Sunday, June 22, 2008

Laos – Picture yourself on a tube on a river.

So Laos hey, how about it? Well it’s a country in the middle of Southeast Asia. It’s about the size of Utah but has very few Mormons. This would not be surprising as it’s located on the other side of the world from Salt Lake City and with a large number of people living in huts; there are a great shortage of doors to knock on. It’s also one of the five communist countries in the world (can you name the other four?) and was the most bombed country in the Vietnam War. The country also recently featured on the top of the New York Times most desirable holiday destinations over such places like the Maldives and Chechnya. (Not really.)

And that was the end of my Laos knowledge. A Dutch backpacker told me it was also the world headquarters of opium dens... I told him that it was the size of Utah. He wasn’t impressed.

So I left Bangkok with three other travelers on a Lao Airways propeller plane bound for the capital Vientiane. Vientiane was nice (if not a little boring). It’s like Bangkok without all the spotty backpackers and Calcutta without people crapping in the gutters. It was great to be away from the hustle and bustle of overpopulated cities. The Laos people (the Laoceans?) have spotless cities. I was impressed. But I do understand that India has over a billion people so I’m sure they would encounter toilet problems.

So after spending the night in nice hotel (only $3US a night) we decided to head north to the town of Vang Vieng, We were going to travel in style on the local bus. We paid our 48c and headed off. I was in seat 40F (actually it was more like a park bench), and my traveling companion (seated in 40G) was a chicken named Alf. His name wasn’t Alf but I think if I had a chicken that’s what I would name him. So, the journey took about four hours and we passed though the spectacular scenery of rice paddies, children herding cattle, and farmers with those funny pointed hats. It was like a scene out of a Vietnam War film, except without the helicopters, gunfire and the war.

Vang Vieng is a sleepy town located in the middle of Laos. It's perched on the Nam Kong River, which is home to the unlikeliest pub crawl in the word. It's this beer crawl that's the fundamental reason why Vang Vieng attracts so many backpackers (apart from a stunning scenery, cheap alcohol and accommodation). Basically you hire a large inflatable tube for three American dollars, and the float down the river. You float the past stunning scenery, over a few rapids as you lie back and fry in the Laos Sun until you hit a line of bars on littered on either side of the river.



As you float past, enthusiastic bartenders throw out a long stick and pull you in where you sit on the river bank binging on ridiculously cheap alcohol. (A bucket of Red Bull and a hefty amount of bad vodka cost two US dollars). And so you float from bar to bar chatting with other backpackers about how good it is getting drunk next to a beautiful river in Laos. More crucially, at each of these bars are ridiculously high rope swings that hang over the river. Basically you climb up a rickety wooden ladder and swing of a large rope and fall about 30 feet into the river. These swings get progressively higher, the further you get down the river, until they are so high that it’s practically impossible not to land in the river without hurting yourself. By the end of the river nearly everyone is alcohol fuelled and thus perform amazing acrobatic moves to show off to their adoring fans watching from their Red Bull and vodka buckets on shore. Think alcohol, swimming and swings is a lawsuit waiting to happen? Me too.

Not one to miss out on immature stupidity, I eagerly involved myself in showing off my signature swing moves. These included the air guitar, the orangutan, and finally, the-stupid-drunk-Australian-who-likes-to-show-off-on-a-swing-and-accidentally-land-on-his-doodle. And true to the name on the last swing, that is exactly what I did in front of a live audience. Oh yes, it hurt, but it was fun.

I distinctly remember standing there, trying to play volleyball on one of the riverside bars (looking through drunken eyes) at idiots throwing themselves off the swing in the hot Lao sun, thinking that life doesn’t get much better than this. (Shows my ambition in life). No, but seriously, I think everyone reading this should press that little red cross in the upper left-hand corner of this window , turn off their computers and by a one-way ticket to Laos. Actually, it might be wise to buy your ticket on the web before you turn off your computer, but now I am just being specific in my long-winded and not funny explanation that Laos is an amazing place that everyone should go.

