May 2009 Archives

After leaving the glacier, we follow the advice of Sander, Michel and Sandra and walk to Yubeng via Xidang. The trekking path rises into a mountain and you walk along a ridge, looking down at the Mekong River and the villages below.

We ran out of water several hours into the walk and are euphoric when we arrive at the village at the base of the mountain. From the village, it’s only a short walk to Xidang village where we spend the night.

We begin the hour long hike to Minyong Glacier late in the afternoon and decide to spend the night in Minyong Village.

David takes off at a blistering pace and I’m left playing catch-up by taking all the shortcuts up the mountain. One of the shortcuts I take is in fact a suicidal mission and I realise this after climbing several hundred metres, losing my footing several times and hoping I wouldn’t die. One hour later I return from the last of these shortcuts to find that the path goes in a completely different direction to the one I was travelling in.

The shortcut was far steeper than the photo depicts.

I arrive at the glacier a full hour after David and am pleased to see Michel and Sandra (from Tiger Leaping Gorge) at the top. We meet another guy, Sander, who’s been hiking around Yunnan for the past two months.

David the Israeli looking deceptively like a gay cowboy and myself at the top of Minyong Glacier.

We have dinner in near pitch black conditions after deciding to spend the night at the glacier. Our chef is a Tibetan man who’s missing one leg. After a round of beers, the Tibetan man offers us some of his moonshine, conveniently poured from a motor oil container.

It comes out looking a lot like motor oil, with little floating things in it.

After one taste, Sander, David and myself agree that this is by far the worst drink we’ve had in our lives, by a long shot. We return the drinks to the Tibetan man who proceeds to eat the floating things.

The man then points to the source of the floating things, hanging above our heads.

After finishing his glass and our glasses of moonshine, the Tibetan man proceeds to tell us the story about how he lost his leg, his parents and his family. He either doesn’t realise or doesn’t care that we don’t speak a word of Tibetan.

The One-Legged Tibetan with his Black Cat.

The guesthouse we stay at previously charged 100RMB (20AUD) for the night, however it appears as though it’s gone through some unfortunate remodelling that has destroyed half of the walls and most of the roof. The new price is only 20RMB and involves checking most of the rooms for one that still has a complete roof.

It starts raining at night and we are grateful that our section of roof holds and leaves us dry.

I awake to find the following dog standing outside our room, as if waiting for some special as yet undetermined purpose.

The dog finds his purpose in life five minutes later when I go to do my morning business. The squat toilets, like most in China have no partitions between “stalls” and as such, every time you go, you take the gamble that no one will need to go at the same time. The dog sits guard outside the toilet while I do my business, which is unsettling at first, until I realise that he’s ensuring no one else enters. Within minutes another man makes for the toilet block. The dog’s barking sends him on his way and I finish my business with most of my dignity in tact.

The walk back down is uneventful.

The following morning we decide to hitchhike to Minyong Glacier so we grab the walking sticks and some water and head off. We’re lucky to get a lift part of the way just as we exit Tashi’s and figure we’ll be at the glacier within an hour.

The truck we hitch in is identical to this one, ever since I first saw these trucks I’ve wanted to ride in one. Unfortunately it’s very barebones and the lack of suspension makes for an incredibly bumpy ride.

Our luck runs out and we walk for the next hour with several cars passing without stopping. We think we’re back in luck when a semi trailer approaches, however it waves us away, only to stop one kilometre from where it passed us. We walk past it, have a quick chat with the driver as he’s washing the truck and continue on our way. Several minutes later, the same truck is approaching us and this time stops to give us a lift. We reach the Minyong/Tibet fork in the road where the driver stops and lets us out. We start walking down the road towards Minyong only to have the driver take the same fork, leaving us clueless as to why he dropped us off here.

