From Si Phan Don to Bangkok, 24 Hours On The Move

873km 

24 hours 

One boat, four songthaews*, one minivan, one train.

*A songthaew is a flatbed truck that has been converted into a bus. Benches and a roof are welded onto the back making it possible to transport 30 people in relative comfort, or 50 people in relative discomfort. Usually songthaews are piled high with people, livestock, sacks of rice, bicycles and anything else they can cram in. 

On our last day in Laos we woke at the crack of dawn to get an early start on our long trip to Bangkok. We shimmied down our last muddy bank and boarded our last narrow, long tail boat, saying goodbye to the 4,000 islands. We landed at Nakasang and walked through the town as it was coming to life in the early morning; people buying fresh fish next to the boat dock, vegetables laid out along the road, bicycles and motorbike zipping up and down. At the end of the town we boarded a songthaew and settled in for the three hour drive to Pakse.

As far as songthaews go, this one wasn't nearly as full as it could have been and we sped towards Pakse with the wind in our hair. At my feet was a humongous catfish, its gills still flapping, its mouth making silent O's as it gasped for its last breaths. The fish died long before we arrived in Pakse but its glassy, yellow eye stared at me accusingly the whole way.

Every now and then we'd stop and vendors from roadside street stalls would run down the road and climb into the songthaew; boarding us like pirates. Their wares were barbecued cockroaches skewered onto sticks, tiny roasted sparrows and bags full of chicken feet. Not my idea of road trip snacks.

We changed songthaews 15km outside of Pakse and then again at the morning market in the center of town and made it to the border.

The Vangtao (Laos) - Chong Mek (Thialand) border is a big one. To get to the immigration offices you first have to walk for about a kilometer through a narrow, covered market which serves as the perfect place to spend your left over currency. Duty free whiskey, cigarettes and electrical goods are your last sight of Laos before you reach the grand building that houses the Thai immigration desks.

A storm had been brewing as we prepared to depart from Laos and the sky was a menacing black flickered with the occasional flash of lightening. As we exited the building into Thailand the clouds parted momentarily to reveal a patch of clear blue sky and a dazzling sun, it was a symbolic welcome back to the land of smiles. 

Another symbolic icon welcoming us into the country was the green, orange and red glow of the 7 Eleven mini-market. 

Now I know that multinationals are the devil, that they are responsible for putting local shops out of business and generally bringing about the apocalypse through globalisation BUT, for me, the 7 Eleven represents a return to order, to civilisation. In Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia there are no brand shops, no mini-markets. You buy your toiletries, snacks and drinking water from markets where the products are arranged haphazardly on a stall and the prices depend on how lucky the vendor is feeling about ripping you off. Haggling is fun, some of the time, but there's nothing like walking into a blindingly bright 7 Eleven, the air-con set to freezing, and seeing everything neatly in its place. Best of all are the small white pieces of paper with black writing displaying the price. 

One thing multinational mini-markets are good for is changing large bank notes, so we popped in, did a celebratory lap of the isles and broke a 1,000Baht note with a couple of toasties and a chocolate bar. An unconventional first meal in Thailand.

A long walk down the road later and we boarded a minibus bound for Ubon Ratchathani, the closest city. I was very excited to be back in Thailand and I spent the 90 minute drive soaking up the strange familiar sights from the front seat of the van: tarmacked roads, painted lines to mark the lanes, traffic lights; and we were driving on the left! 

Another songthaew took us from Ubon bus station to the train station where we were in for some bad news. The train was almost full and we would have to spend the 12 hour over-night journey in third class, which meant hard upright seats that didn't recline. After a full day travelling we were tired, grumpy and sweaty. Our hair was standing stiffly on end from the dust off the roads and our shoulders ached from carrying our backpacks from bus to bus and through long border crossings. We'd hoped to get a bed on the train, maybe even splash out for a two berth, first class compartment. Instead we'd be sitting straight backed all night long. We were not happy. 

As it turns out, the third class trip wasn't that bad after all. As the seats were old and broken and kept falling off the frame I decided to remove mine and built myself a makeshift bed on the floor. Ignoring the cockroaches that crawled around me, I managed to get a half decent nights sleep and awoke to find the train creeping through the suburbs of Bangkok.

It's good to be back.

Reading a book about globalisation from my third class bed. The irony is not lost on me.

