November

We left you crossing the very full and fast flowing border from Thailand into Laos in what we assumed was a frighteningly inadequate boat for such a task. What do we know though, 4 minutes later we were disembarking onto dry Laos land - well sort of, the heavens had opened and we were getting soaked. Grey, wet and a bit miserable it was like we had stepped into a good old Scottish summer's day except it was warmer. Huay Xia, the border crossing town is not known for its points of interest or beauty so we decided to push on through to Luang Nam Tha, a five hour drive to the north. We had a bit of a wait for our chariot so I decided to pass the time by continuing with my cross stitching project that I had started in India. Originally this was just meant to be a small hobby to try and keep me sane in amongst the chaos and madness of Hebron and Sagar - in fact I was a touch ambitious with my content and scale and needless to say I am still working on it now (I am writing this in Cambodia). Anyway it turns out that cross stitch is THE thing to do in Laos. I kid you not. Within in 2 minutes of me getting my cross stitch out I had women running at me from all directions carrying their own very impressive cross stitch creations. Cushion covers, framed pictures... well that is about all you can do with cross stitch but there were a lot of different patterns. One lady decided that I had a very slow technique and that I could do it much quicker her way so took it from me mid stitch and started wildly sewing (if that is possible). I watched in dismay as she powered on doing it completely wrong whilst happily explaining why this way was much better. I would unpick it later. This was not the first or the last time that my cross stitch was grabbed out of my hands by slightly bonkers ladies and even though the very large controlling part of me screams for them to give it back to me the other part thoroughly enjoyed the interactions that ensued. Such is their surprise and enthusiasm that a white lady knows how to embroider it always leads to such lovely conversations and stories that I don't really mind if they make a mistake.

Our chariot arrived and it was a little bit fancy pants. No local bus for us but instead and rather roomy, leather seated air conditioned mini bus. It was us, the driver and a couple of ladies with their young babies. Turns out that the leather seats are not actually a luxury addition but a necessary requirement for their wipe clean nature. Laos folk are not so good at road travel and as we later discovered it is all part of the norm to be handed a sick bag or four at the start of the journey. This however does nothing to quash their appetite - far from it. Such is the vigour and voracity of their eating on the many pit stops it's like they mentally blanked out what has and is about to happen as soon as the bus gets rolling again. Anyway, so you guessed it, everyone apart from us and the driver threw up on this 5 hour car journey. At one point Graham was handed a slightly bemused looking baby boy to entertain whilst his mother was sick into a bag. I say handed, really he was thrown at Graham over a seat. As he had already projectile vomited over the front of the car (that was before the lunch break where he was stuffed with fried rice) we were both a little nervous that he might pop but it all turned out ok in the end and his mother stopped being sick just as he started to cry. All good then.

There were some modern influences, most notably the space station sized satellite dishes that guarded every wooden hut guaranteeing access to Thailand's answer to Santa Barbara and the Bold and the Beautiful however the icecream motorbike playing its music from a pimped up mobile phone and speaker set up was also funny enough to merit a mention. We also got to sample a traditional Laos picnic of sticky rice some spicy bamboo shoots, very garlicky morning glory and some rather chewy meat stuff that I think was pork. It was actually delicious although the pink gelatinous blobs that were pudding were a little bit tricky. It seems that the general lack of dairy in the SE Asian diets means that they have to be a little more inventive with their pudding recipes - unfortunately most of them don#t work out that well but it is fun to try. Well for the first bite anyway and then it is usually downhill from there. Some could definitely be used as instruments of torture to force people to talk -that is if they could actually swallow the solid, gelatinous morsels of hell. Being British though, obviously Graham and I sounded our approval of these culinary horror shows through forced smiles and stuffed cheeks - nodding vigorously in agreement that they are quite delicious whilst gesturing wildly that we are too full to possibly to eat another one. Regardless of this unforgettable taste experience our lasting memory of the day was the amazing friendliness of the people. Obviously there were some that were only really interested in our money cash but the majority were super smiley and friendly and that made it absolutely worth being a 'tourist' for the day.