The next several hours pass by without securing a lift, it’s now 2:30pm and we’re worried that we won’t make it back to Tashi’s for dinner. As we’re looking for a place to have lunch, we successfully stop a car of Chinese tourists and secure a lift to the base of the glacier. We leave them to hike the trail, while we look for a place to eat.

The following night and day involve myself gaining a certain intimacy with the bathroom of our hotel, and the lodge we transfer to.

When I awake the following day, and am not running to the bathroom, or projectile vomiting, I declare myself healed and ready for some light hiking.

Four hours later, after an ascent of 1500m and contemplating learning rock climbing without a harness, we decide to turn back.

In the evening we catch the sunset at the nearby town. Today’s light day involved six hours of walking and close to 20km, probably not the best idea for the day after being incredibly sick. She’ll be right.

We stock up on supplies in Deqin and begin the journey to Tibet, admiring the breathtaking scenery along the way.

The road is unsurfaced and full of potholes. The Pajero has no problems with the road and within three hours, with our excitement building by the minute, we hit the highway. As we cross into Tibet, we reach a police checkpoint where the officers ask us for our passports and Tibet permits. Unfortunately, we have no such permits and are unable to buy one from the police.

Police escort us to the local school where we sit in the headmaster’s office (he’s the only one that can speak English with us). The headmaster informs us that we will have to travel back to Shangri-La to obtain the permits and pay for a tour guide and hire a jeep, a prohibitively expensive option. He then informs us that we will be escorted back to Deqin, free of charge and that we cannot stay in a hotel just out of the border. Jake and Baz are incredibly apologetic that we cannot continue with them to Lhasa and Baz gives us some cigarettes to ease the situation. Since we haven’t eaten in more than eight hours, we ask for some food and are cooked a dinner prior to our departure.

We make the drive back in total darkness and are very nervous as the road is in such terrible condition. Along the way, we chain smoke half a pack each, contemplating our options. We had expected to be able to spend some time within Tibet, however are happy to be able to spend time in Deqin.

On the plus side, the police and headmaster were incredibly friendly and apologetic throughout the ordeal and at no point made us feel uncomfortable or threatened.

In the morning, our hitchhiking attempt proves fruitful and we are picked up by a bus heading to the nearby monastery to take the monks to Shangri-La.

The bus stops en-route at a Tibetan shrine and the bus driver and monk hop out to start a fire while we watch.

We enter Gaden Dhondup Ling Monastery and are greeted by one hundred monks chanting and praying, those not in chant are curious to say hello and smile at us.

After we leave the monastery, the fifth car that passes offers us a lift all the way to Deqin, and we are incredibly grateful for it. Along the way, we pass some amazing scenery (while rising from an altitude of 2000m to 4300m) .

We take a photo at the top, 4292m. There are a lot of discarded oxygen canisters here, not everyone can handle the altitude as well.

When we arrive to Deqin, we ask the pair (whose names we don’t know, so we’ll use Jake for the taller one and Baz for the shorter one, the driver) if we can hitch a ride all the way to Lhasa, since it’s a four day journey and the car is incredibly comfortable.

They are more than happy to take us there, so we decide to give Deqin a miss, since we may not have such luck next time.

David and I leave Shangri-La in much the same way as we arrived – hitchhiking. The first driver is a bit of an odd fellow. He lets us hop into his truck, drives fifty metres up the road, pulls over and waits for his mate to pull up in a minivan. His mate offers the ride for five hundred yuan. Thanks but no thanks.

The second truck driver takes us a good five to ten kilometres. When he drops us off, we look out into the field and see these large deck chair looking contraptions and have no idea what they’re for.

Within ten minutes we flag down a minibus that’s heading in our general direction and unfortunately, we’ll have to pay for the lift.

Ten minutes into the trip, up one of the mountains just out of Shangri-La, all traffic has stopped and all the drivers have left their vehicles. Ours follows suit and thinking there’s been an accident, we also leave the bus. Around the corner we find the source of the traffic stoppage, a medium sized truck has crashed into a large truck around a blind corner and unfortunately the driver of the smaller truck is stuck in the driver’s seat, pinned by the front of his truck which has been jammed into his leg.

