Bottle Beach revisited

I spent quite a while deliberating whether to go back to Bottle Beach on Koh Pha Ngan. I had stayed there for a while during my previous travels 7 years ago and had very fond memories of the beautiful crescent shaped beach which was cut off from the rest of the island by wooded limestone cliffs. Would it still be the same unspoilt paradise? Would the laid back atmosphere have changed? Would – horror of horrors – 7-eleven have appeared on the beach along with a string of western style restaurants? I had told George so much about the place that I finally decided that we should pay it another visit and if my worst nightmares came true, we would escape and pretend we hadn’t seen it!

Our ferry from Koh Tao pulled up to Koh Pha Ngan and we were met by a representative from Smile resort, who ushered us into the back of his 4x4. I remembered the resort from having dinner there many times before, so took this as a good sign and hopped in. We balanced ourselves in the back of the truck, along with all the luggage and hung on tight as we made our way across the hilly centre of the island to the northern beaches. When I had visited previously, the only access to Bottle beach was by longtail boat from the next beach along and so I was slightly alarmed to learn that there was now a road and had visions of scooter loads of tourists buzzing around the beach. When I saw the road, I realised why we were in a 4x4 – it was an incredibly steep, pot-holed dirt track, punctuated by streams and fords which we had to pass. We did see one determined man trying to make his way down on a scooter – brakes on full but still skidding at quite a speed through the gravel. I crossed my fingers that we would see him on the beach later enjoying a cold drink! (We never did, but I’m hoping it was because he gave up and turned back.)

When we finally made it to the beach, I saw the glistening turquoise water, white sand and swinging hammocks and breathed a sigh of relief – it was as lovely as I had remembered! The long curved beach had remained unspoilt and had managed to escape mass tourism development. We were shown to our bungalow in the hills overlooking the sea, which was an upgrade from the ramshackle bungalows which had stood before. To be honest, that’s one bit of development I don’t mind - outside toilets were never something I had got used to! We were advised that electricity was only available between 6pm and 10am and the showers were cold water only. We then had to shoo away a snake from the front door, which we were assured wasn’t dangerous, and I realised that Bottle beach may have smartened up, but it was still loveably rough around the edges.

We spent the next four days enjoying beach life – relaxing on the beach, swimming or snorkelling in the warm sea and spending time reclining back on axe-pillows in each of the 4 restaurants, where the staff all seemed to be having at least as much fun as the guests. The laid-back, friendly vibe seemed to be catching and everyone on the beach spent their time happily throwing Frisbees, playing volley-ball and generally having fun, it was addictive. I slipped into a routine of running along the beach every afternoon as the sun was setting, before we settled down for an evening barbeque, cold beer and competitive game of cards or backgammon (well, we tried to learn how to play backgammon, taught by a couple of French men after a few beers).

 It seems that I’m not the only one who developed a fondness for the beach – we met people who had been coming back every year, as one guy described it “We leave and then 8 months later start getting withdrawal symptoms and book another trip back”. We even heard a rumour of one man who arrived 7 years ago and still hadn’t left! I was delighted that we had come back and I can imagine the withdrawal symptoms will start setting in around September time....

Arriving in style on the back of the 4x4

Our corner of the beautiful Bottle Beach

Smile resort

George beating me at draughts... again

My evening jog

Fully relaxed and happy after a few days on the beach

Sun, Sea, Storms and SCUBA

After a final farewell to Bangkok and all that goes with it Jill and I took a night train south to the port of Chumpon where we would get a boat out to Koh Tao, an Island in the Gulf of Thailand famous for it good diving.

The train journey was a far cry from the shambolic buses we had become used to. We­ sat in our facing seats watching the last glimpses of the darkening Bangkok flash past the window. Before long all we could see in the window was our own reflection and the faint hint of lights beyond. By 9 a uniformed man came round and turned our seats into bunk-beds with the skill and speed of someone who had done the job for far too long. And so we said goodnight and went to our beds with the train snaking towards our destination with purpose.

