Vang Vieng, from party to ghost town
31 december 2012
8 o’clock departure from Vientiane direction Vang Vieng. During this 3-4 hour car drive, the landscape changes from really flat to small sharp-edged mountains. Villages are tiny and rather unpopulated; our new guide explains with his vague English that even though they are connected to power they do not have running water, and do not need it because of the numerous mountain streams.
Nam Ngum artificial lake
We follow a gigantic artificial lake for a while, superb with its thousands islands until I learn that it used to be a mountain which was flooded when a barrage was built. Laos was a great producer and exporter of hydraulic electricity, especially to Thaïland.
We make a stop in a market where I buy an interesting plant tasting like lemon.
Arrival in Vang Vieng
Tham Jang’s cave, in the middle of the mountain
Just like in Luang Prabang, water runs through a specific type of limestone which in this part of the country gives water a shade of emerald green. The inside of the cave was not very interesting I did not bother taking pictures. The view wasamazing though.
History of Vang Vieng
After checking into our hotel we are due to go tubbing (I will explain later) however things get complicated with our guide. Not only are we not speaking the same English but I am starting to realize that it must have been his first time as a guide here. He explained that he had been recruited at the last minute because our travel agency had not anticipated that our charming guide from yesterday being a woman, was not allowed to travel with us unaccompanied. What’s more, our China-based agency does not really know this area and wasnot used to sending travellers off-track as their regular customers are older and looking for comfort – Vang Vieng wasclearly not that sort of place.
My travelling companion had asked to go to Vang Vieng after seeing some stunning pictures from one of my photography books, as well as being intrigued by its unusual story. Vang Viang used to be a quiet village until a decade ago when it was ‘discovered’ (read ‘presented to the western world’) by the travel guide Lonely Planet because of its outstanding natural beauty. It soon became popular to people wishing to get off the main road, which also opened the route to a completely different type of traveller. The other thing about Vang Vieng is that it lieswithin the ‘golden triangle’ where opium and marijuana flow cheap and abundant. After the village had been turned into a tourist center, the river soon became a giant rave party, flooded with thrill-hungry 20-somethings. The site was so spoiled that we saw some signs requiring tourists not to wander the streets in bikinis – Laotians are particularly modest.
Tubbing
CHANGING TENSE
Tubbing was the most popular activity in town: a bus takes tourists upriver which they then ride down floating on a tractor’s inner tube. Theoretically, this sounds like a perfect way to enjoy the stunning scenery. The problem was that shores quickly lined up with pubs and bars offering cheap drugs and alcohol, along with monkeys ropes to go from one side of the river to the other. Strangely enough, it quickly turned out that drugs andWATERSPORTS do not mix: a lot of accidents occurred, often leading to deaths. Over the past 6 months, 9 tourists died (4 europeans and 5 australians), prompting authorities to take security measures: drugs were forbidden and bars were forced to close. A policeman LATER TOLD US that he had recently arrested a group of six friends smoking MARIJUANA and that it had cost them a hefty 600 dollars FINE. The atmosphere has therefore changed quite a lot and we discover a Vang Vieng so calm it comes across as ghostly.
Indifferent to human matters, mountains stand majestically along the river.
We come across a couple of younger people armed with beer cans and full of spicy anecdotes or catch phrases such as “I‘m planning on getting pissed” which somewhat made me DOUBT THAT THEY appreciate the beauty of the mountains. In addition to this strange atmosphere, the water was cold (18 degrees is not enough when one does not move) and I am very quickly frozen, which pissed me off big time (and not in the pleasant way our tube-ing companions had mentioned). I am therefore condemned to using my meagre arm muscles to paddle as quickly as I can, leaving my better-natured travelling companion behind, while I am being overtaken, to my dismay,by wiser travellers warmly kayaking.
A group of better-advised youngsters also board a tube, but instead of sitting in the center, they prefer to get down on all fours – which indeed saves their bums from the cold water but puts them in the air, which Looked rather inelegant. Dignity comes at a (cold) price I suppose.
I got to see these ghost bars up close, as well as the risky slides inspired from monkey rope or a treetop walk, although incomplete. I found it hard to believe that people would ever use them.
I finally moor at the hotel and run to take a boiling shower, so happy this was finally over. Not convinced by this tube-ing experience, especially as I take the full extent of that charming country’s fragility – death was so present over here: Tin’s cousin who died from malaria, drowning youngsters, our driver’s nephew on the first day who had an accident which had caused the death of one person… And that’s not counting the thousands of unexploded bombs from the Vietnam war – apart from the ones which have killed or crippled locals. This little country accounts for the largest amount of cripples and unexploded bombs in the world… and seems to have as much to offer as to suffer. As much to give as gets taken away.
Baci, end of year celebration
It is the 31st of December so the town is getting ready for the new year’s celebrations while I am exhausted and annoyed by the lack of organisation on our trip. Thankfully, the evening brightens when we are invited by the hotel staff to celebrate Baci, a fantastic tradition in which everybody picks a colourfulhand-threaded bracelet from a floral arrangement and ties it to someone else’s arms, making them a wish for each knot.
While one person is tying knots, the receiver puts their hand near their heart to orientate the positive energies, while other people lay their hands on the extremities of the receiving body so that the positive vibrations do not leave. I therefore feel like baby Jesus surrounded by his caring onlookers.
In addition to the very friendly staff, we are joined by a large Thaï family with whom we become acquainted, making this moment even more memorable. The parents are furniture exporters. We talk about London and with the daughter who iscurrently studying management in the UK, in Lancaster until she goes to China to learn mandarin.
The evening meal was a traditional Western roast, although the turkey was filled with frankfurters, which did not taste nice. The other strange thing was that, similar to Christmas, waiters are used to putting everything on the table at once so we had to eat fast before it goes cold. The view was splendid though.
The evening stroll into town was pleasant, although it revealeda clear division between the local celebrations, where peopleare crowding around karaoke bars, and the tourists pubs on the other side of town. It was generally quiet, “the party town of Asia” had really calmed down. I honour this change of attitude by going to bed at 11pm, which I know was grandmotherly of me but it was the first time in weeks that I had managed to eat a full three-course meal so I needed to rest.
My travelling companion was pretty disappointed by my desertion but he was soothed by witnessing the launch of Chinese lanterns, a sight he talked about for days.
Baci remains the greatest New Year celebration I have ever experienced.
