Baguettes and happy shakes

Back to Laos, the land of sticky rice, fresh baguettes and perpetual relaxation. Onto the place where the Laotian soul has been taken, stripped of its features and sold to the marijuana-smoking tourist dollar. The place is Vang Vieng, a convenient stop between Luang Falang...sorry Prabang and Vientiane. We could not decide whether or not to visit Vang Vieng; we opted to do it for two reasons, firstly to spend a few extra days with Stu and Flo, a lovely couple we've been travelling with since Luang Nam Tha. And secondly, because a country's identity is an everchanging rather than crystallised reality; many tourists who avoid VV say 'It's not real Laos'. Perhaps it would be better to say 'it's not traditional Laos'. Laos in 2010 is a backpacker's haven, and Vang Vieng is the centre of it. Friends bars and happy shakes are as Laotian as wats and monks, just of a more recent origin.



I expected to hate Vang Vieng, but I rather liked it. We opted to stay out of town, amid the limestone karsts and the now dissipating smoke. Travellers were first drawn to Vang Vieng because of its natural beauties, and I suspect also because it makes a convenient stop between LP and the capital city. One guesthouse bred another, one happy shake created more... now Vang Vieng is known as the Lao Khao San Road. I have to disagree. It's not as hectic as the Bangkok's backpacker mecca, the pace is still slow and the atmosphere sleepy. Maybe it's helped by certain drowsiness-inducing drugs?



Ask many, and Vang Vieng means tubing. Being the flagship Vang Vieng activity, we decided to give it a go, also because the smoke prevented us from any other scenery-appreciating pastimes. Armed with a tube between two and those telltale marker pen squiggles, we jumped in. We spent an afternoon lazing on the tubes, drinking Beerlao, laughing at getting stuck in the rocks and trying to fit two people in one tube. A nice, different, enjoyable afternoon. After the string of bars we continued for an extra 2 kilometres, where we floated next to water buffaloes, children playing and women washing, and provided some entertainment for a Chinese group on a sunset tour.



Many others consumed several helpings of happy shakes and hash brownies, enjoyed the free joints offered with meals and the 10.000 kip buckets. I have pointed the finger at this populace for a long time, accusing them of spoiling all that there is to be spoilt with their drunken antics. I may have been in Asia for too long, now I no longer care. Let them be. If it helps the locals, bring on the brownies I say. Just a word for you, Australian-British-Swedish or whatever teen or twentysomething; always show respect. Cover up, don't piss in the street. Respect the country where you are, respect the people. The number one lesson that travelling taught me is respect. We are all brothers, we should all love and respect one another, disregarding race, colour and creed. Seems very Seventies barefoot hippy, but that's how I feel. I have a great love for mankind within me, that grows stronger every day I spend on the road. Every day my worries for the past and future, the anger and frustration I have felt in my life become less and less, my joy for simply being part of this world becomes stronger.