Our Cambodian destination was the town of Stung Treng, 50km from the border. It took 12hrs to get there, against the current. Along the way the Mekong landscape went through several transitions. From high river banks with a skinny river, to low banks and large wide open spaces of river dotted with islands. It was very Apocalypse Now, but without the battle scenes and GIs. During twilight in the west the full moon rose in the east, making a very picturesque sunset. I was treated to some local alcohol by 2 of the teenagers at the guest house. 50c for a glass of potent whisky smelly stuff that comes out of what looks like a fish bowl at a local vendor’s stand.

The next day we had to arrange a boat to take us to the border. I made the mistake of spending a lot of time trying to negotiate a lower price with the boat guys, or anyone else who had a boat but it always ended up coming back to these same guys. They pretty much fixed the price amongst themselves and didn’t compete with each other. So I spent all this time in a futile effort to try and save maybe $4. Meanwhile it was getting later in the day. We finally left about 4ish. As occurred time and time again with shared transport, they quote you a price for the whole vehicle (boat/car whatever). So you end up paying for the whole boat, but when you go to leave there are others in the boat as well, possibly paying for the whole boat as well if they’re foreigners. The happened before in a taxi from Kampot, and again in Laos. Arggghhh.

The ride to the border was pretty fun. It wasn’t so much a speed boat as a canoe with a huge outboard motor. It was a thrill thinking that I was in a tiny canoe heading to “the border” – a thought that conjured up images of smuggling, drug running, and other adventures. When we got to the border area, on the left hand river bank is a small hut where the Cambodian border officials extract money from you for an exit stamp, and on the right hand side the Lao border officials extract money from you for an entry stamp. Not legally sanctioned payments, but necessary for the guy to buy a new motorbike or two (he had some nice looking motorbikes).

Due to my earlier mucking about it was now dark. This meant there was no transport! And there certainly wasn’t a guest house within walking distance. My Cambodian companion spoke to a local who was a Cambodian/Lao speaker. He said he could take us to a guest house. This is were my earlier efforts proved to be pure economic folly, because it cost us a lot more than the $4 (which I didn’t even get remember) for them to drive us out to the guest house. Where as if we had left earlier we could have got regular transport. Sorry economic theorists, human beings don’t always act rationally.

My first distinct impression of Lao was a stop sign. It was significant because it was in English, and because Cambodia has no stop signs. It was a precursor to the pure joy that was to come. A tar-sealed road. It was quite funny, because to the left the tar-sealed road stretched with great beauty into the Lao countryside, whilst to the right it abruptly ended and became a dirt track that was distinctly Cambodian. Its amazing that a country’s roads to the outside world are dirt and full of holes.

So the main roads are good in Lao, and well sign posted in English. This is good. At least I can read where I am, even if I don’t know where I am going. Which certainly was the case, I hadn’t a clue where this guy was taking us. We ended up in a little village called Ban Kinak at the Kinak “Hotel” where the proprietor speaks no English, there’s no running water, the generator shuts off at 9pm, there’s no tourists, there’s nowhere we can find to eat, and nobody knows your name. The place isn’t in my guide book, except as a place the bus might stop on your way between destinations you’d rather be at.

This was a good and bad thing. It meant that we were in the “real Lao”. But we were surrounded by foreignness and could communicate very little. It made me realise how dependent I was on information. Usually I am in a place thats in the guide book, and I have lots of info and can work out how to get where. But here I had nothing. And not being able to speak the language meant I wasn’t able to accumulate any info from the locals. It made me think that the Lonely Planet, or whoever, by choosing what information to publish, can determine where you as a tourist will go, unless you are relying on other sources of info (like us, relying on the Cambodian/Lao speaker in this instance). And maybe society as a whole, sets the limits of information that we as individuals work within on a daily basis. I mean, why was I in Thailand and Laos in the first place? Because I’d heard about it/had received information from friends, other travellers etc. Hmmm…. I will leave the philosophy for now and continue. It also made me realise that the transition from one country to another can be tricky. New language, new money, new systems. Not made any easier being dark.

We did finally get someone to take us where we wanted to go. A place that was on the map and I had lots of information about – the island of Kong, Don Kong. It was a lovely little place. Nice little bungalows with battery powered lights. Quiet, not too many people. In fact all of Southern Laos that I saw was pretty quiet. The next day I went for a bike ride around the island, it took about 2-3hrs. We caught a boat to a local waterfall, on the way children would come out onto the banks of the Mekong and wave their little hands. The waterfall was average, and as a foreigner you had to pay to see this gift of Nature. You also have to pay to use a bridge that the French built between Don Kong and another island Don Det.

After Don Kong we went to the nearest town, Pakse, about 150km away. I recommend you learn the word “direct” in Lao. Our transport took us in the opposite direction to Pakse for a nice 1.5hr detour. If only I had known I would have got on a different truck. I have noticed a few vehicles have “Bin Ladens” stickers on them. Bin Laden’s what? His tuk-tuk? (Yeh I saw the sticker on a tuk tuk).

For Christmas I was in Pakse in the morning, and then a very small village in the sticks for the rest. The village seemed very “virgin” to me, there was only 1 guest house and we were the only tourists in the whole village. When we got there lots of children come out of the woods (not quite literally) and stared at us so I got the impression it wasn’t a heavily touristed place. But the prices were anything but “virgin”. Hehe. The lack of competition meant they charged us a much as they liked and we couldn’t really do anything about it. In fact I thought overall the Lao people were pretty good at sneaking the prices up for tourists. Everytime we bought something within walking radius of a guest house the quoted price was higher than the local price. Then again we were staying in small places with not much competition. This was different to Cambodia, where the tourist destinations were a lot more populated and there was plenty of choice.

I went for a walk that night in the village. Somewhere I could hear the carol “Silent Night” playing. I stoped at a house where a few people were watching a really bad 1970′s black and white English comedy. I was horrible, but they loved it. While they might have been enjoying some bad Western culture, I felt I was the one having the better experience enjoying their culture.

I went for an elephant ride in this village. Do animal activists think this is a bad thing? I don’t know. It was the guest house owner’s elephant, after arranging the ride he said to wait for 30mins. I went to bed and woke up to some loud noises. I looked out my bedroom window and staring me smack in the face was this huge elephant! It was quite exciting going on an elephant for the first time.

After that we went to another small place called Champasak, a small village on the banks of the Mekong. It was near some Angkor period ruins. Here disaster struck – diarrhoea and fever (plus Rod Stewart songs at night). Urgggh. What hell. At the height of my fever I had all these delirious thoughts about how much I really really liked the Western world and all the things I missed about it. These thoughts subsided with the fever, and the feverish love became merely a new found admiration for levels of hygiene in developed societies.

The whole diarrhoea thing made me crave a little civilisation and so quelled my ambitious plans for extensive travel. Realising I still had 2 countries to go – Myanmar, and Sri Lanka – I decided to cut my Laos travel plans short and return to Thailand. (Ny, my travel companion didn’t have a Thai visa and returned to Cambodia). Its was a pity, as I was only just getting used to the place and there was plenty more to see and do.