A group of men in the crowd of fifty onlookers gets to work freeing the man using rope, crowbars and spanners while we await the fire truck to arrive with the jaws of life. Fifteen minutes into the rescue attempt, the men succeed in freeing the man from the truck and carry him out of the vehicle with apparent disregard for his obviously broken legs. No firemen arrive.

As the crowd of onlookers, including several police officers, have no idea what to do, David and I step into action and pilfer our packs for what medical supplies we have. We clean the man’s wound with a sterile pad, and wrap the wounds in a bandage. The crowd assures us that the ambulance is on the way, though we are doubtful, most people have stopped caring about the accident and are in conversation or having a smoke.

We find a flat plank of wood to act as a stretcher in the back of one of the waiting trucks, load the man onto it and take him over to the Shangri-La side of the traffic jam, where again the crowd assures us that an ambulance is coming to take him to hospital. The police also casually mention this to us.

After a frustrating fifteen minute wait, we realise that the only people that actually care about this man’s health are the two of us, and we begin checking all of the stopped vehicles for one suitable for transporting the man to hospital. Most of the drivers don’t care to help and refuse to take the man to hospital. Eventually a daring driver decides he will overtake all the stopped vehicles to save time. We take this as the perfect opportunity, stop the man, order him to turn around, load the injured guy into the back (complete with makeshift stretcher and a responsible looking fellow to ensure a safe journey) and bid the car farewell.

The ambulance still has not arrived and probably does not exist, the police didn’t care enough to drive the man to hospital and now take on the task of clearing the road to ensure that the hour long deadlock is cleared. The first thing the police do is take measurements and draw lines in chalk, then they take more measurements. After they’ve measured some more, they all light up a cigarette and start chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to the waiting vehicles.

At this point we bump into Luning who, along with Hugo (who gave us a lift from Baishuitai to Shangri-La), is returning from Deqin (our current destination). We talk about the slow pace of the police and I ask the police if we can move the truck to the side of the road to let the traffic start moving. Luning translates this into Mandarin, only to be informed that there are important police matters at hand and that the truck will be moved in five minutes. Luning tells us that the injured man is very lucky to have found some caring foreigners who know basic first aid, and that we have half an hour to kill, so we walk up the road to find Hugo.

Hugo tells us that this is a typical pace for police proceedings in traffic accidents and that most people couldn’t care less about the accident. After some time, we hear the chants of Chinese counting to three, signalling that they are heave-ing and ho-ing the larger truck out of the way. We leave Hugo, pass the accident, note the police standing around watching, say our goodbyes to Luning and head back to our minivan.

The rest of the journey is rather uneventful except for the techno cd playing in the minivan and the breakneck speed of the driver as he overtakes cars on straight roads and blind corners, having forgotten the earlier accident.

Our stop is half way to Deqin and we decide to spend the evening here so as to not miss the scenery of the drive. In the evening, we head to a Tibetan bar where all the young locals head to party. Tibetans in costume are singing and dancing. Every time one of them sings a song, members of the crowd stand up, pick up a ribbon and place it around the singer’s neck to signal that they enjoy the song.

David and random girl adorning the Tibetan cowboy with praise ribbons.

After sleeping in (and showering) for the first time in days, David and I go out into Shangri-La and make it as far as Sean’s Cafe No 2. Daisy, who runs the place is an amazing character and cooks a great Shaksuka (Israeli dish).

After pancakes and coffee, we learn of Daisy’s (and her daughter’s) fondness for marijuana seeds. In Shangri-La it is illegal to grow marijuana, it is illegal to sell marijuana leaves, but it’s fine to sell the seeds, which are often added to yak butter tea.

