A Fond Farewell

It was my final day on the island and I was pretty much at the middle of my trip overall. This was depressing in itself, everything from here almost felt like the beginnings of going home. I kept reprimanding myself internally for this continual display of negative thinking. There was so much more to come, so many more things to see and I would just tarnish that enjoyment if I carried on like this. I must snap out of it. Unfortunately an error on my part only made it worse.

I had planned to get the night boat over to Suratthanni arriving at 5.30am and then get a taxi to the train station to get an 8am train down to Sungai Kolok on the east coast of Thailand and get across the border into Malaysia. The Thais and the Malaysians had been fighting a lot of late and my 2007 version of the Lonely Planet advised me that due to the ‘civil unrest’ it would be very unwise to cross the border here. My thinking was that surely since 2007 people would have calmed down a bit and it would be fine. But when I asked at a travel agency they advised me to use the West coast entry point instead although she couldn’t really tell me why I couldn’t go the other way. I wasn’t put off though. I had a train timetable which said I could get a train and get a train I would. However – Thai train timetables are notoriously difficult to read……and I read it wrong. So I had no idea if I would find a train south and/or make my connection in Malaysia.

But I had booked the night boat for a 9pm departure so I’d have to figure everything else out from there. So instead of beating myself up about it all day and miss out on my remaining hours on this beautiful isle I decided to enjoy it. I spent the morning on the beach with Maira, did some last minute shopping and waved her off to her ay boat back to Chumpon. I then went for a massage which was as blissful as ever, ate some good food, read my book and finally started to make my way towards the port.

My final view of Koh Tao

It was strange balancing on the edge of the pick-up truck taxi on my own with no Buddies, dive related or otherwise, anywhere to be seen. The next 2 days of pure moving seemed like a very lonely prospect indeed as the taxi ploughed on into the darkness with this lone passenger perched in its boot.

Under the Sea

Maira (kickass adventurer from the Netherlands which aspirations of becoming Black Pete*) and Vlad (tanned Russian Yoga enthusiast who lived in Shanghai by way of Florida who always wore very tight speedos even when walking around town) wanted to sign up for a dive course but I was happy just to do some snorkelling, however I agreed to accompany them on their search for a good school just to get the lay of the land. As we pottered about from place to place comparing deals it came to light that taking your Open Water Diving Couse here, which meant you could dive anywhere in the world without supervision for the rest of your life, was remarkably affordable. Much more so than I had ever imagined. As I saw what was on offer with the discounts and accommodation included it seemed almost silly NOT to do it. Plus it would look great on the old CV.

After a serious amount of shopping around we settled on Sairee Cottage Dive School which were offering 15% off the original course price, plus free accommodation for each person and we could be on a course just us three together. It was ideal. The bungalows were of a higher standard than Mama O’Chai’s but not quite beachfront. So I paid my deposit and that was that – I was going to learn how to Scuba Dive! The course started the next day but it was classroom stuff first and that only began at 4pm so there was still time for beaching and relaxing as well.

Sairee Village is a lovely area of the island with a more relaxed vibe about it than closer to the harbour. Beachfront cafes sell fresh juices and health foods along with the age old traveller staples French toast and Banana Pancakes. The beer is cheap and the water is warm – you could really lose yourself here.

However I had some serious work to do, instruction videos were watched and homework was done all under the watchful eye of our intrepid instructor Jessie from America. She had come here on holiday 4 years ago and just never went home. Easily done I can imagine.

The next day was spent in the pool with all our kit on practicing our skills – I was awesome, as was Maira, Vlad looked like the underwater version of Bambi on ice – limbs flailing about manically while continually falling from side to side. As our training went on it was clear that Vlad was coasting a bit by relying on us to do his homework for him, He was also making it quite obvious that  he was rather keen on Maira who was 26 years his junior. So as he became more and more handsie and we became better friends we distanced ourselves slowly from him. It was a shame really as he was a very interesting chap all in all with more than a few stories to tell but it was not meant to be it seems. Even though we were still in the same dive group the threesome had become a twosome.

Getting back under the water was great and on our first dive we saw so many different types coral and fish including my favourite – the parrot fish! That is exactly the same colour scheme as my bike back in the UK. Some have described the paint job as unicorn vomit so you get the idea…..

Parrot Fish

The only underwater annoyance was Vlad who kept swimming into us and then the coral breaking bits off as he failed to gain control of his swimming. Poor Coral, Poor Fishes.

When we surfaced between our first and second dives the sea had gotten very rough and as someone who doesn’t really suffer from sea sickness I was quickly laid low with legs like jelly, spinning head, sweating and yes lots vomiting. I really must have been quite a picture bent double like an old lady clinging to the boat and unable to lift my own kit. Jessie was a star though, she helped me get my kit on, just waited while I vomited and then carried on - A true pro, especially as by the end of the dive all three of us were green.

Maira and Me before the sickness set in

Jessie kindly advised that we all get motion sickness tablets before our final dives the next day.