Champasak To Wat Phu

From Vientiane we travelled 400km south on a “VIP” night bus to Pakse. We were collected from our guest house at 6:30pm and driven an hour out of town on the back of a tuk-tuk, down dark, residential streets that had me questioning the motives of our driver. We arrived at the long distance bus station with an hour to contemplate the small booth that would be our bed for the night. The bus had two levels, each with several compartments containing beds. Perhaps we were lucky, or perhaps not, for we had the back of the bus on the top level, which was split into five narrow beds. The windows all around us gave the berth a strange conservatory feel, and provided a stunning view of the star filled sky during the sleepless night.

We took one look at Pakse and decided to move swiftly on to Champasak, which was an hour further south on the back of a flat bed truck turned tuk-tuk. Like most towns in Laos, Champasak is a sleepy, dusty town set on two sides of a long road, with a river running parallel.

Life in Laos is slow. It could be the most relaxed country in the world. Most of the day it’s too hot to do very much and where ever you look you’ll find bodies dozing in a hammocks. The country is made up of rivers, with boat travel being the traditional mode of transport. If you ask what time the boat leaves you’ll find yourself facing the bemused smile of a Laotian; the boat leaves when the boat leaves. The people here are used to waiting around. The pace of life here is comparable to the pace of cruising down a river, there is no rush, no stress, it’s laid back.

We’ve adapted well to this pace of life and spent our first day in Chamapasak reading, writing and sketching on the veranda of our riverside bungalow. The only interruption in our day was the need to move to a restaurant to enjoy leisurely meals of coconut curries and fresh vegetables.

Our room, Dokchampa Guest House, Champasak

The next day we dragged ourselves out of our hammocks and cycled out to Wat Phu, a pre-Angkorian temple complex at the foot of a hill. Riding out of Champasak we were faced with an unusual obstacle; a lorry carrying a heavy load had collapsed the bridge that provided the only route south. A crane was presently hoisting the lorry out of the river whilst the bridge lay utterly destroyed. We were informed of a diversion and found that the clever locals had dammed off the river with rock and dirt to create a temporary bridge. Later, on our return to Champasak, we saw that concrete pipes for the river to flow through had been lowered into the river next to the mud dam and a tarmacking truck had arrived to make the bridge a semi-permanent fixture until the real bridge is repaired. We were impressed by how quickly the locals had responded; the lorry was out of the river within a couple of hours and traffic was already moving north and south over the temporary mud bridge. Some cunning Laotians had capitalised on people’s voyeurism by setting up food stalls near the broken bridge, feeding all the hungry onlookers.

Collapsed bridge brings in the crowds.

Wat Phu

 The 8km bike ride to Wat Phu was easy along the paved, flat roads and we arrived in just under an hour. We rode through several small villages where calls of sabaidee (hello) greeted us from roadside houses and shops. Ric even got a kiss blown to him from one cheeky little girl.

We were alone at the Wat Phu apart from a retired French couple who were shocked to find an English girl who spoke French, c’est rare! The temples date back to the sixth century and have only been minimally restored, maintaining their ancient charm. The site is not touristy like the Angkor Wat complex in Cambodia and it was nice to wander around the carved sandstone ruins in peace. A short walk up a crumbling stone stair case, warped by tree roots, led us to huge stone cliff with a ruined temple at its base. From the cliff we had a view down over the surrounding countryside, with the Mekong slicing through the scenery, a brown, winding smear on the lush greenery. 

 How To Get To…

Wat Phu: We hired bikes from Champa Restaurant for 10,000kip ($1.25/£0.75) and followed the road leading south out of town. There are signposts along the way for the temple.

We Stayed At…

Dokchampa Guest House: We had a great river front bungalow for 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75), although the owners spoke no English and the restaurant was overpriced compared to others in the town.

The Nondescript Capital of Laos

Vientiane is a boring capital. Like the rest of Laos, it is quiet and dusty, with a population of just 200,000. It sits of the Mekong River, which marks the border between Laos and Thailand.

The colonial French architecture of the city is overshadowed by industrialisation, grey concrete buildings and dusty traffic. We spent two nights there and it was probably too many. Compared to the former capital, Luang Prabang, Vientiane lacks charm and character. Even the replica Champs D'Elysées (Lane Xang) and Arc De Triomphe (Patouxai) were lacking in charm. Perhaps we've been spoiled by the beauty found in the north. 

Patouxai, Laos' Champs D'Elysées

That Louang, Laos' most important religious symbol and national monument.

