Ahh Vang Vieng. Backpacker haven, famous for tubing adventures down the river and tragically carrying a tarnished reputation, one or two reckless kids who didn’t account for submerged rocks before leaping into the river tragically having lost their lives there.
A microcosm of all that is both great and terrible about backpacking and the destinations that get caught up in the madness. I was excited to be there.
Our bus dropped us off at the terminal just across a main road from where the town centre began, and we strolled across the wet car park to go in search of accommodation. We’d left Vientiane early so it was only mid afternoon, and we were in no rush to just settle for the first guesthouse we stumbled upon.
As we started walking through the town, we were both taken aback by just how quiet it was. Granted, the weather was a bit shit, but this was one of the major spots on the backpacker trail! I was expecting something more similar to Pai, with hundreds of backpackers hanging out in numerous cafes and bars throughout the town.
The cafes and bars were there, they just didn’t have the custom. They looked as though they’d sprung up in that way that is so often the case in south east Asia - one place is successful, so 10 identical copycats spring up around it.
They all had low tables with cushions and bean bags for seats, hammocks around the sides, and for some reason all were showing binge worthy sitcoms or cartoons on their TVs on a loop (think endless episodes of Friends, Seinfeld, South Park or Family Guy).
Kind of the perfect place for a rainy afternoon to be honest, but not quite what I’d anticipated.
I’m sure at other times many of them would have been heaving with people, but most that we passed were either empty or had no more than 2 tables occupied. A little hungry, we decided to hop into one for lunch before choosing a place to stay.
The quality of western food (I know, I know. Why eat western food with all the incredible local cuisine? Sometimes you can’t kill your craving for a cheeseburger until you give in and eat one) can be understandably hit and miss along the backpacker trail. Vang Vieng, probably thanks to the large numbers of hungover backpackers demanding greasy meals after a big day of drinking, seemed to overwhelmingly be able to nail the basics in these lazy little cafes.
I ordered a sandwich which came with a side of fries and a can of coke, and it absolutely hit the spot. Kye and I chatted about our early impressions of Vang Vieng (quiet, grey and rainy, pretty surroundings, not quite what we expected) and made our plans for the few days we intended on staying there.
After checking into a pair of very cheap yet surprisingly modern rooms at a guesthouse that didn’t appear to have any other guests, we strolled around the town for a while before pulling into another one the cookie cutter cafes for a few beers. We had dinner there, and slowly sipped our drinks as we watched the sun go down over the river in the distance. It was a perfectly chill way to see out our first day in town.
Kye decided to call it a night early after dinner, as he had a date with a local medical facility the next morning to finally get his wound seen to. I did find it quite amusing that he’d left it untouched for so long in the hope it would heal itself, only to end up seeking medical attention once we were randomly reunited 6 weeks later.
With no wounds or illnesses of my own to attend to, I decided to stay out and see if I could find any signs of life around the town. Just around the corner from where we were staying, I did. A dingy little bar blaring out some indie tunes, and a small group of travellers who’d been out on the river that day, mingling with a couple of young locals who seemed to be practising their ability to flirt with foreign girls.
I wandered in and grabbed a beer, striking up a conversation with the first person who split from their group to approach the bar for a fresh drink. We did the all too typical backpacker introduction dance (‘Where are you from?’ ‘How long have you been travelling?’ ‘Where have you been already?’ ‘Who are you travelling with?’ ‘Where are you going next?’ etc etc) and I was invited into their group for the night after explaining Kyes situation.
It was a fun night, and they told me all about their day of tubing. I was excited to get out there in a couple of days time. As much as I tried not to be too much of a boring cliche of a drunk backpacker throughout this trip, I still absolutely wanted to do some of the highlights of the backpacking experience, and tubing through Vang Vieng was near the top of that list.
After a few hours I decided it was probably time to call it a night after a fun but pretty unremarkable evening.
So began one of the more bizarre experiences of these few months on the road.
Walking up the hill from the bar and about to turn onto the road where our guesthouse was, sitting on the floor of a bus shelter was a young woman around my age, presumably Lao or if not, Thai, bawling her eyes out crying.
In ordinary circumstances I may have acted differently here, just asked if she was ok on the way past and been done with it once she responded, but travelling had opened me up more, and taught me to throw myself into slightly uncomfortable situations more often.
Anyway, I crossed the street and approached slowly, asking if she was ok before I got too close so as not to startle her.
She gave me one of the least convincing yes’s I’ve ever heard, so I asked ‘Are you sure?’, and she said no.
Right. When I decided it’d be the right thing to do to go and check in, I didn’t get this far in my head to know what the fuck to actually do if she didn’t just brush me off entirely.
“Do you want to talk about whatever it is that’s wrong?”
“No”.
“Do you want me to just sit with you for a few minutes?”
“Ok”. She gestured to her side for me to sit next to her.
I was glad to be - apparently - providing some kind of comfort. But it was damn awkward.
Her crying slowed down to the odd tear and plenty of sniffles, and I asked again if she wanted to talk about whatever had happened. Still no. Instead she distracted herself by asking me questions about myself, and why I’d bothered to stop when I saw her.
I told her it just seemed like a good thing to do, in case she was in danger or just needed help. Part of me was regretting it from the sheer weirdness of the situation (consoling someone that’s crying isn’t weird in itself, but in the middle of a small foreign town in the early hours of the morning? Weird. Potentially dangerous, actually), but saying that out loud reminded myself that it had probably been the right thing to do.
We sat on the ground and spoke for around an hour. She told me she was from Vientiane, and had just gone to Vang Vieng for some time away from the city. I told her I’d just arrived that day, and would be doing all the typical backpacker crap during my 3 days or so there.
She told me she was feeling much better, thanked me for stopping to check on her and chat, and said she was ready to head back to her room and sleep. Not entirely convinced that she wasn’t in some kind of trouble that might put her at risk of violence (I knew already that domestic violence is sadly quite rife around south east Asia), I insisted on walking her to the door. That walk took us back past the bar I’d been drinking in earlier, and I vaguely remember peeking in as we went by, receiving a slightly bemused look from one of my drinking companions.
Happy that she was safe once she put the key in the door to the guesthouse’s main entrance, I turned around to start my second attempt at going home to bed, an hour or so after the first failed effort.
“Why don’t you come inside for a while?”
Not at all what I had bargained for, but she was attractive and seemingly in a fit state of mind now, so I didn’t see a reason to decline the offer.
Shockingly (that’s sarcasm, if it wasn’t obvious) I had completely misread the situation. After being encouraged to join her in bed and chatting for a few minutes, I very quickly found myself staring at the wall and wondering how on earth my 200 metre walk home ended up with me lying in a strangers bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling while she lay fast asleep with her back to me.
Quite the first day in Vang Vieng.