My time on the island was drawing to a close but I was just starting to get into the swing of it. Strolling the streets at night, buying street food of chicken kebabs and banana and nutella crepes. Sipping cans of Leo beer on my little terrace while burning incense and reading. Even though the days had been pretty intense the nights were calm and peaceful. I was really beginning to feel the calm radiate through me but time was running out. It was almost time to start thinking about getting to Singapore to meet L. This also meant my days of being a free spirit solo traveller were also coming to a close. No, I didn’t want to start thinking about that just yet.

So we completed our final dives with ease aided by the tablets – 5 baht a pop and the difference was astounding. Having to bend over the edge of a rocking boat while fixing together your kit is not pleasant when you can’t feel your face and everything is shaking. We also managed to see a Sting Ray, a Puffer Fish plus several Barracudas and Moray Eels that I still think are up to no good – they have a shifty look about them – just like the Sneak.

So now all three of us were Certified Open Water Divers - Maira and I were given 100% on our written exam and even though Vlad copied our answers he still got one wrong. Serves him right – I pity anyone who’s his underwater buddy in the future, I wouldn’t want to put my life in his hands.

*Black Pete is a Dutch character from Sinterklaas a Christmas Tradition at the beginning of December. Black Pete might disappear from history entirely as he is now sadly seen as a racist character. Poor Black Pete.

Island Life

So I ran full tilt out of the train station. It was 11.45pm, my boat was meant to leave at Midnight but the pier was at least a 10 minute drive away and I didn’t have a ticket. In my mind this was still do-able but in reality it was not. I spoke to some taxi drivers and who all agreed it wasn’t worth trying so I went to the travel agency women who were touting their tours to the people from the train. One lady said that all the boats had left at 11pm and the other one claimed there was no night boat at all. I was at a loss. What I didn’t want to do was get dropped at the pier to no boat, nowhere to go and nowhere to sleep.

So I relented, took a deep breath and got out my wallet. One of the ladies was offering a hostel deal with free transport to the pier and a cheap boat ticket at 7am tomorrow morning. This meant I wouldn’t be losing so much time just a little more money than expected.

I followed the rest of the people heading to a hostel for the night, threw myself on a bed and slept for about 4 hours until it was time to get up again.

At 6.30am the next morning I was on the boat waiting to set sail, or start the diesel engine. The boat was rammed and there weren’t any seats so people just sprawled on the deck leaving very little room for anyone else. Then I noticed a small door to the front of the boat with seats inside. I ventured in to find a lovely row of seats and heavenly air conditioning. Why aren’t more people in here? I wondered as I curled up upon 2 chairs and fell fast asleep. My mind and body were both exhausted from the last 24 hours of pure travel that nothing was going to keep me awake, not even the rough seas. However about 10 minutes into my snooze I was roughly shaken and asked to pay 30 baht. I couldn’t really get the gist of what the guy was trying to say and I presumed he was offering me a tour or accommodation on the island so I just shrugged him off and tried to go back to sleep. Only after the second time I was awoken did I make out that the 30 Baht was to stay in the air conditioned heaven and that the guy shaking me worked for the boat. I took offense to the charge and to the shaking so I gathered my things and moved back on deck. The winds were getting up and the boat was reeling badly. Travellers in light baggy trousers clung to one another as they rocked forward and back with green faces. There wasn’t a square millimetre of space to sit now, I stood for a while staring out to sea but my bones were heavy and the listing was making even me start to feel queasy. I checked my watch, there was 3 hours to go. So I make the best decision of my life and walked back into the air conditioned room, paid my 30 baht and slept soundly the whole way to the island.

I had decided to stay on the south side of the island as it was meant to be the best area for snorkelling. However after I had made this decision I kept getting this nagging pang that the decision was the wrong one. Mainly because the small island just off-shore I wanted to visit was on the North West coast of Koh Tao and taxi boats were meant to be very expensive. Plus that was the only way to get to these bungalows so what would happen if I didn’t like them or they were fully booked? I’d have to jump into another taxi and fork out double the money to get back to where I’d started. I wasn’t entirely confident with my plan so as I jumped out of the boat I spotted another girl quizzically looking at the map and trying to avoid the touts. I swiftly made a beeline for her. She said her plan was just to walk up the beach and choose the place she liked the look of most. The north end of the strip was called Sairee Beach and meant to be the quieter and cheaper side of things. I agreed that this was a good plan and should we share a taxi to save our shoulders and legs initially. She agreed.

Her name is Maira from the Netherlands and she is awesome. 

We set off through the confused backpack laden crowds towards the road. On route we also picked up Vlad, an old Russian guy who also was headed in our direction. So we three hopped on to the back of a taxi and headed North. The taxi’s on the island are 4x4 pick up trucks with bench seating on either side in the back for people to clamber in with their luggage and then hold on for dear life. No back rests so it’s a matter of holding your balance and your nerve to avoid ending up in a bush when cornering.

After surviving the ride of death we trudged beach ward again and after an extensive search found Mama O’Chai’s Bungelows - Officially the cheapest beach-side accommodation on this side of the island. A little shabby but it added to the charm. For 600 Baht a night (12 quid) you got a beach front bungalow to yourself with your own terrace with bikini drying washing line, double bed, whirry fan and a cold sometimes warm shower. It was perfect!

