The morning I left Luang Prabang, I climbed into one of the many tuk-tuks in town that was making its morning rounds, collecting travelers from their hotels, guesthouses, and hostels. With each additional guest climbing aboard, we all had to squeeze together a little tighter, until all the couples were sitting vertically (one on the lap of the other), the back was full, the cab was full, and we were all praying that the next stop was the bus station and not another hotel. The excessive number of people correlated to an excessive amount of baggage on the roof rack, causing one of the backpacks to fall off as we were driving. Luang Prabang traffic being what it is – that is, pretty minimal – the driver patiently stopped in the middle of the road while one of the travelers fetched the backpack and climbed back aboard.
Once at the bus station, we all split into a couple mini-buses, those ubiquitous, grey, legroom-less vehicles that shuttle Westerners all over the continent. As we got onto the highway and left central Luang Prabang behind, the familiar sights of Southeast Asia presented themselves once again. The view of the countryside began to look like the view I’ve had during countless other rides through Thailand or Cambodia or Malaysia.
As promised in the guidebooks, the ride to Vang Vieng was beautiful. It partially reminded me of traveling between cities in Cambodia, but I think the more accurate comparison would be the ride between Kathmandu and Pokhara in Nepal. The highway snakes through the green mountains of the country, connecting tiny villages and hamlets and lots of small road-side houses along the way. The dozens of children holding hands while walking to or from school – on the road itself, as there was no shoulder – reminded me of Cambodia. Flying by or dodging herds of cattle, also walking on the road itself, reminded me of India.
Vang Vieng reminded me that I was in Southeast Asia. Though the nights were mercifully cool once the sun set, the days were hot and sunny (about 90°F, even in December). I was also reminded that I was in tourist Southeast Asia. The central part of the town’s haphazard arrangement of dirt and gravel roads are lined with businesses catering to travelers. Guesthouses, hostels, bars, and tour agencies comprise probably 95% of the commerce; add massage parlors and you’re probably up to 99%. There are street vendors everywhere with identical menus of sandwiches, burgers, roti, and shakes.
Though the party scene was shut down about four years ago, that aspect of the town’s culture still exists, though in very diluted concentrations: gap-year backpackers still come through for tubing and outdoor sports, bars and guesthouses still offer free breakfasts and free alcohol in an arms race of hospitality, bars show reruns of Friends or Family Guy all day long, and a few places still have signs advertising happy pizza or mushroom shakes.
Overall, it felt like a more relaxed version of Siem Reap; similarly, the town felt empty during the day since most people were off adventuring. A few travelers could be found here and there, either because they were transiting in or out of town, fighting through a hangover, or just taking a day off to relax. I spent my first morning wandering around the old temples, then spent most of the afternoon relaxing by the river, reading my book, and taking in the scenery. Vang Vieng has a quite idyllic spot on the Nam Song, overlooked by towering, beautiful limestone formations, so I was more than happy to have one chill day to take it all in.
The second day was set aside for an excursion with Green Discovery Laos that nicely covered several of the main activities in Vang Vieng: kayaking, caving, and trekking. (Zip-lining, tubing, and cycling are also popular, but there’s only so much you can do in a day.) I joined up with two couples and our guide Ting took us out for a full day of activities in the beautiful December weather.
We kayaked on the Nam Song throughout the day, stopping a few times to explore two caves, trek through the jungle a bit, stop for tea at the organic mulberry farm, and have a filling Lao lunch partially interrupted by a herd of wandering cows. I don’t have any photos or videos from the actual kayaking, but the scenery along the river is incredibly beautiful. The river itself, periodically crossed by small bamboo bridges and perpetually adorned with lush green foliage on both banks, reminded me a bit of Kerala in southern India; but the massive, green limestone karsts towering above us, reminiscent of Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, reminded me that I was indeed in Southeast Asia.
I easily hit it off with the lovely German couple who was on the tour and we ended up hanging out a lot over the next two days. Both nights, we ventured down to the lively barbecue spot on the river, popular with groups of Lao teenagers. We chatted for hours over Beerlao, grilled fish, som tam (the spiciest thing I’ve eaten in Laos, by far), morning glory, and stir-fried mushrooms. As the sun set behind the karsts, we watched motorboats zoom up and down the river while massive speakers blasted the soothing, romantic sounds of fist-pumping EDM, Lil Jon, and Big Sean. (Yup, really. Clearly I’m doing dinner parties completely wrong.) Some of the groups got rowdier than others and several of the girls ended up in the water, usually against their will. It’s certainly the most laughing and screaming I’ve heard at dinner in quite a while.
After dinner on Friday, the three of us went in search of, well, Friday night activities and found ourselves settling into a cozy table at Rasta Bar on the main street. The bar had the usual beers, sodas, and cocktails available, but I also finally tried lao-Lao (Laotian rice whiskey) which was surprisingly smooth and tasty, especially given how cheap it is: 5,000 kip (about 65 cents) per pour. However, the real moment that Friday night began was when the bartender dropped the bar’s real menu on our table.
There was nothing on the other side. That was the entire menu! I immediately realized it was going to be that kind of evening, especially considering that most of the items were no more expensive than a cocktail in San Francisco. I won’t transcribe who ordered what, but let’s just say we all had a very pleasant evening with lots of conversation, laughing, lounging, and people watching. And some of us may have had healthy hangovers the next morning, but given everything we had consumed during the course of our 9-hour evening adventure, who knows what was to blame? I assigned the tagline of “This is not a controlled experiment!” to the entire affair and I stand by that assessment.
Saturday was much more chill: a lazy lunch, hours of reading on a patio by the river, an afternoon massage, sundowners at a bar on the hill with a beautiful sunset view, dinner by the river again, and a nightcap at the Irish bar in town. I said goodbye to my new friends and the next day we went our separate ways, they heading north to Luang Prabang and me heading south to Vientiane.
Current reading: The Year Without Pants: WordPress.com and the Future of Work. I bought this book a while back specifically to read on this trip; it’s appropriate at the moment because I’m in the middle of building a website based on WordPress, I worked remotely from an exotic country only last week, and have given occasional thought to various career moves that would involve working remotely. Unfortunately, relevance doesn’t necessarily mean quality, and I don’t think the book is very good. In contrast to what I was expecting, the book is too auto-biographical, too specific about the author’s company, team, and projects, too dorky (and a little lame), too much about management, and just too boring. That said, there are a few tidbits and insights that are legitimately worthwhile, but those could have easily been captured in a blog post.