Laos – three pairs of pants

13 December 201511 January 2021

Day 90 (Sun 13 Dec): Luang Namtha to Jinghong

China is another world. Nature doesn’t recognise country boundaries so the terrain was similar, but that’s about it. And now for the differences. Let’s start with the roads:

Proper asphalt roads (and not just the main highways)
Central reservation (I haven’t seen one anywhere in Cambodia, Vietnam or Laos) and a dual carriageway
Road signs (a mix between English- and US-style)
More cars than motorbikes (a sign of prosperity)
… leading to traffic jams
… but also faster speeds
Tunnels (and they tell you how long they are)
No pot holes (although sections if the road are still very bumpy)
People not driving on the wrong side of the road (I’d obviously got used to this as I noticed its absence straight away)
More aggressive honking
Lots of different makes of car (whereas there appeared to be only a few breeds in SE Asia, and mainly pickup trucks in Laos)
And different “tuk-tuks”

And now the other stuff:

Hieroglyphics (i.e. the written Chinese language; it’s like Chinese to me)
Concrete houses (no wood)
More built-up
Construction workers wear hard hats
People are fatter
People wear more modern clothes
Nobody speaks English (not even a little bit)
And the trees on the hillside are in lines

Our first toilet stop in China. Can you spot what’s unusual about the door?

Exactly, there isn’t one. Vandalised maybe. But none of the toilets we stopped at had doors. And the toilets were of the squat variety, which surprised me somewhat.

The spoken language is also very different. It sounds very aggressive: the man on the phone in the bus sounded like he was reprimanding someone, but was probably just planning dinner.

We arrived much later than planned in Jinghong: one member of the Aussie group who’d left Luang Namtha with us had had the wrong date put on her visa. She didn’t notice until the immigration officer wouldn’t let her pass. It took a good couple of hours for them to rearrange their plans (she and a teacher had to return to Luang Prabang to get her another visa, and also one for the teacher who’d already entered the country and so would need a new visa to re-enter).

Once we’d arrived, we started walking into town to our hotel from the south bus station:

With a basic map, we just couldn’t work out where we were. Eventually, we asked a couple who indicated we should just take a taxi. The first driver didn’t recognize the hotel. Nor the the second. Nor the third or fourth. Twenty minutes later the young couple saw us still with our backpacks. She came over, called our hotel, hailed a taxi, told him where to go and set us on our way. What a lovely welcome to her country (spoiled slightly by the taxi driver who tried to charge us four times the going rate, but we were on to it).

I’d changed some money at the border. My whizzy app told me that my 75,000 kip were worth 60 yuan. I showed her. She gave me two twenties and two fives. Close but not close enough. I asked for another five which she duly gave me. Result. Or so I thought. It was only when I went to pay for some water later that day that I found out the “fives” were actually 0.5. She’d given me 41.5. She knew I wouldn’t know the difference. It was only £2, but that’s not the point. Not a, great welcome to China (and who puts the number “5” on a note worth “0.5” anyway?). So the couple’s kindness was doubly appreciated and restored my faith in humanity (and the Chinese) somewhat.

At the hotel, we were rather perplexed by the two kits that were between our beds:

Dinner. We ordered some spicy meat and rice with “fried carrot”. You’ve probably now got a mental picture of a plate of fried carrots. If not, take a moment to picture one. When it arrived well after our meal (not unusual), we stared at it. “Is that what we ordered?”

“Dunno.”

Carrots had been mashed, rolled into balls, deep-fried, piled up like profiteroles… and drizzled with chocolate sauce:

Bet you didn’t see that one coming, did ya? Neither did we. We both peered down at it. And then burst out laughing. Paradigm shift.

