tubing in vang vieng

18th - 19th January 2012

Vang Vieng, Laos

                I spent over a week in Luang Prabang, which is certainly no bad thing as it's a beautiful city but it was longer than I had initially anticipated. The reason for the delay was that after three months I finally succumbed to a nasty case of food poisoning which in all honestly was long overdue and  probably deserved.  Deserved because the previous night I had been boasting to Niall and Amy - an Irish couple I first met in India - that during my whole time spent in the Raj, I had managed to avoid any stomach problems as if I was some iron bellied superman. It is a foolish man who decides to tempt fate with the gods by spouting such brazen talk as I was that night, and needless to say the following morning I was struck down with some nasty bug. During those dark days, I reached probably the lowest point of the trip so far which saw me slumped over the toilet in the shared bathroom of  my hostel, overcome by merciless and relentless bouts of violent and uncontrollable vomiting. Still what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and the affliction soon passed allowing me to enjoy my final few days relaxing in the serenity which Luang Prabang exudes in abundance.

                In a previous post I bemoaned the fact that saying goodbye to new friends on the road is a sad but inevitable part of traveling, as everyone is moving along their own unique and wildly varied paths. From time to time though these paths unite and remain aligned long enough to allow you to continue traveling with these new found acquaintances; until the next fork in the road presents itself of course. On the final day in Luang Prabang I bumped into an Australian fellow by the name of Devon who I first met in Chiang Mai and he told me that he was heading to Vang Vieng the next day. Devon had also arrived in Luang Prabang on the slow boat and whilst on board he had befriended two other Aussies by the name of Sally and Jasper from Melbourne and Sydney respectively, who were also planning to go to the lawless town of Vang Vieng. As chance would have it  a few hours earlier I had also booked a bus ticket there so we arranged to meet up the following evening once we had both arrived in town in order to go and do what everyone does in Vang Vieng; tubing. If you haven't heard of tubing, what it basically involves is floating down a river on a rubber inner tube, stopping off at several bars which line the banks as you go, all the while sinking further into an inebriated stupor. Once suitably plastered you then proceed to fling yourself down one of the 'death slides' or hurtle out into the river on a giant rope swing.  Now so many stories surround tubing, each of which play up the horrifying statistics concerning how any people die doing it. Hayley and Karen who had been there prior to Luang Prabang told me, 'Oh yeah an Aussie died last week on the rocks' and 'Be careful down there, 22 people have died in the last year'. Many people who visit this dangerous place come away with some form of injury as buckets of whiskey combined with shallow water and sharp rocks make for a predictably dangerous recipe. A wry grin indicating pride swept across Hayley's face as she showed me a monstrously impressive bruise on her leg; her very own 'Vang Vieng Tatoo'. Early the next morning I said goodbye to Hayley and Karen who were gearing up for a flight down to the south islands for full moon shenanigans, and hopped on a minibus headed for the south, uncertain at what the next few days would bring. The countryside of Laos is very mountainous and as a result the 231 km which sits between the two cities took about 7 hours to cover but the views en route certainly made up for any discomfort. As the cool morning breeze gave way to the stifling heat of midday, the sun's surging rays pierced the windows of our little mini van  as we cantered along  slowly but surely on the belly of a giant concrete snake which meandered its way past huge cliff faces and imposing mountain tops. Finally we rolled into town and in another spot of luck I bumped into Devon, Sally and Jasper walking along the main high street. After finding a place to stay just down the road we went out for a few beers in preparation for the lawlessness which would surely follow on the river the next day. Walking along the dusty roads which connect the small settlement together, it became apparent that this is a town which has been changed irreversibly into a playground for the west as all the bars play endless  reruns of 'Friends' and 'Family Guy' series to hordes of hungover tourists while the restaurants mainly serve up pizzas, burgers and french fries. As an example of traditional Laos culture, it has to be said that Vang Vieng fails miserably, however as a place to have a rollicking good time it ranks up there with the best of them. All the restaurants had their own 'happy' menus and the beer flowed cheaply from the abundance of bars which populate the town. On that first night we were given a glimpse of what lay in store for us the following day, as wounded soldiers from tubing made their way back into town howling and chanting from the convoy of tuk tuks which shuttled into town after an intense day on the river.