The highlight of our stay was a visit to the Buddha Park (Xieng Khuan). 25km out of the city, sitting on the bank of the river, is a park full of bizarre concrete Buddha sculptures, mythical animals and Hindu Gods. It was created in 1958 by Luang Pu Bunleua Sulilat, a rogue monk who built a similar park on the other side of the river, in Thailand. The main attraction of the park is a giant pumpkin which we entered through the mouth of a demon and climbed up through three levels representing Earth, Heaven and Hell. From the top of the pumpkin we had a view down over the park. It was arty, wacky and an interesting spot.

Atop the concrete pumpkin.

How To Get To…

Buddha Park: We took the local bus number 14 from the central bus station (6,000kip), to the Laos-Thailand Friendship Bridge. From the bridge (the border crossing) we took a tuk-tuk to Buddha park for 15,000kip ($2) each. Entrance to the park is 5,000kip ($0.50).

We Stayed At…

Soukchaleun Guest House. Right in the centre, had a balcony. 80,000kip ($10/£6)

The Weirdos of Vientiane and Around

One of the nicest things about travelling is meeting different people from all walks of life. We’ve met some great people so far, but sometimes the weirdos outweigh the normal people.

America’s Most Stupid Citizen

I have American friends who are well-read, intelligent and knowledgeable about the world outside of the USA, yet in the international community Americans have a reputation for being, well… stupid. This girl is the reason.

The girl, who we will call Colorado, was not only stupid, she was also convinced that she was the most interesting genius to ever walk the planet. She interrupted the conversation around our table constantly with her interjections of stupidity, most of them beginning “Well, in America…” She pointed out to us facts about her homeland are common knowledge to anyone who has ever read the newspaper or turned on a TV. She repeatedly missed the point of the conversation and loudly exclaimed about unrelated topics. To top it off she proudly serenaded us with her rendition of Fatboy Slim’s Funk, Soul Brother in which she erroneously sang “What’s your brother” at the top of her lungs.

Her boyfriend, despite being ten years my senior, was equally dim and perhaps even more boring. They were perfect for one another.

The Unhinged Spaniard

After three magic mushroom milkshakes, several beers and an unknown quantity of marijuana, it’s no wonder this man was frighteningly crazy. He garbled on in broken English, his wonky smile concealing whether or not his cryptic comments were intended to cause offence. After sometime I addressed him in Spanish and told him that nobody had a clue what he was on about. He promptly vacated our table and never to return.

The Frenchman and The Swede

Sitting at a road-side stall eating noodles we joined by Frenchman in a trilby, a tight shirt and trousers that came short of his ankles. He asked us questions that he had no interest in hearing the answers to. When finally he left us alone, he was almost immediately replaced by a middle aged Swedish man whose entire outfit was made up of Arsenal FC merchandise, everything from his watch to his key ring to his belt buckle. He regaled us, uninvited, with tales of his greatness; how he once fought a man in Cambodia and now he may never return because “they” are waiting for him; how he “saved” a girl’s life by forcing her to stay with his poor assistant. I soon zoned out of his altruistic monologue but had to interrupt him when he started adding sexism to his speech, bemoaning women for sitting on their backsides in a café and while their husbands trudge around to find a hotel. He clearly wasn’t expecting to be belittled by a woman and mumbled an apology before retreating on his Arsenal bicycle.

And The Rest

On top of the weirdos that force me to interact with them, there are also a fair share of kooks that we’ve spotted in and around the city: the shoeless man with a dreadlocked beard buying pencils from a minimart; the albino with a face full of piercing; the man outside our hotel who was twitching involuntarily whilst doing a goldfish impression with his mouth. Maybe it has something to do with the vast amount of psychedelic drugs widely available in Laos. Maybe I’m just judgemental.

And Finally

Among the crazies and the weirdos we found Aaron, a nice guy, a familiar face from Korea. We bumped into each other by chance in a bar in Vang Vieng, two years after meeting in Cheonan where we were both working. Isn’t it a small world.

Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is a town stripped of its character and culture. It is a backpacker town, full of bars, drugs and cheap accommodation. It's a funny place. Its reputation precedes it among the backpacker crowd and I had mixed feeling about coming here due to its dubious infamy.

Two to three years ago this small town was the Mecca of Southeast Asia for young backpackers looking for non stop partying, drugs and outdoor fun. The place became famous for its tubing; visitors hired a tractor inner tube and floated along the river, stopping at dozens of bars along the way for free shots and cheap cocktails. So popular was the tubing that the bars continued to multiply and dangerous slides and swings appeared over the jagged rocks along the river banks.  Sadly, drink, drugs and fast flowing rivers don’t mix and 27 travellers died on the river in 2011 alone, with many more injured. International governments pushed for the bars to close and the slides and swings were dismantled, causing a sudden decrease in tourism to the area.

