The escape from the city of ghosts + Kampot

Kampot is a small town situated on the Teuk Chhou River. A few old French colonial buildings remain but on the whole it is unremarkable. Taking a bicycle outside and visiting the rural villages was far more interesting. As I dodged the pot holes, navigated the river and sought shade under the palm trees, I was very surprised to see the amount of women wearing the hijab. I was even more surprised to then come across two small mosques. After a small amount of research my random cycling had brought me into the Muslim practicing Cham community. Just like the Khmer they were as friendly as they come. It was a very picturesque bike ride, reminding me greatly of my time spent in Kerela, although the heat was a killer.

The principle reason to come to Kampot however is to jump on a tour and head up into the Bokor National Park. 1080meters up, perched on Phnom Bokor is a French hill station established in the early 1920’s. With a hotel, church and Cambodia’s first ever casino it became the hide-away for the rich and famous. However in 1972 the Khmer Rouge infiltrated the area and its inhabitants abandoned it in fear. It then became one of the last remaining strong holds of the Khmer Rouge as they fought for survival against the Vietnamese forces. Recently the now ghost town has opened up the road to tourism (as long as the relevant officials hands are greased) and was even the setting for the film ‘City of Ghosts’ starring Matt Dillon.



I had read that it was possible to spend the night at the Bokor hill station and set about going from tour operator to tour operator attempting to sort out the best deal. Some said it was not possible, some not, others charged the earth, I eventually settled upon Orchid travels (its mention will have more relevance later). The following day I set up the mountain in a mini bus with another fifteen or so tourists. After half an hour we transferred into a rickety pick up truck at the park entrance. Not long after that we were on foot, travelling through the jungle. We were joined by a guide and a non-English speaking ranger armed with an AK47, apparently in case of a tiger attack. It was a rather beautiful walk through the primary rainforest until after a couple of hours, drenched in sweat we jumped back on the truck and headed up to the hill station. Apparently the walk is not just a nice side trip but necessary as the government deems it too risky for tourists to be on that part of the road.



The hill station is fascinating not least because of its history, but also because of its current state. Everything has been looted leaving this once place of the rich, reduced to cold, eerie bareness heightened by the bright orange lichen attached to the walls. Bullet holes are evident throughout the building, the scene of many a battle. Every step you take echoes and the wind howls. Stepping out onto the front lawn, it was unfortunate that the mist had come down because otherwise it would have revealed the view that the hotel was famous for. Looking down on the sheer drop to the trees below though reminded us of the Chinese gamblers who were known for throwing themselves off of the edge when losing too much money at the casino.



I left the group after lunch revealing that I was the only one to be staying overnight. As one English guy said to me, ‘I don’t know whether to be envious or relieved.’ I was to stay the night in an empty dorm room at the Rangers station. After a quick nap I went to the Catholic Church and looked around it. Being alone increased the creepiness ten-fold. The whole place really does make you feel incredibly uncomfortable. Escaping with the heart rate just about ok I made my way up behind it and plonked myself on a rock. The clouds had lifted revealing one of the finest views I have ever seen. A sheer drop straight down to the rainforest below which then stretched all the way out to the ocean. It was hard not to feel like a god sat surveying his lands. The most beautiful butterflies flew around as birds soared over the trees below.



Someone asked me if I believed in ghosts. My response had been I will soon find out. I guess by the fact that as the sun set and I snapped some photos, I felt an urge to run as fast as I could away from the buildings, probably meant yes. Despite the temptation to return at night with a flash light, I was quite convinced my heart would not take it. Earlier our guide had told us about the amount of people thought to have been killed in and around the hotel. Only recently have the owners changed the sign outside of the hotel from ‘do not sleep here’ to ‘danger keep out’. The original sign was in place because it is thought that only after a special religious ceremony should anyone be safe to step inside the building at night. Many of the workers around the site have claimed to have seen ghosts.

That night I had way too much food at the Rangers station as the wife first served me a huge meal and then I was invited by the only English speaking person on site to have food with him and his friends. It was quite a feed.