The ocean on Koh Tao is so clear with that picture postcard green to blue fade that just makes you want to throw yourself in - Which we did.

At that moment I just wanted to stay here forever, I felt a peace descend into me and calm my soul. Life seemed so simple and happy if only you could sustain such a life. While floating in the calm waters ideas were thrown around regarding potential business ideas to do just that. Yoga retreat? Train to be a dive instructor? Open a café? Banana boat rides? It being low season the island was pretty quiet and a lot of restaurants had closed but I liked it that way. I think if everything had been open and the streets rammed with people it would lose some of its raw charm.

Maybe a fulfilling life away from London was possible after all?

The Sneak and the Drunkard

As I said in my previous post the train departed late for the South but up until the very last minute people were still boarding including the Sneak. I was feeling quite happy that the seat in front of me was vacant and I would have ample legroom for the whole journey until he plonked himself down before me. He was Thai or Malaysia wearing mirrored aviators, green army shirt, a long chain with a small Buddha shrine hanging from it. If we were on a movie set in Colombia he’d definitely be a badass drug baron. He smiled at me and his teeth glinted in a way that meant he was definitely up to no good. He, frankly, was terrifying.

When the guards came round to check everyone’s tickets then questioned his and pointed towards third class with some very harsh sounding foreign words. He slowly began to pull his shoes on and shuffle off down the carriage. I breathed a sigh of relief, no longer will I have to be constantly on my guard and I no longer had to play an part in his elaborate dastardly plot. Whatever it was.

However, a couple of minutes later he was back. He ran down the carriage, dumped his bag in the seat and carried on going out of the other side of the carriage. What Is In His Bag????? I was imagining massive packs of cocaine which the guards will find and blame on me! What should I do? Should I open it? Should I report him? London has certainly drummed into me the dangers of unattended baggage.

Luckily I didn’t have to find as 5 minutes he was back again – broad smirk on his face – what was he up to? The gun toting guards are generally so vigilant though so they’ll be round and see him off before long or so I thought but they just ignored him! I was shocked but I decided to let it go, little did I know at this point the kind of guards we had on this train.

So, when the beer seller comes round The Sneak buys a beers, the vendor tries to make him buy two for a special price – he shakes his head – the vendor insists, so he buys two and offers one to me!?!?!? I tried to refuse politely but he pushed it in my direction so many times I just accepted it in the end. I was desperate for a cold beer and managed to convince myself that it was a thank you for not reporting him to the authorities. Also I thought, now I can claim the bottom bunk which will be a nice free upgrade for both of us.

But when another beer seller came round he bought another one for me again – this time I really did try and refuse it but he insisted. Now I really felt like I owed him something. I was definitely about to be made into a drugs mule. So when a lady came along selling corn in bundles of two I bought them and offered him one which he took, thankfully.  I’ve bought my freedom I thought plus I managed to refuse the next beer offering so I was in the clear. BUT when the bed makers came round I mistimed it and was in the loo so when I returned he had claimed the bottom bunk for himself with the curtain firmly closed. What a charlatan! It seemed to be working for him though. I thought about kicking up a fuss but if he couldn’t see me in his little hideaway I could also sneak away and disassociate myself with the whole affair. No doubt his plan would be coming to fruition sometime soon and I wanted to be long gone when it did.

So I took myself down to the restaurant car. My station wasn’t far away and the top bunk had no window so I couldn’t spot it when we did arrive. The best plan by far was to go and have a couple of beers and while away the hours looking out of the window.

I knew the train was running a bit late but no idea how late by this stage so I thought I might ask there as well. As soon as I arrived I saw that the car was empty of customers and staff and almost all the lights were off. Only one table remained of the guards all sat round sharing the tail ends of a meal. I apologised and went to walk back to my carriage but shouts of ‘No!,No!,Sit eat!’ made me pause. The all sat me down and shared their meal with me while waking a few people up to bring me a beer. The main hay maker in this party was not a guard but one of their friends who seemed to have a lot of shopping bags with him and was noticeably drunk.

On closer inspection they had been drinking the locally brewed whiskey, neat from a bottle marked soda. When my beer arrived there were two of them. I tried to explain I only wanted one but The Drunkard shoved my wallet away and paid for both beers. Someone pushed an empty glass in my direction, he poured (very shakily) while one of the guards added ice to the glass. I had a couple of bites of the food I was offered but it was no good, it was the hottest food I have ever tasted and I had to practically down an entire beer to keep me from crying.

I thought about retreating away from this potentially dangerous situation but the thought of lugging all my bags back through 3 carriages of sleeping people with limbs and children splayed into the aisles was too much to bear. So we drank and laughed and misunderstood each other by torchlight until my train arrived 4 hours late.

By this stage we were all drunk, we’d roped in an unsuspecting French man who just came into ask about the train times. The drunkard has gifted us both with cakes which he threatened to throw out of the open train window if we refused. He also asked if he could be my girlfriend all the while trying to put his hand on my knee saying ‘sorry sorry, I no speak English’ and all the while I kept putting his hand on the sleeping guards knee and at one point they were holding hands.

