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Vientiane, same as ever. With disgusting, bear-bellied, potrohás, old white farts touting their money to score local prostitutes, sun, rain, power outages, seen it all before. The bus to Sii Phan Don leaves at eight in the evening, so we have about two days to kill in this town. Luckily the weather has much improved - e.g. much more sun! - since our last visit so we revisit some of the highlights on a bicycle. At night we accidentally find ourselves in a local club. It's pretty dark but I'm sure we are the only white people present. Scores of local youth party to a live performance of the current #1 hit in Laos, song by the original artist. For free! I'd like to see that back at home! The song is quite catchy. It is apparently about love, the boy either running away or cheating on the girl, people getting molested, killed, finding someone else. The top five revolve around the same theme... I wonder what this tells about the national psyche of Laos.
A lazy day, relaxing. Although Michel has to run for his life on the way back to the hotel. The outlook of getting caught by a ladyboy and two hookers doesn't appeal to him that much.
By now I've had so many travel-adventures that unless it's really special I won't even mention it. A broken down bus, flat tyres, yet another mudslide, 20 people crowded on a single pick-up including luggage, with me hanging on for dear life at the back. Hardly worth mentioning. But the bus to Sii Phan Don through Pakse... now that IS something I'd love to share. You see, it's a sleeper bus. With proper beds so you can arrive well rested after the eight or so hour ride. I've seen sleeper trains before, the one we took from Bangkok to Nong Khai in Thailand; that was interesting enough. But this! We enter the bus, everyone has their seating assigned. 24, 25, 26. I see 24 on the top bunk. Not so bad, 80cm or so wide, although a bit short. But where is 25. Below is the toilet. Ah, the other side, 25 is top bunk. The bottom is 27. What the hell? As we, and all other tourists puzzle about the seating a local comes along and points to the top bunk of 25. This is 25 and 26. What the hell? Less than eighty centimetres for two people to sleep on, and if you are taller than the average Lao your neighbour can smell your feet. He. There are three of us, Remko bunks with Michel, I get the separate bed; apparently with a girl. At least she isn't a fat cow, but still the only way to fit without a loving embrace is on the sides, your legs bent slightly to fit.
Awesome! Never seen something like this before. I don't really care, I can sleep anywhere, but R&M swear not to take a sleeper bus ever again. At least not a shared double.
The bus arrives at the Pakse bus station around six the next morning and we switch busses. Two more hours to Four Thousand Islands. Their number varies with the season, so when we arrive four thousand is slightly optimistic. The Mekong widens at the Cambodian border, split by thousands of sandbanks and in the dry season almost all of them surface the water. With all the heavy rains going on recently and the rainy season at full strength, there are only a few of them left. Better call this place Sii Don - Four Islands - instead of four thousand. All that reminds us of the original name are the countless trees whose tops have survived the relentless rise of the Mekong. Very beautiful and tranquil.
We take a water taxi across the river, balancing with great care not to flip. Don Khong, the biggest island measures about 4 by 10 kilometres and is a real paradise for those who seek a little peace, some relaxation. There is absolutely nothing to do here. One restaurant, a few guesthouses, and that's about it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We rent a bicycle for the day, ride around, explore the rice fields, see the end of the island and wave back to friendly villagers. The kids come running to the front gates and it's just wave + "sabai-dee". I should just record this on a tape and play it every time we pass someone :) I wonder how you can live here. Only the main villages on the island have electricity, outside that and it's pitch dark after six. We see countless people sitting on the porch, their arms supporting a heavy head, staring into nothing. Contemplating life's mysteries? What can you think about when there is nothing going on? No stimulants, no conflicts, just the same thing day in, day out.
Our hotel was really really nice. The best we have had in a long-long time. Clean rooms, an unobscured view of the Mekong, air-conditioning, clean, beautifully decorated beds, hot shower, and only 40.000 kip. I share a twin with Jenise, whom we met on the bus. The same girl I met on the slow boat on my way back from the elephant ride. How small the world is. Even after this we keep bumping into people we've met a week, month before. Everybody eventually does the same route :) There is no escaping Lonely Planet's recommended travel itinerary.
The next day we decide to spice up things a bit, and head down to Don Det. The party island! Much, much smaller in size, it is filled with bungalows, hammocks, restaurants and bars. And cheap beer. What else could a budget backpacker want? By now our numbers have risen to five, next to Jenise, Jane, an English girl, has also joined us.