Why was Laos the number one pick of the New York Times a must see international destinations? Apparently it's what Thailand was like in the 80s before it became a backpacker Mecca. Actually, but I've got no point of source to back that point up, but seriously visiting Lao is something everyone should do before they die, along with taking out the trash and filing taxes.

Another humorous event in Vang Vieng was the owner of the $5 US a night hotel I stayed in. He was 5” 7, 20 year old Laocean man/boy named Ong. Ong's English was surprisingly good and I asked him if he had taken English lessons, but he told me he learnt it entirely from watching MTV, (in particular from watching rap videos), resulting in his integrating of lyrics like “mo-fo” and “tap that ass” into his daily vocabulary. It was funny to think that rappers like 50 cent would use these words to describe the harsh ganglands of Queens New York, whereas Ong used it to express his life in picturesque Vang Vieng.

Ong told me he set up the hotel as a way of meeting the western women. Ong would stand at the reception desk, wearing his white suit and gold chains beaming at every girl that would enter his field of vision. When I checked in, Ong decided that I would be his wingman for the duration of my stay so my response was to sneak up to my room when he wasn’t looking in case he would recruit me for a wingman expedition.

One night I wasn’t so lucky. I had come back late one night and been spotted by Ong, who said that we must cruise the streets looking for some “honeys”. We headed out, but being so late everything had shut, Ong decided to tell me (in chronological order) every western women he has “tapped that on the floor’ …his list was rather short. We hadn’t even made it to the end of the street before we turned around and headed back to the hotel.

Back at reception, Ong decided that we would watch a “special” Family Guy DVD. I sat down on the foyer couch and as the TV player came to life, like ninja’s, seven of Ong’s friends appeared out of nowhere and crowded on the couch next to me. Not surprisingly the “special” Family Guy DVD” turned out to a old porn film aptly titled “Yank my Doodle it’s Dandy”. Just like little children, Ong and his friends would “oooh” and “aahh” at every appearance of female genitalia. Midway into the first scene Ong, pulled out some Opium (the Dutch guy was right) and passed it round his friends. Choosing not to smoke heroin, I sat their politely, arms crossed, watching the antique porno.

While I was sitting on the couch, the four other Western girls that were staying at the hotel to came through the reception. They all stopped in unison and said “Hey Andrew”, and then their eyes passed over the porn, opium and then back to my red face. I said hey and gave them a polite Queen Elizabeth wave. Looking confused they all said “Uh, I’ll leave you to it” and briskly walked up to their rooms. Yep, it was damn embarrassing. And for the rest of my time at the hotel, every time I passed them in the hallway I would go red. They probably thought I was a sleazy pornographic loving opium smoker. And that is totally untrue, I would never smoke opium!

In my remaining time in Vang Vieng I also went caving and rented a motorbike (by motorbike I mean a bicycle with a basket). I am scared of motorbikes. I kayaked back to the capital Vang Vieng and caught a plane back to Bangkok

Posing on a motorbike. I can't ride motorbikes. I am scared of them. I'm a real man.


So, in Laos I landed on my doodle and was an unsuccessful wing man for a wannabe player, and basically had the time of my life. It was definitely the best country I have visited so far on this trip. Totally amazing. Everyone should go. Especially you ladies, let’s go right now, I know this hotel owner I could hook you up with.

Bangkok: One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.

Yes, I know it's been months since my last blog. I had them written down while I was travelling, but I just have been too busy (lazy) to publish them on the internet. But now I am motivated, (cue 'Eye of the Tiger'):



Bangkok: One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.

And quoting the chorus of the horrendously cheesy 1984 track ‘One Night in Bangkok’:

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster.

The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.

You'll find a god in every golden cloister.

And if you're lucky then the God's a she, I can feel an angel sliding up to me.

