For about two weeks now I have had to put up with stomach aches. It might be the malaria pills I started taking just before I entered Laos. I don't know. Every morning as I wake up my tummy starts acting up, sharp pains tormenting me for a few minutes. Then they stop, only to reappear ten-fifteen minutes later. I quickly go to the bathroom do a #2 once or twice and after that I'm fine for the rest of the day. Well, mostly. After every snack, lunch, afternoonie I do feel it again. Today, for the first time in these fifteen days I am totally fine. Just the gasses do really smell. That's not my problem though. Can't be any happier. Let's hope my good fortune keeps up.

Although when my forehead felt hot yesterday, had to fight off headaches and that strange unearthly feeling touching your skin; you know you have a slight temperature raise. But that too seems to have disappeared by now. I did take two paracetamol to be on the safe side. Your mind does start to play games. Do I have malaria, dengue? Or some other weird Asian sickness? You are a bit scared. The malarone I take punctually at every breakfast is still good without any of the weird side-effects mentioned on the box. My dreams are more vivid though, and I have them every night. Sometimes so real that during the day I have to ask others if what I dreamt was real or not. Don't really mind it though. I like dreaming. As long as they aren't nightmares I'm good.

As I start feeling better, my two buddies are going the opposite way. Both have the runs (schijterij, beszarnak), visiting the white throne multiple times a day. I joke with Michel that he has an radius of 50 metres. A toilet has to be nearby the whole time. So we are doing quite well.

What I find really annoying is that our hotel here in Vang Vieng doesn't have a mirror in the bathroom. I cannot shave like this. I have to do it quickly though because soon my facial hair will grow so long that I cannot shave anymore. I will have to grow a beard and I am not looking forward to that. I think tomorrow is my last chance. After that only a barber willing to do trimming can save me.

Vang Vieng. What can I say about this one-street hedonistic hellhole? I think the question quite well sums up my thoughts about this place. VV is like the Ibiza, the Chersonissos of Laos. Drunk teenage girls run around town in bikinis; "virgin", "f*** me" written on their back, boys in trunks, smelling of beer party all day. After getting sufficiently drunk they hop into any of the dozen bars in town, eat happy pizza and watch television like zombies. Endless reruns of Friends, Family Guy, some people are there the whole day, unmoving, high on drugs, God knows where with their minds.

There are more foreigners here than Lao, and I can only feel sorry for the people who live here. Number one rule in Laos is to always cover your body and show respect for others around you. I think these - mainly British, again - tourists completely missed this fact, s*** on the whole thing, s*** on culture, their customs and just do whatever they want. And the people are just too polite to say anything. I can't imagine what they're thinking though. This place feels nothing like I imagined. Even tubing doesn't really attract me. And not because I have a slight headache, and feel weak. But somehow, being here, I just can't see the fun anymore in sitting in a tractor-tube, floating down the river from bar to bar and getting horribly drunk along the way. Can't do this. The idiots don't seem to care though. I can still see them in the water, in the pitch dark, floating down, giggling, drunk. I wonder when the next one will drown. The last one was a week ago. Just across from us is party island. Dance and party music blasts from the speakers until after two in the morning. There is nobody there, the place is completely deserted. I think the people are too drunk to go anywhere and either fall into bed like zombies, or just kill their brain watching Friends. Disgusting really.

There is another side to Vang Vieng though. Forget the drinking, the partying, the annoying adolescents and you are left with a small town surrounded by stunning nature. Even more breathtaking than Luang Prabang, the karst cliffs rise from the ground as giant pillars, their tops shrouded in clouds at times. Dozens of caves, some filled with water, others with Buddha statues invite the traveller to explore them. I think I've had enough biking though, and caves are usually dime-a-dozen, but I do want to try rock-climbing. I signed up for a full day yesterday - Wednesday, July 28th - with Remko joining me for the morning session.

There are five of us in the group, an English man of about fifty and an Italian couple. I promptly show off my Italian skills. I just love Italians, always so enthusiastic, so animated! We exchange experiences, and I get a ton of tips where to go, what to visit in Cambodia and Vietnam. I love to "speak" Italian and even guess correctly what they talk about. Anyways, the climb. There are five of us and two guides. We hike for roughly twenty minutes to the base of the cliffs. A short safety talk, climbing techniques and the fun can start.

First, our guide climbs up doing a "lead rope". E.g., he is not secured. As he climbs, he attaches his rope to bolts secured in the cliffs every few metres. But if he falls, it'll be at least four metres. Really amazing as he climbs up to the top like a monkey and then abseils down. He does so with such ease that it seems too easy. Now that the rope is secured at the top, we can climb ("top rope"). Obviously nobody wants to go first and I volunteer. I do make it up pretty easily, it's just looking for the right "pocket" - hole in the rock which you can grab with your hands - that makes it hard. So much more fun than doing this inside. No fixed pockets, no colours, nobody around, just me and the most stunning view. A slight breeze, total silence and once on top you see over the valley, the rice fields, the cows, the cliffs on the opposite side, the mountains in the distance. I really like rock climbing, outside. The tips given by the guide really help. I remember climbing inside back in April and it was sooo tiring. But all you have to do is find a pocket and stretch your arms, letting the shoulders hold your weight until your feet find a secure holding. 30% hands, 70% legs. Somebody should've told me this earlier. After I get down the others have a go. Remko is the best. Halfway up he is careless, doesn't look around and hits his head on an overhang. Which of course starts to bleed heavily and as he comes down we see the "war hero". Blood has covered the whole right side of his face; but he's just smiling. I love that guy. I wonder if he can ever stop smiling. We do two more climbs before it's time for lunch. We are served a delicious barbecued assortment of chicken, pineapple, tomatoes and paprika.

