Vang Vieng, The Incident of Extreme Stupidity, and Vientiane

9:45 PM Thursday June 21st, 2012 Siem Reap, Cambodia
Our first day in Vang Vieng tubing is the only goal.  Our minds are focused, our stomachs are full, and our livers are prepared.  We've heard at each bar is a free shot of Lao Lao whiskey waiting for you.

Ewwww.  Whiskey.  At least it's sweet and not too strong.

I'm scared, but know I can always say no.  We're going with our friends from the night before, and we get to the tubing point, cross the river by boat, and walk directly into the first bar.  No tubing yet.

What the bars look like.

They're all open air, covered, wooden patios with games and water spewing forth like showers.  We get our free shot and braided wristband that accompany each new bar, play some beer pong, and jump in our tubes to go to the next bar, a quick 30 feet of tubing down the river.  I get out of the water onto the dock of the next bar in about 3-4 feet of water.  We snagged another wristband and another free shot.  A couple hours of chatting with people and playing big jenga we got restless.

Our Dutch friends from the first night in Vang Vieng playing some big jenga.

After our Dutch friends disappeared somewhere amidst the chaos of the bars we found three very beautiful Danish girls to talk to.  We had some quick, muddled conversation with the music blaring in our ears when suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see someone swinging on a rope.  Oh dangerous rope swings, how I love thee.  It's just across the river at another bar.  Damn me and wanting to impress people.  It was about to bite me in the ass extremely hard.  What I did next has been called: stupid, foolish, retarded, silly, and any other variation on that theme possible.  In an attempt to seem 'bad ass' and suave I told the girls I was going to the rope swing, and then I ran down to the dock and sealed my fate by diving outwards into the murky, brown water.  As I hit the water I felt fine.  Of course the water had to be deeper here.  I'd dove so far out.  To my surprise, lurking two feet below the surface was the bottom of the river and the accompanying rocks.  I felt the blow to my head.  An immediate pain shot through me, but surprisingly numbed for what I knew had just happened.  Well nothing to do now other than keep swimming to the other side.  It had been quite a large smack to my forehead, but something compelled me to keep swimming across the river.  I MUST make it to the rope swing.  Don't let a little head injury get in your way.  Seriously why would I let that interfere with impressing some very cute girls.  I swam across confidently, grabbing the rope thrown out to me from the bar across the river, and I was pulled in.  I got out of the water excited for the swing.  Immediately the few patrons at that bar were hurrying up to me.  "Are you alright?," and "You're gonna need to get to the hospital," were the words I was greeted with as I got out of the water.  I was surprised.  I had been fine, just a little knock on the head.  No worse for the wear.  Then the blood came pouring down my face, and I knew I was done for.  They were right.  The crimson stream was flowing quickly.  Off to the hospital it was.  Luckily the people that greeted me at the bar were med students and quickly snagged some strong vodka from the bar.  With a hurried manner they said, "This is going to hurt a lot," and poured the vodka right onto my wounds.  The stinging was immediate, but bearable.  They ventured a guess that I'd need about 7-8 stitches in total for both of my gashes.  After Bo swam over to join me to the hospital, bringing my money and camera with him, we headed off in a rush to get to the hospital.  We still bargained a price with the tuk tuk who tried to overcharge us even though we were in a rush.  Bo had tried to tell the girls I had painted my face, like many people had, as he saw the bright red blood pouring down my face from the opposite side of the river.  He was hoping it was nothing serious. 

After a lot of the bleeding had slowed.

Upon getting to the hospital it seemed like they'd dealt with this before.  A lot of times before.  I escaped with two big lacerations on my head, a few slightly chipped teeth, and a scraped up chest.  Luckily I had no concussion though.  Within a few minutes of arriving I was put down on a bed and there was a razor working away over my wounds to clear them of hair.  A little bit of pain, but not unbearable.  Then they cleaned the wounds and stitched me up.  I felt the needle each time it pierced my scalp, and it got harder and harder to bear as they put four stitches on the right cut and then eight on the left wound for a total of 12 stitches.  Each stitch a stinging as the needle pierced each side of the wound and a tension and accompanying pain as they tightened it.  I'm surprised that I managed it all with no anesthetic of any kind.  I had survived it though.

