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............