Next day we decided to make use of the smelly and rather heavy outdoor shoes we have been dragging round with us for the past 6 months and go for a jungle trek. It turned out that there was quite a big group that had signed up for the easy to moderate meander through the trees and the exciting news of the day was that the local guide had discovered a new track which we would trying out - the first time for the English speaking guide too. There had been a massive storm the night before so the ground was pretty slippy and wet but then what else would you expect for walking through the

Next day was a travel day back to Huay Xia, the border town where we would be getting the slow boat to Luang Prabang. We got a local bus which was rickety and missing a few windows but otherwise ok and sat down for the 5 hour journey back. Now you all know my usual plan when faced with a sizeable journey is to dehydrate myself enough to mean that use of the public facilities is not normally necessary. That day I committed a schoolboy error of having a fruit juice and a cup of tea for breakfast. Regardless of the fact that I went to the loo three times before we left, by the time the bus was pulling off I had that terrible feeling that a loo stop may be needed sooner rather than later. It's all psychological I told myself and off we set. An hour in and I was a bit squirmy, thirty minutes later and it was becoming a pressing matter. The bus suddenly came to a halt by the side of the road. No public toilets in sight so I thought it was the driver just stopping to have a faff (very very common on bus rides in SE Asia). After a bit of shuffling from some people at the front Graham suggested that this might be the loo stop. Surely not - ok it's all fine and dandy for the men but where are the ladies meant to go? To my horror I looked out of the window to see three ladies crouching by the side of the bus in full view of fellow passengers and any passing traffic. Turns out that their traditional skirts double as a modesty tent in which they can hide in - the only give away is the small stream flowing between their toes. There was absolutely no way that I was going to be bearing my white bum cheeks to the world and his friend so resolved to hang on until we got the bus station. As the bus set off again I realised that this had been foolish as I was barely going to last 10 minutes let alone the 3 and half hours that remained. What to do? The bus had only just stopped so I couldn't ask them to stop again. Time to focus the mind. Ipod on full blast, top of the trousers moved down to prevent any additional unwanted pressure on the bladder and a slow rocking motion to try distract me from the fact that, at the grand old age of 30, was about wet myself in public. For an hour I toughed it out, palms sweating, cheeks flushed until I had no choice but to ask the driver to stop. Making my way carefully up the bus because a) I didn't want to have any last minute accidents and b) there were rows of vomiting locals that I didn't want to shock in case it caused them to drop their bulging plastic bags. The driver stopped and I ran as fast as my crossed legs could take me to a place of shelter. I wasn't exactly spoiled for choice but there was a gravel verge that was far from the bus and would shelter me from the passing traffic on the road. Relief finally - I thought I might cry. And then I almost did when I looked up to see a line of men from the bus standing watching me do my wee. Ha I didn't care anymore - I had managed to avoid wetting myself. When I reappeared Graham was walking from the bus chuckling at the size of my audience - he at least had the decency to wait until I had finished before going for his bathroom break. Back on the bus I got my own revenge as the peeping toms once again reached for their sick bags and I settled down to enjoy the rest of the journey in comfort.

We were back in Huay Xia and once again it was grey, miserable and raining. This gave us the perfect excuse to sit back, watch movies and eat junk for the rest of the day as our slow boat didn't depart until the following morning. Now as a traveller, you have several choices of how to get from Huay Xia to Luang Prabang, the most popular being the 2 day slow boat down the Mekong River. Your other options are a 24 hour bus journey or a 6 hour 50/50 chance of death trip in a speed boat. The speed boats made our border crossing boat look like the QE2 - pretty much a hollowed out tree trunk with a powerful engine to propel it down the river. There are warnings everywhere stressing that under no circumstances should you consider speedboat travel as contact with any of the floating detritus (there are whole 200ft trees in there) can lead to a sudden and soggy end (Laos doesn't really do Lifeboats or hospitals).They result in multiple deaths every month. Clearly not really an option we wanted to take, but some people do take the risk and I am pretty sure the regret it almost instantly. Aboard the few that we saw screaming past us, the driver was kitted up head to toe in full protective gear including a crash helmet (never a comforting sign, a bit like boarding a plane and seeing all the crew wearing parachutes). The tourists were completely naked to the elements and getting it full in the face with some of the Mekong's finest muddy river water. Add to this, the torrential monsoon rain and it made quite a funny picture for all us sensible tourists lounging about on the spacious slow boat, I just hope the silly beggars made it to their destination in one piece.