I took some selfies on the operating table while Bo ran back to the hostel to get money.

The wound getting stitched up.

All sewed up on the left laceration.  It has a little zig zag to it.

The right wound.

Thumbs up during the stitching.

Those damn cheetos.

They sewed gauze with iodine into my stitches, leaving what looked like miniature orange sausages or as Bo liked to call them, "Cheetos."

A better view of the cheetos.

The whole procedure and amoxicillin cost only $40.  This meant no drinking for the remainder of the antibiotics regimen, and, the worst part, no getting my head wet.  The incident occurred around 3, and I didn't take my first pain killer until 9:30.  I didn't feel like I needed it until then, but it was about to become unbearable.  That night I hadn't had my antibiotics yet, but was starting the next day.  I had about a sixth of a bucket, feeling fine and very lucky to be alive.  I've been told that so many people die from what I did, so I was lucky that I dove after only a few drinks.  Many people hit their heads and pass out and drown in Vang Vieng and most are caused by alcohol.  There were 27 recorded deaths in Vang Vieng last year from accidents just like this one.  I was more than lucky, and I counted my blessings.  Surprisingly I didn't feel tired that night, and with the help of some Excedrin I stayed out until 2 AM.  My head had begun to pound though, and I was about to experience the worst sleep I've ever gotten.  The odds of sleeping were stacked against me.  Along with a pounding headache and injuries I had developed a fever of about 103 degrees.  It came out of nowhere, accompanied by violent shivers and a desire for more covers in an already balmy room.  The beds at our $3/night hostel were extremely thin and provided no comfort.  This was added on top of my inability to sleep on my back, and my inability to sleep on my front (as I normally do) because of my wounds.  Oh and did I mention there was no A/C in the room and I got little to no direct moving air from the fan.  A creeping fear that I may die in my sleep due to head injuries added nothing to this terrible recipe for sleep.  After spending only four hours in bed I managed to get 30 minutes of sleep in what was the most hellish and restless night of sleep ever.  Also luckily there were very drunk people coming into the hostel yelling around 4 AM.  Good times.  Racked with the urge to vomit I got out of bed and walked around to find water at 6 in the morning.  The town was dead, but I managed to secure some water and attempt to relax, avoiding the menacing urges emanating from my stomach.  Somehow I felt good enough to go out to the tubing area that day.  You can just walk between the bars anyway.  No need for a tube.  I was there to socialize, and I wasn't gonna let my inability to drink get in the way of that.  We hung out with some Dutch girls we'd met the night before, and at the end of the day we tubed down the river, two people to a tube.  It was pretty chilly, but I enjoyed seeing the bars further down the river with a massive slide that launches you 15 feet in the air, and the high diving platforms, and swings.  I passed by jealous of everyone flying into the water, wishing I could get my head wet.  My forehead was beginning to swell up pretty noticeably.  I figured it was normal.

Two to a tube with our Dutch friends.

Must keep the Cheetos dry.

Some guy went down the slide as we passed and landed about 3 feet from us. 

My head starting to swell up.

Then under my eyes started swelling up.  Clearly something was wrong.

The beautiful surrounding mountains.

We cruised by the beautiful, karst mountains, covered by clouds as we floated down the river in the fading daylight.  The next day was spent in a similar fashion.  Another day out at the bars.  Another day of socializing, but I was feeling bad.  I had become known as, 'the guy who dove,' throughout everyone in Vang Vieng.  The area around my eyes had begun swelling, and my right cheeto was smelling really bad, so it had to be removed.

Getting the right cheeto removed.

Free shots.

Free shot for Bo.

Free shot of snake wine that is.