12 December 201526 January 2018

Day 89 (Sat 12 Dec): Luang Namtha (mountain biking)

Started the day with a giggle at the expense of the young lad serving breakfast who probably didn’t really understand the less-innocent meaning of the slogan on his jacket:

I’m pretty sure I’m not the first westerner to debate whether to tell him and conclude that I don’t want to prevent future westerners having a little laugh 😉

Then it was off on our mountain bikes to gently explore the town:

Riding through villages, dirt tracks didn’t feel so intrusive perhaps because the houses didn’t open out on to the street:

Real villages, real people and real houses:

Coming back into town, I realised how small the tourist area was – just a few hundred metres on the main street. So after lunch at a cafe with an impressive bottle collection:

… we went off-piste (again) and were rewarded with this:

One man was cleaning his car:

Some girls their bikes:

Others were washing clothes:

And themselves:

We’d stumbled across communal bathtime. Yet it was much more than that – it was play time, family time and relaxation time. Whilst it’s great to have private facilities, I realised that we lose as much as we gain. Nobody was shy or embarrassed, which was nice because they had no need to be. An honour to see a different culture at its most real.

Then onward to the next village and this impressive construction complete with walkways between the houses:

On the street (notice the haircut going on in the background – I was minded to queue up coz I could do with a trim):

And back across the bamboo bridge, such an impressive construction (which, if it’s like the others I’ve seen, gets taken down and rebuilt every year as it can’t survive the rainy season):

Then I fell off my mountain bike. Into the ditch on the edge of the road. I seem to be making a habit of falling off bikes, but I’d worn my long trousers explaining to Rudy that, as I hadn’t come off a mountain bike yet, it was very likely to happen today. He was almost impressed at my clairvoyant capabilities when I did then fall (not intentionally, of course -I like being right but won’t deliberatley hurt myself in order to be so). My thumb swelled up (must have landed on something), but I was otherwise unhurt.

Then sunset:

And back to base camp for our last Laotian dinner. Looking forward to China, but Laos has been good to me – so many highlights – that it’s kinda sad to leave. Whereas I felt I’d “done” Cambodia and Vietnam, I’d definitely return to Laos. But that’s for another time. Tomorrow, I’m China bound.

11 December 201511 January 2021

Day 88 (Fri 11 Dec): Luang Namtha (day off)

Lao isn’t great on customer service. You walk into a shop or restaurant and often feel like you’re intruding and rather an inconvenience, dragging them away from their smartphone or TV.

One of two tops I bought for my trip is made from a Cool Max type of material and is perfect for travelling – comfy, quick-drying and very light (laundry is charged by weight) – but I haven’t found anywhere that sells them in SE Asia. Until today. But the sales assistant wasn’t exactly helpful – you’d ask for another size and she’d wander away, buried in her mobile phone.

Similarly, walking into the internet cafe, the owner and family were having dinner on a rug at the back of the shop. He just told me the internet was down and waved me away. It’s the same in many places, disturbing people from a particularly interesting YouTube video or something. It’s another reminder that in this part of the world, the physical boundary between home and business is blurred. Indeed, the walls of the restaurant I had dinner at today were full of family photos.

Found my first Laotian supermarket where the staff were very unsubtle about following me around. Did they really think that I’d steal something that, to me, is so cheap?

An interesting array of snacks, including dried fish, salted duck egg and what appeared to be some kind of meat-based product of various colours.

The supermarket was another giveaway that I’m in a functional, local town rather than a tourist spot. Other indicators include: food stalls that sell meat with a high percentage of bones, skin and gristle and not much actual meat, and; the main high street being absolutely dead by 8pm – all the locals are at home because their day starts at 5am.

The mini-spade I got with my my yoghurt was one of the highlights of my day:

Finally managed to get some laundry done and got my aforementioned t-shirt back, which someone described as “backpacker white”:

Then off through the gaggle of local sellers who’d taken a fancy to Rudy:

… to the night market

Then an early night in preparation for tomorrow – a few days’ relaxation was great, but I’m itching to get active again 🙂

10 December 20156 February 2026

Day 87 (Thu 10 Dec): Pakbeng to Huay Xai (Mekong cruise)

Cruising down the Mekong. I wanted this day to never end.