By 4am we were roused from our beds and loaded up with our bags, we hopped out onto the track of a small station that was dotted with tourists, dizzy with sleep drinking tea, coffee and hot chocolate while they waited for the transfer to the islands, we joined them in waiting. By 6am we were on the boat and pulling out into the sea with the threat of a storm in the skies above us. The journey was choppy and within 15 minutes the first person aboard gave in to the urge to be sick. Within another 15 minutes many more had fallen victim and were huddled by the toilets like ship wreck victims around a lifeboat. They looked pale, defeated and focuses on the job in hand. For many, the 3 hour journey must have felt like a lifetime but by mid morning we were back on dry land and excited to explore a new island.

We had decided to spend the first couple of days on the island at a relaxed and low key corner of Koh Tao to swim in the sea, relax on the beach, eat good food and snorkel. Unfortunately the storm that had threatened as we left Chumpon was now in full swing and with the sea thrashing at the shore we were forced to find other things to do. One of the main reasons for heading to Koh Tao was so that I could do my PADI open water qualification, my birthday present from Jill. So we waterproofed up and headed to Sairee beach where most of the dive centres were and lined up a 3 and a half day course. And so by day 3 on Koh Tao, with the storm clouds showing signs of relenting, I began my course in the classroom learning about lungs and pressure and what not to do when under water. I was then given homework to do over dinner.

The second day was more theory and then it was into the pool to see how we coped with the new and, on the surface at least, cumbersome equipment. We went through various scenarios, what would you do if your regulator came out? You ran out of air? Your mask came off? It was great as we began to get used to the feeling of being underwater and began to understand and trust the equipment.

By the 3^rd day we were all keen to get out into the open sea and experience diving for real. We took a boat out to the other side of the island and there we did 2 dives both to 12 metres. The feeling of descending into the clear deep blue sea was like nothing I had done before, I was nervous, more because I was unsure how I would deal with the situation, would I like the feeling? Would I panic? But it was incredible, the heavy, restricting equipment suddenly felt like a Saville Row suit, and I felt weightless. After the first dive which involved us simply getting used to things we went down again. This time, after a cruise around we sunk to the ocean floor and there we were instructed to take out our regulators and throw them over our shoulders. They are attached to your tank and won’t go more than a few feet, but you are trusting yourself to do everything you had been taught, “don’t hold your breath!” After that we did buddy breathing, if you are out of air and need to share with your ‘buddy’, it was great and reassuring to be so calm under water and so confident in what we were doing after only 2 and a half days of teaching. Back at the beach we all agreed that we couldn’t wait for tomorrow where we would be doing 2 dives at Shark Island to a depth of 18 metres.

I met Jill, full of tales to tell and excitement for what was to come and we walked along the beach and ate barbequed chicken skewers with the sea breaking at our feet. I woke at 5:30am on the final day and was at the equipment hut promptly at 6. The mosquitoes were also there and we loaded our bags and the van to the sound of slaps and claps as people tried to evade and swat the determined little buggers. We were on the water as the sun won its battle with the thin morning cloud and broke through and in the water before its heat could be felt. The first dive was as amazing and beautiful as the previous day, we swam through coral reefs and startled fish, we sunk down until we were looking up at the submerged mountains. I swam on my back watching the bubbles dance through the water from the deep blue where we swam to the almost white surface. It’s a rare thing to experience so many new feelings, sensations and sights in such a short space of time, and I wanted more!

The final dive was my favourite. We were told that we would be taking off our masks, switching them with our ‘buddy’ and then switching back before having to replace the now full of water mask and emptying it, all at 16 metres. I was interested to see how I would deal with this. I hadn’t enjoyed it in the pool although I had managed it fine, but at that depth, who knows? We went down slowly to about 10 metres, swimming out away from the boat, through the coral mountains and into the dark beyond. We went down further, and settled on the ocean floor. It was the turn of the first pair to switch mask before us and so we knelt in the sand, being pushed back and forth by the water. As the switch was taking place a school of long silver fish approached us, looking with interest at these unusual creatures. They began to slowly circle us, starting at my kneeling shoulder they circled to 2 metres above us, 4 fish deep and 20 high surrounded all 5 of us. I put out a hand and watched them swim around it like the Vietnamese scooters of Hanoi had done as we crossed the road all those weeks ago. It was a moment that I will remember for a long time, my first really jaw dropping moment while diving. We saw sting rays and parrot fish, trigger fish and butterfly fish and then, all too soon, it was over.