This article by The Guardian paints a vivid picture of the former the party scene in Vang Vieng: 

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/apr/07/vang-vieng-laos-party-town

"There are signs asking tourists to respect dress codes, but many ignore them. At peak party-time on the river, there are frequent episodes of boob-flashing, mooning and boys waggling their privates around for the hell of it... couples having sex in inner tubes as they float along the Nam Song is known to happen, too."

Within minutes of checking in to a guest house we over heard conversations of “where is the opium bar?” and “this place is the Ayia Napa of Laos”. The information booklet in our room described happy pizzas (made with magic mushrooms), opium tea and bars that give away free joints and then tip off the local police. It didn’t really sound like our kind of town.

However, once we checked out of the rowdy guest house with the Ayia Napa fans and into a quiet bungalow with huge gardens over looking the river, we found Vang Vieng to be quiet and laid back, if somewhat lacking in character.

View of the sunset over the karsts from our guest house.

Bars line the water front offering views over the karst scenery with Bob Marley playing in the background. At least half of the bars in town have wide screen TVs that play constant videos of Friends, series seven. So much for soaking up the Laos culture.

We gave famous tubing a go and it was great. A tuk-tuk took us a few kilometres out of town to a bar where we were offered our first and last free shots. We then floated tranquilly down the river Nam Xong, taking in the stunning scenery and stopping off at a couple of the bars that have remained open. Far from the scenes of unadulterated debauchery that I've seen on the internet, our trip was quiet, picturesque and relaxing. Among people tubing with us that day was an Irish couple well into their eighties. I'm pleased that the slides have all been removed because I’m sure I’d have had a hard time persuading my adrenaline seeking boyfriend not to go down them.

Tubing!

Another day, another bike ride. My initial enthusiasm for cycling is wearing off but it tends to be the cheapest and safest way to get around in Laos; tuk-tuks are too expensive, taxis non-existent and the only other option is to hire a scooter, which we’re not too keen on. It’s good exercise too I suppose. We set off into the countryside that surrounds Vang Vieng on a bone-shakingly bumpy road. The pot holes and rocks were havoc on my back so I bailed on the bike ride and headed straight for the Blue Lagoon, leaving Ric to complete the 30km loop with a friendly Australian.

The Blue Lagoon is a natural swimming pool surround by karsts and mountain caves. Although an undeniably beautiful place, it has been turned into a major tourist attraction and was bursting with tourists, diving, swinging and jumping into the cool blue water. Crowded or not, it was still a nice place to spend a couple of hours out of the sun.

Rope swings at the Blue Lagoon.

How To Get To...
The Blue Lagoon: Head out of town across the river on the toll bridge, follow the signs for 7km.
We Stayed At...
Phou Bain Guest House. Possibly my favourite place we've stayed in months. We almost walked past this place without checking the prices because it looked too posh for our budget, but for 55,000kip ($7/£4.20) per night it was a bargain. Wooden bungalow, huge gardens, river views. 

The Plain of Jars

The journey to Phonsavan started at the bus station, where the driver and his cronies were attempting to squeeze 13 people into the 12 seats of our mini bus. These seats are made for slight Asian frames, not the big bums and wide shoulders of western tourists, so when the man suggested four of us share three seats, there was outrage. After an hour and 15 minutes of debating, during which nothing was achieved, we set off with the four smallest passengers sharing three seats. For once I was grateful not to be one of the slimmest in the group; they were in for an uncomfortable eight hour ride.

Our minibus whizzed us off around the tight bends of the mountains along highways 13 and 7 to Phonsavan. Even sitting in the front seat I was as green as the surrounding countryside and was grateful for the odd landslide blocking our way, allowing me to stretch my legs and recover from my nausea.

Phonsavan is an ugly, dusty town that lines highway 7; the only reason people go there is to see the mysterious Plain of Jars. The countryside in northern Laos is scattered with these huge megaliths and nobody really knows why they are there.

Craved from a single stone over 2,000 years ago, the jars are thought to have been used as funerary urns by an Iron Age civilisation. Some measure up to 2m in height.

We decided to cycle to the main jar site (site 1), along Phonsavan’s dusty roads. It is possible to visit the jar sites as part of a package tour, but after the horrendous journey from Luang Prabang the previous day, neither of us could face another day as in a minibus. The 7km ride took about 45 minutes and entailed a few hills that took my breath away on my 1950’s style one speed bike.

