We departed Siem Reap early morning bound for the Thai capital, Bangkok. It was to be merely a fleeting visit however, en route to Vientiane, which was our ultimate target.

The previous day, at the travel office in Siem Reap, we were enthusiastically informed that we were, in fact, booking the 'VIP' bus. The petite friendly female employee even showed us a picture of a shiny new deluxe coach. The same picture, of which anyone visiting this delightful continent will notice, every single travel shop in the entirety of Asia has on display. Following what we consider a reasonable time in Asia, however, we consider ourselves (just a touch) streetwise and as such, were dubious. As we stood at the roadside waiting for the imminent arrival of our deluxe shiny new coach we discovered we were also dead right to be. What turned up was most definitely not shiny. At all. Not even so much as a solitary gleam. It was, basically, a rust covered, clapped out, public bus. Any mechanic with a heart would have put this wreck out of its misery and confined it to the scrap heap. It would have been the decent, humane, thing to do.

As it turned out though, thankfully, we weren't on there for very long before being transferred to what appeared at first glance to be a major upgrade to a shiny new people carrier. That was until they crammed it so full of people and luggage that you could barely open your eyes let alone stretch your legs. The driver was also, for want of a better word, a prat. He was a tall, gangly local with an evident excess of self confidence. As if to portray this he also sang for much of the journey. Where that self confidence was derived I have no idea. It certainly wasn't through his vocal prowess. He walked like he was carrying an extra load in his undergarments and had his two front teeth missing.

Said prat stopped en route at a petrol station. Not for petrol but a smoke. On the forecourt. Prat.

Anyway, following a single overnight stay in Bangkok (and an encounter with a taxi driver who carried a laminated picture of himself, topless, to show passengers) we boarded the night train bound for the Laos capital of Vientiane.

Our train struggled out and away from bustling Bangkok city at a little after 20:00.

Now, have any of you ever frequented one of South East Asia's famed night trains? Those of you who have will know that in second class, as we were, it is no more than a narrow dormitory, lined, either side, with bunk-beds. Each of which, in order to provide the passengers with a little privacy, have a curtain around them. Which is nice. That is, assuming that your fellow passengers adhere to these boundaries of personal privacy.

Have you ever had the feeling you were being watched?

Well that's the exact feeling I had at 06:00 the following morning as I found myself stirring. We hadn't yet arrived in Laos but I opened my eyes and found myself confronted, almost nose to nose, with a frowning and seriously miserable looking elderly Thai man. It was, I realised, the man inhabiting the bed beneath me. What the hell did he want? I could only guess that he had decided that he would like to convert the beds back to seating and I, therefore, in my selfishness, by actually sleeping, in my own bed, was scuppering his plans. He had subsequently stood up, pulled MY curtain back, and proceeded to aim a ferocious glare at me. It was a look that would not have been out of place had he caught me farting in his wife's handbag. All this, remember, whilst I was sleeping. I mean, seriously, what exactly was he hoping to achieve?

Even when I awoke, obviously rather disturbed by his presence, he didn't move. Not until I pulled the curtain back and effectively closed the door in his face. What a very strange and disturbing man.

I made a point of lying on my bed, awake, for as long as possible.

We arrived at the station in Laos a little after 09:00. The station of which, much like the bus stations of SE Asia, was desolate, virtually deserted and, in fact, positioned beside a quiet road several kilometres from Vientiane.

Before I continue, if anyone is due to visit Laos in the not too distant future and will, therefore, be purchasing a visa upon arrival, as we did - make sure you have the required money in US dollars. Do not, as I did, arrive with Thai Baht. To highlight my point, the usual cost of a 30 day tourist visa is $35. I paid what worked out at $50. Following my questioning of the justification for the $15 inflation, it was claimed that this was the charge to cover their costs as they would "have to take the currency to be changed". There was a currency exchange next door.

Set along the banks of the mighty Mekong river, Vientiane is the smallest, most sedate capital city you will ever encounter. Endearing and attractive, it is also an easy place to find yourself slowing down and spending your days simply relaxing. Which is precisely what we did. "When in Rome", as they say. I found myself thinking, if this relaxed, slow pace of life was so evident in what was the capital city, what must the rest of the country be like? I was suddenly convinced I was going to like this place.

Anyone coming here with the intention of sight seeing however, will ultimately find only disappointment, for there is little in this small city to actually see. Our guidebook listed the presidential palace and the small national museum as the main points of interest. If we ever publish our own guidebook I shall be adding a small local restaurant by the name of "Sticky Fingers" to that list. Possibly at the top.

"Sticky Fingers" (I couldn't help smiling at this particular name) was the home of the best Bangers and Mash in Asia. Some statement but fully deserved in our eyes. We had ordered what the various menus of Asia described as 'English Cumberland' sausages on numerous occasions, only to be served with a rubbery finger-shaped substance that, frankly, most street dogs would turn down flat. This was not the case at Stickies, as we began affectionately referring to it. The sausages arrived displaying impressive girth. The mash was light and fluffy. Like a buttery cloud. The gravy was delightfully thick and creamy with more than a slither of onion to top it off. We were, its safe to say, impressed.

As you may have by now guessed, food featured heavily in our two days spent in the Laos capital. Most of which produced by those lovely folk over at Stickies. God bless 'em.

Our accommodation here in Vientiane was basic in the extreme. I forget the name of the place but it was down one of the side roads, branching from the main street. Anyway, arriving here I had asked, firstly, to see the room. Being recently vacated it was dirty, but we were told they would be cleaning it ready for us. Five minutes later we were informed that it was ready. They had, by the looks of it, given the sheets little more than a quick scrape down. They were the same as those in place when I viewed the room. They had also quickly wiped the floor with a dirty towel, of which I witnessed. The bathroom was damp, more than a touch mouldy and filled with large cobwebs being patrolled by hairy, fearsome looking spiders. The bed was rock solid. No more than a table with a sheet on it. It was, however, cheap. The room was large and airy and the owners were friendly. So we stayed.

There isn't a great deal else to mention regarding our time here. We visited the local bakery/coffee shop (Joma) a few times in between excursions to Stickies, spent more than the odd hour in the local internet cafés and indulged in a few alcoholic beverages along the Mekong river.

One memorable evening, whilst leaving Aimee at Stickies to head to the ATM, I also found myself being approached by one of the local Lady Boys. There is an area along the main street of the city which is lined with mature trees. After dark, among the shadows of these tall trees, wander short skirted 'ladies' of the night. Each sporting five o'clock shadows.

"You want a massage?" Came the query from the bearded hooker as she charged across the street, a little un-elegantly in extremely high heels, to approach me.

I mumbled something along the lines of "no, ta" and hastened my pace. I didn't look back.

So that, pretty much, was that. We stayed for two nights before heading to the local bus station and climbing aboard yet another "VIP" bus, this time headed north to Vang Vieng, around 5 hours away.

To summarise our thoughts on Vientiane, it was nice enough but it wasn't somewhere that either of us would add to any list of "places to one day return". Sitting on the bus as it made its way out of the city, neither of us would know that we would however, find ourselves back here before too long.

For now though, we were simply looking forward to Vang Vieng and in particular, the tubing that it is famous for…