Glad they put this sign up after I dove.

General feel of the bars.

Another sign put up after I dove.

Interesting mode of transportation here.

Presidential Palace

After our fourth night we were ready to head on to Vientiane.  We'd had enough of the extreme partying in Vang Vieng.  I really hadn't even participated.  A quick 3 hour bus ride got us to Vientiane.  It is the Paris of S.E. Asia.  French architecture spots the city, and an arch similar to the Arc de Triomphe rests upon a main boulevard that ends in the Presidential Palace.

Arch at the end of the boulevard.

A large, completely golden temple graced the area, a symbol often seen on postcards around Laos.  The golden paint chipping off, the building seemed slightly dilapidated, though impressive nonetheless.  Nothing of extreme importance occurred in Vientiane though.  A day of extreme pain that required about 1500 mg of acetaminophen, 800 mg of aspirin, and 30 mg of hydrocodone left me in a pain killer stupor with ridiculous lucid dreams.  I did a lot of sleeping, and attempted to heal up by means of serious amounts of rest.  I felt good.  My fever was gone, my wounds hurt a lot less, and I was ready to have my stitches removed.  So after a couple days in Vientiane, having seen most of the sights of the city, we flew off to Siem Reap to explore the Angkor temples, but surprises with my wounds awaited me there.

Here are a few photos from Vientiane.

Reclining Buddha

Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng, Laos Pre-Incident

9:45PM Thursday June 21st, 2012 Siem Reap, Cambodia

Mountains around Luang Prabang

It was with a sad heart, but an ever eager thirst for adventure that I left Hanoi on the morning of June 12th.  Surprising me in the lobby of the hostel was Taco, our Ha Long Bay tour guide, who was set to depart on another booze cruise that morning.  He was drinking a beer at 6 AM having not slept at all the previous night.      Now that is a master of his craft if I've ever seen one.  As I snagged a cab, one of those 'I may not return here in a while' moments slammed into
me and I suddenly found myself attempting to savor each moment of my departure more than usual.  As I arrived at the Hanoi airport confused beyond belief, I was sent around the airport searching for my check in area.  It's really confusing when your airline is listed as another airline.  Once I got in the gate, past security and immigration I grabbed my last bowl of pho in Vietnam.  I knew immediately by the price, $5, that it wasn't going to meet my standards.  I was too used to $2 pho, those savory bowls that tickled my senses, and made me joyous in my food-gasms, the MSG transporting me to a faraway land of titillating flavors and satisfaction.  This $5 bowl was shit though, and I departed Vietnam in limbo.  I constantly think of pho now.  I'm an addict.  Interestingly as the first call for my flight to Luang Prabang rang out over the speaker it said loudly, "LAST CALL!"  I rushed to the door having calmly sat near the door for over 30 minutes.  Two gentlemen and myself were rushed onto the mostly empty plane, all three befuddled by the last first call, or was it a first last call?  Taking off into the misty skies I left Hanoi ten hours before Bo and Marlowe.  As I flew over the rolling clouds above Laos I cursed myself vehemently for letting my camera battery die.  The rolling green mountains were a sight to see after we descended through the pure white out hovering over them.  Another poignant moment.  Must enjoy it quickly.  No.  We're descending too fast.  Let me take this in just a little bit longer.  Then touchdown.  Damn you gravity.  After forgetting to bring my passport photo with me on the plane, I paid $36 and got my Laos visa.  I wish I'd known what I would experience in that country.  I would've prepared myself for the onslaught.

To attempt to describe the pure, unadulterated magnificence of Luang Prabang would be an extremely foolish endeavor.  Any combination of lush vegetation on top of black hillsides and mountaintops, flowing rivers, Buddhist temples, blue skies, and mountains shrouded by light clouds is bound to be breathtaking.  But Luang Prabang pulled off this look almost flawlessly.  Honestly I see why people get stuck here.  The first day in town I meandered, entranced by the rivers that wind around and through the city.  The Laos architecture, at least for temples, draws you in.  The steep curved roofs and the nagas (dragon-like creatures) on all of the corners is so foreign and beautiful.  This place is a must see.  Dinner by the river entailed meeting an Australian couple and getting caught up in conversation for over an hour.