We eventually make our way out to the monastery, a mini Potala Palace (Tibet’s huge monastery), using a route explained to us by Jules and her husband (who I met the night before starting the Tiger Leaping Gorge Trek). We take a wrong turn and arrive at the ticket counter, decide not to pay the exorbitant prices (even with a student discount), double back and find a track through the mountains and a Tibetan village.

After herding livestock for some distance, we come across a local artist.

Eventually, we find the side door to the monastery by following a monk on a motorcycle.

From here we see the monastery itself.

The view from the monastery isn’t too shabby either.

In the evening, we once again bump into Jules and her husband while they’re talking to Shaun and Vicky (from the group I’d met on the train between Kunming and Dali). Shaun and Vicky are on their way home from their holiday, while Jules’ husband rewards me with a new snow jacket as he just replaced his.

David has with him a tent, sleeping bag, cooking utensils, food provisions and walking poles. I, on the other hand, have a bottle of scotch and some peanuts.

We set off from the gorge to Baishuitai (limestone terrace park) and are informed that it’s 87km and that we had just missed the bus. After several kilometres walk, a minibus driver pulls up and we start negotiating the price for the trip. Happy with the walk, we decide to not pay the sum he wants and gladly accept a lift to his home village.

From here we deny the invitation of staying at an inn as we want the authentic experience so we continue walking out of the town for several kilometres, get a lift for another few kilometres and finally stop due to hunger at a house on a big mountain. The owner is a lovely old lady that appears to be in her nineties. She cooks us a big dinner, gives us a room for the night and makes a big breakfast in the morning.

Thoroughly satisfied with how things turned out, we pay her double the amount she wanted and leave just after all the trucks heading up the mountain. For the next three hours we are alone walking on the road until a pickup truck pulls up and gives us a lift to Baishuitai. The driver is a maniac and we have to keep checking to make sure our bags haven’t fallen out. The driving music alternates from Chinese reggae to Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears.

The limestone terraces are beautiful. Since we haven’t bathed in a couple of days, we decide to take a quick dip in the pool, only to be accosted by a Chinese tour guide.

We leave the park only to find we’d missed the once a day bus to Shangri-La by ten minutes, try and fail to negotiate a minivan and start hitchhiking again. This time we are luckier and within three minutes are offered a lift to Bitahai Alpine Lake, two thirds of the way. Hugo (the driver) is a former marine and has put together a website for DIY travellers in Yunnan – Hugo Yunnan Travel.

Along the way, we decide to also see the lake and spend the night camped in the park.

Since Hugo and his wife are travelling onwards to Shangri-La, we decide to forego the camping experience and accept a lift to Shangri-La, with a quick stop at the hot springs just outside the city.

We arrive in Shangri-La and sleep longer than we’ve slept in quite some time.

Rhys (the Aussie I met at Lijiang) and I catch the last bus headed for Shangri-La and hop off at Qiatou to spend the night and start the gorge trek early. Most people tend to leave their main pack behind and walk with their day pack, but since mine’s only 10kg and because I want to do a four day hike, I take my pack with me.

While it would be nice and easy to take one of these horses up the mountain, it would no longer be hiking.

The views along the trek are amazing and we stop often to take photos. The most difficult part of the trek, known as the 28 bends is just before the Tea Horse Guest House where we spend the night – we were recommended to stay in the half way house but had met other trekkers who’d told us they are currently doing construction work early in the morning.

It’s here that I start making panorama photos of the places we visit.

The view from the guesthouse where we spend the night.

In the morning, another group of trekkers join us and we proceed to finish the final few hours of the trek.

Left to Right: Michel and Sandra from Holland, Rhys from Australia, Yours Truly and Fanny from Sweden.

As per my sister’s recommendation, I take a photo from the toilet of the Halfway Guesthouse, the owner thinks nothing of it when I ask him where the toilets are and go in with my camera.

No trek is complete without the obligatory waterfall shot.

