The Effects Of Tourism...

Travelling from Laos to Thailand I have witnessed the vast contrast between the two countries which are in many ways culturally and historically similar. It's the classic Southeast Asian example of "same same... but different".

While Thailand has been welcoming mass tourism since as early as the 1960's, Laos only opened its borders at the start of the 90's and still lacks the infrastructure and tourist centered hospitality of its neighbour.

Thailand, on the whole, is a relatively rich country. It rates 25th in the world - above Singapore and Hong Kong - in terms of GDP purchasing power parity, (that is, the value of its good and services produced), and this is almost entirely due to its tourism industry, which accounts for almost 20% of the GDP (Gross Domestic Product). It is a developed country where tourists are as much a part of day to day life as temples and ladyboys. 

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Laos, on the other hand, is still a very poor country. The large amount of unexploded ordnance in the country has made the development of land and infrastructure almost impossible. Most Laotians are subsistence farmers who live off their land, making little to no profit from the crops they grow. The few places in Laos that have welcomed tourists seem to have done so at the cost of the local culture. In Vang Vieng, for example, tourists walk around the small town in bikinis and swim shorts, showing more flesh than any Laotian would ever dream of. I believe nobody is ever naked in Laos; they even wear sarongs to shower. Vang Vieng is a ghetto of guest houses, restaurants serving pizzas and burgers, and drug filled bars. There is no Laos charm left, it could be any backpacker town in the world.

There is no such thing as ethical or eco-tourism in this part of the world. The governments look at the tourist dollars with blinkered vision and reap the benefits no matter effect on the environment or the local communities. Vang Vieng, Pattaya, and Koh Phangan being the perfect examples of this.

Conversely, tourists bring money, money brings development, development brings a better standard of living for the local people. For example, Muong Ngoi and Don Det which we visited in Laos only recently got 24-hour electricity as a result of increasing tourism. Similarly, where the tourists go there is a demand for clean, plumbed water for showering. When clean water is supplied to a community it means the residents no longer have to wash in the polluted rivers, saving them from exposure to waterborne diseases such as typhoid and cholera. 

I've been asking myself; at the end of the day, is tourism, good or bad? Am I damaging these beautiful countries by arriving here with my backpack and my western ways? I think for me, it's a simple equation of whether the benefits outweigh the disadvantages. Is culture a fair price to pay for clean water and electricity? 

When I see a frail old lady slip and slide down a mud bank in her sarong to wash herself clean in a river that has been collecting industrial and human waste for over 3,000km, I think yes, it is a fair price. Improving that lady's health and quality of life is more important that preserving traditions that have little place in the modern world.

Of course the ideal solution would be for governments in the developing world to adopt responsible policies to tourism; but until then I will just keep hoping that one day Laos will find the perfect equilibrium between culture and tradition, and modernisation and tourism.

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.

Biking Around The 4,000 Islands

With seven tourists crammed snugly into a narrow barge we set off along the Mekong, rocking and swaying, weaving around sandbanks and overgrown, uninhabited islands, to Don Khon, right on the Cambodia border. 

Don Khon has countless clusters of wooden bungalows built overlooking the river, each one offering beautiful views and a balcony complete with hammock. Ric and I, in search of peace and serenity, managed to book ourselves into the one place on the island hosting a 48 hour party for dozens of the owner’s friends and family. The loud, grainy music wasn’t too much of an annoyance compared to the revolting smell that came from meat left rotting in the sun. By the afternoon of the second day all the cooking had been done and everyone was too drunk to clean away the animal remains strewn around the yard behind our bungalow. The nauseating smell was accompanied by party guests who occasionally joined us on the balcony to spit or vomit into the river, and gangs of small children who thought our room was part of their playground and who tried to steal my ice-cream. To say we chose unwisely is an understatement. The party was in order to bless the house, which had been built exactly one year ago. The only respite from the Laos folk music straining over the speakers was when a group of monks and family elders performed a Buddhist blessing, chanting in a monotone only slightly less offensive than the music, and lighting enough incense to mask the stench of the meat.

