travel

Vang Vieng

You have to adjust to very different concepts of acceptable risk and safety on the road in Laos. The bus ride from Vientiane to Vang Vieng was a real education about travelling here, and I can see now why you should only plan to go no more than 200 kms a day here (unless you want to spend an entire bum-numbing day on the move).

For a start, everything moves S-L-O-W-L-Y. The fastest speed our driver managed to hold for more than a minute was 60 kmh; often it was only 30-40 kmh. Why? Because all manner of vehicles from bicycles to scooters to tractors to trucks share the single-lane-each-way road, so half your time is spent behind someone waiting to pass. The road surface is far from perfect, either: even on central Route 13 there were enough potholes and bumpy sections to make high speed travel impossible.

And what is considered normal here is amazing compared to the safety-obsessed culture in Australia… schoolkids riding their bikes four abreast, taking up fully half of the road and ambling along as if down a country lane (not a major highway); mothers riding a scooter without a helmet, their toddler wedged between the handlebars in front of them; fathers riding a scooter without a helmet, with three young kids squeezed behind him in a row; cows and chickens grazing contentedly on the road’s edge; buses so ancient, decrepit and slow that it’s a miracle they can move at all; a child barely three years old riding a toy trike on the edge of the highway without a parent in sight; 10-year-old boys on motorbikes without a helmet; an old man sitting on the apex of a tight bend, oblivious to the buses and trucks passing; cars overtaking buses overtaking trucks, sometimes on blind corners; pedestrians walking along the highway a full metre or two from the verge (ie. on the road itself), not bothering to move over even when an approaching vehicle toots its horn to say “get out of the way”. There appears to be complete faith that faster vehicles will simply go around them, so why bother moving over? Road accidents are a major cause of death and injury in Laos.

Fortunately our driver was careful and we made it safely to the backpacker oasis of Vang Vieng. This place has become legendary since Laos was opened to tourism in 1989: floating down the river in an inflated tractor tyre tube (optionally on any number of drugs) has become a “rite of passage” for Asian travellers, or so says Lonely Planet. It’s not quite as overwhelmingly a “party” town as I expected, though uncontrolled western youths can be found in their natural habitat if you look hard enough. What I wasn’t prepared for is the spectacular mountains that surround the town: jagged forest-covered karst peaks rise up all around you, especially just across the river that runs past the town. Vang Vieng is now the adventure tourism hub for the whole country, and you can take your pick from numerous tubing, kayaking, caving, rock climbing and trekking tours on offer.

I opted for a full day tour that visited some caves, then lunch, then a walk through a local Hmong village, then kayaking 8 kms down the Nam Som back to Vang Vieng. The caves were interesting and the bbq lunch good, but the standout highlight was the kayaking. When I booked the tour yesterday there was only one other person signed up, an American woman called Liz. But by this morning nice others had joined us, however when it came to sharing the two-person kayaks it was natural that Liz and I shared a ride. We turned out to be a good team, and rode the gentle rapids with ease as we floated through the steep sided cliffs and lush green banks. It was a load of fun, most of all when we passed through the launch point for the tubers. Half a dozen riverside bars vied for custom by trying to outdo each other with the volume of their music, rope swings over the water and waterslides, not to mention beer and drug options for those who wanted to float down in every sense of the word. We slowed down to the speed of the current for this, as it was fascinating in its extremity… surely such hardcore partying gets exhausting after a while? Anyway things calmed down after a few hundred metres, and I was glad to have a paddle in my hands after another kilometre or two (tubers are left to the current to get home, and many of them looked over it well before the end).

