No electricity, no banditry, no worries

Kuang Si Waterfalls
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As we arrived in the Northern Lao city of Luang Prabang one of the first things we noticed (certainly after staying in Vietnam) was just how quiet the place was.  The peacefulness coupled with the stunning natural scenery and the very photogenic monks that wander around made a delightful change from hectic Hanoi.

As tourism isn't that well established yet in Laos it's a bit more difficult to travel around - but it's worth it.  Even getting into the country isn't straight forward.  You need to buy a visa at the airport.  Simple enough.  But the airport only accepts payment in US dollars (one of the country's three currencies!).  That's like turning up at Heathrow and British Immigration saying "Sorry sir, we don't accept pounds".  No problem - we'll just withdraw a stock of Vietnamese money and change it for dollars before we get to Laos (especially as there are no cashpoints in Laos).  But it's illegal to 'sell' dollars in Vietnam - so no banks would touch our money.  All they could do for us was whisper 'Black Market' conspiratorially.  Unsurprisingly, we couldn't find the 'Black Market' anywhere in our Lonely Planet guide Map Section but eventually we stumbled upon a backstreet shop that would handle the exchange for us - minus a commission of course.

Then why did the scruffily dressed 18 year old with a machine gun just get onto our bus?

Monks playing in the Mekong River
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So we paid for our visas - what about flights?  Again, not as straightforward as we'd hoped.  The British Foreign Office "strongly advises against" traveling on Lao Airlines (the country's only airline) because their safety record is so poor.  Fortunately for us, we didn't realise until after we'd flown.  They do say ignorance is bliss.

More about travel in Laos later...

Strolling around the many temples and Buddha statues in Luang Pranbang we came into contact with dozens of shaven headed novice monks (think the National Front casting for a Tango commercial).  For the most part the teenage monks are very much like normal teenagers - play fighting, having a sneaky cigarette, staring at Charlotte's breasts etc.  They were always happy to welcome visitors, sometimes (as they did with us) seizing the chance to practice their English.

The monk in the first window narrowly avoided getting busted for smoking
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We took the bus South towards the capital city, Vientianne.  Time for another Foreign Office Health Warning!  Apparently the unfortunately named Route 13 has been, in recent years. the scene of roadside armed banditry which four years ago resulted in some Swedish tourists being shot dead.  Even now, the British Government advises against travel down route 13 at night (NB:  They don't just hand out these warnings regardless you know - it just so happens that the first two such warnings we came across were in Laos.  And we ignored them both.).  So we thought about it for a while - it was four years ago after all and we could just take the day bus instead... of course we'd be safe!

Teen Army (our amred guards - safe hands eh?)
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Then why did the scruffily dressed 18 year old with a machine gun just get onto our bus?  A few worried glances shot amongst the western backpackers and a few no doubt drew their Swiss Army Knives in preparation, but the locals didn't seem bothered by it.  Thankfully it turned out that the kid with the gun was a 'private security officer' for our own protection and had been sat on the bus for the whole journey just waiting for an ambush.  But hey, it's not every day that this sort of stuff happens so we thought it was worth a mention anyway.

Big Buddha
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We arrived in Vientiane and Kieren had chronic D&V so we did nothing.  Bummer.  At least it kept Charlotte busy though.  As Kieren was on the great white phone to God Charlotte was busy trying to work out how the hell we could both get to Thailand as - according to the Lonely Planet Guides - no hospitals in Laos are deemed safe enough to risk going to.  Oh well, after 4 days it had cleared up so we set off towards the area known as the Four Thousand Islands.

For three pounds each we could've taken an air conditioned tourist bus that would take 2 hours.  But no, we wanted to experience the local bus (whilst saving a few quid).  It turned out that the local bus took twice as long and was only a pound cheaper than the tourist bus.  We could've put up with that until we actually saw what the local bus was; basically a pick up truck with three wooden benches, no windows and a tin roof.  In England 10 people would've fitted inside.  In Laos, 36 people fitted inside, hanging off the back, and on top of the roof.  That's not including the rice, the bananas, pots and pans and the pushbike that took up any spare space that the passengers didn't claim first.  Whenever we stopped (and it seemed we stopped, for no reason, every 15 minutes) local children would run up to the bus trying to sell food and drinks.  During one of these stops Charlotte, already suffering from a lack of personal space, found random sticks of meat (that looked suspiciously like a rat) thrust either side of her head rendering movement impossible.  Throughout the 3 hour journey we had constant 'skin on skin' contact with at least five people - conditions were so crampt.  And all this in 90 degree heat - thankfully everyone was wearing their right-guard that day and the journey was only as bad as it sounded (as opposed to smelt).  Yeah, it was hellish but we're both glad we did it.  We're both of the opinion now that you haven't traveled in Asia unless you've been on a local bus in Asia.  It was horrible... but brilliant.

Our bus was more packed than this.
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Life on the 4,000 islands is pretty slow paced.  To get around you take a slow boat through the Mekong past kids playing in the river amongst the placid water buffalo.  Kieren joined in a game of local football, playing barefoot amongst the buffalo poo with nothing more than some bamboo canes tied together for goalposts.  For our final stop we spent six days on Dong Det, an island so laid back that it's only got electricity for 3 hours a day.  In fact, at some of the restaurants, they ask you for 24 hours notice if you want a meat dish.  Which leaves just enough time to catch or kill your dish but not too much time that the meat goes off (no electricity = no fridge.  Let alone lights, hot water, TV etc).  There wasn't much else to do there but lie in a hammock all day waiting for the sun to set or go and see some rare (pinkish coloured) dolphins near the Cambodian border.  It was bliss!

Another nice photo
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Cambodia for a few days next...