Vientiane, Laos:
Yesterday the rain was relentless. Today even more so but with bursts of sunshine in between the downpours. In any normal situation this amount of bi-polar weather would get me down; dreariness dampens my desire and a greying sky flattens my mood. I was of an attitude though that it would not happen to me on this trip. I did not want to spend the rest of my time in Laos (and in SE Asia) feeling depressed because of the weather. Even though the presence of constant rain was inevitable because it was wet season, I tried to put a positive spin on my predicament and told myself that it was my location that was dampening my spirits and that once I’d left Vang Vieng everything would be back to normal – I sent salutations to the sun gods and prayed to the heavens that in Vientiane, the clouds would have evaporated and the roads would be dry. I’m not a religious person, but my God did I pray.
Making my way to the bus station the heavens opened once more. But this time I didn’t care, I was getting out of Vang Vieng and I was moving on. Better things were ahead. I could feel it. Besides, I’d just met a really cool French lady who was holidaying in Laos with her partner and their daughter. We were all travelling to Vientiane on the same bus and while we sat waiting we conversed about life and travel and society and language.
This lady was fascinating; a breath of fresh air. She had a wonderful career as a teacher; had lived and worked in Morocco; spoke several different languages; had travelled all over the world; had had her son at age 33 and her daughter at the age of 40; and she had a partner 12 years her junior. I was in awe of this woman and had so much respect for her; and as we talked – as she talked – she inspired me. She was truly remarkable and her story touched a nerve. I knew immediately then, that my life after this, my life in the future, and actually, my life in the present, would be what I chose to make of it; I was one of the lucky ones, and anything, and I mean anything, was possible.
We boarded a small mini van at around 2pm, the driver was sat on the roof and was asking us to pass our bags up to him so he could tie them to a roof rack. Now, I’m all for interesting journeys, but this looked rather sketchy. The roads in Laos are pretty atrocious (think huge pot holes and uneven surfaces), and having our bags tied to a roof rack while the driver tried to maintain the bus’s stability on all four wheels did not fill me with confidence. I could just imagine it now – we’d be speeding down a mountainside halfway to Vientiane and suddenly we’d hit a pot hole; twenty seconds later we’d witness the whole luggage compartment fly past the window. I cringed. And then I stopped myself – this was Laos. This was South East Asia – the bus drivers probably did this trip hundreds of times a year with no complications. And just as I had done while in Vietnam, I reassured myself and remembered my SE Asia mantra – just go with it and see what happens.
We made it to Vientiane in one piece and my luggage (and everyone else’s) was still in tact. And better still, IT WASN’T RAINING!! Vientiane felt good. I had a positive feeling about it. And after swapping numbers with my new French friend – let’s call her Frenchy – and agreeing to meet for coffee and more chats in the morning I set off to find my hostel.
My hostel was called Dream Home 1. It was far from a ‘dream home’ though, but it would do. It was basic and it had clean showers and toilets and provided a free breakfast. And, it was in a perfect location for exploring the city. The receptionist showed me to my four bed mixed dorm which I found I would be sharing with three males. It didn’t worry me in the slightest as I’d shared dorms with blokes before (Christ, I lived in a share house with three boys for a year, it was not a problem), but as I entered and looked around, she must’ve clocked that I was gazing at their belongings, trying to suss out who I’d be sharing with. As I surveyed the typical male habitat she turned to me and said; “Don’t worry, the boys, they are all English too.” Whether she meant to be witty or not, I have no idea, but I chuckled to myself anyway. I liked Vientiane already.
After a quick shower and change of clothes I went to meet Chicago for one last soirée before we were to part ways the following day. We ate in a lovely Laotian restaurant called Lao Kitchen and then meandered through the quiet streets, taking in the relaxed vibe, and made our way down to the Mekong, where we found a stall selling a typical Lao style dessert – bananas wrapped in a pancake, drizzled with condensed milk. Making my excuses about how I was ‘watching my figure’ (as always), I let Chicago do the honours and as she dug into the sugary deliciousness my mouth began to salivate. Offering me a piece I immediately jumped at it and as the pancake hit my mouth I died a little and probably went to heaven for a moment too. It was scrumptious. For the third time that day, I profoundly asserted that I liked Vientiane. And I was looking forward to exploring in great detail tomorrow.
For Chicago and I, it was the end of the road. We’d spent the best part of a week together, taking in the sights and sounds and exploring a little bit of this beautiful landlocked country that lies between Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand. I’d been glad of the company; it had been refreshing to share some experiences with another traveller. And I was sad to see her go. For the next few days I would be on my own again. And I was more than ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.
Chasing Amy-Lou 