Some info from Sene:

Population of Lao is 7.8m
There are 49 ethnic groups in Lao
Hmong (they were in the highlands in Sapa) are from Mongolia
Khmu (the ancestors of those who made the urns on the Plain of Jars) are a sub-group of the Khmer, originally from China
Khmu believe that each person has thirty-two spirits; when someone is ill, they kill an animal to redress the spirit balance
They marry early: girls at 15-17 and boys 16-18
When they marry, the Khmu dowry (or their equivalent) includes two pigs and a buffalo
They hunt wild pig, grasshoppers (can you hunt grasshoppers? I guess so), and spiders
This is king cobra country
The government forced the villages to combine to make it easier to provide education and healthcare
Contribution towards the cost of a year at school: $6
Families can often have up to 10 children; contraception became available in 2010
Today at the village there were only women and children – the men were harvesting.

And a riddle: what do Lao eat when it’s young and sleep with when it’s older?

Answer: bamboo – they eat the shoots, and use the grown plants to build their houses.

And some other interesting notes from our conversations with Sene:

The people vote for the “president” of the ruling party (there is, of course, only one party in Communist Lao)
The president serves a five-year term, with a maximum of three terms
Maximum age of the president is 60 years (I think I misheard this – he must have meant “minimum” age, I think)
If the president is no good (as determined by the other members of the party), he is stripped of his power and becomes a figurehead for the rest of his term
National service lasts two and a half years
Building of the high-speed rail service linking Kunming (China, where I’m going… unless plans change again!) and Singapore starts this year and is planned to be finished in five years’ time (and seeing the terrain they’ve got to deal with, I think this is incredibly ambitious)
China’s paying for the rail link with Lao gradually paying it back (once they’re generating income from it, I assume)
China’s also paying to relocate the locals displaced by the line

Today’s excursion was to an ethnic village. I’ve lost count of the number of ethnic villages I’ve seen, but they’re all different.

It was fascinating to see their way of life, but once again I felt like I was intruding. But Rudy has this way of engaging with people: the cockerel was making its usual racket (I’m still of the opinion that they actually know the true meaning of life and the twist is that when they try to tell us, all they can say is cock-a-doodle-do – this surely explains the intensity of their cry). Its cry was fairly regular; Rudy wanted to film it, so counted it down like a film director and, when he pointed it at, it duly crowed; everyone laughed. He’s magic:

And I couldn’t decide whether this little rascal was playing for the camera – I’m not sure he really registered us:

Back on the boat, we chugged past banana plantations (apparently the blue wrapping round the trunks deters insects):

And staring in wonder at those on speed boats: not withstanding the dubious safety record (note the helmet), why on earth would a tourist (as locals are unlikely to be able to afford it) want to whizz past this beautiful scenery with the constant roar of a motor? Mind you, it reduces the two day journey to about three hours:

Then I spent a wonderful couple of hours dangling my legs over the front of the boat, watching the world and the water go by (including some very impressive currents):

We arrived in Huay Xai all too soon, bundled on a tuk-tuk to the bus station where we arrived just as a bus to Luang Namtha was about to leave. Couldn’t have planned it better.

Then dinner watching the stars – there’s very little light pollution here.

Yet another wonderful day 🙂

9 December 201526 January 2018

Day 86 (Wed 9 Dec): Luang Prabang to Pakbeng (Mekong cruise)

I’ve finally made it to the Mekong cruise after many minor changes of plan. Our guide, Sene, gave us the lowdown:

“Mekong” means “mother”
It runs 1,986 km through Lao, and is 300m across at its widest point
It’s home to 120 types of fish
Luang Prabang to Huay Xai is 300km
The twelfth longest river in the world, the Mekong runs through six countries: China, Burma (Myanmar), Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand (not in this order!)
The sand on its banks is really good for growing peanuts

Not long after we’d set off, we arrived at Pak Ou cave. Its claim to fame is that it is home to 4,000 Buddha statues:

In C6 – 8, it was used by the animists, but was changed to a Buddhist temple in C14. Every Lao new year (they’re one month ahead of us), the main Buddha is washed and his clothes changed.

Outside, there was fish on a stick, Dibbler-style:

I’d got some sticky rice for the journey. I have to keep overruling my English brain that won’t eat rice that’s been out of the fridge too long. It was packaged in bamboo, covered with a banana leaf and corked with coconut bark:

“How long does sticky rice last?” I asked Sene.