We should do some cultural activities first, party can come in the evening. Just south of Don Det, across the French-built bridge is Don Khon island with the massive waterfalls in the Mekong. Here is South-East Asia's biggest waterfall; in terms of volume. Millions of litres of water cascade down a series of falls to once again continue the Mekong into Cambodia and further on to the Mekong Delta, Vietnam and the South China Sea. We decide to walk. Well, I decide to walk for us. A big mistake. Stupid Lonely Planet. I should know by now not to trust it. Shown on the map as a mere 500 metres, we walk for at least two hours. And there is only one road, it's not like we can get lost or something. Of course it starts to rain along the way. One of those good nice monsoony rains that soaks you more than a plunge into the swimming pool. Within minutes the roads, the rice fields are all water. Everyone is drenched. Ms. Kitty, the umbrella, saves me again. Love U!
So, but we were walking. For hours it seemed. Finally, in the afternoon we make it to the falls. The locals believe them sacred, naming the falls 'spirit trap' for they trap bad spirits as they wash downstream. So much for swimming at the bottom. Taking a well-deserved rest we sit down at the sides, take in the calming sound of rushing water. However as the holy travel bible lied to us, there is no more time to see the rest of the island, the French concrete channels used to direct logs downstream, nor the only ever finished railway in Laos; 2km in length. We have to head back. Just for good measure it starts raining again.
Now, certain parts of Laos are famous for their 'happy pizzas'. Well 'happy' anything, but mostly pizzas. We would call them 'space pizzas', the toppings sprinkled with marijuana. Both party places, Vang Vieng and Sii Phan Don sell these; even if strictly forbidden by law. In the evening we go into a place for lunch. The menu says pizza' and at the top "any flavour happy for 20.000 kip". We are not in search of happiness but Remko does order a pizza. Our last day in Laos, we need to spend all the kip we have. You cannot get any Lao Kip outside of the country, so you cannot do anything with it outside of Laos. We need to spend it right here and now. So I order a big beef steak, drinks, Remko has a (normal) pizza for 60.000 kip and the two girls aren't ... eh what the f*** is the word (fukár) with their money either. Laos is renowned for its laid back mentality, the laissez-fair attitude. So, serving is notoriously slow.
After taking our orders, about a quarter of an hour passes with no activity at all. The drinks are served. Another ten minutes and the barmaid comes back telling me they don't have any beef. If I would like a pork steak. Sure. Another ten minutes passes. She comes back again, now telling Michel this time that there is no tofu. Ok; good. We wait about another hour. Long ago given up on any service we help ourselves to more drinks from the cooler. More time passes, this is getting ridiculous now. Outside, the day's third wave of monsoon batters the leaky roof. Cold drops fall on my head, my shoulders. Finally, more than an hour and half later we get our food. I get my pork steak. Curiously it has been chopped up into bite-size pieces, resembling a simple fried rice with pork rather than steak. My fried spring rolls that I ordered as an appetizer are still nowhere to be seen. Jane's vegetable pad-thai has chicken in it. And oh my god! The pizza! The pizza is horrible! It is worse than the cheapest, crappiest Euroshoppper pizza you can buy at home. Even worse than the one I had on Ischia, Italy. The crust is paper thin, still raw in the middle - for god's sake, how can you manage to do that? - the tomato sauce is simply ketchup, but the inedible kind and the few pieces of cheese used as topping cannot be called tasty either. We send back the vegetarian chicken. Poor Jane waits another 40 minutes for the food; even running back to the kitchen to check it's not the same dish with the meat picked out. My spring rolls? Non-existent. Finally, a good two-and-a-half hours into the meal my appetizer arrives. All right.... I can't believe we spent so much money on such a crappy food. If I would've known I would've just given my money to some random villager. Bleh.
As the day draws to an end we go to sleep. Me and Jenise share a bungalow. 2.5 by 2.5m it is a small bamboo hut. A double bed inside, a paper-thin mattress, mosquito net and a fan. The porch has two hammocks to laze away. Not too much, but nothing can beat the price: 20.000 kip. Michel, Remko and Janie share a double room with a lot more facilities, paying six times the amount. But I love this simple place, it smells of adventure, lots of adventure!
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