Chasing Amy-Lou

Vang Vieng, Laos:

After the disappointing start to my time in Vang Vieng, and after concluding it was bottom of the barrel dumpsville, I kind of thought it was best to give it another chance. I’m all about second chances (under the correct circumstances, of course), and decided that having a look at VV during the day might change my disgusted perception of it.

And did it? Well, in a word, no. The town itself still looked like a dump. It still reeked of disposable tourism; a serene little spot in the middle of the beautiful Laotian backdrop of mountains and valleys, tainted and ruined by the desire to make money from over enthusiastic and disrespectful Korean and western backpackers who were just out for a party; visitors who were happy to leave more than just footprints behind in this little paradise instead of taking only memories – moral compasses and the concept of respect seemed to have been lost on those who visited and stayed in the city.

Ok, so I’m being harsh. Vang Vieng town isn’t THAT bad. There’s some really interesting places to dine and drink; there’s a fantastic restaurant called Luang Prabang Bakery that sells amazing cakes and serves huge meal portions; and there’s a brilliant Korean BBQ place where you can feast on smoking hot pots of meat and rice and fish. And you can rent bicycles for a pretty cheap price too – perfect for getting out of skid row and exploring the surrounding beauty while getting some exercise at the same time. Which is precisely what Chicago and I planned to do.

Hiring a couple of mountain bikes we took to the road in search of adventure. But before we could lose ourselves in the countryside, I HAD to find somewhere else to stay. I didn’t want to write Vang Vieng off, and I figured if I could find somewhere quiet to hang my hat for a couple of nights it would provide me with the perfect opportunity to regroup and relax while taking in the magnificent scenery. The hotel Chicago was staying in was too expensive for me, and by this point, I really couldn’t face bunking in with a group of 20 year old backpackers on a “gap year”. I needed my own space.

My friend Ollie had recommended Lao Valhalla, an idyllic bungalow retreat just over the river, away from the maddening crowds. I checked it out online but sadly, as with the hotel, it was above my budget. Luckily though I found a guesthouse a few hundred metres from Lao Valhalla that was within my price range – it provided me with a double bed and en-suite bathroom, and was mine for an affordable rate. I checked the room for bedbugs (I couldn’t find any but even as I write this I’m still paranoid that there are a bunch of eggs or some terminator-like super bugs lurking in my luggage or clothes, ready to hatch at any moment), and signed on the dotted line. It was now official: I was in Vang Vieng for another two nights, and the best thing about it? I didn’t have to cross back over the river into the ghetto until I needed to leave the following day.

Chicago and I had decided to head to the Blue Lagoon, a spot around 8km out of town, a place where you could bask in the turquoise waters while breathing in the mountain air. As we cycled over the river in a westerly direction, the heavens opened and before we’d even got halfway we were soaked to the bone. Feeling it inappropriate to complain (we were surrounded by nature, by mountains of exquisite beauty; and we were in South East Asia in wet season – we had zero reason to moan), we sucked it up and carried on.

Before long the roar of gasoline-pumped buggies filled our ears and swarms of Korean tourists zoomed past us at terrifying speeds, right in the direction we were headed. We’d heard about the Korean fascination with Vang Vieng’s Blue Lagoon (something to do with  PSY and that Gangnam Style video, and a bizarre desire to entertain superficial pop-culture in order to validate their existence) and prayed that the one we were headed to was the one they were not.

Turns out, there were three blue lagoons, and we hadn’t the foggiest idea which one to choose. We didn’t know which one would be most beautiful. We didn’t know which one would be most peaceful. And we certainly weren’t sure which one we should avoid in order to bypass what looked like a family day out for the whole of South Korea.

So guess which one we ended up at? Yep, you guessed it, the Korean Lagoon. Now, let me get one thing straight, I’m not slagging off Koreans cos they’re super cute and super nice (well, I am a bit), but with their incessant insistence on hiring environmentally unfriendly buggies to reach the Lagoon, polluting the idyllic countryside with the constant revving and insufferable petrol fumes, and taking over a beautiful natural wonder by turning it into a kind of dilapidated water park, you can’t blame me for being a little frustrated. I’d come to Vang Vieng for a little bit of rural exploration; and here I was, faced with a scene that could’ve been plucked right out of the Inbetweeners, but with less ‘banter’ and more ‘South East Asian over-enthusiasm’. Fair enough, they were having fun and they looked like they were letting their hair down, and good for them; but my agenda had no time for that, and it seemed that in Vang Vieng, I just couldn’t win.

We left the lagoon and headed for a view point up the road instead. The climb to the top was 250 metres and the kids at the base -they were apparently manning the entrance and taking money for tickets – reassured us that it wasn’t difficult and we could easily climb it in flip flops. They lied. And that’s the last time I’ll trust a kid from Laos again, as what lay before us (or should I say above us) was a treacherous terrain of slippy mud, uneven and sporadically placed steps, jagged rocks and unsecured bamboo railings. In dry season it would’ve been fine. But this was wet season. And the rain had been relentless. The ascent was difficult but the descent was even harder: on the way back down I could tell Chicago was shitting herself. I tried to remain calm and offered her reassurance, telling her to take her time, pointing out dodgy spots as we slowly climbed back down. Slowly but surely we made it, caked in mud and bitten half to death.

And was it worth the effort? Well, we didn’t make it to the top. And I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out if the view was stunning or not. Vang Vieng, it seemed, was pissing on our bonfire.

HOWEVER (and I state that in capitals because this is important), once I’d said my reluctant goodbyes to Chicago – both agreeing to meet up in Vientiane if our schedules would allow – and checked into my new abode, I couldn’t have been happier.

Maylyn Guesthouse was just what I needed. It was far enough away from the rabble of the town to not be bothered by the scum, and it was close enough to the mountains and caves so that all I had to do was open my bungalow door and I’d come face to face with a flowing stream and a backdrop of natural phenomena. My view was literally Ha Long Bay, but on land. The staff were friendly, the food was cheap, the booze was cheaper, and the wifi was better than half-decent. It was paradise.

For the rest of the day I did literally nothing. The second part of my stay in Laos had not been what I’d imagined it to be, and the high I’d felt in Luang Prabang had been stunted a little by the shitness of that first night in Vang Vieng. Despite not taking to the town itself, I was glad I’d managed to find a suitably chilled out place to crash and enjoy the magnificent scenery VV had to offer. And in all honesty I needed the rest. Being constantly on the go for three weeks had begun to catch up on me; so for the next two nights I looked forward to doing sweet F.A. And I was going to enjoy every last minute of it!