“About 15 minutes”, he replied. I laughed. Correct answer. The other correct answer is one week.

And the rest of the day was spent lying in relative luxury (along with Ha Long Bay, this was one of my “do it properly” things after too many horror stories of packed boats):

We docked at Pakbeng and were offered a guesthouse moments after we were on dry land. So ridiculously easy. But the Wi-Fi didn’t work. Because the electricity was down. I didn’t flinch. I may be going native 😉

8 December 201511 January 2021

Day 85 (Tue 8 Dec): Luang Prabang (Kuang Si waterfall, bear sanctuary, butterfly park)

Kuang Si waterfall:

We rented a motorbike, left early and climbed to the top before the tourist hordes arrived.

On the way up, I saw this beautiful dragonfly:

… fungus on a fallen tree:

… and once again broke my record for the biggest wild spider I’ve ever seen (Rudy’s hand included to give a sense of scale):

At the top, I wasn’t entirely sure why an armed guard was necessary:

But the view was fantastic:

And then, still ahead of the crowds, a swim in the pools, playing in the current:

A bear sanctuary lives on the site providing a final home for rescued animals. Watching their slow, languid movements was very relaxing – how chilled do these look?!

Kuang Si Butterfly Park is absolutely fascinating. Set up by a Dutch couple, it’s informative and interesting. Here’s what I learnt about butterflies:

Their wings act as solar panels – they open them in the sun to “charge them up”
They can see UV, which is reflected by nectar (that’s how they know where it is)
The alcohol of fermented fruit turns into sugar in their bodies

Lifecycle of a butterfly:

When a female is born, she releases pheromones that the male detects and comes to mate
The female can accept or reject him
If she accepts, they “dance” together (different dances for different species) and mate
The female has to lay eggs on a specific type of plant (again, dependent on species)
She tastes the plant by scratching its surfaces to release its juices and tastes with receptors in her feet
If it’s the right host plant, she lays her eggs (between 70 and a few hundred eggs, of which only about two percent will make it to butterfly stage)
Some females can only mate once, others more than once (species dependent)
Most males die after mating
Caterpillars hatch and stay on the plant, eating and pooing – they can grow to a thousand times their birth weight, shedding their skin as they grow (one to three weeks)
Their last skin isn’t discarded but becomes the outer part of their chrysalis
At the park they collect the chrysalises (sp?) and hang them on a frame whose feet are in water (to prevent ants climbing up and eating them)
Many chrysalises are gold or silver as it reflects the light making it more difficult for predators to see
Inside the chrysalis the caterpillar dissolves (I know, mind-bogglingly amazing) and the butterfly forms
When it’s ready, the chrysalis turns transparent and, within seconds, the butterfly emerges
If it’s sunny, it’ll take 30 to 120 minutes to open its wings and “charge up”
If it’s female, the pheromones are released and the cycle starts again
Males take an extra day to get with it and then go in search of a female
Butterflies only live about a week because of natural predators
To protect themselves, they’re often brightly coloured (“don’t eat me, I’m toxic”) or camouflaged

Here’s a stunning example of camouflage – the “dead leaf butterfly”:

I bet you’re never gonna look at a butterfly quite the same way again. Me neither. And I’m pleased to announce that I’ve finally captured some on film, albeit not the very big ones. Enjoy:

I squealed, everyone laughed. I’ve never been to a fish spa before. For the uninitiated (i.e. me), it’s a pool full of fish that like to eat dead skin. Nom, nom. It didn’t tickle or hurt, but you can feel them nibbling:

With that (and a free slice of cake because he wanted an expert’s opinion, although the mention of a blog and a Trip Advisor review may also have helped), we rode back through the countryside:

… using Lao directions (“just keep going straight ahead”… “What, apart from the two turnings left and right, you mean?!”)