Despite the poor choice of accommodation, Don Khon was a lovely place to spend a couple of days; it is a small island with a population of a few thousand people, somewhat overrun with tourists. Palm trees line the river, as do hippy cafes where travellers pass the day sitting on cushions on the floor, sipping fruit shakes and comparing notes on various sleepy destinations around Laos.

Grazing on the Mekong.

A single home perched on a river island (right). Don Khon bungalows (left).

Over a breakfast of surprisingly good omelettes, we joined forces with a girl from Sweden and another from France and set off on bicycles to find the rapids that slice across the Mekong. We found the first set of rapid with ease, 1.5km from the town. Somphamit falls, although they’re more rapids than waterfalls, crash over a landscape of black, volcanic rocks that would look more at home on the moon than on the edge of this peaceful, flat island. The bar overlooking the falls provided a perfect place to hide from the sun for a few hours and eat a local lunch of spicy papaya salad and sticky rice.

Invigorated after lunch, we decided to extend our bike ride and do a loop of the entire island. This proved to be more challenging than any of us had expected. The island had severe storms every night we stayed there and the roads were a mud bath; we were constantly getting the bikes stuck, having our flip flops swallowed by brown ooze, and occasionally falling off. 3.5km from Somphamit we reached the eastern tip of the island where we climbed to a view point overlooking the river. From here it is possible to see rare irrawady dolphins, but we weren’t that lucky.

Somphamit Falls.

Proceeding along the south side of the island the path got narrower and increasingly overgrown until we had to dismount to duck under trees, dense plant life surrounding us on all sides. When it came to crossing a collapsed bridge we were all questioning whether or not we’d taken a wrong turn, but eventually we emerged and crossed a wobbly suspension bridge onto a tiny island, surrounded by more rapids. Ric and the two girls stripped down to bathe in the Mekong and I was feeling a little jealous for I couldn’t bring myself to swim in my thong in front of the curious local fisherman. I had the last laugh though when I spotted a buffalo shitting into the water just meters away.

We made in back to our noisy, smelly bungalow, covered in mud, just in time for sunset. The loop around the island is entirely flat and easy enough to cycle of a bike with no gears, I imagine it’s much easier in dry season when there’s less mud around.

Tour De France; Lucy crosses the fallen bridge.

Across the river from Don Khon is Don Det, which translates as Ghost Island because of all the dead bodies that float down the Mekong from further upriver and get washed up onto the rocks that surround the island. Don Khon and Don Det are home to a curious railway built by the French in 1893. In search of greater colonial power the French wanted to establish a trade route along the Mekong to China, starting in their flagship colony, Vietnam, and traversing Cambodia and Laos. However, the formidable rapids around Si Pan Don made this impossible, so the French built a tiny, pointless railway which crossed Don Khon and Don Det. The idea was to use a special vessel that would be dismantled at Don Khon, loaded onto a train, transported to the north side of Don Det, reassembled and dropped back into the river.

The railway was abandoned at the start of the Second World War and France lost its colonies in Asia soon after. Today the only evidence of the railway is two rusting steam engines on display and a sturdy concrete railway bridge connecting the two islands. I found it very peculiar that the small island I cycled around in a matter of hours had once had a railway.

Concrete gantry on Don Det, once used to lower boats back into the river.

We Stayed At…

Don Khong – Pon’s Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a large, basic double. Has a nice second floor veranda to relax on and the owner is super friendly and helpful.

Don Khon – Bouphane Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a river front bungalow and hammock, avoid during family parties!

Hitch Hiking To The 4,000 Islands

It was a lot more difficult to leave Champasak than it was to arrive; we were headed south and so had to cross the Mekong.

The journey started in a minivan which picked us up from our bungalow and drove us to the dilapidated boat pier at the northern tip of town. We eased our way down the muddy bank that served as a pier, and on to a narrow, wooden boat with a 12 year old boy at the helm. On the other side of the Mekong we climbed up another mud bank and onto the back of a flat bed truck. Perched on oil cans and bottle crates we bounced along a pot-holed dirt path to the main road. We were told to wait there for a bus which would take us the rest of the way to Si Phan Don (Four Thousand Islands), our destination.

We waited, and we waited, we ate some breakfast from a street vendor and we waited some more. We chatted to an angry American and we continued to wait. After some time we gave up on the fabled bus and waved down a passing car.