I was relieved and sad when I left that train but I knew I had to focus on finding a boat, in the middle of the night, when I was very drunk……..oh dear…….

Planes, Trains and Automoboats…….?

At 6am with damp shoes on my feet I wave goodbye to Laos and head to the airport bound for the South. I had desperately wanted to go to Chang Mai via the slow boat but unfortunately the slow boat was too slow for me. I had to be in Singapore by the 12^th and didn’t want to manically rush everywhere I went. So I had made an executive decision and decided to fly from Luang Prabang to Bangkok with Laos Airlines. A 15 minute TukTuk ride from town for 40,000kip (makes a massive difference to the hour or so slep to most London Airports) I had read in my itinerary that I should be at the airport 2 hours before departure. I had asked my hostel if they could book me a TukTuk for 5am. He said no. Confused I asked why?

‘You go Bangkok?’

‘Yes’

‘I get you TukTuk for 6am’

‘But it says 2 hours….’ I protested lamely

‘Trust me…..’

‘Ummmmmm’

‘If you miss your flight, I will buy you another one.’

Can’t say fairer than that I suppose, and he was right. At 6.15am I arrived at the airport and it was practically deserted. No queue for check in or security and then I had 50 minutes to wait before my flight even started to board. I’m glad I listened to his advice, not that I had a choice.

Once on the aircraft I was looking forward to some breakfast and a long snooze. The beautiful flight attendants with perfect makeup and frangipani flowers in their hair sashayed to and fro showing every passenger individually to their seat. The safety briefing was hilarious, they showed us how to put on our belts and then said ‘If there is anything else you would like to know please press the button for an attendant’ You can imagine everyone frantically pressing their attendants buttons as the plane crashes towards the ground.

Thankfully that didn’t happen and we landed safely and after an exhausting queuing getting through passport control I made it to the train, switched to the underground at Makkasan station and headed to Hua Lampong on the Thai underground which was exceptionally clean, quiet and cool. Hua Lampong station itself is none of those things. I bought my ticket south on the 1pm train. I opted for an upper bunk again as I was headed for Chumphon which arrived at 9pm so there was no point me splashing out for a luxury I wasn’t going to use. To escape the heat of the main hall I went to see if my train was there and people were already boarding. It was over an hour before we were meant to depart but as I boarded I could see people with mountains of baggage getting themselves set up and mountain bikers with hundreds of pannier bags dismantling and disconnecting. Watching all these people drop their bags and settle into their seats with their friends and family all helping reminded me of black and white films where lovers kissed their final goodbyes as the train was pulling away, waving white cotton handkerchiefs from carriage windows and announcements such as ‘anyone not planning on travelling with us today please prepare to leave as the train is ready to depart’ or something like that. In England now you can’t even get near the train to see anyone off. It’s all ticket barriers and no waiting drop off areas which hardly lends itself to romance and the long kiss goodbye.

Three monks in designer glasses sit on a bench beside the train chatting casually with a local man. The fact that fully fledged monks are not even allowed to acknowledge women irritates my liberal nature. However a few of the younger monks have said things too me, not that I understood but it was definitely cheeky from the looks on their faces as they slyly tucked their smart phones under their robes. 

A small child who has been constantly looking at me for the last half an hour keeps tucking at her father’s shirt sleeve and whispering in his ear. Eventually he comes up to me with the child in tow, she hasn’t averted her eyes from me, he says something to me in Thai and I apologise for not understanding, he smiles and nods, the child steps forward and touches the bottom of my hair for a second then runs away the man slowly following on behind. This happens to me a lot.

The train leaves over an hour late but people are boarding up until the last second. Do people just assume that the train will be late and know they can still catch it even if they arrive an hour late? His seems like madness to me. My 9pm arrival time suddenly seems very far away. However all in all I think I prefer the day train over the night one. Although the quality of the bed making left a lot to be desired, my man from the other day would be appalled to see how far standards have slipped in such or short amount of time. But once we got going watching the scenery rush by was truly wonderful, at every stop people got on to sell their food and drinks to the passengers and then getting off at the next stop. A group of women opposite me splutter and squawk moving their cases from rack to rack and then back again, never quite deciding on the correct order. Their headscarves flutter delicately from side to side as they flail their wing like arms from side to side trying to get their point across. There will be no sleeping in this carriage for some time to come. I close my eyes and try and let all the sounds of this bustling world wash over me.

Beers, Bribes and Damp Shoes

Back at the hostel I met two very nice girls from Belgium who were travelling separately, and alone, like me. I mentioned to them that I’d heard the waterfall was good and had they been there? They said they hadn’t but they’d like to go. So instantly I had a plan and companions for the next day. So we hailed a Tuk Tuk bargained like hell and got on the road. 