      After waking up the next day in some degree of discomfort from the hangover which had managed to creep its way into my morning, I made my way over to the Vang Vieng guesthouse to meet the others. After Jasper and Sally had gone to bed the previous night, Devon and myself had told each other we would have a quiet one so that we would be fresh for tubing the next day but unfortunately 'a quiet one' is a concept that Devon struggles with and in his defence I guess I was only too willing to follow. Now I've met some big drinkers but that legend of an Aussie can drink till the sun comes up and I'm sure that if he bled, Sang Song whiskey would come pouring out of his veins. I think I got to bed around 2am after munching down the best sandwich I think I've ever had..... but looking at the state of Devon the next day it was clear that he had sessioned on until dawn with these crazy Tazmanians we ran into at Jai Dee's, a cool riverside bar down the road from our guesthouse. With the introduction of Sacha, a friend of Devon's from Adelaide, the team of four Aussie bogans and a ringer pom assembled to get stuck into a day of tubing. We all hopped on the back of a tuk tuk, briefly stopping to get our rubber inner tubes from the warehouse en route to the river. After a short stint along dusty potholed tracks we arrived down by the river and caught our first glimpse of the gigantic party which was already raging at one in the afternoon. The fast flowing currents of the Nam Xong sped past the first bar which was filled with bucket-chugging tourists each racing towards the same goal; total annihilation. Crossing a rickety wooden bridge we entered the fray and took our drinks down to the waterside where wooden platforms jutted into the river. The sun was shining, beer pong was in full swing and the music was blasting - a combination suited perfectly for merriment. While the others finished off their drinks, Devon and I sneaked off and surprised them by floating past, fists swinging in a decidedly upward fashion 'U.T.A.!', until we reached the next bar where a man on a small wooden platform threw a line out to reel us in like hungry fish to the slaughter. It took us an hour or so to reach the second bar and it didn't look like we would be reaching all twelve bars which line the river; and we didn't, but that wasn't a concern as everyone says the first couple of bars are the best anyway. This second bar had a lage wooden tower that rested on straining wooden stilts and had a large zip line attached which sent punters flying into the waters below. A few of us had a go, finished another game of beer pong and hopped back in our inner tubes to reach the next bar which boasted a dangerously high rope swing.... Climbing the staircase a queue had formed for this monster of a ride and it felt like queuing up for Oblivion, although any nerves had been quashed by the Beer Lao which circulated my veins. Waiting in line, people boasted through their drunkenness about how many flips they were going to do and excitement was rife. As I started up the last few steps, a lad ahead of me who was way to drunk to be so high up, grabbed the handles of the rope swing and leapt from the platform. Unfortunately his intoxicated arm muscles gave way immediately and he ended up dropping about 15 metres down onto his shoulder. As he crawled out of the water he slumped on the river bank and it was clear something was wrong. To the crowd's horror his shoulder had been completely dislocated so that a large bump now jutted out of his skin at the point of impact. With my turn next and brimming with confidence from what had just happened, I stepped up to the plate, got a firm grip on the handles and leapt into the abyss  swinging into the blue sky above before returning to earth with a huge splash. Staggering out of the water below I briefly talked to the guy who had dislocated his shoulder but all he could mumble was 'Another bucket'll sort me out'. Lad. The fourth bar was to be our last of the day as the sun was starting to set bringing the coolness of shade into the valley and being wet in a rubber tube no longer had the same appeal as it did earlier. In addition a few members of our team were a little worse for wear, me included and so around 6pm we headed back to town to get our deposits back for our tubes. A reckless day in a lawless town. Next? Vientiane followed by Vietnam!

           In the absence of any photographs - as I didn't want to risk drowning my Canon camera - I wrote a poem to make up for it. It's the first poem I've ever properly written and I'm not sure why it's about tubing but it came to me last night and I like it. It lacks traditional structure or any discernible rhyming pattern but it's a form of expression and I guess that's all poetry ultimately boils down to.

As the sun reaches its zenith in a clear blue sky,

so begins a new day on this river of inebriation.

Down a dusty path a convoy of metal carriages draw near,

filled with fresh faced revelers each relishing the promise of uncertainty.

European pop clashes with the tranquil melodies of the valley,

while nature's wooden elders lament the age from their lofty thrones.

Down in the river below, reckless young souls drift towards oblivion,

trapped yet content within floating rings of their own fleeting consciousness.

Today is like any other day in this limestone valley of intoxication.

Forever to be repeated like the American TV shoes in town;

forever to be lost in the annals of time.

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