So at some point the mooching had to stop. Rather reluctantly we decided to leave Luang Prabang and head north again for a little jaunt up the river to Nong Kiaw. It was ok though, as this plan meant that we would have to return to Luang Prabang for another day of mooching before embarking on the lengthy bus journey down to Vientiane. We packed our bags and set off down to the pier to find a small, sorry looking party of three slightly desperate tourists demanding to know our planned destination. It turned out that you need 8 people for the boat to leave and with our arrival our group totalled only 5. Much debating and attempted haggling then ensued - attempted haggling because we tried, in vain, to get the driver to lower his suggested price, but being acutely aware that he had 5 tourists who would much rather take the boat than the bus, he wouldn't budge. Eventually, we admitted defeat and headed down to our river-chariot. It was small and there was a definite lack of toilet facilities. Great. We loaded our bags on to the front and put our bums down on one of the few child-sized wooden chairs and set off up the river. Now even though we were a small group clearly on a very small boat, some of fellow passengers failed to realise that if they swapped sides in order to take photos this caused the boat to rock and tilt wildly (not in an exciting way). Perhaps they didn't care as long as they got a good shot - the result was that Graham and I spent much of the journey playing musical chairs trying to keep the boat balanced and rather more importantly, afloat.

Now as you will have noticed in my description, there were no facilities on board which meant that at some point we were going to be making a nature loo stop (marginally preferable to a bare bum balancing overboard). As the banks were lined with trees I thought that there shouldn't be too much trouble finding a shaded spot for a bit of privacy. Our driver had other ideas though and moored the boat up on a bare muddy bank that had an impenetrable grassy barrier at the back potentially filled with snakes and all sorts of enormous bugs and beasties. Muttering furiously that it was alright for boys, I tried to find some sort of cover to try and prevent my fellow passengers having a full view of my white bottom. It sort of worked although the other female passenger had followed me to see where I had gone and lingered about waiting for her turn (not a huge amount of privacy then). On the plus side it was a lovely spot for photographing butterflies. Perhaps this was the regular loo stop for all the boats which made the land fertile for their favourite flowers - I didn't want to think about it so just admired the amazing colours and species that were on show and got snapping.

Off we sputtered once again and as we had been going for 3 hours already I thought we must only have another couple of hours to go. It turns out the 5 hour boat journey is in fact closer to 8 or 9 hours. I had lost all sensation in my buttocks and most of my legs by the time we eventually arrived. It was a beautiful journey with amazing landscapes and plenty of splashing, laughing children (who are almost impossible to photograph from a moving boat) to keep us entertained but 8 hours was more than enough.

We arrived in Nong Kiaw as the sun was setting and whilst its location encourages a fair amount of jaw dropping, it was a far cry from the refined Luang Prabang. For starters, the main road was a mud pit of flip flop sucking puddles and nasty looking green sludgy stuff, which was not easily negotiated with a heavy bag on your front and back. Secondly, the accommodation options were perhaps a little less salubrious than we had enjoyed on our travels up until this point. We made for the bungalows that seemed to have the best view across the river and set up camp in time to watch the last of the sunset.

Now there is not a huge amount to do in Nong Kiaw apart from walk, visit the cave in the limestone karsts and go see a 'very beautiful' waterfall so the following day, we headed down the road keen to tick them off the list. It was hot, rocket hot and there was not an enormous amount of shade along the way. We were also joined by a fellow passenger from the boat ride the day before and it is safe to say that she did not have much of a spring in her step. So it was rocket hot, and we were walking at a snail's pace in the blazing sunshine - not an ideal combination for keeping a Graham happy. We eventually made it to the cave only to be met by a very skinny man in his pants - an unexpected and slightly startling sight.

As the monsoon rains had washed away the bridge he was our official (self-appointed) escort across the river. On first impressions I didn't have a great amount of confidence in him -this went further downhill when I got within 5 feet and smelt the very pungent whiff of alcohol. We were not to be thwarted though and I set off across the river with shoes in hand (as instructed by the drunk man) in order to keep them dry. In fairness to him he was a lot stronger than he looked and under pressure was relative steady on his feet which was a good thing when I was swept off mine. We made it across, soaking wet, but in one piece - our expectations of what this cave should be were suddenly monumentally inflated.