The following day after breakfast I received a phone call on the Rangers mobile telling me there was no tour group going up that day so they would need to send a car to pick me up. Alarm bells rang. This was prime rip off territory as the tour company devolves responsibility for me and leaves me trapped! I spent the morning admiring the views and exploring other buildings surrounding the hotel, including the old Commissariat de Police. Eventually I arrived at the meet and waited for my car. After over an hour nothing came and I started to wonder. Then in a moment worthy of Hollywood itself a car approached. It stopped. Then crawled slowly towards me. A man wound down the window and passed me a mobile phone. Without introduction I was told in simpler words that the rendez-vous had changed. I was to go back down to the Rangers Station. The car promptly drove off. Unsure who I had just spoken to I started walking. Nearing the base, I met my Phnom Penh friend from the previous night. He delivered the devastating news that I may be too late for lunch. I quickened my pace and it brought rewards as the chief Ranger and his wife offered to share the food they were eating. Initially I panicked as I noticed small eyes and legs in one of the dishes. Cambodia is famous for the eating of insects. Luckily it turned out to be miniscule shrimps. All I could think of whilst I was eating it was those days on Cornish beaches hearing how we could not go fishing today as the prawns and shrimps were too small. After eating that dish they can never be too small. With this knowledge in hand, Willy Joe will not have to go through the same disappointment.

After some discussion the wife pointed to the Rangers car and indicated I was going down in that. All well and good except that the battery had gone flat. As the chief Ranger attempted to fix it and his marriage (just like in England, the man thinks he knows best when it comes to cars and refuses to listen to the wife who thinks she understands the solution) I sat around wondering if I would ever find my way down. Eventually after jump leads and attempting to steal another man’s car battery the jeep worked and we hit the road.

As we wound down to the bottom we went along the road where tourists are not allowed. It was ok, I was with the ranger after all. I didn’t find it particularly hairy, however what was disturbing was how much deforestation has taken place to allow for the building of the new five star resort they are planning to build up top. It is quite typical of Cambodia to sell all of its land and assets in return for quick money. The destruction of such a beautiful area, home to so endangered species is shocking. Returning back the man who runs Orchid travel looked delighted and relieved by my return. It was very fortunate to have chosen him as my organiser because I have little doubt that some of the other ones I spoke to would have devolved responsibility rather than sort it themselves.

Bokor hill station will be a place that I will long remember. It was so surreal being the only tourist in what in the future Cambodia hopes will become a major destination once again for the rich. The views were spectacular and the feeling I had when walking from building to building was everything you would expect from a so called ghost town. It may not have been on the same size of Chernobyl but with all the recent history surrounding the place it certainly has a very unnerving atmosphere and a disturbing story to match.

Sihanoukville - Otres Beach

From Siem Reap I took the most comfortable night bus I have ever taken. With reclining seats and properly paved roads it made for a good nights sleep! I arrived in Sihanoukville in the early hours the following morning. Replicating Laos they had decided recently to move the bus station into the middle of nowhere, which is always difficult to comprehend at four in the morning. From there I took a moto to Otres beach, or so I thought as the driver became quite confused and I eventually had to direct him. Around eight kilometers from the town, Otres beach is a little hide away with kilometers of white sand and minimal development.

Its isolation is what makes Otres beach special. It is incredibly quiet making for a nice close knit feel to the place. The beach is lovely and the water clear and warm. The food whilst more expensive was delicious. Having not been on a beach since Sri Lanka, it was a very welcome return and made for a relaxing few days. The only downside to the place was that there was definitely something in the water! On my first swim I felt a bite on my back but thought nothing of it. The following day a Belgium guy staying next to me complained of being bitten. Chancing it I went in and came out with a sharp pain, a small amount of blood and two needles sticking out of my foot. Another time I went in and swam straight past two jellyfish. What was most striking was that they were not very see through, just large clumps of mostly black. I swam back to the safety of the shore.



Otres Beaches reputation as a relaxed and beautiful beackpackers retreat harbors a rather nasty secret however that symbolises the governments short sightedness. Only a few years ago, the local population were removed from their village by force and all the bars and restaurants along the beach were knocked down without warning. With total disregard for the inhabitants future, most were left homeless, many of which who thought that they had a lease on the land. The reason, because the government agreed to the building of a new resort from foreign owners. This is all to common across Cambodia, where quick money from abroad is being prioritised ahead of a Cambodian led future. Many of the islands carry two hundred year leases. As mentioned before in the previous post, the Angkor temples are the property of a Chinese oil firm. Currently some of the places have returned, although in smaller numbers. The local village has moved into small shacks up on the hill. With ground being marked out and prepared for the development the accepted thinking is that it is only a matter of time until Otres becomes an exclusive beach for the rich only with no concern as to the current inhabitants.