I wish I had another day to stay here to hire a bike and explore the local area, but I’ve booked a few nights in the temple town of Luang Prabang starting tomorrow night so I must move on. Another long bus journey ahead (230 kms, expected to take 7 hours), then it’s off the mandatory tourist trail of Vientiane-Vang Vieng-Luang Prabang and into the wilds of the north šŸ™‚

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Vientiane

It’s hard to believe Vientiane is a capital city. In fact having been here for a couple of days, I still can’t really believe it… such a laid-back and slow-paced place should be a provincial town, not the administrative centre of an entire nation. But it’s relaxing atmosphere bodes well for the travels to come šŸ™‚

After an excruiciating hour getting through immigration at the airport, the stress evaporated immediately upon leaving the airport. A tip for future travellers to Vientiane by air: get your visa in advance if possible. “Visa on arrival” sounds nice and easy, but when fully half the plane is trying to get one with you it can be quite a wait! Outside it was remarkably cool, perhaps 17 degrees, which none of us expected. Taxis for the short trip to the city are relatively expensive at US$6, but I teamed up with a couple of Norwegian women who were on their way to the bus station so it worked out nice and cheap into town.

Immediate impressions of Vientiane: slow, dusty, lazy, sandy, friendly, peaceful. It’s a very compact town that is completely accessible on foot, though the tuk-tuk drivers will chirp “tuk-tuk! tuk-tuk!” at you whenever you walk by. My hotel room wasn’t ready when I got in, so I wandered the centre of town for a while and ended up having an excellent green chicken curry and of course a beerlao while waiting. After freshening up in the room I wandered some more, but quickly discovered that the best place to hang out is the rooftop terrace bar at Bar Pen Nyang, where under the cover of a high ceiling you get magnificent 180 degree views of the Mekong and the Thai shore to the south.

This is quite a tourist town these days, with countless restaurants, bars and guesthouses catering to the western wanderer. I’ve met several travellers who say it’s very different from just 3-4 years ago, and if you were last here more than a decade ago apparently you won’t recognise the place. Prices have risen considerably: the “current” Lonely Planet guidebook (which everyone is using, including me) is now almost three years old, and many prices, especially accomodation, have doubled in that short time. I also have the brand new “Greater Mekong” LP guide which was released just two months ago and is much more up-to-date, though even that is slightly out of touch with current prices (at least in Vientiane). That said it’s still a wonderfully cheap place to visit: a longneck of beerlao costs between A$1.10 and A$2.00 nearly everywhere (pub or restaurant price; takeaway is even cheaper), and you can get a very decent feed for just A$3-8. For example at Bar Pen Nyang I had a whole river fish, huge and succulent, steamed with lime and chilli and served with rice for just A$4. The most common group of tourists are Europeans, especially Dutch and French, followed by British and Canadians, though I have by now encountered a few Aussies and Kiwis too.

I found it hard to find a cheap place to stay here while researching from Malaysia. Whenever I arrive in a new country by air I like to have at least the first couple of days organised staying somewhere nice – once there I can wander around and find the good but cheap places personally. I lucked out big time with the Inter City Hotel, which is highly recommended if you only want to spend a few days in Vientiane. Decked out with lovely local wooden antiques in the foyer and polished floorboards everywhere, I’ve got a huge room with large modern bathroom, aircon, satellite TV, twin beds (both king singles) for A$38 a night. That’s still pretty pricey in this town but well worth it, as it includes an extensive hot buffet breakfast and is incredibly central to everything. I’ve got a room at the back which is great because you don’t get any noise at night, and though I initially booked for three nights I’ve extended it for my entire stay here because it’s so peaceful.

Some vignettes of my time in Vientiane:

– Visiting Patuxai, the Arc d’Triumph-like structure just north of the city. This attractive edifice looks like it’s been here for ages but in fact it was only built in the 1960s with concrete intended for an airport, hence it is also known as the “vertical runway”.

– Simply wandering the streets. There aren’t many of them in the centre of town, and it’s completely coverable on foot. That is always my preferred way of discovering a city and Vientiane’s streets are a delight to stroll.