View from the riverfront restaurant at dusk.

They worked for the Australian government as surveyors and were traveling for four months on vacation and accrued sick days, and still had jobs to return to.  Damn the U.S. and its devaluation of time off.  We've gotta change this. The amount of vacation comes up a lot in conversation by the way.
I crashed early, and the next day we met three girls from Duke University at breakfast in the hostel and joined them to see Kuang Si watterfall.  Turns out I had some common friends with them which is always fun to discover.  The three girls (Lindsey, Liz, and Bethany), Bo, Marlowe, and myself jumped in a tuk tuk together and 45 minutes later we were paying the entrance fee to what seemed to be a very touristy waterfall.  Another distraction with the Asiatic Black Bear enclosure and we were on our way to the pools. Upon first setting my eyes upon the water in the pools I wasn't certain it was real.  Clearly waters of that pure an aquamarine must be dyed upstream.  I distinctly remember feeling that the water was simply a joke, a prank played on tourists.  Look at our water.  It's more blue than yours.  When it comes down to it though the pools of water were real and they were definitely one of the most beautiful falls I've seen.

This doesn't do the water justice at all

See a rope swing.  Bane of my existence.

My foot at the edge of the top waterfall.

Standing at the edge, eyes closed.

Bo leaning back on the railing.

What could make this better?  You can swim in the pools.  So after hiking to the top of the major waterfall, walking into the stream at the top, crossing the barrier, closing my eyes as Bo snapped some shots, and descending, we headed off to take a dip.  Each pool had been entrancing, majestically beautiful in the serenity of water of that hue.  I was caught.  There was a rope swing and a crowd, along with three girls to impress.  As I scampered away intent to show off Bo mutters something to the girls, "Watch this.  He's gonna do a flip."  I'm set on just that, and Bo knows me too well.  A back flip from the rope swing.  An easy task.  Something I've done many times before.  I swung out, inverted myself under the rope and released, ready for the lay out and flip.  But in an act of utter embarrassment and extreme pain I feel a snag.  As I release my grip from the rope the dangling length of rope with three evil knots hangs between my legs.  I feel the first tug as the first devilish knot smashes into my groin.  The second and third I'm certain will be worse.  And they are.  As each successive knot ravages my manhood I feel a twinge, maybe a pang, of regret.  Impressing people is not worth this embarrassment or pain.  Then once I think it's all over, the coup de grace, the backflop from six feet.  Oh the joys of showing off.  Like a sucker punch it puts me in my place.  I get out shamefully.  People laugh.  I chuckle, wrap the rope up this next time, and complete the back flip.  Experience can be a cold hearted bitch, though this is nothing compared to my experiences later in Laos.

Bo doing a trick from the rope swing.

I dove from the 10 foot waterfall, and swam freely.  Standing still in the water, the fish picked at dead skin on my feet, a tickling yet calming sensation.  I was at peace and content in that aquamarine water.  Life was good.  That evening we walked up to the top of the the hill in the middle of town.  It provided a perfect vantage point to witness the sunset and view the surrounding town and mountains.  Again I was treated to some moments of serenity and some astounding views. 

National Museum in Luang Prabang.

On top of the hill for sunset.

Luang Prabang

Sunset vista over the Mekong River.

The sunset was shrouded by clouds.