The jars were interesting enough but in my opinion, not worth the 15 hour detour. What was interesting, however, was the history of the area regarding the Vietnam war. Known as the Secret War as it was never mentioned in US army official documentation until years after, Laos was devastated by US bombs; two million tons of ordnance was dropped on Laos between 1964 and 1973, equating to roughly one bomb every 9 minutes for 9 years. The bomb craters are still visible all over the countryside, including several at the Plain of Jars Site 1. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for the people living here; planes from an enemy you’ve never seen dropping bombs around you because your country happens to border Vietnam. It must have been terrifying.

It’s estimated that 30% of the bombs dropped did not explode as they were dropped to low to detonate or simply malfunctioned; that leaves 80 million unexploded ordnance (known as UXO) littering the Laos countryside, buried in farmers’ fields, hidden under houses. Every month more deaths and injuries occur as UXO are discovered: farmers digging their land, children playing in the forest, people searching for scrap metal. The bombs are still killing people 40 years after the war ended.

Phonsavan is the capital of Xiang Khouang province, one of the most heavily bombed areas of Laos and the most bombed province in the world per capita. Today the bomb shells are everywhere; used by the locals as decoration, building material, foundations for houses, water troughs and fire pits, even the key ring to our guest house door was a bomb!

The UXO has hampered the development of this country by rendering so much land unsafe to use. Farmers can’t grow enough food, roads can’t be built and towns can not expand as the land needed is full of ordnance that could explode at any moment.

We visited the Mines Advisory Group (MAG) in Phonsavan, an organisation dedicated to finding and clearing UXO in order to make more land available for farming and development. We made a small donation and watched one of the documentaries they have showing.

It seems that where ever we travel in this region we are confronted with the devastating consequences of the Vietnam War, even in the innocent bordering countries, Laos and Cambodia. It’s heartbreaking.

Documentaries about the Secret War in Laos (all available on youtube):

Bomb Harvest

Bombies

The Secret War

How To Get To…

Plain of Jars Site 1 by bike: Follow highway 7 out of town (west) until you reach an intersection with traffic lights and a petrol station on the left hand side. Turn left, continue approximately 4km until you see a sign for the site on the right hand side. Bikes can be rented in town for 20,000kip ($2.50/£1.50) or 40,000kip for a mountain bike.

We Stayed At…

Kong Keo, near the minibus station. A shabby bungalow on a quiet backstreet, with a cosy nightly fire in the communal area. 60,000kip ($7.50/£4.50)

Lai Hua Fai Lantern Festival in Luang Prabang

We had hoped to continue our journey from Nong Khiaw to Luang Prabang by boat, but some inconsiderate Chinese developers have built a dam on the river. In fact they've built two, one above Muang Khua and one below Nong Khiaw. It's such a shame; Laos is a country of rivers and for centuries boat has been the main mode of transport. Travelling by boat is so much nicer than by bus, especially on the bumby, winding mountain roads. 

We arrived in Luang Prabang after a three bus ride during which an elderly Laos lady with a bucket on leaves on her knee slept on my shoulder. Despite being the second biggest city in the country and by far the biggest tourist hub, Luang Prabang is a quiet, spiritual center with more temples and monasteries per square kilometer than anywhere else we've seen. The city has managed to retain its tradition, its charm and the slow pace of life we discovered in the north whilst at the same time it has vast night markets, stunning food and enough bars and guest houses to serve the many visitors passing through. 

Over five days we relaxed into lazy days sipping Beer Laos by the Mekong, visiting the many gold gilded, Buddhist temples and wandering through the busy street markets trying not to buy everything in sight.

Temple outside the former Royal Palace (now the National Museum), home to the Pra Bang, a 87cm statue of Buddha after which the town takes its name. The Pra Bang is Laos' most holy treasure. 

Sunset over moored boats on the Mekong.

Young, Buddhist monks look out over Luang Prabang from Phou Si Hill.

Luang Prabang is said to have the best food in all of Laos. I tend to agree. Each evening, at around 5pm, a long, dark, narrow alley is transformed into the gastronomic center of the city. Huge barbecues of chicken, ribs, sausage and fish fill the street with a delicious smoke. Fried dumplings, springrolls, curries, stews and all you can eat buffets of vegetables, rice and noodles tempt you from both sides. Fresh, spicy papaya salads, exotic fruit smoothies and sweet and savory pancakes, cakes, sandwiches... it's a foodie's paradise. $5 (£3) will easily cover the cost of an evening grazing up and down this magnificent corridor of flavour. We haven't tried any of the more adventurous local delicacies yet, fried swallow or ant eggs, but everything we have eaten has been fantastic; a perfect mix of delicate Thai spices and fresh Vietnamese garnishes. 