Kuangsi Waterfalls, Luang Prabang, Laos

The Kuangsi Waterfalls are an interlocking series of falls cascading into light blue crystal pools where you can swim and relax. We set off early to beat the crowds and arrived at just past 10am. We really wanted to climb to the top as we heard the view was incredible but first you had to walk into the bottom of the falls before you went up. On the way you pass a bear sanctuary. An Australian woman had set the place up to care for and re-educate bears that had been attacked for their bile or abused and made to dance as a tourist attraction. Stolen as small cubs these bears had no idea how to survive in the wild so they were being slowly taught how to seek out their own food in their enclosures in the hope that one day they could be reintroduced to the wild. It was very touching seeing them all there happily wandering about or sleeping on tall platforms, this must be paradise for them.

When we reached the bottom pool there was only one other person there which heartened us only to find a few more as we walked up. But it wasn’t overrun and our trek to the summit was a solitary one. The trail was pretty hard going negotiating sprawling tree roots unearthing themselves only to plunge back into the ground and mud patches on an ever increasing incline. When we finally scrabbled to the top huffing and puffing we were disappointed to find there wasn’t much of a view. Trees pretty much shaded us completely from looking out so we surmised we had come up the wrong way and we should traverse the top of the falls to search for a bigger view. This was easier said than done. At first we removed our shoes to get across only to put them back on when we realised how strong the current was and that the rocks and mud were much too slippery for bare feet. In a line we slowly shuffled one after the other holding hands to keep each other steady. One step at a time we weaved around large rocks and sections of water too deep to cross. I had hitched my bag up to the top of my shoulders as our route became deeper and deeper. We were waist deep, only about 2 metres from the edge of a giant precipice with only a rickety wooden fence at the very edge and our own balance saving us from certain death. Luckily our balance held out and we made it to the other side. Afterwards one of the girls had to light a cigarette to help smoke off the leeches from our legs.

But it was worth it. The view stretched out over the vast landscape and you could see for what felt like hundreds of miles. Jungle green hillsides jutted up to the sky like a collection of Obelix’s stones all competing to be the highest. So big in fact they seemed to belong to a world of giants which made me feel very small indeed.

When we returned to the bottom via stone staircases with sections of water flowing across them and hanging from tree vines to get our footing we were definitely ready to cool off. We stripped down to our bikini’s and threw ourselves into the pale cool water. It was my first swimming of the trip and I was more than in need of it. The currents of the water cascading towards us also added a whirlpool like effect to our swim which was interesting and not entirely unpleasant. When you found a place where you could stand up to survey the scene from the water you felt the fish start to take pops at your feet. On closer inspection they turned out to be the fish used in the Dr Fish foot spas often seen in night markets in Asia. They only feed on the dead skin on your feet which offers a free pedicure for you accompanied by a very ticklish feeling throughout occasionally resulting in outbreaks of giggles and squeaks from the recipient that much look very interesting indeed from the unsuspecting shores.

That evening was my last in town and I hadn’t long to finish up with everything I wanted to see.

I longed to climb the giant hill with a gold turret in the centre of town called Mount Phu Si. It overlooks and protects this town with its calm reassuring presence. At the top of the climb are several Wats with one in particular being famed as an excellent to watch sunsets from. It was 300 steps round a weaving stone path to the summit and in the middle when I was sweating profusely from exertion and the last of the sun’s heat I did wonder why I didn’t space out the days I was climbing. The higher you wound though the more you saw, the views got better and better and the full week of large gold Buddha’s greeted you and willed you ‘onward and upward’ as they gazed out across the valley. On my arrival at the summit I was overwhelmed by the view but also the crowds, apparently I wasn’t the only one with a love of the red skies.

With my long trousers and shawl around my shoulders as the required dress code for such holy places it certainly I was ready to keel over from heat exhaustion but I managed to take a moment to take it all in. Then another couple came and stood directly in front of me blocking my view. I ducked into the Wat itself and decided to sit in the quiet shade for a bit. However the noisy rabble chatting away outside kept me from my peace.

Wat Tham Phu Si, Luang Prabang, Laos

Before the sun had said its final goodbyes I had given up and retreated back down the hill. I stopped a couple of times on the way down to look at the seven gold Buddha’s, one for every day of the week, all in different poses. I sat for a while with Wednesday’s Buddha as he had a playful look about him and was surrounded by burning incense but not 10 seconds of silence would go by before another chatting couple would stumble by or an Indian family in the middle of a row about the best way to the summit. The Dad striding off in one direction claiming ‘This is the way!’ and his wife’s retorts of ‘Of course it’s not that way you stupid man, you only have to look to see it’s not the way. Very clever man you are, always getting it wrong...’ followed by a certain amount of tutting from both sides.

There was nothing to be done but retreat lower towards town. As I walked down the steps away from Wednesday I misjudged the depth of the stone step and stumbled, catching myself just in time. I looked behind and met the smirking gaze of the Buddha ‘you did that on purpose’ I whispered but the Buddha smiled on, admitting nothing. So Buddha’s are not only holy creatures but pranksters too. A lesson learned.

That evening I ate in the street food market and tried the most delicious coconut balls which an old lady was cooking on a grill. Light, fluffy and melt in your mouth.