After the dive we had the formality of the exam and I was done. We celebrated with a couple of Singha, Jill relaxed and stretched after a 2 hour yoga session, and had meal on the beach. We saw Chinese lanterns being sent out to sea with a cheer, it was a great way to finish our time in Koh Tao. In the morning we had our bags packed for Koh Pha Ngan.

Arriving on Koh Tao to stormy skies

Learning the basics in the pool

Still in the pool!

Still very early morning but 2 dives already done!

Jill finding time in her busy scheduel to relax

Leaving Koh Tao . . .

NY in Chiang Mai

George and I arrived back to the hustle and bustle of Bangkok after our relaxing few days on the beach and settled into our hotel in the heart of Chinatown. We spent a couple of days getting to know the city a little better and ventured out of the backpacker haven of Khao San Road, with its endless rows of bars, western restaurants, market stalls and hawkers. Feeling less like tourists, we sampled the local transport systems; the sky train which provides a fantastic aerial view of the city and the MRT subway, and were so impressed. They not only ran on time, but were welcomingly air-conditioned and wonderfully clean, a far cry from the tube! We took in some cultural sites including Jim Thompson’s famous house, which is a beautiful example of a traditional Thai teak house, but with western influences brought over from America, and the magnificent Grand Palace in all its finery. 

Bangkok seems to be a city of extremes and I finally succumbed to travel fatigue by our 3^rd evening there. I think it was the culmination of lots of dirty old men with young Thai ladies, the bars on the Khao San Road which display signs like “very strong cocktails. We never check ID” and my personal favourite, the sign at our hotel informing us that it would cost us an extra 100 Baht to take a Thai lady back to our room. I was very happy to board our night bus heading north to Chiang Mai and relax back in my sleeping bag to watch a couple of films as we escaped from the madness.

Chiang Mai was like a breath of fresh air, a lovely old city surrounded by a moat with a Wat on every street. In our quest to photograph as many of the picturesque buildings as we could, we stumbled on what I can only describe as the Buddhist equivalent of a church fete. We got into the spirit of it, sampling the fresh waffles, browsing the stalls and enjoying the Buddhist monk band play a couple of sets.

It was in Chiang Mai that we celebrated New Year in true Thai style. We had been invited to a pool party by the owners of our guest house. We were slightly concerned that it would be a raucous event, especially as our hut directly overlooked the swimming pool, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. We joined the staff and their friends and family (including a few children in their best party wear) for drinks and nibbles around the balloon-filled pool whilst covers of White Christmas and Santa Claus is Coming to Town were played on the guitar. We stayed for a polite amount of time before excusing ourselves and heading off to the main city gate where celebrations were taking place.  A stage had been set up where various acts were taking place including traditional Thai dancing and performances from a couple of boy bands. We joined in with the locals lighting Chinese lanterns and sending them off into the sky with our wishes for the new year. Before long the sky was full of orange glowing dots, which were only interrupted by the fireworks set off at midnight as everyone cheered.

2011 began for both of us with pure indulgence – George with a freshly cooked waffle and me with a 90 minute herbal thai massage complete with foot scrub the next morning. It was bliss and I floated my way through the rest of New Years’ day!

I took another cooking course whilst in Chiang Mai and learnt how to make a few of my favourite Thai dishes – Pad Thai, Tom Yum soup and of course a traditional Thai curry. I’m sure I’ll be trying out these dishes on some of you when we get back – it will be a south-east Asian feast with our Laos cuisine expertise already established!

With the new year, I was determined to have a new positive attitude towards Bangkok, so when we arrived back in the capital I decided to join the scores of locals in a sunset run around Lumphini Park in the centre of the city. It was just what I needed and I felt alarmingly pleased with myself when I overtook a group of men. Admittedly they were power walking and most of them were over the age of 60, but still, it was a victory!

