While I have found, on the whole, the vast majority of the Lao people to be one of inescapable (and who should want to?) warmth, friendliness, helpfulness and generosity, I was somewhat surprised last night, as I hobbled down a dimly lit street with blood pouring from a gaping wound to my shin, by the efforts of one local to attract my custom to his hotel. This was not in keeping with the welcome I had come to expect - I was hoping for more of a shocked gasp and the sort of cry for "Help the falang" that would bring traffic to a standstill as all rushed to my aid. Alas no. But wait, maybe I've jumped in at the deep end again here...let's backtrack somewhat.
Tubing in Vang Viang. This was awesome fun, despite the heavens opening five minutes after we first set ourselves afloat. And while there were no floating bars to be seen, as I may have led you to believe there would be in my last entry, there were more than enough swings and ziplines plunging into the murky depths of the Mekong to make up for it, and bars on the shore there were certainly plenty of. So I, along with a couple of S.Africans, a couple of Danes and one Australian, floated down the rapids, calling in at the various stop-offs to quench our thirst whenever our throats were parched (which seemed to be often), or to jump from some decaying wooden swing whenever our adrenaline levels needed a boosting.
After a delicious meal under cover of darkness (we reached the finish just in time, it would seem), we returned to the town where I took a nap to prepare myself for the happening nightlife. I awoke the next morning at 10am, still wearing yesterday's clothing, and had enough time to shower and break some bread over an episode of Friends (The One Where Ross Hires A Stripper-Nanny), before my bus to Vientiane and onwards from there to Pakxe.
The original plan was to spend very little time in Pakxe and head on as soon as possible to the 4000 islands - a collection of islands, surprisingly, in the middle of the Mekong. However, arriving at 7:30am after a pretty uncomfortable night bus left me feeling that I was in no real rush, and maybe one day and night here wouldn't be so bad - plus the number of tuk tuk drivers trying to convince me of various prices for going to any number of random places to catch differing boats was really getting to my head, so it was nice to be able to tell them to take me to the Phonesavannh Hotel and then to leave me alone. (Sounds like it might be a nice place, but I can assure you, it's not. Still, at $2.50 a night I shouldn't complain).
After spending the day wandering around and writing various letters to banks and insurance companies who can do nothing, it would seem, without written requests, I happened upon an internet cafe where I had delightful conversations with friends from home, Jenan and Amy. (The one with Amy was actually a little disturbing, and I think she may need some medical attention of the cerebral kind). Approximately 45 seconds after bidding them good day, I stepped into/onto a complete absence of terra firma. It would seem that there must be some kind of law against either replacing manhole covers, or putting up warning signs to the effect that there is no ground ahead. I can think of no other reason for the, as I have now noticed, large number of unmanned, uncovered and unwarned(?) gaping holes in the pavement. The results were 1.) a resounding expletive echoing through the crumbling old colonial buildings that sounded somewhat like 'oh, Buck'; 2.) a not-so-Dangerous-more-Dangling-Dave hanging on with his arms as the rest of his body tried to drop further into the outdated, skanky sewer systems still in place here; and 3.) the sound of tearing flesh and crunching bone that I probably couldn't hear at all, but have inserted in hindsight to make the whole ordeal a little more exciting. Probably not in that order. 3 may have become before 1 - chances are it did, and 2 most likely coincided with the both. Oh, and 4.), which I'm sure you've already thought of yourselves - one of the greatest opportunities ever missed to make 250 pounds by sending cinematographic evidence of the above affair to that lop-handed beast on You've Been Framed. Anywho.
So walk I did, past the not-so-helpful door attendant at the Sangaroun Hotel, and back to my restaurant-cum-squatter's paradise. All credit to the guys there - I walk through the diners happily chowing down on their Mutton Massala and Vegetable Jalfrezis, with jets of blood competing to see which can get furthest from my shin and be first to land in the noodle soup on table 5, and instead of beating me from the restaurant with brooms and trays, they call the head chef from the kitchen and instruct him to take me to hospital.
Once it was all cleaned up, it turned out that it wan't half as bad as I had initially feared - there weren't 6 jagged cuts stretching down to my ankles, just one which, while deep, did not require stitches. Still looks pretty minging though :) And they had to cut off my two anklets from Brazil, which probably hurt more than the whole incident. It was as if someone were severing my limbs. Seriously - the nurse charged with the task of cutting me loose from my chains was so inept with a pair of scissors that he must have taken 16 stabs at my cnemis before making contact with the offending jewellery. And he was laughing!
Anyhow....the general upshot of it all is that I'm now taking more pills than you, Grandma - I swear it's true - 5 in the morning and then another 4 at night - what are you on? And also that I'm to rest a while longer in this city of harm. I guess one awesome outcome was bumping into Jamon when I was having a belated dinner of stuffed naan and massala tea. Jamon is an American legend I met in the Perhentian Islands, Malaysia, nearly two months ago, and who I assumed was now back in the States - so imagine my surprise when I look up to see his outline in the doorway of the Nazim restaurant in Pakxe. Crazy.
So I'm in Pakxe for another day -
I'll stay tonight and then be on my way...
Down to the islands and their coconut palms,
And out of Pakxe and its pothole what 'arms.

Love and peace my friends and family, be happy. xxx