I thought my Dad could cook up a good barbecue until I discovered these meat feast stalls on Food Alley.

By chance we arrived in Luang Prabang just in time for the annual Lai Hua Fai festival. The rainy season has ended, all the rice has been harvested, Buddhist lent is coming to an end and there is a general air of merriment around the town as the residents prepare for the celebrations. 

The during the festival offerings of flowers, candles, food, drink and money and sent floating down the river in colourful bundles made from banana leaves. The idea is to honour the Gods of the rivers after the rainy season and to invite them to protect the people living along its banks. Buddha and family ancestors are also worshiped during Lai Hua Fai.

During the week boat races have been taking place along the river; the numerous different legs of the race take place throughout the day whilst families gather along the banks of the river to eat picnics and barbecues and down copious amounts of lao lao, the local rice whiskey. We took the passenger ferry across the Mekong to Xiang Men to watch their village boat race. After a long time spent watching the tedious organisation, during which time Ric was inevitably roped into doing some shots with the village men, we got bored and wandered off to explore the temples and an old monastery atop a mountain.

Boat race on the Mekong.

Throughout the week we watched as the town prepares for the festival: ladies on the street sell flower offerings to float down the river; lanterns have steadily taken over every door way and wall in sight; families have been sat outside painstakingly decorating beautiful boats made from coloured paper and bamboo; and the atmosphere has been alive with excitement, music and laughter.

Flower offerings that are sent floating down the river.

On the morning of the festival, at the crack of dawn, a traditional giving of alms takes place throughout the streets of Laos. Residents, dressed in their finest, traditional clothes, line the streets waiting for a procession of Buddhist monks. As the monks pass, each person places a small amount of food in the monks' bowl. This giving of alms brings luck to the people and afterwards the monks share the food with the poor and needy. It was a beautiful serene scene to watch; the sky still grey, Buddhist chanting playing softly, and this endless procession of orange-robed monks walking silently through the streets. 

The night of the festival finally arrived and it seemed the entire town had turned out for the parade. At 6pm crowds gathered in the center of town as ornately decorated boats filed through the streets, each one representing a different neighborhood or temple.The ladies were out in traditional Laos clothing, teenagers played drums and tambourines along side their boats and everyone was cheering, chanting and singing. The town looked beautiful lit up with paper lanterns, especially the temples; young monks were rushing around trying to keep the thousands of candles inside the coloured lanterns lit. The parade ended at Xieng Thong temple where the boats were judged, before being carried down into the Mekong and left to float down stream. It was a beautiful celebration with such a great atmosphere, we're so lucky to have been around for it.

We Stayed At...

A great little wood panelled guest house called Silikhane, down a quiet back street. The room was bright and airy and there was free tea, coffee and drinking water. 60,000kip ($7.50/£4.50)

Cruising Down The River Nam Ou: Muang Khua - Muong Ngoi - Nong Khiaw

After arriving in sleepy Laos and spending the night in the charming town of Muang Khua, we piled into a small wooden barge along with four other tourists and a handful of villagers and set off for a four hour cruise down the Nam Ou River. Passing tiny riverside villages, towering cliffs and dense tropical jungle whilst chatting in the cool breeze on the river was a welcome change from the long, cramped bus journeys that had brought us into Laos. Ric even spotted a river snake. 

Muong Ngoi appeared on the left bank; nothing but a concrete jetty and a cluster of bamboo huts overlooking the river. Up until a couple of years ago Muong Ngoi was only accessible by boat, there was only three hours of electricity per day supplied by a generator, and wifi was unheard of. However now, with increasing numbers of tourists visiting the town, vast improvements have been made to the town’s infrastructure. It now has 24 hour electricity, a road, and there’s even one place in town offering wifi.

The tiny town, which runs along one dusty road on the bank of the river, is one of the most beautiful places we’ve been to in Southeast Asia; karst mountains, tropical jungle and terraced rice paddies as far as the eye can see. The 700 or so villagers living in the area are farmers who live in houses made from wood and reed, water is supplied by the local well and the only traffic in town is the odd tractor chugging down the main street. Apart from the occasional roar of a motorboat on the river, the only sound to be heard is the rustle of the leaves in the trees and children splashing in the river. It was a far cry from the constant horn beeping we'd become so accustomed to in Vietnam. 