Our final port of call before heading south to the islands, was the old capital city of Ayutthaya. We took a local train for the vast sum of 15 Baht (30p) for the 2 hour journey out of Bangkok. The journey was reminiscent of our train journeys in Sri Lanka, with food sellers parading up and down the aisles whilst ceiling fans pushed warm air around the carriages and countryside whizzed past the open windows. We decided to explore the area on bikes and spent the day admiring the many ancient palaces and Wats which were dotted around the world heritage town. They reminded me of the temples of Angkor, but on a much smaller scale. We could tell that we had drifted off the main tourist route when at one of the Wats, a Thai lady came over to ask if her elderly mother could have her photo taken with me. I was slightly bemused and even more so when she thrust her baby son at me to hold for another classic photo – definitely one for the family album.

Jim Thompson's house

A familiar site in Chiang Mai

The very rock & roll pool party

NYE lanterns

Ayutthaya

George soaking up the culture in Ayutthaya

One for the family album

Walking in a winter Won-Thailand!

And  so, after 74 days, 36 hotels and guesthouses, 2 boat cabins and 2 night trains, we took two night buses, taking our tally to 5, from Luang Prabang, south via Vientiane and on, across our 3^rd land border and into our 5^th country, Thailand.

With Christmas fast approaching Jill and I needed to get some miles under our belts in order to get to Koh Chang, an island south west of Bangkok, before the fat man headed for our chimney. The first night bus was as winding and bumpy as we expected and we arrived in Vientiane for a short bit of rest before the border crossing into Thailand. Border crossings are always little events in themselves, and this one was no different. After arriving at the bus station and seeing our bus pull up, we were refused entry until all of the locals had made themselves comfortable on board. When we were finally allowed on, with no more seats available, it was standing room only and so we left Laos standing in the aisle of a public bus. We were assured that once across the border we would change bus and all would be fine. There was a familiar chaos that we have begun to recognize and so we were not too stressed by the unfolding events, the same could not be said for the two English lads we were sharing the aisle with who spent the journey dreaming up various worst case scenarios and then convincing themselves that this was the only possible outcome.

The crossing consisted of leaping off the bus which then vanished with all we owned on board, having a man in uniform look with a similar disgust at our passports that you would expect to see from a man inspecting his shoe after skidding in something on a London towpath. He then branded his little stamp with a flourish of bangs and crashes thrust it back at us with a grunt and the universal gesture for ‘I have seen enough, now get out of my sight!’ But we were soon over the border and as promised on a bus with our very own seat. And so with the formality out of the way we pulled off into the warm clear night with Angelina Jolie dubbed into Thai on the TV.

We arrived in Bangkok with the dark of night still present and just a hint of dawn, after a short haggle with various taxi drivers we were off into the Bangkok streets with billboards and 7 elevens flashing past, huge buildings with big brand logos glowing from them. We were in a new place and it felt very different to the previous cities of our trip. As the sun rose above the streets we could see the wealth and impact of ‘the west’. We spent that first day finding our feet in the city, walking the streets and getting our bearings. It’s a city that, like all cities, has many faces and we are only able to see a small number of them on our short stay here. We saw Wats and monks, cross dressers and revellers, homeless and rich, and this was all in the space of a few blocks. And of course we saw the many images of the King, on every street is a photo of the King, and with every Thai flag is a yellow royal flag to stand beside it. They love the king like the Vietnamese love Uncle Ho, the Cambodians love Angkor, the Sri Lankans love cricket and the people of Laos love sleeping in the back of tuk tuks.

After a short introduction to Bangkok we were on a bus for Koh Chang, and a ferry and tuk tuk ride brought us to our Christmas retreat. We were staying at the furthest southerly point on the west side of the island, away from the busier resorts and beaches and with only turquoise sea, white sand, a handful of beach bars and restaurants to occupy us we were forced to sit back and relax. We spent the days leading up to Christmas doing very little and it was great.

Our Christmas day was really relaxing. We exchanged presents, bought in Luang Prabang on a 50,000 kip (£4.50) budget, swam in the sea, read our books, had lunch on the beach with sand between our toes and the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore. We Skyped parents while sipping cold Singha beers and heard the stories of snow in the streets and a beautiful white Christmas morning. Then we headed for Buddha View where we enjoyed our Christmas meal overlooking the ocean. In fact the restaurant sat over the ocean, with glass tables and holes in the floor that you dangled your feet through over the water below. The food and wine were great and although it wasn’t turkey, it did the job just fine. It was an unusual Christmas but an amazing one.