After a number of uneventful but thoroughly enjoyable days on the beach I left for the so called up and coming place in Cambodia, Kampot.

The temples of Angkor

Here’s a new one to me. On leaving Phnom Penh I had sent an email to my hotel requesting a pick up. On arriving at the Siem Reap bus stand I wasn’t too hopeful and hence was surprised to see a man knocking on the window with a sign holding my name. Brilliant! But then on getting off the bus I spotted another man with a different sign with my name on it. I did a double take and soon found them both stood next to me. If it had happened in India I would have thought of it as a genius scam but it seemed entirely innocent with neither of them seeming to understand the strangeness of the situation. I went with the guy with the name of my hotel on his piece of paper and asked no further questions. As we made our way to the hotel, the moto chugged to a halt having run out of petrol. I wondered if the other one might have been a better choice as we had to push it through the streets until we finally arrived at base.

Tired after the previous day travelling, I spent the first day in Siem Reap getting to know the town and doing a bit of planning for the following days. In terms of recovery it was helpful but there really isn’t anything to see in Siem Reap. It did though have a lively pub scene, which was a good place to meet up with a number of people that I've met along the way. Oh and my room also came with a TV which had every Saturday Premiership game at my disposal! Thankfully you don’t come to Siem Reap to see Siem Reap. It’s a town that has expanded to meet the needs of the visiting hoards on their way to South East Asia’s proclaimed greatest attraction, the Temples of Angkor!

My free guide book had suggested that an increasingly popular way of getting around the world heritage site was by bicycle. What a lovely idea I thought as I peddled the six kilometers to the entrance gate. An hour or so later I began to feel slightly mad as everyone powered around on motos with the temperature creeping close to the 40 degree mark. Mad I might have thought but as I traveled back for another two days on a bike I think it would be closer to say clinically insane. I seemed to become well acquainted with the moto drivers who took pleasure out of seeing me peddling past day after day before erupting into laughter. One passed me on the ‘grand circuit’, promptly turned around, smiled and said “bet you wish you took a moto now?” as he sped on. Silently the answer was no. I might have been drenched in sweat for my entire time in the Ankor Archeological Site, sun stroked and dehydrated but I will stand by the fact that my guide book was right. It is an excellent way of experiencing what many suggest is the eighth wonder of the world!



The remnants of the Angkorian era dating from 802 to 1432 are a sight to be believed. It is its scale that sets it apart from any other comparative aging structures. For a person who is quite used to walking around ruins and attempting to visualize what it must have been like, Angkor comes as quite a surprise because even though parts are obviously showing age, and have crumbled to the floor nearly all of the temples still stand (at least in terms of size) as they once did. It’s also impressive in terms of scale because despite cycling around forty kilometers (sometimes more) each day, for three days straight, there were many temples and ruins that I never made it to.



The Angkor Archeological Site is I guess pretty much unmatched anywhere else in the world. At its heart is Angkor Wat, surrounded by a moat, it is the largest religious structure in the world. A few kilometers further on is the fortified city of Angkor Thom, some 10sq kilometers in size, with five 20 meter gates that are utterly breathtaking. Within it is the Bayon with 216 enormous smiling faces of Avalokiteshvara peering out across the land. There’s also the Terrace of the elephants with it’s incredible stone work. A few kilometers away there’s Ta Prohm, or the Tomb Raider temple, unsurprisingly named because the film was shot there, famous for the trees and vines that emerge and wind their ways around the ruins. And then there’s Phonom Bakhen with seven different levels as it climbs up to the sky.

And yet as the one day is enough crowd enjoyed the above, there are so many other (for me) more impressive temples waiting to be discovered away from the crowds. Ta Keo, with it’s huge pyramid mountain design. Banteay Samre with it’s almost gothic courtyard, carrying immaculately carved designs and Ta Som (I think) which beat them all, a better version of Ta Prohm, with a huge tree that has grown straight through the entrance gate. Plus of course so many more whose names have slipped from memory that I passed randomly and stopped in awe.



But there is a problem to Angkor. Whilst its sheer size is what makes it remarkable, it’s also its burden. It took me three days to fully start to appreciate what I was seeing. Every temple is so impressive, in terms of both size and of the stone work, that it is hard to comprehend what you are seeing without inevitably ending up ‘templed out’. Also it is, and rightly so, stupidly popular. Many people come to Cambodia just to see the site and then leave again. That means some temples can become crowded with tour groups. Fortunately with so many temples to see, there are always places to get away from them and unlike anywhere else I can think of, even the most out of the way temples are just as impressive.

With Siem Reap’s success on the back of the Angkor Archeological Site one very annoying trend has developed, hawking and begging. Now I’m well used to it after traveling across the Indian Sub-Continent but here it did get to me. The two worst offenders were:

• The begging children who were never going to be in my good books purely because they always seemed to approach me when I was eating. Taking a leaf out of the Indian street sellers they attempted to sell the biggest load of junk imaginable. All that they were missing was the Jeffrey Archer novels from the road sides of Mumbai. Sometimes they were marginally entertaining like the boy who disturbed my Amok curry by attempting to sell me a romantic book for a girlfriend. He showed it to me. It was on the Killing Fields. Increasingly more desperate he then proceeded to name ever Prime Minister of the UK, starting with David Cameron (and Nick Clegg) all the way down to Jim Callaghan! The problem was that due to the salesman rhetoric that has been taught to the children from an early age, I struggled to feel any pity of sympathy for them (despite the obvious hardships that many of them have), unlike the far more likable and indeed heart breaking kids that you see in India.

• Secondly it’s the women selling drinks and fruits outside a lot of the main temples. Whoever decided to teach them that the way English is spoken is to exaggerate the last word and increase the pitch up to an unbearable level deserves to be shot. On the hundredth time of hearing someone saying “Would you like a pineappppllllllleeeee” in the most whiney voice possible is almost intolerable. I remember a girl on my teacher training placement driving both myself and Ian mad with every sentence that she said ending with a high pitched question like ending. Having a whole choir of them everywhere I went made me want to run a mile.

However obviously it’s all harmless, even though the underlying desperation is troubling, and does not detract from what was a wonderful few days at not just one of South East Asia’s greatest sites but the worlds. It’s just such a shame that Cambodia’s number one asset has been sold to a Chinese Oil Company. Try and work that one out!

4000 Islands and crossing into Cambodia

From Tat Lo it was another bus journey back to Pakse. Now Pakse itself is ok, nothing special, just ok. However it embodies everything that I dislike about the Laos bus service. Many people have labeled me as mad for taking nearly every journey in India on local buses however I stand by them as being far better than the private service. Firstly because they are fascinating but more than that, they are convenient! Every bus station is slap bang in the center of the place you are visiting. In Lao it is different. For some reason every bus station is outside of town meaning you always need to enlist another form of transport to get where you want to be. Pakse is the classic example of this. The southern bus station is seven kilometers outside of town, the northern bus station even further! Why? To get any money out I had to take a tuk tuk into town, visit the ATM before getting a tuk tuk back again. For all the love I have discovered for buses on this trip this has really driven me to the edge!

Anyways enough of the rant! From Pakse I caught a SHARED sawngthaew (emphasis on the shared) which saying it was packed to the rafters is an understatement. There were goats on the roof as well, another thing to add to my collection of ‘things you see when your traveling in Asia’. On arrival at Ban Nagasak I caught a boat over to Don Det one of the four thousand islands.



Don Det was lovely. I didn’t stay for too long as I was already far too relaxed after Tat Lo and just like Tat Lo the whole purpose of the four thousand islands is to sit in a hammock all day with a good book. Not a lot else happens other then a daily swim in the Mekong that your hut overlooks! On my second day I pushed myself onto a bike and road around the island and onto neighboring Dong Khon. There there is a waterfall with spectacular rock formations and a couple of not particularly well kept beaches. The principle joy of the ride however was observing the passing village life as locals attend to their daily business. It’s all very beautiful and scenic.

The following day I left for Cambodia. At 8am I was given a lift over to the main land by my accommodation and deposited at the bus stand. There were two notable issues. First there were lots of other people waiting to get onto my bus and no one seemed to be going to where I wanted to get to. Anyways I was expecting to change buses several time, and daren’t I say it not even reach my destination! Secondly everyone was a tourist. Every form of transport I have taken on this trip I have purposely avoided any transport just for tourists. However considering most people on Don Det are Westerners and that the accepted advice is that the easiest way to cross the border is on one of these buses, I had little choice!

The journey to the border was quick enough. I had purposely chosen my seating position and where my bags were placed to make sure I had a clear run at the border and not have to stand in line for ages. It worked a treat and I was first across the border (after numerous dollars for stamps!). It was actually a very cheap border crossing as long as you had your wits about you and did not fall for the pay your visa in baht line. I demanded it in dollars (I know my conversions now!) and got it for far cheaper. The plan fell apart when I then had to wait an intolerable amount of time for everyone else to get across the border. When finally we thought that everyone was through we were told we were missing six people and as it turns out had to wait another two hours!

Eventually we boarded the bus and sped away. A while into the journey I was tapped on the shoulder by one of the conductors who told me I would be getting off very soon. Two hours and one food stop later I was dumped in a place I did not want to be having been told I had missed my connection. Or rather they had run late and so the bus I should have got in Stung Treng had already left. Lovely! The only saving grace was that when we had turned into the town of Kratie I had thought to myself, ‘this looks nice, maybe I should get off here.’ I had no intention to carry out the idea though!

So the bus left me and an American girl standing there confused and a little disorientated. There’s not a lot you can do in that situation. Confronting them is never going to get you anywhere other than into a situation that very easily could escalate out of control. So instead I marched to the bus station and spoke with their office there. After enlisting a translator we talked it through and despite the lady behind the desk being as rude as they come I eventually got a promise I would be on the bus tomorrow from a random guy on the phone she passed me. I left pleased that we had resolved the issue peacefully but also understanding that there was little chance of a bus tomorrow actually showing up and letting me on, so would need to think of an alternative plan. As I headed for the hotel that my interpreter owned, I reached to pull out his card to help with directions. It was ok, cheap, but nothing special. It was the least I could do for his help! As I arrived I checked my pockets and realized I had dropped my wallet when pulling out the card. It was nowhere to be seen. A brilliant start to Cambodia!

My motto in India was always when things are going well expect the worst and visa versa. The same seemed to apply to Cambodia because as I walked to try and find a working ATM (the main one was down), the whole town seemed to open their arms to me. It was like Sri Lanka all over again, everyone was saying hello and coming to speak to me. It was a wonderful moment. Even the local drunks seemed aware of my hard day, inviting me to drink whiskey and eat fish with them on a couple of upturned beer crates. Other than saying I was English in French I couldn’t really converse with them. Rather I just listened to them attempting to talk to me and occasionally muttered a terribly pronounced thank you in Khmer which they loved. It was a great moment. On realizing the glasses were adding up I bid them farewell only to find the ring leader on his moped telling me he'd take me to a bank. Considering he couldn’t stand up for five seconds let alone drive I declined. Come the evening I was joined by another local who spoke better English and we talked about Inter Milans decline in the Champions League amongst many things. All this happened whilst I had some delicious noodles being cooked up by a lady dressed in Pajamas (It's in fashion here to wear pajamas with teddy bears and other child themes). From such a terrible start to the day, it had all turned around very quickly.

There’s not a lot to Kratie, if you are not there to see the dolphins (I had seen them on the slow boat to Luang Prabang). However a random walk around town was great. The market was dirty, bustling and noisy. All the key ingredients I come to expect of a good market. Further outside of town I kept being stopped by children and adults to chat. Kratie really is an insanely friendly place. Finally I wondered along the sand that stretches for miles along the Mekong. There is a small floating village which was interesting to see.

After an eventful but none the less overall great time in Kratie I hoped on a bus (with a different company!!!) and left for Siem Reap, a twelve or so hour long journey, home to supposedly the number one sight in South East Asia.

Tat Lo

Bob and Maggie who made up the fifth and sixth white face around the cave had met a millionaire on their travels. He had come into the fortune from an early age and had since spent his many years traveling to pretty much every corner of the globe. Finally accepting that the latter years of his life would require a little more structure he invested in property in five areas of the world that he would most like to live. Tat Lo my next destination is where one of his five houses resides.

The journey down was painful. I had reworked my plan initially to make it slightly more manageable by taking in Tha Kekh. I liked the idea of renting a bicycle and riding down route twelve for the day. The scenery around Kong lor had left me wanting more! Unfortunately the only bikes i could find were broken so instead i was persuaded to take a scooter. Except they didn't seem to have those either. That left me with a motorbike! After a few circuits of the car park, I decided id give it a miss. I'm not made for two wheeled motorised vehicles no matter how cool i might feel when on them!

Day two i stopped overnight in Pakse before finally making it to Tad Lo on the third day! I had met up with Allison and Mike again on the bus and as we walked the two kilometer dirt road to the accommodation we were immediately struck by the friendliness of the locals. Every house said hello. As a teacher scrawled on the black board her class ran to the window to wave to us. It was wonderful. On arrival i found a great little bamboo hut with hammock overlooking the river. It came at a price though. Two pounds!



Tat Lo was wonderful for two reasons. The first was that you could count the number of other tourists on one hand. This meant that local life was at the forefront. I watched as people fished with spears and nets, others swam and did their washing. I passed a large group of women plucking chickens whilst chatting in a circle. Later the restaurant I was at proclaimed that the chicken I ordered was local and very fresh, I knew he wasn't kidding! On one day I met Shaun from the States. We went for some food one night. Upon finishing at seven thirty the owner switched off the lights. A bit early I thought until I realised that the whole street was pitch black, the three or so other resteraunts had long gone to sleep. It is a very quiet place.

The second reason is the waterfalls. From my hammock i could see one of them. On the Saturday I visited it and loved the people watching as the village all went to bathe and mess around under the fall. My favorite waterfall was however the actual Tad Lo one some seven hundred odd meters up river. On my way there I twice spotted a snake and even a scorpion! When nearing the waterfall, in one piece, I got to become a kid again using adult sized stepping stones and climbing over boulders and occasionally wadding trough the river. On arrival the falls were really impressive falling straight down a vertical cliff face and ending up in a large pool of water. The swims there were so refreshing although the current had a mind of its own! Luckily there was always a boulder to cling onto!

There was one other reason that Tat Lo is memorable. That was when I told Shawn that I supported Bristol Rovers. He replied "isn't that the one who did well a couple of years ago?" just as i was about to answer with no that was Bristol City in the Championship play off final, he said "yes in the FA Cup, i was routing for you guys!" oh how that made my day.

The only downside i can possibly think of was the moths. Come evening a plague would swallow up the village, fighting over any light sources. It was quite a sight although when walking through a group of them or even eating as they hover in their hundreds around lights was not the nicest thing in the world.

Tat lo is wonderful. I've often found 'chill out' places to be disappointing but here is was at its best. The primary reason for it is hardly anyone visits which creates a very local and un-spoilt feel to the place. Next the so called 4000 islands.

Kong Lor Cave and Vientiane

I said in the Gibbon Experience post that my award for the highlight of Laos has probably already been won. Well I may have spoken too soon as the events in and around Kong Lor cave can challenge anything that i have seen (Nepal excluded) or done to date on this trip. Before I get to the cave I'll make a quick mention of my brief stop in Vientiane.

Vientiane the capital of Laos is nice enough. Its often seen as a bit of a poor mans Luang Prabang and I can understand why. Its very green and has a lovely slow pace feel to it (as does all of Laos in fact). Posh French restaurants are in their abundance and accommodation is considerably more expensive then the rest of Laos.



But it's lacking the overall charm of Luang Prabang. I never got the same enjoyment in Vientiane of just wondering about. The day I was there, I pretty much covered its main sites. First up Patuxai which is modeled on the Arc de Triompge. Its nice enough. Next the national symbol of Laos...Pha That Luang so famous is it that I have never come across it in my life. It's quite an impressive stupa with it's golden appearance. It's even more impressive because the Lao people got the French to rebuild it in 1931 after they were disappointed with the French architects first efforts! Few things are better than annoying the French! I sat and watched monks carrying out various duties around the temples. One of which was to pay two women to release some birds from the cages they were keeping them in. It's quite a common money making scheme around Buddhist temples, preying upon peoples devotion. I also helped out with various students questionnaires, most of which were to do with the Pha That Luang which I had yet to enter. They didn't really understand my moral research reliability concerns, so I distorted their research instead with the everything in Laos is great ticking boxes approach. On the way back I popped into Talat Sao to buy a new memory card. It's a strange shopping center because from the outside it looks brand new and could grace many cities around the world. A huge tv broadcasts adverbs. And then you enter to a vast number of electrical and jewellery Market stalls all crammed in. It was a fascinating wonder amongst the hustle and bustle looking at what was for sale at the state of the arc shopping centre with no shops. Eventually after a long time searching and even longer haggling I walked away quite pleased, memory card purchased!

In the evening i met up with Ben and Carly again who had traveled down that day. They asked me how i was getting to Kong Lor cave. I shrugged my shoulders. All I could work out was that there was a 5am bus to Lak Sao which might drop me off at a random place (if i could explain it to the conductor) and then somehow from there get to the cave. The only thing i could be sure of was that there was a 5am bus.

It started well. I missed the 5am bus but caught the unexpected 6am bus to Lak Sao. On it where Martin and Allison, lifeguards from New York of all places. We compared our plans to get to the cave and came up with a course of action. And you know what? It worked unbelievably well. By midday we were in Ban Khoun Kham. By one thirty we were joined by Julie from France and an entertaining ex minister and missionary and his wife, in a shared sawngthaew heading towards the cave.



Our cheerful driver took us direct to the cave rather than stopping at the neighboring villages. We dumped our bags in a wooden shelter, chartered two boats (they can only fit three people in) and then blindly followed two guys around a lake and up into the mouth of the cave. The setting was spectacular. When in the cave, there were stationed a number of longtail boats. Julie and I clambered into one, Allison and Mike the other. Bob and Maggie followed a little while later. One guide, perched at the front of the boat acted as a search light and temporary paddler whilst the other was the driver at the back. Headlights on we journeyed into the cave. In all its a 7km journey along the river to the exit. The various caverns are all different, some with gaping holes in their roofs, some small, others huge many with large stalagmites hanging down. The sheer size of the cave and its variety was unbelievable. Traveling along in a rickety boat with barely useful light sources gave an overwhelming feeling that i was visiting newly explored lands.



Half way through the journey we jumped off the boat with one of the guides as the other carried on with the boat. A quick flick of the switch and the cavern we were in came alight. The pictures hopefully give some sort of insight into what it was like, because words alone can do it no justice. After stumbling around in awe at the jaw dropping beauty we got back in the boat and continued through the cold, silent, pitch black cave. Sometimes due to the water level we had to get out of the boat as it was pushed through the shallow water, other times it simply needed bailing out!

Eventually we excited back into the sunlight. We weaved our way past fallen trees and water buffaloes bathing in the water. After a brief stop we went back through the cave again to be reunited with our bags. To say i could have kept going back again and again would have been an understatement! It is a film set waiting for a fantasy adventure. A hidden world in all its natural glory. Truly spectacular. With dusk approaching the superlatives had to wait as accommodation became a priority.



As it turns out finding a bed was no problem at all. We met a random guy at the boat jetty who organised us a homestay in the local village. After a couple of kilometers walk we were shown to our accommodation. A large wooden house built on stilts overlooking the river. On washing feet and shoes off we climbed up the steps to the house. There we met Bumni, the wife of the house. Putting my basic Laos into use i said that it was very hot outside today. A smile on her face, she left and came back carrying soap and a towel to bathe in the river. It did the trick much to some locals amusement. We then met the two children. One girl was very shy whilst the older girl was a little more confident. Upon asking her name she looked unsure and could only manage an um. A quick look in the phrase book and a horribly pronounced Lao sentence later, she was still saying um. Alas communicating in another language is not easy. After meeting the rest of the family I tried to ask them their names in Lao again. The husband was called Vien, the wife Bumni and their two children were Um and Oy. Fantastic! It didn't take long for the two kids to find confidence as they showed off their language skills using a picture book. I managed to surprise them a little by using the Lao for cat, meow and my personal favourite moo, which is obviously pork! After a few games they were a joy although i will say singing for an hour straight was a little bit to much. Tea was then served and Bumni and Vien carried out a partial Bacci ceremony for us. Meant to keep the spirits in after they have gone wondering it was specifically apt considering it is often done to people visiting strange lands. Come the evening we sat on the wooden floor and watched a three hour long Thai soap with the large extended family. It was funny enough especially as there seemed to be a death every minute. Eventually exhausted after an action packed day i crashed out on a mattress in their living space.

The following day (afrer brushing teeth in the river) we bid them fare well feeling very fortunate to have both visited the cave and stayed in such a lovely and friendly local village. Homestays can sometimes feel like quite an intimidating option and with this we were very lucky considering the family was of a similar age, hence meaning that whilst still very traditional, they were a little more open minded. Upon standing on the road waiting to flag down a shared sawngthaew I was struck by the sheer drama of the scenery. Huge limestone peeks emerged straight from the farm land as women went to pick crops and men to walk their water buffaloes.

The downside to the cave was that it took two and a half days of travlling to get where i wanted go get to next. I don't think even India managed that one! On leg one to Tha Khaek we were joined with none other than a loose chicken. Credit where credit is due, it didn't cause half of the problems i expected it to.

Vang Vieng

To give you an idea about Vang Vieng, the government has apparently carried out an education programme out of fear that the local population might start acting like tourists. I was also told that a few years ago a lot of the village upped itself and moved a mile or so away. On arrival it's hard not to understand why. It is the tourist town to beat all other tourist towns. Everything that exists, exists to part the tourist from their money. Culture went missing a long time ago as I awoke at four in the morning to hear a man bellowing "America rules, YEAH America" outside my window. That said however I was pleasantly surprised at just how enjoyable my stay in the stain on the earth would be!

I traveled down from Phonsavan with Carly and Ben. The first day involved very little other than pondering the next few days activities. I managed to avoid the trap of watching repeats of 'Friends' all day, although those showing 'Family guy' had me a little more tempted. The following day we rented out bikes and escaped the town. You see as ugly as Vang Vieng is, the surrounding area is stunning. Huge limestone peaks surround the town, and rivers flow around it. There are over forty caves in the area. The bike ride was at times tough considering it was on dirt tracks covered in stones. My hand is still bruised as I type this!



First stop was a climb up one of the limestone peeks which revealed a beautiful view over the surrounding countryside. It was just a shame that the weather, whilst making the hour long climb pleasant enough, didn't make the view as dramatic as it would be on a clear day. We then got back on the bikes and headed to the blue lagoon and Poukham cave. After passing numerous signs advising people of all the injuries that have occurred in the cave we climbed up the rickety steps and entered. It's incredibly striking as you see the sheer size of the cave and in it's center a reclining Buddha. Very other worldly. Being men, Ben and I went deeper into the cave using two hopeless torches. After clambering about we arrived in another cavern, pitch black and silent it was a magical moment. However after half an hour of walking and crawling over obstacles to get to it we thought we ought to head back. As for the blue lagoon? Well it was quite a distinctive colour and lovely for a quick dip and swim. Very refreshing after all the walking and cycling!



The third day I guess is why everyone comes to Vang Vieng. Oh sure it's about the scenery, but in reality it's the tubing. I don't know whether it started here but it's certainly the capital of it now. We had very little to go on other than blind speculation as to what the day would entail. To be honest I felt a little apprehensive. One person a year dies each year tubing as well as numerous injuries. We were going into the unknown. The speculation stopped as we paid our money and deposit and climbed into the back of a tuk tuk with Dean, Christy and Rhiannon, all from Wales. On top were loaded huge rubber rings. We drove some three kilometers down the river before being directed over a bridge, rings in hand. As soon as I looked to my left I just had to laugh. It reminded me of Hook (I think it's Hook anyway) when Peter Pan revisits Neverland. A huge number of rickety wooden structures, also known as bars, have been built over the river. From these there are slides, swings and zip wires. People sat around lounging in the sun, others were embracing the adrenalin rush! We had a beer in the first place before jumping in a ring and sailing off down the river. First obstacle was the rapids! Fortunately they were slow enough but could be interesting during the wet season! Then the next obstacle, dodging a water bottle attached to rope being hurdled at you (it's the way they pull you into the bars). With Dean heading in, we all joined him. Four hours later we realised that we could still see the first bar. Not great when you consider the journey back to base is three kilometers.

I said before I went that I would not touch the swings but said nothing about zip wires or slides so I guess I stuck to my principles. They were brilliant fun especially the slide which launched you and your ring flying through the air. Another high point of the journey down the river was the wonderful bar which included both mud volleyball (I was at the right end fortunately) and tug of war. Showing 2012 Olympic spirit the Welsh and English joined together against a group of New Zealanders. Unfortunately we failed miserably. But there is always a silver lining and that was that I was at the back of the rope meaning I stayed perfectly dry. Great planning I thought! Eventually with darkness setting in and deposit on the verge of vanishing we called it quits in our attempt to make it to the end of the course and instead piled into a tuk tuk and headed back just in time to get our deposit back. After a few games on pool we retired, exhausted after a fantastic day.

Vang Vieng surprised me. I can't overlook the fact that it is an absolute disgrace but get a few kilometers outside and it really is breathtaking. Oh and of course the tubing isn't bad to! To think I considered skipping it. What a mistake that would have been.