi stand. This was our first taste of the laid back national culture and was a breath of fresh air after the frenzy of salesmen we encountered it Cambodia and Vietnam. Eager to see some of the country before we succumbed to this chilled lifestyle we signed up for a two day hike and kayak tour. It took around 30 minutes of trekking through the sweltering jungle to wish we’d taken the easier option straight away. However, despite being drenched with sweat and sharing our home stay bed with a variety of giant spiders, visiting the remote village tribes was a great experience and seeing the hardships of their daily lives really put our own cushy routines into perspective. Thankfully our guide spared us the barbecued rat supper.
The following day we kayaked to a beautiful set of cascading waterfalls for a welcome opportunity to wash off all the salt we’d accumulated during the trek. A three hour peaceful paddle in the kayaks took us back to the outskirts of Luang Prabang and that’s when we hit the rapids. The guides gave us some brief tuition but didn’t ease our fears with their now very serious attitudes. Paddling furiously in an attempt to keep the kayak upright we blasted through the waves and even started to enjoy ourselves after we’d survived the first few terrifying sets.