 The next couple of days on Koh Chang were similar to the first, swimming, eating, sunbathing and eating some more. But after 5 days and far too soon it was time to bid farewell to the corner of Koh Chang we had grown to know well and head back to Bangkok.

They do love the King!

Happy Christmas from Koh Chang!

Opening my stocking

Jill and I enjoying Christmas day on the beach

Skypeing the parents with a cold beer close to hand

Jill having another tough day!

A night with the hill tribes

Our 2-day trek up into the northern Laos hills, to visit the Hmong and Khmu tribes will, I’m sure, remain a highlight of our trip.

Our 2 day trek began with a 2 hour journey in the back of a truck, which took us out of the town, away from the tourists and deep into the Laos countryside. We had booked the trek through an independent company who assured us that they were the only ones doing this new route, meaning that the villages we planned to visit would have only recently started seeing small groups of tourists once every couple of weeks and would thankfully not be suffering from ‘tourist fatigue’. We met our 3 fellow trekkers and 2 guides who would be leading us for the next two days and decided that it would be a fun couple of days.

 We arrived at a small village, covered in orange dust which had covered every surface as we bounced along the dirt tracks. We loaded up our backpacks with water and provisions before setting off. We were rowed across a small, but fast flowing river to take us into the jungle and then began the 5 hour trek. It had been raining a fair bit, so it was quite muddy underfoot and we squelched around quite a lot along the narrow tracks and scrambled up through the rocks and over tree roots. The scenery was unbelievable, when we either stopped for a quick break or remembered to actually look up as we navigated the paths, we were met with the most incredible views of lush green hills, streams running below and trees and flowers in all directions. There was the occasional cow or pig wandering along the paths, which sauntered off when we approached them. I even managed to pass the huge spiders webs without too much freaking out (when in the jungle...) We stopped for lunch in a clearing and the guides whipped out a selection of chicken curry, veg stir fry and rice which was amazingly still warm.

At around 4.30, after the threat of rain and some hastily put together makeshift bridges over the swollen streams, we arrived, muddy and heavy-limbed, at the village which would be our home for the night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget our arrival, we heard the children playing before we could see them. As we got to the top of the hill we had a view down into the village and could see a group of children playing football outside the bamboo hut which served as the school. The football was flat, most of the kids didn’t have shoes – a couple were playing in gum boots – but they seemed to be having a great time! We walked into the village, which housed 47 families of the Khmu tribe, past the wooden huts on stilts with dogs and pigs running around underneath, past the communal water tap which served as the shower, laundry and cooking water, past the cows and buffalo which roamed around and up towards the chief’s house where we would be sleeping. We heard some barely stifled whispers and giggles behind us and turned around to see a group of children following us with fascination! We felt a little like the pied piper with the procession growing as we passed by other houses and more children joined in. We had the wonderful opportunity to spend the evening wandering round the village and getting to know the locals. The children loved having their photos taken and shrieked with delight when they saw themselves on the screens. Even their parents found it hilarious to see the photos and couldn’t help themselves joining in with the children’s posing. Some of the children showed George and I a game with sticks and stones (similar to jacks) we tried our hand at it and they were all highly amused when we failed miserably!

Once back in the chief’s hut, we were served up an absolute feast which had been prepared for us. We ate it by candle light (only one hut had electricity – a recent development which was still the height of excitement), watched over by the core group of children who had been following us the whole time.  After dinner, we decided to crack out the playing cards – a very popular decision! After the children had gathered up all the cards we discarded, studied them closely and then tried out their own games, I decided to show them how to make a house of cards. What then followed was an hour of intense concentration from the kids as they tried to construct card houses – it was amazing to watch their faces light up with delight as they completed a house or screw up in despair when the cards fell down. At one point the chief’s wife joined in with the efforts! I think the kids would have stayed all night if they could, but eventually they were ushered out so that we could sleep.