Does this chorus have any thing to do with my time in Bangkok? I guess. But suppose I just wanted to mention an amazingly cheesy song in my blog – if only to expand the reader’s knowledge in crap music.

Anyway moving on... Ok, think of a segue… Bangkok hey?

I was especially excited to get to Bangkok. The city has so much to offer: beautiful people, spotless streets, cheap food, amazing nightlife and it’s inspiration for cheesy 80’s tunes.

Bangkok represented a symbolic part in the progression of our London to Sydney journey. A part of the trip that I found interesting was the changing appearance of the locals as we headed further east. The locals had gone from European to Middle Eastern to Pakistani/Indian and now to oriental. We had truly arrived in the Far East. In regards to time zones I was only a few hours behind Sydney. I could ring my family at a reasonable hour. I was definitely nearing home.
The whole bus was also happy to arrive in Bangkok as it was our first time in a few months that we were able to meet other backpackers. Places like Iran and Pakistan don’t scream out as backpacker territories (which may be a good thing) so it was nice to be in another backpacker Mecca.

Our hotel was near the famed Kaho Sanh Road – the epicentre of Bangkok’s backpacking industry. This road is littered with stalls selling such things as cheap Pad Thai, henna tattoos, pirated DVDs and my favourite – fake IDs. I spent a few dollars on getting a fake student card which proudly displayed that I went to Harvard University, while another member of the tour got a fake doctorate in Neurology from Cambridge. Why do you need an education when you can get instant qualification and a tan in Bangkok?

We were approached by an enthusiastic taxi driver offering to take us to a “Ping Pong show. For those who don’t know about a ping pong show, I recommend you rent the classic Australian film ‘Priscilla Queen of the Desert’. For those that can’t be asked to pay the rental fee, I’ll explain.

In a word it's a sex show, (actually that's two words). Basically, you pay to see local Thai women shoot ping pong balls and other projectiles out of a certain part of their body. What part of the body? On the whole, I would say it wasn’t their big toes. Not that I found that particularly titillating, but I suppose I was curious and as they say, “when in Rome...” (…Did the ancient Romans have ping pong balls?)

And guess what… It wasn't titillating. You paid your money at the front gate and escorted into a small neon lighted theatre, complete with arena seating. As you sat down, one by one, Thai ladies appear on stage performing a variety of acrobatic genital feats. As the advertising suggested, one of them shot out a ping-pong ball, one blew out candles on a birthday cake, one smoked a cigarette and another one pulled out a streamer and wrapped it around one of the poles on the stage (similar to rhythmic gymnasts at the Olympic Games).

But while these acts required undeniable skill and muscle strength, it was kind of unsettling to look at the Thai women’s bored and disinterested faces. This was their day job: to entertain gawking tourists who would undoubtedly go home and write blogs and tell their friends that they saw flying ping-pong in Bangkok. Sure, these women have feelings too. God, am I sounding too preachy? (Also the fact that the song ‘One Night in Bangkok’ was playing on repeat didn't help the atmosphere either).

After the Ping Pong show, we headed out to Gulliver's Tavern – a lively place on the end of Khao Sanh road. Twas lively place that was open late. After spending an hour binging on Thai beer, we looked around to notice that there were very few Western women in the bar. And as we were surrounded on the dance floor by local Thai ladies it became apparent to me (I'm observant) that this bar might be a hub for Western men to employ the services of local Thai women.


Like the bored faces at the ping pong show, there were two sides to the working Thai woman. One other backpacker went back to one of the women’s house and by house I mean a small shack next to a railway line. Seeing the abject poverty that her and her family lived in wasn’t much of an aphrodisiac. The glamorous (?) image the Thai girls portray to Westerners was far the from harsh reality that some of them lived in. Geez aren't I poetic.




Is this a man? Aren't you supposed to look at the hands?



So it can be said that in my one night in Bangkok, the world was my ping-pong ball, candle and streamer. And yes, that was much more interesting than a plain ol' oyster.