From Bangkok, there’s basically two ways to get to Vientiane. A direct flight for £120 each or fly to the Thai/Lao border and cross by bus for £30 each.
So after a sleepless night waiting until 4.30am for Will to return to the hotel from watching South Africa soundly thrash England at Rugby (at least, that’s what he tried to make me believe happened after I took the kids home in a taxi from the night market and left him at the junction of Patpong Road, girlie bar central…), we had a thankfully uneventful flight to Udon Thani (I’m not sure you want to hear all the details about the retired Aussie guy I was sitting next to who was flying back to Thailand, unannounced, in order to try to catch his Thai wife of 4 years out after she had stolen a load of his money…) where we all board the minibus for the 1 ½ hour journey to the Thai/Lao border, onto another minibus across The Friendship Bridge, and, thanks to our pre-arranged visas, get through into Lao, via the duty-free shop, in a relatively speedy, if a little sweaty, fashion.
We’re staying in possibly the quietest capital in the whole world, Vientiane, Lao. Or to give it it’s full title, Lao, People’s Democratic Republic. Formerly a Communist Country, tourism has only been allowed since 1990 and some of the rules here are still pretty tight. There’s an 11pm curfew every night when all the bars/ restaurants and clubs (of sorts…more later) must close. Loa music must be played for a certain amount of hours every day.
A little bit of history for you. In 1975, the Khmer Rouge took over Lao, the King abdicated, the monarchy was abolished and the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party took over. Anyone not matching up to the party’s standards were sent of to re-education camps. In 1975. Wow. I don’t know about you, but that freaks me out a bit. Whilst I was cycling around my cul de sac without a care in the world except how to catch more ladybirds than my brother, these people were being sent to re-education camps to be brainwashed.
Anyway, where was I? We’re staying in Lane Xang hotel, the best hotel in town – in it’s 1960’s heyday! Previously used by Government officials and visiting dignitaries, it may now be described by some as retro, whilst others may not be so kind! It has a certain Soviet charm. Thankfully, the bathrooms have been refurbed, even if the rest of the hotel feels like something that time forgot. Harley and Ruby have delightful towelling bed covers which Harley describes as “my favourite bed, EVER!” The pool has a certain eerie, faded charm to it and, in contrast to the gentle prayer-like greeting given everywhere else, we are saluted on our way in. Easy to imagine this being the happening place to be, 40 years ago. But we like it. Being tied to the US$, everything here is very cheap and our huge suite, inclusive of Soviet fittings and breakfast, is only $50 per night. There’s 3 staff to every guest, large bottles of Beer Lao (very light beer, so even I can manage a small one) at $1 a pop (so Will’s a very happy bunny) and massages at $3 per hour. So Ruby a I take advantage and toddle off for a massage, only spoilt by the fact that they keep stopping to take photos of Harley on their mobile phones.
Everyone here is as mesmerised by Harley, and to a lesser extent Ruby, as they were in Bangkok. Much touching, pinching his cheek, waving and clucking goes on every time we leave our room. Will draws attention in a different way. He gets looks of disbelief at his size (we think it’s his height, although it’s making him more paranoid about his weight). I’m the only one not getting any attention. Is it because I is not wearing any make-up?
We haven’t quite got the hang of the language yet, but Will asks the tuk tuk driver how to say Thank You and is convinced that it’s Hot Thai Girl (it’s actually Cop Chai Daa. See where his mind’s at?)
The heart of the city is very French (apart from the people…!), due to the fact that in 19th Century, their Emperor Tu Duk gave Loa to the French. Champs Elysee leads the Arc de Triomphe; Lane Xane leads to the Victory Monument. Same same. Looks the same, feels the same. Except for the tuk tuks, which creak and groan and whose brakes squeak and squeal every time we haul ourselves in. Maybe something to do with the fact that we have the combined weight of an extended Lao family, including cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents (on both sides)…
Saturday, day of arrival, we spend the afternoon by the pool, the afternoon doing some long overdue homework with Ruby (which is a very loooooong affair after 2 months without school. Let’s hope her concentration and ability both pick up over the coming days) and in the evening we head to Sticky Fingers restaurant where we are accosted by kids selling balloons, kids begging and a hill-tribe lady sending her 14-15 month old baby waddling over to our table, where he stands, open mouthed, begging for food. Unsure what to do, Harley hops off his seat and runs to Will, leaving his food behind. This infuriates the (Oz lady) owner and a row ensure between her and the mother which consisted of much jaw-jutting and chin-thrusting from both sides. We head on upstairs to where there is some live music and the kids get dancing to a mix of jazz and blues, with a bit of Stones thrown in for good measure. A few too many bum notes and we decide it’s time for bed.
Monday was a delightful day of contrasts. Over to Talaat Sao, the largest market in Lao, via the scenic route home. Every tuk tuk ride here is an adventure in itself. Most roads have 2 names, pre- and post- Soviet and most drivers don’t know either of the names and have to be guided by the name of the nearest Wat (temple), which can lead to some seriously odd journey’s since we don’t know where we’re going either. Back to the pool to help poor, sweaty Harley cool down, then a trip to the Cultural Centre to watch a rock concert, which was too late starting for us to stay, and then a second evening attempt to find Le Nadao, reportedly the finest (French) restaurant in the whole of Lao. The kids and Will enjoyed their Cote de Boeuf, whilst I struggled to eat my scallops, complete with orange ovaries, but the desserts were truly scrumptious. From there, back to our hotel where Ruby wants to look in on the in-house disco, one of very few in town. A sight to behold indeed. A 4 piece band on stage, a singer and 5 women shaking tambourines, whilst pairs of finely dressed girls did ballroom dancing around the dance floor. The faster the music got, the more furiously they twirled around and around in ever decreasing circles until I felt I might fall over just from watching them. Apparently, ballroom dancing was amongst the things previously outlawed under Soviet rule so now it’s back with a vengeance.
A few chores to do today, including dumping about 5kgs of stuff we really don’t need (bye bye Barbies) and posting 7kgs off to Oz in order to make our next journey less sweaty than the last, followed by a relaxing afternoon at the pool and lunch at the Settha Palace, a much finer pool than ours, where Harley’s swimming much improves due to the fact that we’ve forgotten his armbands and he has no option but to try to swim. We round off the day with a kiddie friendly pizza/pasta dinner at La Terrasse and pack in preparation for our 3 ½ hour bus ride to Vang Vien tomorrow morning.
But at least I can sleep well tonight after finding out that it’s against the law for foreigners to sleep with Laoations outside of marriage. So that’s why I’m not getting the attention the rest of the family are getting. Noone dare look at me for fear of falling for my undeniable charm and inevitable risk of prison!
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