Muong Ngoi

The real beauty of Muong Ngoi is found in the countryside out of town. After awaking in our reed bungalow to find the mountains blanketed in a thick mist, Ric and I walked out of town past the local primary school until we joined the dirt road that leads out of town. After passing a cave, we turned off and followed hand-written signs to Huay Bo village. The walk to the village was stunning; through shoulder-high paddies of rice, through rivers and valleys and down dirt paths shaded by a thick canopy of trees. As we stepped through the tall grass thousands of multi-coloured butterflies would rise up around us like a cloud of coloured confetti. We saw orange, red and blue dragon flies, six inch long grasshoppers, frogs, and not to mention plenty of mosquitoes that had their fill of our blood. The only other people we saw during our six hour walk were the farmers harvesting the rice in their fields and children returning to their villages after school.

A two hour walk from Muong Ngoi, Huay Bo village is safe from any large influx of tourists and life there was still very traditional: naked children playing in the dirt, women distilling rice whiskey over wood fires, people washing their laundry at the well, livestock roaming free under reed stilt houses. Old ladies leaned out of windows to look at us, children stopped their games to stare at the sweaty westerners arriving in their town. We stopped to rest and ate papaya salad and sticky rice at a local restaurant where the owner spoke surprisingly good English. 

Stilt reed houses in Huay Bo.

Boiling fermented rice to make Lao Lao, the local whiskey.

We continued on to climb part way up a waterfall before being defeated by swarms of mosquitoes who beat us back towards Muong Ngoi. We decided to take the dirt road back rather than the maze of rice fields to avoid crossing the numerous rivers (Ric was getting tired of removing his trainers every 10 minutes). The road took us deeper into the valley past another small village before looping around back toward Muong Ngoi and climbing to give us a view down over the paddies we’d wandered around earlier in the day. As well as adding an extra 3km to our walk, the road still lead us through a couple of river crossings. Just outside of town we stopped at the cave and swam in the ice-cold spring water running through it. It was a long hike but so rewarding with the karsts towering over us and the breath-taking scenery all around. 

Huay Bo village is through the valley at the far end of the rice fields.

Tham Kang cave, where we cooled down after our long hike.

At the north end of town, behind a modest temple, is a dirt path that leads to Tham Pha Kaew cave. Both caves were used as shelters during the Vietnam war, when American planes heavily bombed the area. Broken pots and pans can still be found inside the caves and the walls are blackened where fires were lit inside. Continuing up a steep path past Tham Pha cave we emerged from the jungle to find a glorious view down to the town and along the river. The short but strenuous hike provided me with my first encounter with a leech, albeit a tiny one that attached itself to my little toe and left it bleeding for a good 30 minutes!

Muong Ngoi from the viewpoint above Tham Pha Kaew cave.

Muong Ngoi is a wonderful, peaceful, scenic place to spend a couple of days. The food is good, the accommodation is super cheap. However, the town is on the brink of being spoiled by tourism. The tiny town already has far more guest houses than necessary; every tourist in town could have had a guesthouse to themselves and still half would remain empty. It’s a shame to see such a beautiful town lose its charm because of tourism, but... on the other hand, the improvements made to the village thanks to tourism will undoubtedly benefit the local people. 

Leaving Muong Ngoi on another rickety, old wooden boat we got squished into the very front seats, right in the splash zone. Each time the long boat took a sharp bend or bounced over a patch of rapids water poured over the sides, down our backs and pooled on the seats beneath our bums. One hour further down the river we arrived in Nong Khiaw, a slightly bigger town that has long since welcome the arrival or tourism.

After a couple of days hiking we planned for a relaxing time in Nong Khiaw but it wasn't meant to be. After a game of cards on our bungalow's veranda we got itchy feet and set off on a 3km climb up a mountain overlooking the town. Bomb shells lined the start of the trek with messages written on them warning us not to leave the marked paths. Although American was never at war with Laos, more bombs were dropped on this peaceful nation during the ten year war with Vietnam than were dropped on Germany and Japan combined, during the entirety of WWII. Today, the countryside in northern Laos is littered with unexploded ordnance (UXO), killing hundreds of innocent farmers every year. Even after leaving Cambodia and Vietnam we're still learning about the awful consequences the war had, not only on Vietnam, but on the whole region. 

The climb to the top was very steep with hoards of mosquitoes lurking in the shadows beneath the trees; every time we stopped to catch our breath we got covered with bites. The 360 degrees panoramic view from the top was stunning though, almost worth the incessant itching that lingered for days after.

View north up the Nam Ou from Nong Khiaw.