National Museum building

Inside the building

Seven nagas

Sadly the next day we had to leave Luang Prabang and get on to Vang Vieng.  The tubing was calling our names.  So with only a half day left in Luang Prabang we scurried to the National Museum to visit a magnificent and glittering gold building.  We visited an active Buddhist temple and talked in very broken English with a monk.  After this we ate the Lao version of pho, but with cow tongue and large chunks of fat with little meat.  During our whole lunch a beggar knelt behind us moaning.  It was a sad sight, and it gave lunch a downtrodden vibe.  The lady who owned the stall yelled at the beggar in Laotian, but to no avail.  The beggar stoically moaned the whole time, refusing to accept food offered to him.  We were bound for Vang Vieng and had to leave to get on our bus.
The ride to Vang Vieng took us over stunning mountain passes, and in the waning daylight the mountaintops were lit in an ethereal, indescribable light.  We had the bus driver pull over just for us to take some pictures.  Though as with any vista this beautiful they don't do it justice.  It may be my propensity to find beauty and wondrousness in what I see, or it may be that these places really are that magnificent.  I do know that the mountains along this stretch of road were like nothing I'd ever seen before.  My eyes were crying out in ecstasy, excited for every glimpse, leaping in joy at every bend in the road.

On the road from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng.

The most interesting mountain I've ever seen.  Upon getting closer the lumps are more like individual peaks.

We stopped to capture these pictures.  Our bus driver just wanted to go.

We pulled into Vang Vieng in the darkness, seven hours after leaving Luang Prabang.  We were greeted by the grim seen of another motorbike death.  This time a young girl was seemingly unconscious in the middle of the road by her crashed motorbike.  Not a good sign.  And not to preach, but Helmets, Helmets, Helmets everyone.  She didn't seem to have had one.  Spooked, we jumped in a tuk tuk and got off to our hostel.  This place was dingy and dodgy.  For $3 a night what did we expect though.  My introduction to this town was absurd.  Upon putting my belongings on my bed and getting situated in the dorm a beast began stirring quietly on a bunk across from mine.  She awoke from her intoxicated slumbers and was up stumbling wildly, almost immediately falling on me.  It was around 8 PM and this girl was visibly plastered.  She managed to just avoid tumbling over on me and my bag, but just afterwards she toppled.  The beast had found her bag, next to a different bunk than hers.  She fumbled drunkenly through the bag and found an article of clothing.  Then without a moment's hesitation she dropped trou, flashing her thong at me.  I looked away, trying to provide her with some sense of modesty.  I'm truly not certain she knew I was in the room, though I had obviously been the commotion that had disturbed her rest, and I was right in front of her.  The beast then slowly took grey sweatpants out of her bag and began putting them on.  It was after about 30 seconds of struggling, grunting, and obvious confusion that I looked over to see her trying to put a hood over her foot.  Was this perhaps a foot covering form of sweatpants I'd never seen?  Then it hit me, and I began laughing out loud.  I rand out of the room to recruit Bo to witness this spectacle.  Both of us laughed out loud as this girl attempted to put on a hoodie as sweatpants for a solid two minutes.  One leg fully inserted in the hoodie we left her to her struggles to get back to bed.  Who knows if she ever got that hoodie to fit right.  So this was Vang Vieng, the place of legends.  We stepped into a restaurant and were handed a 'special' menu.  Weed, mushrooms, and opium served up in teas, entrees, brownies, other desserts, and joints.  Not our cup of tea.  We'll leave those to other people.  This town is ridiculous, and we were soon to find out that it gets even more crazy.  Imagine a place that offers free alcohol every night, and you can have as much as you want.  This is Vang Vieng.  "Free Buckets," are touted by young bar promoters to get people to come.  Only a couple bars offer this, but then again people only go to a couple bars.  Bo, Marlowe, and I each had a bucket.  What's insane is that they dump a whole liter of the local alcohol, Lao Lao whiskey, between three buckets.  Lucky for us it's only 25-30% and not higher, though we've heard it varies from batch to batch between 25-60%.  A bucket is about 5-6 drinks, and was good enough for me for the night.  After the Ha Long Bay trip I don't think I wanted much alcohol anyway.  We met some new Dutch people, and talked and danced with them until about 2.  Seriously everyone out here is so open and social.  It's amazing.