After a very cold night sleeping on the floor, we were woken by the cockerels  at dawn to begin our second day of trekking. We bid a fond farewell to the chief and the rest of the villagers and were followed down to the bridge by the children who stood and waved until we were out of sight. I was so sad to leave and wanted to scoop them all up and take them back with me! We hiked to another couple of villages, where we were welcomed with the same interest and excitement by children and adults alike. We were able to visit a local village school, housed in a large bamboo hut on the outskirts of one of the Hmong tribe villages. It was wonderful to see the classes in progress, although I’m sure we disrupted the calm slightly as the children were keen to see the visitors. George and I were able to hand out the exercise books and crayons which we had brought along and hope they will find good homes.

Our walk back was very different in terrain to the previous day, but no less stunning, with beautiful green hills rising up either side of the undulating track we followed. After 5 hours of trekking, we made it back to the truck, tired, dirty, desperate for a hot shower, but with some memories which will stay with us forever.

A few of the many people we met

About to set off - note the small backpack!



Our village home for the night



Just one of the amazing views

Encountering some of the locals

Relaxing Luang Prabang

Our ‘VIP minibus’ from Vang Vieng was once again, unsurprisingly, an old Toyota which was so small that George didn’t actually fit in the seats! We shared the bus with a group of Korean tourists, who were less than half the size of George and so he was resigned to sitting on a fold out seat for the 6 hour bumpy journey up through the hills (we had been warned to take motion sickness precautions for good reason!) It was an unforgettable journey though as the road wound up through some of the most stunning scenery we had experienced. We had thought that the previous journey up to Vang Vieng had been picturesque, but this eclipsed even that. Limestone hills rose up through the mist in every direction, with views of the beautiful valleys from the peaks, which rose out of the clouds. We travelled through small hill-tribe villages where local village life was in full swing; kids in full tribal colours playing ball whilst their parents were weaving and cooking outside their wooden huts and animals playing at the side of the road.

We arrived in the beautiful UNESCO world heritage town of Luang Prabang and instantly knew that we would like it. The town had a real French feel with old colonial style wooden villas, with coloured shutters overlooking the 2 rivers which ran alongside the town. There are rumoured to be around 80 Wats in the area, so consequently monks in vivid orange robes could be seen in almost every direction. The old town was full of lovely little cafes and restaurants which we became well accustomed with over the few days we stayed. Relaxing seemed to be the main pastime and it was the perfect place to stop and catch our breath for a few days.  We booked a 2 day trek up into the hill tribes (which deserves a blog entry of its own, so more about that later) and then spent the majority of our time wandering round the peaceful town, enjoying the scenery and browsing the very tempting nightly markets.

We found a lovely little independent second hand bookshop, L’Etranger, housed in a traditional wooden villa. In the evening, they turned the upstairs into a little cinema and George and I enjoyed sipping ginger tea whilst we relaxed back on cushions and watched the DVD in the corner of the room! The walls were covered in bookshelves full of old issues of National Geographic dating back to the 1960’s, so we ended up spending quite a lot of time relaxing there (and enjoying the homemade peanut butter on toast).

For a contrast to wandering round the old town and photographing the many ornate and beautiful Wats, we decided to take a cooking course to learn how to make some of the traditional Laos meals we had been enjoying. The course began with a trip to the local market, where our teacher showed us the staple ingredients. It was slightly alarming to learn that the washing up bowl full of pungent brownish fermenting liquid with fish heads sticking contained the fish sauce which is used in pretty much every dish in Laos! I tried to remove the mental picture from my mind and concentrated on the various rice and fruit on display. Once back in town, our teachers demonstrated a number of dishes and George and I tried our hand at 5 of them. It was really fun and I’m sure we’ll be trying out the chicken laap, Luang Prabang salad and pork with eggplant when we get back – be warned!