The morning had some easy routes. 5A and 5A+. In the afternoon we do two more climbs, one a 6, the other 6A+. The numbers don't tell me anything, but the climb does. This is now an almost vertical cliff with pockets only visible once you are close. One of the guides leaves with the morning people and it's just me and the Italians now. Lee - the guide - asks me to secure him as he climbs lead rope to the top. I do so gladly, but really wonder if he'll survive, or how badly he'll get hurt if he loses his grip. I know I can hold him, but such a drop can never be good. I am relieved each time he makes it to the top and nothing happens. From these two climbs I am the only one to make it to the top. Does make you feel good to reach your target. But this is about it. I feel getting tired. Not my arms, but my whole body is protesting. Feeling nauseated, like having a hangover but without the headaches. Don't know what it is. I might just be too weak.

Lee, the sadistic b******, sets out the final climb of the day. A bit to the right, another 6A climb, the final ten metres 6B+. Thirty metres in total, he seems impossibly high at the top. The view must be magnificent. The Italians are dead already, give up at a quarter of the way. I strap the camera to my side and start the climb. The first twenty metres - the 6A part - is really easy and I make it without too much effort. From there though... horrible. One of the rocks is wet and slippery and I lose my grip and fall three times. But I won't give up. I cannot give up. That is not me. Finally I conquer the wet b****** and with sheer power of will finally get to the top. Exhausted. Totally. As I get down, I drop dead in the corner and I feel like a sponge being squeezed. From every part of my body sweatdrops appear. I am soo, soo dead. I might really be a bit sick, maybe influenza. Which could've been my luck though as I remember I always played my best ice hockey matches when I was sick. The fifteen minutes down to the rice-fields and the tuk-tuk back home are gruelling. With each step I almost slip and just feel the fatigue weighing on me with a million tons. But it was worth it. I conquered them all! I did take the paracetamol in the evening. The next morning my muscles ache of course, but at places I do not expect. My neck. My elbow. The centre part of my shoulders. Good pain :)

As I sit here today on the porch of our guesthouse's veranda writing this entry, resting finally I cannot but wonder at Lao culture. How relaxed they are. I know I've written about this before - multiple times even - but I am still amazed. The owner has a porch in front of the guesthouse which she wants set in stone. The first evening a mason has already laid down about ten, twelve pieces. The next time we see him, there are only two pieces left, all others are removed. Today, on Thursday, I've had the opportunity to observe him for most of the day. He is soooo unbelievable slow. Setting down tiles piece by piece, the makes the foundation for a single piece only. Just today he picked up all of the stones at least twice. By the evening he's up to sixteen of them on the floor, but that number might decrease by morning. As he's working, there are five people surrounding him, watching as he works. The owner is constantly there, telling him to fix this one or that one. Trying to maintain a straight line following a rope acting as a guide, using a small hammer to perfectly position each and every stone set. And then picking them up again, even ones from yesterday.

It starts raining multiple times today, even the power goes out once or twice in the thunderstorm and the rain floods the newly set terrace. That's not going to be good I'm telling you. And nobody seems to care that it takes five days - judging from his current speed - to do ten square metres. Nobody cares. The guy might be a perfectionist. Just might; but I've seen his work, and well... I've done much, much better. Everybody is so slow. At the restaurant the other day it took the owner at least a quarter of an hour to make the bill. And we watched him do it. All he had to do is write down three meals, three drinks and add them up. Can't believe this. I would go mad if this weren't my holiday. I know. My parents would say I would make a very good Lao as I am just this slow, just this leisurely in doing stuff, but this is too much. Even for me.

We decided to skip the tubing. Michel and Remko are still sick, I am still a bit weak, and not in a mood to go drinking and tubing alone. Maybe some other time, although I doubt we'll ever come back to this place. Tomorrow morning we are leaving for Vientiane, spend the night there, then right down to Sii Phan Don - Four Thousand Islands - and then over to Cambodia; leaving Laos.

The delicious Fütyülős I brought with me in my flask to clean my intestines from any infections has by now been replaced by Lao Lao, the local rice whiskey. Not that I've had to "heal" myself so many times, but the drink was too good to not have a few sips every once in a while. 100ml doesn't last for too long. Now it's time for something stronger: 40% Lao Lao should be a better medicine; and I want the best care I can get, right? :)