It was in fact, wildly underwhelming and could be argued not really a must see sight. Any notions of a Wookie hole style cave attraction went out the window pretty much straight away as we entered a pitch black hole with a few broken tables and chairs propped up against the side. Mmmmm. We wandered around for about 10 minutes tapping walls and trying to make out shapes in the pitch black before heading back for our return crossing. Our man was waiting having started another large bottle of Beer Lao in our absence. I made it across in similarly graceless fashion as on the previous journey and Graham waited to go second in order to take photos. When it came to his turn our guide did not take his bag this time so Graham started his crossing, camera in hand, raised above his head. Now it seemed to be our guide's tactic to get us across the river was to do it as quickly as possible (perhaps in order to get back to his beer). However this meant if you lost your footing, he would continue to drag you across rather than let you regain your balance. This is what happened to Graham and as I watched he tumbled and struggled to reset his footing. A look of utter panic crossed his face as the camera got to within millimetres of the top of the muddy river water - the drunk guide determined not to break his step. I am not entirely sure how he did it as Graham was pretty much horizontal at one point but he kept the camera above the water - what a hero! We paid the guide for his trouble (although we suspect he had probably sabotaged the bridge and was indeed the main obstacle) - I am almost certain that he took us through the deepest part of the river and had we crossed just 10 feet up we could have had a lovely cooling paddle across the water. Where is the adventure in that though?

So not the best start, but we decided to push on through the local villages and on to the 'very beautiful' waterfall nevertheless. As we walked through said villages we got chased by little kids pretending to give us flowers and dead butterflies as gifts then demanding money for their generosity. One boy chased us halfway down the street completely naked, obviously got a bit shy, ran home put some clothes on and came back to chase us the rest of the way. It was all pretty good natured and they quickly got bored when they realised we were not going to be coughing up any Kip (Laos currency) and disappeared into the shade to wait for the next passers-by. The directions we had been given were simply; get to the end of the second village and there you will see the 'very beautiful' waterfall. We got to the end of the second village and there was a river with a few rocks causing a stir to the general flow of things but it was stretching it to call it a waterfall and downright lying to call it beautiful. We took refuge under a tree and drank a couple of warm Pepsi (I know that is how bad it got - warm Pepsi). I did get some lovely photos of some resting dragonflies so all was not lost but we decided to quit whilst we were behind and head back.

The next day we returned to Luang Prabang. As it happened, the owners of the bungalows that we were staying in were heading there to see the big dragon boat racing festival that was taking place that day and so we got a lift (for a price) in their minivan (considerably quicker than the boat option). Ahh Luang Prabang, always happy to be back. We dropped our stuff and headed off the see the festivities which were colourful and loud. Laos folk don't need to be told twice to have a party and tuck into a few Beer Lao as some poor fools paddle like maniacs down a river in the blazing hot sun. The sleepy streets we had seen only a few days before were now filled with noise, litter and people enjoying the carnival spirit. There were going to be some sore heads the next day that was certain, but as we were about to embark on a long bus journey to Vientiane early the next morning we only indulged in a mild revelry before heading off in search of some food.