On our last day in Luang Prabang after the trek, I unfortunately suffered from heatstroke and was quite unwell. We had to check out of our hotel and thought we could probably kill time at the nearby Arthouse cafe which we had been going to for breakfast. I was really struggling and thought I might keel over so George went to ask if there was anywhere I could lie down. The owner, a lovely American woman, didn’t just help, she immediately showed me upstairs to her own bedroom where she made up the bed with blankets and let me sleep there all afternoon even bringing me lemon and water to rehydrate! I wanted to hug her! I don’t know what I would have done without her kindness – needless to say, we tipped her generously and she agreed to treat herself to dinner on us.

One of the many beautiful wats

Young monks hitting the town

George catching up on some National Geographic articles

Me looking ridiculous in some tribal head wear 

Some Laos specialities we rustled up

Kids playing on the river

Up cliffs and down river in Vang Vieng

After 2 days in Vientiane Jill and I went north to the small town of Vang Vieng. Our bus wound its way up into the hills that jutted up from the flat plains around Vientiane. It was a bright, hazy morning and the layers of hills, one rising up behind the other, each one higher and more spectacular than the last, faded away into the pale blue sky. We weaved through villages where children in their full tribal dress played in the streets and puppies harassed unimpressed pigs with playful leaps and yaps.

We had heard many stories about Vang Vieng from friends and fellow travellers in the past few months, but all of the tales ended with “You have to go just to experience it”. We were both a little unsure what we would make of it and the thought of a town full of gap year backpackers drinking their body weight in Beerlao before jumping head first into the river didn’t sound that appealing.

What we found when we pulled into the bus station was a town spanning the Nam Som river surrounded by an unbelievably beautiful landscape with giant limestone karsts to the west, and as we watched the sun set upon them with a cold beer in a relaxed riverside bar we realised that it would be a town of huge contrasts. For all the people who went there to get drunk, pull a random stranger and be sick on themselves, (all while wearing a hat, vest and shorts with ‘In the Tubeing Vang Vieng’) there were people who wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to go kayaking, caving, climbing, trekking, cycling and of course tubeing, that was on offer. We fell into the latter group.

After an early morning breakfast overlooking the river we grabbed a ‘tube’ (tractor tyre innertube), each and jumped in a tuk tuk which took us 4km north of town to the start of the tubeing section of the river. We arrived at 11:30am and were handed a shot of Lao Lao, Jill managed to avoid this but I knocked it back.

For those of you who don’t know, tubeing began life as a relaxing and fun way of drifting down the river surrounded by nature, taking in the the quiet calm of the Laos countryside, then someone thought that they would put a bar at the start. What evolved was a pub crawl on water.You have a drink at one bar, swinging into the river from rope swings or using the waterslides, and then when you are bored of that bar you simple grab your tube and float on down to the next one, they throw out a rope and you pull yourself in. The bars take up about half a kilometre before you can calmly drift the remaining 3.5km to the town.

We made the most of the first few bars, swinging into the river and choosing to watch the unfolding chaos as  the group that we had met along the way get increasingly drunker rather than be directly involved in it. Not put off by the Halong Bay Back-flop I was keen to be flung into the water from various heights. I really enjoyed the experience and to end it with a relaxed float to the finish was an incredible way to see the area.

The following day we thought we would try our hand at a bit of rock climbing. We took a Sawngthaew out of town to a narrow bamboo bridge that crossed the river. We then trekked through an orchard with piglets charging about, a small village with people busy harvesting the fields, and then out onto a jungle path with huge spiders webs on either side. We emerged at a clearing where two limestone karsts sat alongside each other with a 3 metre gap down the middle and vertical faces rising 35 metres above either side. This would be our home for the day.

Our instructor, Li, told us about the various holds and grips, and the basics to climbing before we set off on the first of 6 climbs which got progressively more difficult as the day went on. It was a great day that pushed our muscles in ways we hadn’t before and tested the nerve at the top of the 25 metre climbs. By the 6^th climb, the most difficult, our arms and fingers had nothing more to give and we left feeling spent. That evening we tucked into a well earned plate of Laap and reflected on a fun couple of days in Vang Vieng. The following day we would be off, north again, to Luang Prabang...

Lesson not learnt from the Halong Bay back-flop!

Jill enjoying the crisp clear water...

You can just spot Jill reaching the summit

Sun setting over the Nam Som after our day climbing

The beautiful scenery surrounding Vang Vieng