The friendly, English-speaking soldier was going our way and was happy to practice his English with us while speeding down route 13 at 120km/hr. He dropped us at a car ferry terminal on the southern tip of Laos, where we were to take an ancient wooden canoe 100m across the river to Don Khong island. Our new friend’s only request was that we pose for some photos with him before saying goodbye. 

When we alighted on Don Khong we found that we were still 5km away from Muang Khong town, the island’s biggest settlement. We set off walking down the dusty, single track road towards the town in the midday heat but luckily it wasn’t long before a passing pick-up truck stopped and allowed us to climb in the back, all the way into town. Despite travelling by minivan, boat, truck, car, ferry and one more truck, the whole journey took only three hours.

Si Phan Don is a landlocked archipelago carved out by a web of rivulets in the south of Laos, where the Mekong marks the most southerly boarder with Cambodia. It is here that a long length of ferocious rapids cut straight across the river, providing the one and only obstacle for boat travel along the Mekong from Tibet straight through to southern Vietnam.

We spent only one night on Don Khong. Despite being the biggest island it has very little to offer other than a crowded strip of guest houses and a handful of simple Buddhist temples. We spent the afternoon reading and relaxing before heading off early the next day.

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)

Cycling to Kouang Si Waterfalls

Wanting to beat the crowds of tour groups and day trippers, Ric and I rented mountain bikes and tackled the 35km trip to Kouang Si Waterfalls, southeast of Luang Prabang.

We set off in the cool morning light of 6am, just as the sky was turning from black to grey. The way to the falls is well signposted and we whizzed out of town along the main road, which is thankfully well paved.

The ride took us almost two and a half hours, with leisurely stops to drink water, eat bananas and gasp for breath along the way. On the way we passed several villages where the residents were giving alms to the monks, children were making their long journeys to school and the village men were preparing for their boat races. It’s amazing how much activity we usually miss by sleeping in until after eight!

The route was challenging, certainly for me, with a fair few hills to climb, and I was glad to have a bike with gears. Cycling through the valleys was very pleasant, with the Laos mist still hugging the green mountains around us.

Eventually, after a fair amount of sweat and almost a couple of tears, we arrived. We entered the falls and had the place to ourselves. The falls start with a thundering 60m drop before cascading down through several different levels where it is possible to swim in the freezing blue water. As we were visiting at the end of the rainy season the water level was high and the park staff had had to dam off some areas with tree trunks and sand bags to stop the whole area from flooding. 

Swimming in the natural swimming pools was wonderfully refreshing after our long bike ride. Ric had fun climbing up rocks and trees to bomb into the pools whilst I relaxed in the shade, fighting off man eating fish! The pools are full of little fish that like to nibble your feet, the same kind they have in the ‘fish massage’ spas. I can’t comprehend why anyone would pay to have those fish eat your skin; the feeling is like a mild electric shock, horrible!

Next to the falls is a bear rescue centre. The two bears found in this part of the world, the Asian Black Bear and the Sun Bear, are at risk from so many threats. The bears are kept as pets, they are made to dance and are paraded around as tourist attractions, they are poached by the Chinese for their bile which is used in traditional Chinese medicine. The local people are also a threat; they believe that bears bring you strength and we have seen bear paws marinating in rice whiskey for the local men to drink and become strong. The centre rescues and rehabilitates the bears in a natural setting, releasing them back in to the wild when possible.

Once we were done swimming, exploring and looking at bears, we ate some lunch and made our way back to town. Whilst Ric powered on to cycle the whole 70km round trip, I chose not to fry in the midday sun and hitched a ride with an American couple in a tuk-tuk, bike and all!

It was definitely worth the early start and the lengthy ride to have the waterfalls to ourselves, it’s a beautiful spot.

How To Get To…

Kouang Si Falls:

A mountain bike costs 50,000kip ($6.25/£4) from Luang Prabang. Follow the signs heading southeast out of town, and check out this great map.

A private tuk-tuk will cost you 200,000 ($25/£15) for up to eight people.

Organised tours are 50,000kip per person but don’t leave until 11am, the busiest time of day.