… to dinner at the street market:

… and a friend with ulterior motives:

If only these fruit packs were available in the UK for 80p a pop:

Brilliant day. Another highlight (quite a few of which, I’ve noticed, involve water 😉

7 December 201511 January 2021

Day 84 (Mon 7 Dec): Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang (Royal Palace museum)

Eating breakfast when the local school kids laboriously made their way to school:

Then back to Luang Prabang on the road cut into the side of the mountains with nothing to hold back the sheer walls of earth but small terraces. No wire mesh, no concrete, just exposed rocks and clay just waiting to become a landslide. The environment is against them – as fast as they’re building the roads, the weather is destroying them. Without the money to tunnel through the mountains, they have to go over the top. As a result, journey times are lengthened which keeps many areas remote. But the scenery more than makes up for the bumps and the hours:

A younger, faster mini van driver for the journey back to Luang Prabang was welcome, although the Laotian music wasn’t. Sorry, I really am trying but it’s cheesy love songs. One after the other. For four hours. There’s only so much a woman can take.

Stopping at a petrol station, I wandered into what I thought was the garage shop. It was someone’s living room. Huh, wah? Yep, someone (presumably whoever worked at the garage) had designed their home with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the forecourt. Only in SE Asia:

And then back to staring at the Lao countryside all the way back to Luang Prabang:

No photos allowed inside the Royal Palace Museum, but don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. We hadn’t left ourselves much time. We started with the temple on the edge of the grounds.

Reaching the top of the steps, we both looked at the shrine inside. No photo, but just substitute any previous Buddhist shrine photo and add gold spray paint. Rudy looked at me. “Done?” he asked. “Done,” I nodded. Halfway down the steps I started killing myself laughing. And didn’t stop for a while. Being a tourist can easily get like that – feeling like you have to see things so you don’t miss out. Luckily, neither of us can be bothered with the tourist tick list.

Refurbished in 1959 by the incoming king, the throne room is impressive with a mural made from Japanese glass. Now I’m going to be honest here. It was nice. But Picasso it was not. I couldn’t help but feel that it thought it was more important than it was. Another case of “Che Guevara’s pants “, me thinks.

After some China planning in our room:

… we hit the town for dinner. I walked back to our street food table to catch the man respond to Rudy (who’s from Belgium, in case you missed that bit) with the line “You’ve got quite a few Muslims there, haven’t you?”.

Err, what?! Did i hear that right? Yes, he was commenting on the large number of Muslims in Belgium. News to me, and I was intrigued as to why this was relevant anyway. It turns out that Mr Las Vegas had heard about the Paris attacks and that the eighth member was in Brussels, and also about the Syrian refugee crisis and had concluded that Europe was being “overtaken by Muslims”.

And the problem, he said, wasn’t just in Europe – they were taking over the world and nobody was safe from terrorism. Wait, wait – it gets worse… When I gently suggested that not all Muslims were terrorists, he replied, “but you just can’t tell which ones are which.” I’ll admit, he floored me for a moment. Never have I come across such blatant ignorance and prejudice. His Thai female companion started looking a little uncomfortable. I composed myself.

To stay silent felt like condoning his behaviour and I couldn’t do that. Calmly, I pointed out that Laos was bombed by the Americans during the Vietnam war and that, as he was American, he was, by his reasoning, a threat to Laos. Because he looked American, how did I know that he wasn’t going to bomb the place? His ignorance and stupidity was so deep that he didn’t flinch. He didn’t really understand, wasn’t really listening and was only hearing what he wanted to hear. His friend, on the other hand, understood the point I was making and looked even more uncomfortable. I decided any further discussion was futile. I’d made my point and he was too closed-minded and unintelligent to listen.

I also realised that I was being prejudiced against him and tried, for the next ten minutes or so, to listen to his stories and comments on his extensive travels. And I didn’t want to make his companion uncomfortable. She clearly wanted him to shut up and go but he wasn’t picking up on her attempts to remove him from the situation. But eventually they left. We sat there in stunned silence. In the interests of international relations, I strongly suggest the American government confiscate his passport.

6 December 201511 January 2021

Day 83 (Sun 6 Dec): Vang Vieng (Blue Lagoon, Patok Cave, Water Cave)

Cruising through the Laos countryside on the back of a motorbike (bruise is much better, thanks). Motorbike is often the best, and sometimes the only, way to get around and this time I’m in very safe hands – as a professional driver it took Rudy all of about 10 minutes to master the machine. I felt safe.