When I returned the hostel I saw my two ladies who I’d been to the waterfall with and sat down to have a chat. They informed me that the owner of the hostel had refused to pay the local police a bribe and therefore they were shutting him down for 2 weeks effective as from tomorrow. This seemed like a ridiculously tall tale but it turned out to be true. He had done nothing wrong just refused to pay 300 dollars for no good reason. Sometimes even heavenly places such as this can have a sinister undertone. I was also quite glad I was flying out very early the next morning. Some people who had just checked in didn’t seem too pleased by the sudden change and started becoming rowdy and a little rude. They were not yet accustomed to the ramshackle way on which this hostel and in fact this whole town was run. I don’t think it would be as special any other way.

Stealing SIDA and my will to Live

That evening I decided to take in some theatre. I was very intrigued to find out what Laos theatre was really like. The evening before in the night market I had heard traditional music coming from a large white building but because of all the stalls I couldn’t see where the entrance would be. This morning on my travels I had found the source to be in the gardens of the old Palace building that is now a museum. In the far left section of the group of buildings was the large white house which I had seen from the road on the other side. From this angle it looked very grand but a little shabby. A sign outside explained that this evening there would be a performance of Phralak Phralam or Ramayana Lao which is the 2nd Episode in an epically long tale it seems. This section was entitles ‘Golden deer and the abduction of SIDA’ which all seemed very exciting to me so I bought a ticket. There were 3 price ranges 200,000, 150,000 and 100,000 kip a ticket depending on where you sat. Looking at a seat plan it seemed that the place wasn’t so big so I should be able take in all the majesty and splendour of the performance even from the back. Unfortunately there was not much of that to go around. As I got shown to my seat it was very obvious that the only other people in the theatre were Westerners. The hall was unimaginative with rows of ordinary chairs facing a hand painted backdrop. It reminded me a little of old school plays I used to do. But I decided not to judge the performance before it had begun. Soon afterwards the MC came on the mic to introduce the performance beautifully in 3 languages English, Laos and French. I was very impressed. Then the band struck up, all 10 pieces of them, playing traditional instruments – so far so good. Then they came on stage. A big group of Laos girls who danced a traditional theme and left the audience so underwhelmed they were almost asleep. They seemed very young though so maybe their passion was not for dancing, especially the ones at the back who just twirled their wrists like they were doing the washing up. Thankfully they were not on for long and then we were onto the main event, this turned out to be only marginally better with the lady who played SIDA being so drab I wanted to get up and slap some life into her. The boys did pretty well twirling their bows and mock fighting with deer and giant protective birds but it really was awful. 

The only plus side was the costumes and masks but when they took off the masks to bow they revealed bored and tired looking faces that would rather be anywhere than here. Then we had a show from monkeys which didn’t mean anything to anyone and then the girls came back and washed the dishes while vaguely doing the dance of the lotus. Then the MC came on and in a proud speech he thanked us for coming and asked us to spread the word about the theatre and its performances. I’m not really sure he’d want us to do that………

The Vomit Bus Leading to Utopia

How can I begin to describe my few days in Luang Prabang? 

Well I must start by saying it has been incredible, even though it had a bit of a sicky start. A slowly rusting TukTuk bursting with other travellers picked me up from my Guesthouse and slowly rattles it way to the Northern bus station in an ever present plume of exhaust smoke. On arrival the driver takes my ticket from me and without looking at it puts it in a pile with the others. We are then shown to our minibus which was not what I was expecting at all. For the amount of money I had opted to pay I had expected a massive and ancient coach but no. It also turns out there were only 11 of us in a 15 person air conditioned bus which made things even more comfortable. My fears of having to suffer through a ten hour ‘terrible journey to remember’ were starting to lift. It all began well but as the bus began to wind round and round and up and up some of the passengers began to go a little green. I was waiting for my tummy to start to turn but it remained calm which was a blessing. It turns out that the ladies who all became unwell were a group of Vietnamese Travel Agents who had never before left the borders of neighbouring Vietnam. They were selling trips to Laos from Hanoi and had come over to sample the accommodation for themselves. It seems they had also never before taken a long windy bus trip. More and more they vomited into bag after bag knotting the tops and then lining them up at their feet like bags of goldfish at the fair. The bobbed up and down as the bus bumped onwards and the smell circulated the bus.

The journey went very quickly all in all with a couple of loo breaks and a snack stop coming in at around 8 hours give or take. I was pleasantly surprised but so excited to reach Luang Prabang that it felt like an eternity. Once we arrived I shared a Tuk Tuk into town with the travel agents and saw them get dropped off at a big plush hotel with fancy sign writing so curly I couldn’t work out what it said. The driver then asked me for the 4^th time the name of my hostel and was very unclear until I repeatedly pointed at it on a map. He drove round and round passing the night market which was just kicking off and finally arrived at my spot. I walked in to a cool room of young backpacker types all talking excitedly about various nightspots and activities. I wondered if this was going to be a bit rowdy for me but I didn’t let it put me off. I checked in with a youngish Lao lady at the reception desk who ask my name glanced briefly at her check in book, flipped a couple of pages and then gave up looking for any of my information. The conversation went like this

 ‘You 3 people?’