– The Thalat Sao markets get the hype, but they’re really just like Paddy’s Market in Chinatown (though you can also buy whitegoods such as air conditioners and washing machines). Much more interesting are the local markets across the road behind the bus station: dirty, dusty alleys where every possible essential good you can imagine is on sale. The food section was particularly interesting, with dozens of women offering fresh food on their blankets, all covered by a cloth ceiling so low that I had to stoop the entire time.

– going to a secondhand bookshop to stock up on reading material for the week ahead, and being able to trade in my (now unnecessary and almost out-of-date) LP guide to Malaysia and Singapore. Net cost for two novels: A$3. I was able to finish one of them in just five hours: Mike Gayle’s Wish You Were Here, a gentle read about three thirty-something British guys suffering various life crises who go on a holiday together to Crete. Featuring drama, booze, a sex-triangle and ultimately redemption through love, it’s a very engaging travel book that suited my mood perfectly.

– The Lao National Museum is a rather rustic affair with some fragments of pre-historic life and an extensive display of the 20th century history of the nation. It’s very patriotic with phrases such as “the American Imperialist and its puppets” used liberally, and many of the weapons employed to free the country from colonial rule are on display.

– Being offered opium by a tuk-tuk driver while walking some of the backstreets north of the city. Drugs are technically illegal here but widely available if you want them. I declined, of course, as I did another tuk-tuk driver who promised me “lots of girls” the night before. Vientiane is a far cry from the city it was in 1975 as described by Paul Theroux in his book The Great Railway Bazaar, where “the brothels are cleaner than hotels… and it’s easier to get opium than a cold beer”, but it still has an “anything goes” vibe that is very enchanting…

– Sitting at the temporary stalls on the bank of the Mekong in the evening, where dozens of vendors set up plastic chairs and tables to capture tourists wanting to view the sun set. It’s nice, but a much better option is crossing the road and going up to the fourth floor terrace of Bar Pen Nyang where prices are about the same but the food is considerably better, as is the atmosphere and the view.

– Getting a traditional Lao massage for A$5-8 an hour. Swedish oil massages are A$10-12. Heaven!

– After several very quiet nights in, I headed to Bar Pen Nyang again last night for dinner and noticed a young woman with her head stuck in the LP Laos guide. I knew her boyfriend was playing pool so this was not a come-on, but I went up to her and started chatting because I was genuinely interested in where they’d been and where they were going. Laura and her man Jan turned out to be a lovely Belgian couple who had recently come down from the north and had some useful advice for my intended travels there. Jan visited Laos four years ago and he said it had changed enormously in that short time: “much more touristy” in his opinion. The roads in the north have been upgraded by the Chinese who want access to resources, which makes travel there much much easier than it used to be. A bit later a friend of theirs, an Australian called Dean, rocked up unannounced because he knew that there’d be someone at Bar Pen Nyang that he knew… he’s a very well-travelled and likeable guy and after a while we all decided to carry on to another bar nearby where live music was playing. That turned out to be a dud (think seedy sex-tourism vibe – yuk), but by this stage we wanted to carry on so we headed by tuk-tuk to the huge Don Chan Palace Hotel in search of a casino (Dean’s call, not mine!). We didn’t find the casino but did discover a nightclub very popular with locals, and ended up drinking, dancing and chatting ’til the wee hours. Top night, but sore head today…

It would be very easy to stay here for a week or two, indulging oneself in Vientiane’s beguiling charms. But the road beckons: tomorrow I’m off to Vang Vieng for a couple of nights, then Luang Prabang, then I venture off the mandatory tourist trail to visit the far northern reaches of Laos where I hope to go trekking near the Chinese border šŸ˜€

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Cameron Highlands

This may sound sacriligious, but I’m going to skip KL entirely. It’s not that I don’t want to see it, it’s just that I’m not really in a big-city mode at the moment. Plus I fully intend to return to Malaysia with company in the future, so there’s no need to rush into it right now. I had planned to give it a token day or two, but not after I checked my flight details for Saturday morning. The airport is more than 70 kms from Kuala Lumpur and my flight is at 8am – I really don’t have any choice but to overnight near the airport unless I want to be waking at 4.30am (which I don’t).

