Happy endings: Day 27 (30/12): Vientiane

Day 27 (30/12)

This morning my destination is Vang Vieng, once host to a crazy backpacker splitting-heads-open-on-river-rocks-while-wasted party scene, it seems to be a bit more chilled now, but still a good bet for a decent New Years party.

A tuk tuk picks me and a few others up from the hostel and after the typical weaving through backstreets and making more pick-ups, we're unloaded onto a rather comfortable bus for the ride North.

I've chosen to spend three nights in Vang Vieng (I figure I won't want to be in a cramped minivan on the 1st of January with what surely will be a decent hangover). I really do hope this isn't a mistake, as I have to stay whether I like it or not as I booked for all three nights from fear of lack of accommodation when arriving.

On the bus I get talking casually to Craig, a 30-year-old Australian jock, but after a few polite where-are-you-travelling niceties, he spends most of the trip talking to a young South African couple.

I finish a book I bought back in a London charity store, a Rolling Stone collection of articles on Johnny Cash, and in that dazed state one gets himself into upon finishing a book, I notice the mountains of Laos pushing up out of the rice-fields ahead.

I read of Johnny Cash's cover of 'City of New Orleans', and this plays in my head (I know it's not relevant, but it's a good song when moving) as the bus winds up through the ever-growing mountains.

Good morning America how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

And the rice paddies become smaller and smaller, until they're but minor plots wedged where possible between a tangle of mountainous jungle, and the bus changes down gears to tackle the gradient.

We drive into Vang Vieng, and I notice locals playing Petanque (a very common game all through Cambodia and Laos thanks to the French legacy), and out to the left we get a glimpse of the spectacular karst limestone peaks which make up the backdrop of this town, like strokes of watercolour in varying shades of grey.

I find it very difficult to locate my guesthouse and get lost in an outskirt region of the town, but I'm glad I'm lost as I happen upon a temple where young monks are doing their afternoon drumming on a gigantic skin-covered drum. And I find the guest house eventually, and drop my bags, and walk to the main strip, rarely casting my gaze away from those mesmerising mountains.

On the way, I pop into a hardware store to find a piece of rope to use as a strap for my camera as I plan on kayaking and caving tomorrow. I only need 15 centimetres or so, and the man gives it to me for free. After travelling for four weeks and expecting a price for any service, this small gesture makes my day.

The main strip of Vang Vieng - much quieter than it used to be I gather - features several 'TV bars' which show non-stop re-runs of episodes of Friends and Family Guy. I lounge on pillows, order a BeerLao, grab something forgettable to eat, and, embarrassingly, watch about four straight episodes of Friends before I will myself up and back onto the street.

Not half a dozen steps from the front of the bar I run into Craig, the Australian from the bus, and he takes me along to the token Irish Bar to meet up with the young South African couple (I find out the girl is English and the guy, with a splendid accent, is South African).

I like the young couple, but Craig, well Craig talks about himself ad nauseam (yes yes, I know, we can all be guilty of this occasionally), but I don't want to be lonely on New Year's, and he's not all that bad, so I agree to meet up with them all tomorrow to nut out a plan for bringing in the New Year.