‘No just me’

‘You stay one night?’

‘No three nights’

‘You book four bed dorm?’

‘No I booked into the 12 bed dorm’

You see what I mean. Eventually she gave up on that line of questioning too and showed me to a four bed dorm room and pointed at a top bunk. I thanked her and she left. There was a girl in the room who I said hello to and she explained she had booked my bed for a friend of hers and she said they’d messed her around too by moving her to a different hostel when she arrived the day before as they were fully booked – she had booked online and they had just given her place to a walk in. The lady then came back and showed me to another 4 bed dorm and pointed at another top bunk. This time there was no objection.

My remaining time in this hostel was just as hilarious with people coming and going, moving rooms, running around trying to get internet connection, crashing weddings and generally drinking an awful lot. All for 40,000 Kip (3 pounds) a night which is a bit of a bargain in my opinion. The wedding crashing I wasn’t a part of but I did get to witness the fallout. Two Californian girls were who returned on their knees telling tales of attempting Laos Karaoke. At this time in the evening I had only mustered enough energy for a wander round the night market, dinner and of course a massage. I was ready for bed but this was too good to miss, it also allowed me chance to speak to some people and get the lay of the land. A Belgium couple proved very good value with their tales of things to do and the boyfriends insistence of ‘One more beer darling’ and the girlfriends slightly amused ‘Ok darling but this one really must be the last’ she knew very well that it would not be the last. Plus it didn’t seem to really bother her when we had drunk the hostel dry of beer he got in a Tuk Tuk to go and find some more. I was very impressed with her humble acceptance.

The next day I took in the town and really found out what Luang Prabang is really about. Calm. I walked around the town’s streets and narrow lanes for 5 hours or so taking in the various Wats, Temples and magnetic French Architecture. The French past time here was not boule but Badminton, I watched a match between 2 old Laos guys, one young and one French looking kid around the age of 15. The all squatted, thrust and smashed their way with European elegance through the game in a manner quite ill-fitting to the heat. I moved on and watched more as saffron monks with gingham umbrellas held high to protect their heads from the sun stroll with relaxed purpose to somewhere.

 Watching others allowed me to float through those streets like a monk on a silent mission ending up in Utopia.

Utopia is a café, bar and restaurant delicately balanced overhanging on the edge of the Mekong. It is made up of a string of terraces made out of delicate lengths of wood bound together with twine. Thai roll mats line the floors with low tables bamboo chairs and sofas.

Everybody whispers here. Calmness drifts across the vast waters and melodiously permeates its inhabitants. Sarongs draped across the mats offer the occupants utter comfort while they sit motionless watching the long boats glide by as a warm breeze caresses their beaming faces. Butterflies chase one another while dragonflies bob and weave in time to the soft music radiating from the bar. Men and boys fish by the water’s edge, their reels jingling like tiny bells as they wind in their prey.

It is heavenly, so heavenly in fact that I drift off right there on my mat and only awaken once the sun has gone down. No one bothered me; they just left me there to rest.

Phoenix from the Flames

The one major thing I had wanted to do when I got into town was hop straight in a Tuk Tuk and head to Wat Sok Pa Luang which was a forest temple where they served tea, had herbal sauna’s and you got massages to the sounds of monks chanting in the grounds. It had sounded like my ideal scenario. Once I arrived the place was really as beautiful as I had imagined. The down side came as soon as I asked directions for the massage and was greeted with smirks and shakes of the head. Turns out that the building in which they performed their miracle healing had burned down several months before hand. Burned Down! I didn’t believe them at first and went on the hunt for it, I was convinced I’d gotten the wrong end of the stick until I came face to face with the mound of scorched wood. I was devastated – not only had my ideal place burned to the ground but the Tuk Tuk driver hadn’t felt the need to mention it to me, he just smiled and took my money. What else would he have done? I was so angry that I walked the 3kms back to town on principal. However, as I was going for a massage I hadn’t put on any sun-cream. In fact which I had overlooked in my anger so after a 40 minute stomp I was thoroughly burned. I was livid – on many levels. So to calm myself down I went for a massage at the first place I spotted – which was below average unfortunately and as it was a Traditional Laos massage the used talcum powder instead of oil and you can imagine how that felt on top of sunburn. I then prompted went back to my guesthouse for a nap and found that my bed was predominantly made up of springs rather than cushion – I needed to restart the day so I persisted and eventually went to sleep.

When I arose I felt slightly better and less harassed. I had a shower, doused myself in after-sun and hit the streets. I first went to check out the food market, on route there I saw a mass of men standing and being quite rowdy on a corner. I have to say it put the fear of god into me. But I decided not to let fear dictate where I went so I trudged on and was greeted but a very familiar sight. They were all playing boules! I forgot how French this place really was. Plus they were getting really into it. I stayed to watch for a while but it seemed to be a male only sport so I left them to it. When I found the market it was shamefully small so I abandoned the idea headed for the river to see if there were any food stalls there. But what I found was so much more!!!