And anyway, I’ve found a great hostel in the Cameron Highlands where I’ve spent a very relaxed couple of days. It’s only 200 metres from Tanah Rata town but is nice and quiet, and it has a wonderful covered terrace with fast wifi so I can read or do internet stuff as much as I want when the rain sets in. The best bit is the price: a private room with shared bathroom facilities costs just A$8 a day! And there’s a surprising lack of Australians and Kiwis here – in fact I haven’t seen or heard a single one since I came to Malaysia. I thought we were a plague upon every corner of this world…

The Cameron Highlands is definitely a place where you’d expect to see travellers of every hue, and it is clearly a backpacker-friendly town. There are numerous hostels and guesthouses, and cheap eats can be had all over the place. One of the greatest attractions is its climate: nestled 1300-1800 metres above sea level there is none of the humidity that dogs the lowlands, and there are plenty of walking trails through the forests surrounding Tanah Rata. For these reasons it’s been a holiday hotspot since it was first surveyed by William Cameron in 1885.

The bus ride here from Ipoh was spectacular, a very slow drive climbing steep mountain passes with sheer drops and jagged peaks at every turn. The climate makes this area perfect for growing fruit, vegetables and flowers, and once you hit the highlands proper you see that almost every inch of flat or near-flat land is given to horticulture. It’s the centre of Malaysian tea production too, and I’ve had the plan of visiting one of them for the past couple of days.

Unfortunately the weather has conspired against doing anything outdoors for almost the whole time I’ve been here… on the day that I arrived the weather was fine and I feared it might not last, so I tried to go on a four hour tour that included a tea plantation, forest walk and a trip to the top of the highest mountain in the area. However there were not enough takers, and I crossed my fingers that in the following couple of days I’d get to try again. Nope. Yesterday was raining heavily most of the day, so apart from venturing out for lunch and dinner the whole day was spent at the hostel.

Today I resolved to go bushwalking come what may, and though it’s still very overcast it wasn’t raining when I set off. However the paths are damp and poorly maintained (and washed away completely in parts), quite slippery too and there are almost no signs to mark the way. And that’s just the shortest and easiest track close to town… I persevered for an hour but it was un-fun and sometimes dangerous, so I got back on the road at the earliest opportunity and continued walking to the next town of Brinchang. Sadly it’s a charmless place dominated by ugly large hotels and even uglier smaller ones. My plan was to keep on walking to the main tea estate, but the traffic on the road was heavy and the fumes annoying. In the end I said ā€œbugger itā€ and caught a taxi back to the hostel. There I met a Dutch woman who was also fed up with the weather and was in fact taking a bus to KL that afternoon. Apart from bushwalking there is nothing else to do in Tanah Rata except eat, read or sleep – even the only pub in town has been a dud this week.

That said I’ve enjoyed the relaxation time as it’s allowed me to read, do lots of internet catch-up and simply master the art of doing nothing, all for very little money. I’ve found an excellent Chinese restaurant nearby that serves high quality and interesting food (eg. deer cooked with spring onions and ginger, or ostrich in black pepper sauce) for about A$9 a meal including a beer – that’s actually quite expensive in local terms but I think it’s one of the best places around to eat. And the hostel is very quiet which has suited my mood ā€˜til now. But even I’m getting a bit antsy, and I’m glad that I’ll be off tomorrow to the airport and in Laos by lunch on Saturday šŸ˜€

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Call to prayer

I didn’t notice until last night the strong Muslim influence in Ipoh. Across a broad avenue from my hotel is a giant Mosque complex, and as the sun set prayers were broadcast loudly from its skyscraper-like concrete minaret. For almost an hour a clear male voice called hauntingly to the clouded night. It was beautiful, calming, peaceful to sit on the terrace and enjoy the sound even though I couldn’t understand a word.