Hanging (quite literally – check out the ropes) with the locals at the Blue Lagoon (which, I will assume, requires no explanation):

Many people couldn’t swim: few were actually in the water and of those who were, quite a few were wearing life jackets… including some who were jumping in. Asians aren’t swimmers, but there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be if they’re given the opportunity to learn. If I wanted to live out here (which I don’t), a swim school could be a good business opportunity…

The tree overhanging the river was the main focal point, with a swing rope and two branches from which people were jumping in. Nobody was controlling who was jumping from where so there were a few near misses. Health and safety is non-existent: no lifeguard, no rescue equipment, slippery exit routes, variable water depths (not marked, but it was the first thing I checked after I’d carefully lowered myself in) and exit ladders that, I found out, weren’t actually attached to the side! If it had been in England, the place would have been closed down a long time ago.

But it wasn’t in England, so I just used common sense and applied basic water safety. And my instinct. I warmed up with the swing rope and by jumping off the lower branch:

Then I started up the bamboo ladder to the higher branch. The ladder itself was, er, basic – pieces of bamboo held together with twine. When I got level with it, I peered along the high branch. To get to the jump point I’d have to balance along the branch with only the help of a rickety handrail (of the same construction as the ladder but even less robust) and some “two by one” nailed to the branch. Whilst the water entry point was obviously deep enough, there were rocks under the first bit so falling would almost certainly put you out of action for a while. Maybe forever. My whole being told me that this was a bad idea. A quick internal assessment confirmed that it wasn’t “good fear” but survival instinct. I had no hesitation in going back down the ladder. Later that day I pondered where I’d be if I’d have overruled my instincts – I’m fairly sure it wasn’t pretty.

Patok cave is impressive:

Especially the walls:

Walking back to the motorbike, the sign on the bamboo bridge declared:

I offered a clearer translation to the staff at the other end. They looked sheepish rather than grateful. And that they hadn’t asked one of the many native English speakers who they meet every day before they wrote it says much about their character.

Through more beautiful scenery:

… to the water cave, where we sat for a while watching the groups of (mostly Laos) tourists tubing into and out of the cave:

Then the journey back to base across more bamboo bridges:

… past a mountain that “might fall down” (Rudy admitted he’d been watching too many Road Runner cartoons!):

… negotiating the many pot holes in the middle of the “highway”:

… and the cows:

… before stopping to watch a game of volley football (same rules, but you can’t use your hands):

Very impressive and they seemed to enjoy the attention, playing up to the camera with ever more flashy moves. Asians aren’t camera shy 😉

Just beyond the “corner shop” with an unusual guard:

… there was a sign that read “Thai massage”. I wanted to believe them but had doubts. I tried anyway. Manoi was amazing – as good as Mat in Bangkok, but different.

Loved the toilet sign(s) – transcends languages:

And this passenger looked so comfortable:

Brilliant day, with roti for dessert:

What more can a girl wish for? 🙂

5 December 201526 January 2018

Day 82 (Sat 5 Dec): Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng

Step ladders made out of bamboo, dogs wandering the streets and beautiful scenery:

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng had been slow. Another oldster at the wheel 🙁 The four-hour journey took 6.5 hours.

Sticky rice is a really good discovery. Best served in bamboo, sealed with banana leaf and coconut bark, it lasts for up to a week. Perfect as a healthy snack on the go:

Toilet stop near a view point. And when I opened they toilet door, this is what I saw:

Surely the best view from a slammer in Asia, if not the world..?

