mike green's blog: VANG VIENG

Next morning, after eating at a "cook your own" bbq type restaurant the previous night, Paul was as crook as a dog. Paul (I'll eat anything, man this wasabi is f***ing great!) must have ingested something he shouldn't have and was in a bad way. He started the ride from Luang Prabang, but at the first gas stop had to bail out. There was no doubt it was serious. So he, Deb and his bike all went on the truck. While we were sorting all this out, two other motorcyclists pulled in, one on a Triumph Explorer, the other on an R1200GSA, tricked up to the nines (ie fully farkled) and in the exact same colour as the one I have just ordered. A vision of the future! Naturally I went over to chat, and grabbed a photo or two. Both these guys were from Thailand, and were heading in much the same direction as us, so they were invited to join us. Yai, our Thai support vehicle driver, got quite excited. The guy on the GSA was apparently a big movie star in Thailand. I guess a Thai version of Ewan McGregor! Anyway, they stayed with us for about 20 minutes, then got impatient and ripped past us and disappeared into the smoke haze. I'm going to like my new bike!

Pushing further along and up into the mountains towards our next destination of Vang Vieng, the road was reasonably good. We stopped at a junction in a small village, where there was a big crowd gathered on the corner, getting ready for some kind of celebration. The women were all preparing food and wrapping it up in banana leaves, the guys were sitting down talking and smoking. Everyone was looking at us and wondering at the strangely dressed falangs on noisy motorcycles. To them, we may as well have come from another planet. Anyway the ice was broken and we were offered a taste of the food by a couple of old ladies who had about three teeth between them, and everybody thought the whole thing was a real hoot. Turns out, it was a new shop being built on the corner, and the whole village had turned out to celebrate the new business venture, and to wish the owner good luck. We were the first customers and bought some drinks. Great stuff! Its a pity we have evolved so far from such community spirit. Maybe when I get home I should introduce myself to the boofheads who live across the street from me. Second thought, no, stuff them, the noisy bastards.

On we pushed, high up into the mountains, on some seriously twisty roads, with massive penalties for getting it wrong. If you went over the edge, you'd fall for an hour before you hit anything. The villages were getting poorer looking, its a tough life in these parts. We stopped for lunch in a small restaurant in some nameless village, where the fare of the day was Chinese. This joint catered to the Chinese tourist trade, and was full of same. Chinese music blared out, and there were pictures of Mao and a Chinese flag. Just like home, some holiday! The customers sat yabbering away, punctuated by smoking, coughing up a lung or two, and spitting the results on the floor. When they left, there was a pile of bones on each table, not on a plate, on the table. Nice! The food was pretty average too, I reckon I could get better anywhere in Adelaide.

When we finally reached our destination, the entire hotel was Beijing central. Hordes of them were traipsing through the foyer of the hotel, wringing wet from some paddling on the river, and dripping water all over the tiled floor, making it into a skating rink. The much vaunted infinity-edge pool was a bright green colour and consequently out of action. The much vaunted view of massive karsts (dome shaped mountains) was barely discernible through the smoke. I had a shower and went to sleep for a couple of hours. It had been a tough day, and I was overheated and cranky. Later on, as I was about to get out of the lift on the ground floor, as soon as the doors opened there were about 10 Chinese who tried to barge in, oblivious to the fact that I might like to actually get out of the bloody thing first. Who says the Aussie Rules hip and shoulder bump is a thing of the past. I've still got it in my repertoire, thanks to years of watching Murray Wiedeman, Ron Barassi and Neil Kerley steamrolling opponents in the 60's. A bit of cross cultural interchange took place, which might cause a few of them to think again before they stampede blindly into another lift. Breakfast the next morning was a total free for all, but lucky for me I only wanted cereal, toast and coffee, and none of the 200 other people in the room did. There were ugly scenes at the noodle stand though, and it was just mayhem at the soup station. These people don't give a stuff about anybody else, and as far as I'm concerned they are nothing more than peasants who found some money. A lot of money. Our money. Get used to it, the future is on the way. Time for some photos.