How To Get To...
Muong Ngoi: We took the boat south down the Nam Ou River from Muang Khua. The price was pretty astronomical at 140,000kip ($17.40/£10.80) per person. Boats also arrive from Nong Khiaw.
Nong Khia: The boat from Muong Ngoi to Nong Khiaw was much more reasonable at 25,000kip ($3/£2) per person. Tickets for both boats are purchased from the boat pier. 
We Stayed At...
In Muong Ngoi: we stayed at in a wood bungalow in front of a family home, signed as Aloune Guest House. For 30,000kip ($3.75/£2.25) we had an en suite room, balcony, hammocks, and free bottled water, best bargain of the trip!
In Nong Khiaw: we stayed at NK Backpackers where we got a slightly shabby bungalow with a faulty shower for 40,000kip ($5/£3).

Going from Vietnam to Laos, The Hard Way

The journey from Sapa, Vietnam, to Muang Khua, Laos, was a long one; it was often uncomfortable and at times frustrating but we were also able to see some of the most stunning scenery in the region.

We started at 7am in Sapa, in a minibus that sped around hairpin mountain passes as if it could defy gravity. The morning was probably one of the clearest we had during our five days in Sapa and the views over Mount Fanxipan and the peaks were amazing. Bend after bend revealed more beautiful mountains as cool air rushed in through the open windows. So far so good.

Leaving Sapa.

Scenic spot where we stopped for lunch.

It took eight hours for us to reach Dien Bien Phu, where we stayed the night. During the drive Ric got a sick bag splattered in his face and we had to stop twice while the road was cleared after a landslide.

Dien Bien Phu is where the French we defeated once and for all by the Vietnamese, ending their rule over Indochina. The town is of great importance to the Vietnamese and a huge war memorial looms over the town, providing us with a great vantage point for sunset. As Dien Bien Phu was our last stop before leaving Vietnam, Ric uncharacteristically set me loose in the supermarket and suggested I spend the remainder of our Vietnamese money! I was in my element. It seems not that many tourists visit DBP, I posed for more photos with gangs of school kids in one evening than I have during 7 weeks in Vietnam! Two little lads followed us around for ages giggling and occasionally blurting out random things in English. In spite of its historical importance, DBP is seriously lacking in the restaurant department and we went to bed hungry after a bland meal of rice and fried tofu.

 

My fans.

Sunset over Dien Bien Phu, from the war memorial.

The next day we got up at 4:45am to start our journey into Laos. What a farce! The bus eventually set off at 5:30, crawling along the streets, and stopping every 50 yards to big up cargo. This was a minibus, not a lorry yet the driver and his pal spent the next two hours driving up and down the same street filling the bus with all sorts of produce set to be transported into Laos. Rice, pig feed, fish feed, plastic bottles, flat pack wardrobes, car parts, bedding… we had it all crammed around our shoulders. At 8am we finally left DBP. Three hours sat on the bus and we hadn’t even left town. At least the company was good: a lady on the bus took it upon herself to buy and feed us a breakfast of eggs and meat samosas.

At the border Ric was reminded why he doesn’t let me shop very often; we didn’t have enough money for our visas! The border crossing was much more expensive than we expected and we ended up paying all the extra ‘fees’ to the border officials in a mixture of dollars, Vietnam dong and Thai baht.

 

Sitting comfortably.

At the border, our already full bus received an extra 12 passengers that squeezed themselves in on top of rice sacks, in between slabs of wood and on my feet! To add to the relaxing atmosphere the driver put on some traditional Vietnamese music, full blast. Vietnamese music is truly terrible: high pitched wind instruments accompany even higher pitched warbling distorted with the echo effect usually found on karaoke machines. The bus’s speakers crackled and strained under the pressure.

Eventually we arrived in Muang Khua, not our intended destination but as with Dien Bien Phu, a necessary stop to break up a long journey. Muang Khua is a tiny town nestled in the mountains between Laos and Vietnam; its wooden stilt houses, dirt roads and narrow alleys make it a charming place to wander around and the restaurants and bars lining the Nam Ou river make for a peaceful place to enjoy a beer and get into some blog writing. 

We walked across a terrifying wooden suspension bridge that creaked and shook as motorbikes zoomed across it, and then strolled through dusty lanes until we reached a primary school on the edge of the town. A few little boys rushed over to Ric and dangled themselves off his arms. 

Play time, Muong Khua

The lovely brown Nam Ou River with the scary bridge in the distance.

The colourful town center.

We Stayed At...

Manh Chay Guest House, on the main road. Good room, friendly owner, $10/£6.