Friday, March 11, 2005
lay, lady laos
Now then, my turn at the wheel following successive words from Ms Love. Well done to her though for following my instructions and not harping on too much about Asia and instead concentrating on our momentous victory (well, as good as..) against Man Utd. Just as this time last year you really started to believe we might make the play-offs, a second season of top flight football now doesn't look too outlandish. Famous last words...
Post football we managed to clock up another 4 nights in the wonderful Luang Prabang. The total of 8 nights meaning a new world record in one place since this whole malarky started last August (previous record for those that care was 6 nights in about 4 different places... answers on a postcard..).
Miraculously we found that complete rarity in Asia, a good local map, meaning we could dispense with guides and organised tours and strike it out alone on several day trips. Time to put to the test my theory that I always know better than the locals...
Hiring mountain bikes (with gears, another Asian rarity) we set out to explore the local lanes. 10 metres down the first dirt track, Courtney decided to invent some ridiculous childhood phobia of cycling on unmade roads (I ask you...) and decided to head back to the town, leaving me to explore solo for the afternoon. (Actually, I just didn't want to have to bike uphill.)
Bikes were now off the agenda so the next day we set out on foot to a waterfall on the oppposite side of the Mekong. Firmly off the tourist trail, we were to find out why after walking for 16km in the midday sun - the waterfall was totally dry and probably doesn't see moisture even in the rainy season. Next step in my masterplan for the day was to negotiate a boat ride at the small village and avoid walking back the 16km we had just come. Unfortunately this village proved to be the exception to the rule that is you are always a few feet away from a boat ride in Laos. No boat and then no passing trucks or tractors for almost the entire walk back. Having only planned to walk half the way we also had no water nor food. Salvation came in first a small shack selling soft drinks (we bought almost the entire stock) and then a tractor taxi for the final 3km. Going off the beaten track comes at a price.
Some truly great food (Cafe Pakone and L'Elephant) later, we were on the road and heading for the backpacker capital of Laos - Vang Viang.
The 'thing to do' in Vang Viang (there is always one particular thing that everyone has to do in every backpacker town) is, quite bizarrely, float down the river in an inner tube for the afternoon. Not wishing to buck the trend we hired requisite inner tubes and set out (when I'm back in the UK and can't get a job, no doubt I'll remind myself that I thought floating down the river in an inner tube, at the age of 32, a constructive way to spend a Wednesday afternoon in March). Low water levels meant our attempt at the Nigel Moore Allcomers record for speed down the river was thwarted before it had even begun. We took 3 hours to drift down the river, passing by enterprising locals every 20 metres trying to sell us beer, sandwiches and marajuana or the right to jump off their rickety bamboo ladders into the water.
Aside from the beautiful scenery, Vang Viang isn't much of a place. Just a bunch of nondescript backpacker restaurants full of Westerners watching episodes of Friends at full volume with their American breakfasts. Luckily we found a knockout hotel which no doubt I'd be describing as an ugly monstrosity blighting the landscape, if we didn't have a great top floor room and balcony. Other activities have included going in a cave and jumping off a rope into a lagoon - but I've already written a small essay and so the story of those will have to wait.
Which just leaves the slightly worrying news about Manchester City and their search for a new manager. Everyone knows that a certain young manager's family all still live up the road in Oldham. Fingers crossed that Stuart Pearce (or anyone for that matter) gets the job...
Post football we managed to clock up another 4 nights in the wonderful Luang Prabang. The total of 8 nights meaning a new world record in one place since this whole malarky started last August (previous record for those that care was 6 nights in about 4 different places... answers on a postcard..).
Miraculously we found that complete rarity in Asia, a good local map, meaning we could dispense with guides and organised tours and strike it out alone on several day trips. Time to put to the test my theory that I always know better than the locals...
Hiring mountain bikes (with gears, another Asian rarity) we set out to explore the local lanes. 10 metres down the first dirt track, Courtney decided to invent some ridiculous childhood phobia of cycling on unmade roads (I ask you...) and decided to head back to the town, leaving me to explore solo for the afternoon. (Actually, I just didn't want to have to bike uphill.)
Bikes were now off the agenda so the next day we set out on foot to a waterfall on the oppposite side of the Mekong. Firmly off the tourist trail, we were to find out why after walking for 16km in the midday sun - the waterfall was totally dry and probably doesn't see moisture even in the rainy season. Next step in my masterplan for the day was to negotiate a boat ride at the small village and avoid walking back the 16km we had just come. Unfortunately this village proved to be the exception to the rule that is you are always a few feet away from a boat ride in Laos. No boat and then no passing trucks or tractors for almost the entire walk back. Having only planned to walk half the way we also had no water nor food. Salvation came in first a small shack selling soft drinks (we bought almost the entire stock) and then a tractor taxi for the final 3km. Going off the beaten track comes at a price.
Some truly great food (Cafe Pakone and L'Elephant) later, we were on the road and heading for the backpacker capital of Laos - Vang Viang.
The 'thing to do' in Vang Viang (there is always one particular thing that everyone has to do in every backpacker town) is, quite bizarrely, float down the river in an inner tube for the afternoon. Not wishing to buck the trend we hired requisite inner tubes and set out (when I'm back in the UK and can't get a job, no doubt I'll remind myself that I thought floating down the river in an inner tube, at the age of 32, a constructive way to spend a Wednesday afternoon in March). Low water levels meant our attempt at the Nigel Moore Allcomers record for speed down the river was thwarted before it had even begun. We took 3 hours to drift down the river, passing by enterprising locals every 20 metres trying to sell us beer, sandwiches and marajuana or the right to jump off their rickety bamboo ladders into the water.
Aside from the beautiful scenery, Vang Viang isn't much of a place. Just a bunch of nondescript backpacker restaurants full of Westerners watching episodes of Friends at full volume with their American breakfasts. Luckily we found a knockout hotel which no doubt I'd be describing as an ugly monstrosity blighting the landscape, if we didn't have a great top floor room and balcony. Other activities have included going in a cave and jumping off a rope into a lagoon - but I've already written a small essay and so the story of those will have to wait.
Which just leaves the slightly worrying news about Manchester City and their search for a new manager. Everyone knows that a certain young manager's family all still live up the road in Oldham. Fingers crossed that Stuart Pearce (or anyone for that matter) gets the job...
// posted by courtney and pete @ 20:14 