Another day, another mode of transport. No more ambient slow boat rides for us, we were coaching it all the way. As our bus was labelled VIP, this was supposed to guarantee less faffing, less stops and therefore less hours on the bus - 8 hours was our goal. Within 30 minutes of setting off the dreaded sounds of a straining retch echoed through the bus so any discussion Graham and I were having was abruptly ended as we reached for our headphones and music. It was not long before we saw the first landslide. Being the monsoon season, the rains play havoc with the main highway -the only option for wheeled vehicles. Now this road is similar to what you would find in the Scottish highlands after a particularly bad winter so no M1. We had been warned by a guy called Joe that when he had ventured the other way just a few days earlier there had been a huge landslide which had closed the road and like him, we might have to get off the bus, shoulder our bags and hike a kilometer around the gap, to a bus waiting on the other side. As the journey continued and the road got progressively steeper, the landslides got bigger and the bus got slower, however we were still making forward progress so that was encouraging. After a particularly large slide Graham and I agreed that we had now passed the worst, thank goodness there had been no hiking with heavy bags involved. Then we turned the corner. Approximately a 400m stretch of road had disappeared down the valley to leave an angry red scar of rocks and loose soil. The maintenance men had obviously been working flat out to re-open the only route between Laos' sole two cities and so they had managed to fashion a basic muddy causeway across the gaping hillside, but with passengers on board, the bus was too heavy to get across. Off we hopped and trekked through the mud. Happily this was a welcome stretch of the legs (and open air vomit for many of our Laos fellow passengers) as we didn't need to carry our bags. The bus skidded and groaned its way across but made it. Back on the bus and we were underway again. The rest of the bus journey was pretty much standard - an impossibly long lunch stop (a good hour and half longer than it need be) then they decided to put on some Laos TV entertainment at an ear splitting volume which was apparently entertaining and seemed to be distracting enough to stop all the vomiting (or at least we couldn't hear it anymore). 12 hours after we set off, we arrived in the Vientiane bus station, a good 4 hours after we had hoped to get there and still about 30 minutes from the centre and final destination. It is safe to say my mood was a little dark by this point which was not helped by the further 20 minute wait to fill up the tuk tuk. By the time we left it looked like they were trying to play some sort of weird, mobile version of sardines which is no fun when the road is pitted with pot holes. Eventually we were dropped somewhere in the centre and after a very testy walk around the backpacker area, we found our guesthouse.

Vientiane. There is not a huge amount to do apart from eat steak and watch the world go by and so, that's exactly what we did. We also found ourselves a riverside rooftop which was the perfect place to watch monks take a stroll, Laos ladies in conical hats do their fast walking stretching evening exercise (hilarious) and kids play football. The fact that it was a great spot to watch the sunset and the cocktails on offer were cheap but punchy meant that we became regulars for the three days we were in town. For the eating steak part of the tour we found ourselves a little French Bistro just down the road from our guesthouse. Sirloin steak covered with a creamy onion and mushroom sauce, French fries a bit of salad and two large glasses of rose to wash it all down with. Absolutely delicious. It was so good, had it not been closing time we might have ordered another round. As it was, we were the last people in the restaurant and it was horsing it down outside so we waddled quickly back to our guesthouse and fell to sleep almost instantly. Before we leave Vientiane our guesthouse merits a quick mention. Having chosen to stay there based on Tripadvisor reviews we were aware that the Mixay Paradise guesthouse loved a rule, a routine and a laminated sign. They were not lying. Everywhere you looked there were at least four laminated signs telling you what you could and couldn't do with the possible negative outcomes for any disobedience. It certainly gave a more clinical rather than charismatic feel to the place but what it lacked in character it made up for cleanliness. Whenever we moved seat or simply walked through the foyer we were followed by a person with a cloth or mop feverishly wiping in our wake - it could have made us a bit paranoid but instead we found it quite funny. Breakfast was also a bit odd, in that a single heart shaped fried egg set you back a dollar, but the all-day all-you-can-eat buffet of rice, three curries, salad, croissants, pastries and toast was free. We suspect someone had got their instructions muddled somewhere. The free afternoon tea and cake if you stayed for three nights or more was also very welcome.