A second stop half an hour later, where the driver pulled up, left the engine running and suddenly disappeared. No explanation, nothing. Same story my whole trip – they’re good at many things, but telling people what’s going on isn’t one of them. We waited, and then I went to find him. He was tucking into sticky rice. I guess that meant a lunch stop, then 😉

Bamboo scaffolding still fascinates me, but with a dearth of metal it’s a resourceful solution. Just looks odd to my first-world eyes:

Vang Vieng is renowned as the party capital of Laos. But look the other way and you’ll see spectacular natural scenery. People I’d spoken to seemed to either love or hate the place. Tubing is the activity of choice. At its most innocent, this involves floating down the river in an inflated tractor inner tube. But backpackers punctuate it with stops at riverside bars where copious amounts of alcohol are consumed. Add hanging ropes over water of varying depth and it’s not surprising that the fatality rate of tourists in the area is ridiculously high. Authorities have tried to turn the place around (for instance, apparently they prohibited venues from calling themselves “bars” which may explain the numerous “restaurants” in town). On my original schedule I didn’t have time to detour, but now I had a few days to spare I was looking forward to making my own mind up on the place:

That it was touristy goes without saying. But it wasn’t as bad as I’d been led to believe (or maybe I’m becoming more of a party animal in my old age), although there may well have been another side to the place that bypassed me completely. Either way, I’m not complaining.

I saw lady boys for the first time on my trip which was cool. Self-confident, exuberant and, er, “top-heavy”, they’re easy to spot. I’d always assumed that they were males who aspired to be female (and who can blame them? 😉 ), but I think they’re actually males who want to be lady boys: they clearly liked attention and seemed comfortable that they’re so identifiable. Or maybe those were just the ones I noticed…

Random stuff from today includes the man in the mini mart who reached in front of me and put his beer on the counter. The sales assistant then, naturally, picked them up and started putting them through the till. “Oh no, no, no”. I actually said this. He looked only marginally embarrassed at his rudeness, and backed off without a fight. Brazenness like this just wouldn’t happen in England. Not in a mini mart, anyway.

And the second incident of note was the hotel member of staff who just walked into my room. She wanted to sort the air conditioner, but there no knock and she didn’t even register me when she entered. It was like she thought she was invisible. She wasn’t. I think it’s a manifestation of the submissiveness that seems a more common trait here. A stark contrast to the mini mart man. On average, they would be about right, maybe?!

4 December 201526 January 2018

Day 81 (Fri 4 Dec): Luang Prabang (Chinese visa)

I’m going to China. I have a visa in my mitts. Well, in my passport.

It’s all a bit of a farce, really – online research confirmed a local travel agent would “book me a flight” (ahem) and I only needed the first night booked, which I could do online and then cancel immediately afterwards. We also asked her about getting to Vientiane and mentioned the main reason for our visit. “Why you no get visa here?”, she asked. Long story short – there’s a Chinese embassy less than ten minutes from our hotel. Really. And she’s the only travel agent in town who seems to know this.

So I printed my documents, got a tuk-tuk to the embassy, dropped off my passport at 11am and returned at 3pm to collect it. And Bob’s your neighbour, I have Chinese visa. Epic success 🙂

There was a moment, though – when she’d handed me back my passport and wished me a good trip, she handed me a sheet of paper that said something about a health clinic. I had a flashback to my to border crossing into Vietnam and the “hypothermia epidemic” scam. But it turned out that she wanted me to proof read it. Clever lady. I’m surprised I haven’t been asked before and was only happy to help.

And in between dropping off and collecting my visa, who should we meet but Reto and Suzie who were on our Nong Khiaw tour. I’d been told that travellers often bumped into each other again but am still surprised at how often it’s happened. Pleasantly surprised.

But I also had to say goodbye to Eleanor who’s leaving for Vietnam on this evening’s night bus. She’s been a great travel companion and I admire her courage, calmness and sense of adventure – she’s explored so much of the world already and is only 18. I’ve got some catching up to do!

Walking back through the night market in the pouring rain I saw something that made me catch my breath – electric cables lying across the street, the only concession to the weather was that they were turned on their side. Logic states that it must only be a matter of time before a serious accident occurs, but it never seems to. How does that work, then?

To bed happy – Chinese visa sorted, and travel agency confirmed that I could change my flight date and departure airport for just £40, which left just enough time for me to try out Vang Vieng 🙂

PS And this toilet amused me – placed right in the middle of the cubicle, like they’d intended someone to dance round it: