You see, I'm an idiot. Not a complete idiot, to be fair; it's not a permanent condition of idiocy. But I'm prone to bouts of real stupidity, the kind that make you shake your head and wonder how someone with 21 years of private school education could manage to botch something so badly. When I got onto the plane in Hanoi for my two hour flight to Laos, I had limited funds on me: a few US dollars and about five dollars' worth of cash from Thailand and Vietnam.
I knew that the visa fee for Laos was $36, but I figured I could either a) pay with a credit card or b) get money from an ATM at the Lao airport before I made my way to customs. In my defense, every airport I had been to in Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam had an ATM every five feet, so I didn't think this was such a stretch. Apparently they do things differently in Laos, and by differently I mean they have yet to discover the concept of putting ATMs in airports. So I made my way to customs with no way to pay the visa fee, ie, no way to leave to airport, ie, no way to get into the country. Houston, we have a problem.So as everyone else on my flight passed through immigration and got their bags, I was left at the counter trying to plead with the customs officer and negotiate some way to pay the fee at a later time. He was actually pretty nice about it and willing to negotiate. But every possible solution he provided involved paying money I didn't have. After a five minute conversation in broken English, he stood there in silence and looked at me with that all too recognizable expression: "sorry dude, you're screwed." His boss comes over and explains that this is a problem that will have to be dealt with later. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the worst. I have visions of being forced to sleep in the Luang Prabang jail and being sent back to Vietnam on the next flight the following morning.
I start thinking about what the six o'clock news in LA might have to say if they caught wind of this: "In other news, local moron and bum David Newman was held in a Laotian jail cell for the night for failure to pay the necessary $36 entrance fee into the country. Our sources in Laos remain uncertain why Mr. Newman, formerly a well-paid corporate attorney at an international law firm, was so stupid as to travel with virtually no currency on him. We'll have more as this story unfolds."But just as things were about to turn from bad to dire, my luck changed. I hadn't been praying, but I got an answer nevertheless: like manna from heaven, a guy from my flight comes up to me and asks if I'm having a problem clearing customs. Mind you, I don't know this guy - we didn't chit chat on the plane; indeed, we never even laid eyes on one another before. I explain the situation with great embarrassment. He says "No problem," whips out two twenty-dollar bills, and then invites me to join him and his wife in their taxi into the city so I can save a few bucks by not getting my own taxi. My first reaction is: people like you actually exist? (Yes.) And it gets worse (or better, depending on how you look at it). Once we're in the taxi, I insist that we stop at the first ATM we come across so I can pay him back. But he brushes me off; it's late and he just wants to get to bed, so he says, "Let's just take care of it in the morning." I keep thinking, "I don't know you, man. What's your deal?" But he doesn't seem to care one bit. The taxi drops them off at their hotel and I continue in the taxi; he turns to say goodbye and never once mentions the money. Of course, first thing the next morning I find him at his hotel and reimburse him and offer to pay for breakfast, which he refuses, because he's about to leave for a boat trip. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me...
So, I made it into Laos. And it's a good thing I did, because it's a great place to visit. It has lots of land but little population, which means that most of the natural beauty has been preserved. For the most part, it's lush rain forest as far as the eye can see; greenness blankets rolling hills, deep valleys, and jagged limestone karsts.
The air is fresh and the sky, when not raining, is endless blue. Sunsets are amazing. Even better than the landscape, though, are the people. In stark contrast to their neighbors, Laotians are calm, polite, and quiet. It's like the entire populace seems to be on some sort of sedative, or constantly smoking marijuana, or both. During the day, most people - if they weren't napping in hammocks - just sat and stared off into the distance while drinking lao lao, the local rice whiskey. When I would walk around the local markets in search of food, instead of hearing people scream at me "You buy here" or having motorbike taxis follow me down the sidewalk and repeatedly ask me "Where you going?" - as would always happen in Vietnam and Cambodia - people in Laos barely even acknowledged my existence. I'd often walk up to street vendors and stand there for several seconds before it registered with them that I wanted to buy something. More than just that, I had the sense that they were almost disturbed by my presence, as if my choice to patronize their stand - and probably provide them with the only income they'd make that day - had interrupted their busy schedule of doing nothing. From all sorts of people selling stuff, I'd frequently get this look like, ''oh, you want to buy something?" Why, yes. Yes I do. That's why I walked across the street to your food stand. That's why I'm standing here. That's why I'm opening my wallet. These are the actions normally associated with a person who's interested in making a commercial transaction with you... Not that I'm complaining. Quite the contrary; this calmness was a welcome break from the constant squawking that I had experienced the previous six weeks. And everywhere I went, people smiled and waived and said hello in a genuine way (actually, they said "Sabaidee," which is hello in Lao, but you get the idea.) Wonderful people, wonderful country.Luang Prabang, the first city I visited, was very laid back.
Don't quote me on this, but I actually think the city's motto is "Luang Prabang. We're very laid back." Situated on the Mekong River, the main business district is about 500 yards of a single street that was a well-maintained area of cafes, cafes, restaurants, and cafes. 
The streets and sidewalks are neat and well-kept; the buildings look like they were built in a First World country; and there's not a beggar or homeless person in sight. Some of the architecture is pretty interesting (more mixing of French and Asian styles) and the temples... well, they're temples. At this point, they all look the same to me. 
But one temple was built on the top of a steep hill (337 steps up to the top), which made for a nice view of the valley in which the city sits. Since it's a small town, it can be explored in a half a day by bike, so I rented one and meandered through the city and surrounding area for a few hours. Is there anything sexier than a guy in a purple shirt riding a pink bike? I think not. At one point, I decided to cross the Mekong by ferry so I could explore some roads less traveled by. I waited 20 minutes for this small ferry to cross the river, and during that time, the ferry driver, who spoke no English, offered me two shots of lao lao, a fruit that I couldn't identify, and some noodles. I got two more shots of lao lao on the way back. With four shots of rice whiskey in the span of an hour, peddling that crappy one-speed became a real challenge...Most tourists come here for one of two reasons: to chill out for a few days and enjoy the cafes, or to use it as a base for arranging multi-day hikes in the wilderness. (I wanted to do some hiking but, thanks to a large cut on my right foot courtesy of some coral off the coast of Vietnam, it was out of the question.) If you're not hiking in the wilderness or kayaking down the Mekong, there's not a whole lot of things to do in this area.
But there are two main "sights" that are worth seeing. First, as with so many places in these parts, no tour of the area is complete without visiting a cave connected in some way, shape, or form with Buddhism. In Luang Prabang, the cave - Pak Ou - houses nearly 4,000 Buddha statues ranging in size from a few inches to a few feet. It's not a temple; it's really more of Buddha statue warehouse. 
The first statues placed there were leftovers from the nearby temples - the statues were "discards" because they weren't particularly beautiful or expensive. Over time, more and more were placed in the cave until the statues became so numerous that the cave actually became religiously relevant, and now it's a place of major importance to Buddhists in northern Laos. Go figure.The other main sight is a series of waterfalls that are pretty damn spectacular.
The main one is called Kouangxi. When you first get to the trail via the main road that leads to the waterfall, it starts off disappointing. 
It's just a series of small falls no more than five or ten feet high. After the fifth such one I was thinking, "What a rip-off." And then you keep walking along the trail and there's a loud rumbling noise that gets louder and louder and then the trail brings you to something grand. The waterfall is tall, powerful, and set in an amazing landscape. 
There's also a series of pools - both at the top and at the bottom - which make it really fun to explore. (I was there in the rainy season, and it poured the night before, so many of the upper pools were not accessible.) 
What also makes it pretty is that waterfall isn't just a single, straight drop down; the first 50 yards or so cascade over rocks that go backwards into the mountain; this makes the water look like it's being propelled out of nowhere. And the best part: everyone's free to swim in the water. It's cold as hell, but that's not a problem when the outside temperature is 95 degrees. The rope swing is the main draw for swimmers, and I of course took my turn jumping in via the rope. Some people were pretty graceful; others didn't have the upper body strength and basically just fell right in. Nevertheless, good times were had by all.Although not really a "sight," another fun thing to do in Luang Prabang is to watch the monks collect food for the day in the morning.
Unfortunately, this requires getting up at 5:30 a.m., which is pretty inconvenient if you ask me. (I question the sanity of any religion that requires its spiritual leaders to wake up before the sun rises every day of the year. Whatever.) Anyway, it's neat to watch this procession of orange-clad monks walk the streets en masse. Locals stand on the sidewalk handing out food to the monks who walk several blocks between temples on the main road. Most of them are boys or young men, but there are a few old farts in the mix. It lasts for 20 minutes. Afterward, it was back to bed for me.I also visited a preserve for Asiatic bears.
They are fast becoming an endangered species; they are being hunted for their fur and the supposed medicinal qualities that their various body parts contain. 
(I wonder how that conversation goes with the doctor. Patient: "How bad is it, Doc?" Doctor: "It's not too bad. I'm going to prescribe for you 300mg of aspirin, three times a day, and 50mg of Asiatic bear, twice a day. You should be fine in a week." Patient: "Oh, ok. Wait - what?") The preserve isn't very big but it's a lot like the San Diego wild animal park in that the bears are free to roam as they please; they're not just stuck in small pens. Fortunately, one walked right by me (a small - almost too small - fence separated us) as I was standing at the edge and began playing with this tire. Bears are so cute... until they rip your face off with their claws. Don't mess with bears, people.After a few days relaxing in Luang Prabang, I boarded a bus (can't avoid buses in these parts) headed for Vang Vieng, a small town set on the Nam Song river in central Laos. It's only 200 miles south of Luang Prabang, but the road cuts through the mountains so the ride took eight hours. (The buses and the roads were surprisingly better in Laos than Vietnam.) One thing worth noting about the buses: the bus drivers work at their own pace. What do I mean by that? Well, the bus driver stopped not once, not twice, but three times to do his own grocery shopping at local markets on the side of the road. The first time the driver stopped for fifteen minutes to by some leafy greens, the second time he got some fresh noodles, and the third time he purchased a hog. It was dead, of course. But there it was in all its glory, feet bound and mouth stuffed, still carrying a fresh coat of thick brown fur. I'd say it was about 40 pounds. And where did here put it? In the luggage compartment at the bottom of the bus, right next to everyone's bags. Yet another reason why I never let my bag out of my sight.
Vang Vieng is another small town that relies heavily on tourism. The center part of the city - one square block - is all about catering to 18-25 year-old drunk asshole-type Westerners: the sequence of stores is bar/restaurant, tour operator, Internet cafe, massage parlor, hostel. Repeat that about six times and there's your 'downtown' Vang Vieng. The bars/restaurants play either 'Family Guy' or 'Friends' non-stop on their televisions. No joke. That's all they play, all day long. If you wanted to do nothing else, you could watch every episode of those shows in a single day just by walking from bar to bar. In a way, it's really a shame that the city has become a party town because it's situated in this gorgeous valley with a beautiful backdrop of limestone formations that have been cut by the Nam Song river. Very little of the surrounding area has been destroyed other than some rice fields, so it retains its natural beauty. The place is great for hiking and exploring waterfalls and caves. But the main town has that "paradise paved" feel which is why, for the most part, the only tourists to visit are those interested in partying.
The main reason why Vang Vieng has been become such a famous destination for young backpackers
is that you can rent an inner tube from a local shop and float down the Nam Song river while stopping at bars along the way. The rental place drives kids 8 miles up the river, drops them off, and it takes anywhere from two to six hours to get back to the city, depending on how fast the river is moving and how many bars you want to stop at. I was there in the low tourist season so it wasn't that crowded, but I heard that during peak season there can be thousands of people tubing down the river at any one time. It's kind of stupid and ridiculous, but let's be honest, is there any better combination in this world than inner tubes and booze? If there is, I certainly don't know of it. 
But booze isn't the only thing available to tubers: the bars along the river offer a variety of drugs as well: mushrooms, marijuana, ecstasy, and a Lao version of cocaine. (I didn't partake.) Drinking a few beers and a shot or two of whiskey seemed okay to me, but given that the river was flowing pretty rapidly and that it's quite deep in some parts, getting high seemed like a poor decision. 
Others don't have the good sense I do, and there's a few tourists die every year in the river. But, with no liability laws, the party keeps on raging, year after year. The river-based bars also offer a variety of entertainment activities, like volleyball, water slides, and swings. As I floated down the river, I was tempted by this enormous swing. If you wait to let go at the very peak of the swing, you get about 40 feet above the water. Geronimo!Having done the tubing thing, I wanted to explore the region without alcohol being the driving force. So I signed up for a one-day tour that would be half kayaking down the river and half exploring some caves that went deep into the limestone mountains. There were eight people in my group, and when we got to the river to begin the kayaking, we all paused. We looked at the river, then at each other, then at the river, and then back at each other. Did I mention that this was the "high" river season; that it had rained the previous 16 hours; and that tour guides didn't really respond to our questions about how strong the river was that day? So what we thought was going to be a nice stroll down the river turned into a paddle-to-save-your-life ride over high and irregular waves, rocks jutting out, eddies everywhere, etc. My partner, a young Japanese guy, and I didn't last 10 seconds before we flipped over. The guide said that was the fastest he had ever seen anyone take a dive. Great, what an honor! To make things more ridiculous, I was wearing a poncho. So there I am, floating down the river completely soaked while wearing a poncho because I didn't want to get wet from the rain. "Waiter, I'll have the moron sandwich with a side of dumbass." Once we managed to get back into the boat, it was a thrilling two-hour ride to some caves (we didn't flip over after our first stumble).
The cave was interesting but nothing beyond any other cave I've seen. The real memorable part was not the cave itself but the "hike" to it. This wasn't really supposed to be a hike - just a stroll through some rice paddies. But since it had been raining forever, the mud path turned to sludge. (Pictured here is the "mud path.") At times, the mud was shin-deep. Shoes and sandals were out of the question, so we all walked barefoot for about two miles to and from the cave. If it weren't for the rocks, twigs, and cow dung mixed in with the mud, it would have been a nice little mud bath for my feet. Instead, I ended up with cuts, blisters, and several bites from animals unknown.On my last day in Vang Vieng, I rented a bike to visit an organic farm outside of town. This wouldn't normally be my thing but a former co-worker (I love saying "former") highly recommended the food there. I was not disappointed. The speciality is the goat cheese, and it was deeee-licous. Then, just as I was about to leave after lunch, fate intervened. It began to rain (again). Mind you, this wasn't just "I-guess-we-can't-have-a-barbecue-on-the-porch" kind of rain. This was "we've-really-pissed-off-Zeus-and-now-he's-letting-us-have-it" kind of rain. As a result, I was forced to stay at this farm for hours longer than I planned. But, for the first time in human history, rain actually led to something good. While I was at the farm, I met a girl who was living there and volunteering at a local school to teach English. After a few hours of her beating me at gin rummy (we had to pass the time somehow), she convinced me to help her teach English for one of her classes.
It was an amazing experience; I can see why so many travelers volunteer to do it. The students - about ten in all - came to this school every night from 5 to 7:30 to hone their English skills. They had to qualify for this program, which meant that they actually wanted to be there. The day I was present, they were learning about contractions: 'I'm' and 'they're' and 'couldn't' and so on. The kids, all of whom were 17 or 18 years old, were attentive, polite, and eager to learn. No grade grubbing, no interruptions. Everyone raised their hands during class and everyone said thank you at the end. When they finally understood something, you could see the light go on in their head. I doubt I was ever that good of a student when I was in school. As strange as this may sound, I actually regetted not being able to teach more.After a few days in Vang Vieng, it was time to leave. Another crazy bus ride, another plane out of the country (no problem clearing immigration this time). Next stop: Singapore...
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