My hotel is obviously staffed by Muslims, and the function last night was for a hundred women in colourful headscarves. The guidebook, which is now three years old, says there should be a pub in the station building but there’s no sign of it now (though it was not rated well, so perhaps it died a natural death). I felt the urge to have just one or two sundowner beers and went looking for some at six different stores and service stations nearby, to no avail. Very surprising, as in Singapore and Melaka beer is widely available.

I resorted to the only pub this side of the bridge, the Miners’ Arms, an odd British-themed joint run by Indians that was extremely quiet on a Monday night. After two very slow drinks while reading I went back to the hotel, and as I headed to my room I noticed a middle-aged German man sitting on the terrace with a large bottle of Tiger beer in front of him. I went up and asked him where he got it: ā€œa 7-11 about ten minutes walk awayā€, he replied. I cheerfully said I wasn’t that desperate, and sat a few tables away from him and got out my book again.

After ten minutes I noticed some movement to my left: the same man was holding out a warm can of Tiger to me with a smile. ā€œIf you want it,ā€ he said, and I accepted gratefully. He returned to his room so I went back to my book, but when he came out again I went over to him and we chatted for an hour about our travels past and present.

This morning I was awoken around 5.30am by more prayers, a different voice not quite as melodic as the night before but still the same calming, gentle call. Welcome too, as I don’t have an alarm clock and wanted to be up early for my bus. I’m sitting alone on the vast terrace as I type this, the sun still not up as the city slowly wakes, feeling more relaxed than ever.

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Ipoh

You know how you sometimes stumble across a town while on your way to somewhere else and discover it’s a hidden gem? Ipoh is not one of those places. The guidebook says it is used by most travellers as a transport interchange, but if you stay around there are some good things to see. There are some fine old colonial buildings in the Old Town, but they take all of five minutes to enjoy. The rest of this area is faded, grimy, often derelict and choked with traffic fumes. And apparently this is the good side of town: the New Town across the river is where most of the modern hotels and restaurants are, but it’s also the heart of Ipoh’s reputation as a prostitution hotspot. Hence I’m staying on the old side…

The day started lazily enough, and though my bus here was almost an hour late it was worth the wait. There were just 27 seats in it, each a full-sized armchair recliner with good aircon and window views. I can’t read on buses, so after a quick doze I woke to notice our driver was weaving erratically across lanes and following the vehicles ahead far too closely. It was hard to relax when he was forced to stomp heavily on the middle pedal whenever the vehicle ahead feathered their brakes.

After two hours there was a driver change, and the second guy could read the traffic better and followed at a safe distance. But he was hell-bent on making up lost time and was travelling too fast for the conditions (it was raining heavily the whole way). I was screaming mentally in my head “slow the fuck down!” every time we lurched or bounced harshly, which was every few minutes. It was enough to keep anyone awake, except for the first driver who snored like a drain directly behind me for the last three hours of the journey.

Anyway we made it in one piece by 3.30pm, and I was thoroughly underwhelmed by my first look at Ipoh. Even though I was tired of travelling I resolved to get the flock out of there and head straight on to Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands, only to find the 5pm bus was full. A short trip to the other bus station where there was another option to Tanah Rata, but not until 6pm. That would see me arriving around 9pm, in the dark, without anywhere to stay. I opted to overnight in Ipoh and get the 8am bus tomorrow.

I’m staying at the Majestic Station Hotel in the train station because it’s the closest place to tomorrow’s bus, and it’s an opulent if somewhat tired remnant of past prosperity. It’s known locally as the “Taj Mahal” because of the giant dome above its all-white exterior, and the room is nice enough. The guidebook proved useless for evening options as all their recommendations are either closed down or awful, so I’ve hunkered down in a modern franchise cafe with fast wifi to do this post. It’s lucky that all I wanted to do tonight was curl up with a good book – there truly is little else to do here. I was warned on check-in that there is a function tonight on the vast terrace outside my room, fingers crossed that the warning is misplaced!

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