With a Pad Thai packed dinner we said cheerio to Vientiane. Another sardines inspired tuk-tuk trip to the bus stop where we were pointed in the direction or our overnight sleeper bus - it definitely was not the fanciest one in the station as there was an obvious lack a flashing multi coloured lights. No matter. Once on we were guided to our top bunk double bed fit for a couple of hobbits so it suited me fine. As journeys goes it was pretty good. A bit of sleep, a very colourful lightning storm to entertain us whilst we ate our Pad Thai, no stops, no faffing and a timely arrival. This was slightly undone by the two hour wait for our onward bus to arrive (and the driver's seeming desire to stop and say hello to every local he passed in town) but once we hit the highway, he made up for lost time tearing up the tarmac (actually more mud, sand and gravel with a bit of cement to hold some bits together). We got there an hour early, having left an hour late - that was the sort of driving we were dealing with. Nevermind we were there and in one piece. We then headed over to the boats and got ourselves on to a river taxi to ferry us and 20 others across to Don Det - it was a squeeze. Rather ominously our journey was taking us straight towards the big, black and very heavy looking clouds. Mmmm this didn't look promising. We managed to beat the cloud to the island and quickly went in search of accommodation. Almost immediately we were accosted by a pair of dreadlocked very stoned looking chaps offering us a nice place to stay on the river. The fact that they both looked like they needed a good scrub should have been the first warning sign but with the 14 hour journey clouding our judgement and threat of the imminent down pour, this was enough encouragement for us to follow them. After 2 minutes I gave up on flip flops as the mud was so bad I was one step away from losing them forever and with our heavy bags on our backs they added an extra slip risk that we did not need. By the time we got to Happy Bungalows we were covered in mud and in desperate need of a shower. We plumped for the best room with A/C and our own bathroom which turned out to be big and at first glance ok but on closer inspection actually, really very dirty. I wanted to cry and runaway but the rain had started and it was chucking it down so I resolved to stay only until we found somewhere better. We did eventually after a couple of days (this is very much the land of the basic grotty bungalow) and it was actually a simple hop skip and a jump from our current abode. Right next door in fact. So we said our goodbyes to the stoned boys, they wished us an 'awesome onward trip' we sheepishly did not correct them and when they weren't looking, ran into our new room all of 10 feet away. Nothing flash as it was actually a lot smaller than the other room, but clean, with a hammock, and if you lay on the floor, a view of the river.

Our plan was to sit it out on Don Det until our Vietnam visa started on the 7th. From what we had read prior to our arrival we could swim in the calm crystal blue waters of the Mekong, perhaps partake in a little kayaking round this calm paradise. Mmmm. I am certain that all travel literature is either written in the dry season or by a blind person as the crystal clear blue waters were in fact a raging torrent muddy brown - not so inviting. It rained. Everyday. Not all day but definitely enough to maintain a thick level of sucking mud on all paths and roads* (*roads in the absolute loosest sense of the word), and enough to ensure that every item of clothing we had was wet and filthy. It was on Don Det that we said goodbye to Graham's Iphone and all the fun games we had downloaded for the long bus journeys. On one of our many bicycle rides (our things to do options were pretty much limited to cycling or watching movies in one of the bars) the heavens opened and it rained not just cats and dogs, but also Old Macdonald's entire farmyard. The tree we took shelter under was laughably inadequate and we were soaked through in a flash. As it wasn't looking like stopping anytime soon and we couldn't get any wetter we headed off into the storm to find food and proper shelter. It came in the form of a large restaurant that did an absolute killer spicy papaya salad (hands down - best one of the trip), delicious piping hot spring rolls and syrupy sweet mug (very unusual for SE Asia) of hot lemon, ginger and honey. In the darkness of the monsoon we found ourselves some culinary de'light'. The Iphone had gone into a weird hot-vibrate mode at this point which actually made it a very useful handwarmer for a while before it came to a shuddering jolt and was no more. The shower eventually passed and we made our way back to our hut in time to watch the greatest sunset of our trip. It was a big day. And so that was how it went on Don Det, we did some cycling and ate spicy papaya salads when we felt energetic and lay about in the 4000 Island bar watching movies and drinking rum when we felt lazy or it was just too grey and rainy.

We did do two sightseeing things to break the routine - firstly we illegally docked in Cambodia to see some of the very endangered Irrawaddy river dolphins - now they were no performing Flippers but we caught more than a few glimpses of their fins which was exciting enough but made for some very average photographs. Secondly we went to see SE Asia's largest waterfall. Now we need to clarify that this is based on water volume and not size so actually it looked like a giant river with rather large rapids and not really a waterfall at all. I was doubly disappointed with it as I had literally risked life and limb to go and see this waterscape. When we booked our afternoon trip they had been a little unclear on the transport/journey details so we believed it was going to be a boat ride. There was indeed a boat ride and at the end of it, a scooter with a shopping trolley attached - our chariot. I am not going to lie that I was a little apprehensive when I saw it but as I thought I was only going to be in it for 200m or so I thought I was big enough to brave it. In fact it was a 26km round trip, and on the way back in the driving rain. I was convinced I was going to die and all for the pleasure of seeing the world's most underwhelming waterfall. It wasn't even a waterfall. In the end I didn't die but I definitely didn't tip the driver. Back on Don Det we went straight to the 4000 Island bar and ordered a bucket of rum.