Not only was there a night market selling food and clothes but also a mass exercise class happening right on the river front. Mainly women but all in orange t-shirts stepping and kicking in time to the throated noises coming from the instructor and they were good too. There must have been about 200 of them in total grooving to Asian Dance music while shoppers meandered around them. Very surreal. 

I dined in sight of them to truly take it all in and then headed home to book the bus for the next morning. On my way back I saw a couple of rich looking locals in Halloween outfits all rushing ghoulishly in the same direction. I then realised that it was in fact Hallows Eve in England but so strange to see it being celebrated over here. ‘Must just be for the tourists?’ But it wasn’t, I turned the corner in a more modern section of the town to find a whole open air bar full of locals all in costume. There was a stage at one side and a very professional MC seemed to be calling people with especially good costumes out of the crowds and onto the stage to everyone’s delight and amusement. I watched for a few minutes trying to figure out what was going on but it was no good. So I continued home and quickly to bed.

Goodnight

x

Morning and Across the Border

I awoke this morning to the greenest of greens. Tall trees flew past my train window in neat lines surrounded by dusty purple soil ploughed and ready for planting. Occasionally we passed by a mound of smoking earth which was presumably cooking someone’s breakfast.

Last night in the restaurant car there was a sign stating ‘No Smoking in the Morning’ I had chuckled to myself at the time but it seems it was only a suggestion as official looking men, army boys and even the restaurant staff were puffing away.

The 6am wakeup call had not been a welcome one – even though the train was late to arrive by a solid hour there was no sleeping beyond 6am. First started the marching up and down the aisle by the bed making man, fully uniformed, ready to start his day. Then the official looking men with their grey uniforms and guns on their hips not willing to take any nonsense of any kind. Then the restaurant ladies up and down the aisle ‘Coefffeyyyyyyyy…….teeeeeeeee………..Coefeyyyyyyyyyyy…….teeeeeeee. Now however much I really needed a Coaefffey I would have happily slept another hour before attaining one.

Also I had just got the hang of continuous sleep in the top bunk before it was time to get up again. The top bunk did not have a window like the bottom so your only access to ventilation was from the oscillating fan on the roof. However when you closed your little green and gold curtain to give you some privacy the fan has no impact on your temperature at all. After sweltering for a good hour I took a sneaky peak up and down the corridor to see how other people had dealt with this problem. Cleverly they had unhooked the centre of their curtain so it sagged a little leaving a small gap for the coldish air to waft in. Even though this was an improvement it meant that the light in the carriage that had been obscured by the curtain then blared on to the bunk with the intensity of a prison searchlight. So it took me several hours of shifting position of myself and the curtain and laying several different thicknesses of clothing over my face to block out the light before I managed to nod off for any significant time at all.

Then it was all stomping and shouting. However watching the man pack away the beds was a work of pure grace and dexterity. I was transfixed as he flipped and tied and swung the sheets into tidy packets and precisely placed the new lined folded and in order or placement ready for the next journey to begin. Once the upper bunk was prepped it was neatly pushed upward and stowed away against the wall leaving it occupier without anywhere to sit until the bottom bunk was vacated - but no fear! One swoop and flip and ta darrrr! All neatly put away in the blink of an eye. Glancing through the cabin all the upper deck curtains were expertly knotted with the gold seat number facing outward. What pride in his work he must take and how I wish he’d prepped the train yesterday as I had such trouble locating my seat from the tiny scratched off metal plaques. He must have been given a day off for his excellent performance.

The train was delayed which was fine but I could have done with that extra hour in bed. However it did give me longer to stare out of the window at the ever changing landscape. The closer we got to our destination the earth colour was changing from purple to light pink.

When we did eventually arrive the border crossing was much more simple than I had anticipated. The two German’s that I met in Bangkok and bumped into again on the train had booked everything through a travel agency for 1200 baht. I had disregarded that way as I thought it was way too expensive. My Yorkshire roots shining through once again. They had a sleeper bunk in 2^nd class with air con, train to the border and bus into town for that price. I opted to wing it. I spend 488 baht on the train and when we arrived at Nong Kai the sign in the ticket office window said Vientiane 300 Baht. OH SHIT! I didn’t have that much in my wallet and there was nowhere to get cash out. However having gotten the river boat in Bangkok I got the impression that this 300 baht may be a decoy from a travel agency to stop you from buying an ordinary ticket. When I got to the ticket window I just asked for a ticket to the border. They smirked at me and then eventually said 20 Baht. 20 BAHT!!!!! Phew and cheeky buggers! How many other people have been duped by that trick? But after the train there was the border and then transport into town – who knew how much this would be? So the rain took 15 minutes which felt like a bit of a cheat. The Visa was 35 dollars which I already knew and was prepared for. The German’s had slowed down and I wasn’t about to wait. Then I spotted my French bunk mate who was waiting for her friend who in turn was waiting for her Visa. I asked to share a Tuk Tuk and she agreed. Things were on the up. She and her friend turned out to be French teachers in Vientiane so they knew the score and gave me lots of good advice about orientation of the town. They were also good at haggling and got us the trip to town for 50 baht each. So all in all I spend 558 Baht over 1200, I felt like a winner – but that feeling didn’t last for long............