We complete the trek with blistering pace and my trekking group go their separate ways. I wait at the bottom for David, an Israeli fellow I’d met earlier in Lijiang as we’d decided to do the four day trek towards Baishuitai.

Lijiang is very similar to Dali, only the ancient town is much bigger and the new town much closer.

In the morning we grab some yak milk yoghurt and when I throw my bottle into the recycling bin, an old Chinese man takes it out of the bin and puts it into his bag. For the next twenty minutes he follows us around waiting for Amy to finish hers, waiting patiently as she walks in and out of shops.

I feel bad for the old guy waiting, take Amy’s yoghurt, finish it off and hand the bottle to the man. He accepts it as if it were a trophy and shakes my hand and sings my praises for the next minute. I like this guy, I think he used to be a real charmer in his prime.

We spend the day walking around the old town taking photos, drinking tea and listening to music in a cafe.

The view from one of the guesthouses where the dorms were sold out.

The souvenirs here are pretty cool also, if I had room in my pack, I’d have purchased this happy little fellow playing with himself.

In no time at all, the day is over and my new friends need to catch the bus back to Kunming and head back to work.

That night I spend in a hostel and meet a fellow Aussie. We climb to Wa Gu Lao to see the view of the ancient town and walk around the new city to buy supplies for the upcoming trek of Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Waterfall at the entrance to the ancient town.

View from the top of Wa Gu Lao.

The world’s fastest taxi.

Here is a washing machine under an umbrella, in a car park. What the?

When I hop on the night train from Kunming to Dali, my sleeper is taken by a Chinese girl (Amy) since her friends have the other three beds. I take her bed and we end up playing cards and talking for a few hours since they all speak some English – they work together in Shanghai.

Since we get on so well, we decide to tour Dali together, so we hire a taxi for the day to see the sights.

Posing in front of the three pagodas at Dali with the Cang Shan mountains in the background. Left to Right: Wendy, Yours Truly, Amy, Vicky and Shaun (aka Gadget).

Since I’m travelling with Asian people, we take a lot of photos, Wendy is king at posing and must have taken close to 500 photos of herself on two cameras and her phone camera (props).

We visit the ancient town of Xizshou and play dress-ups. I’m supposed to look like one of the minority people in the town, but I think it looks more like Aladdin.

Dali has some of the weirdest souvenirs I’ve seen so far.

Lake Erhai (literal translation Ear Lake due to its shape) is very beautiful.

In the evening we catch a bus to Lijiang since my new friends only have three days for their trip and we’re having such a blast together.

Kunming has many hipsters, here's a top ten. Which is your favourite?

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The museum isn't all that exciting although this one picture has me scratching my head.

Robocop is very popular in Kunming, I spot five, I think if you push his bellybutton it summons the police.

I find the MSG in Kunming.

It's hiding over here.

One of Kunming's libraries.

After Sapa, I need to cross the border as my Chinese visa expires the following day. I'm incredibly nervous about the trips because I'm changing passports between the two countries and have heard less than favourable things about the Chinese border guards.

Forty minutes after entering the Vietnamese side of the border, I'm allowed to cross to the Chinese side after the official checks and rechecks and re-rechecks both of my passports and Visas.

Photo from the Vietnamese side of the border after finishing the formalities in Vietnam, Lao Cai (Vietnam) is in the foreground, Hekou (China) in the background.

The Chinese side of the border crossing is far easier, I fill out my entry card, show my passport and visa and am let in to China within ten minutes.

I book a sleeper bus ticket to Kunming (having just missed the last bus) and have to spend the next five hours in the town waiting for the bus. As with my border crossing into Laos, it's raining for most of the day so I spend the time inside chatting to a fellow Aussie (Richard) that was walking past my restaurant while I was having lunch.

Richard walks me to the ATM and with an hour to go until my bus, informs me that the time in China is one hour ahead of that in Vietnam, I now have five minutes until my bus. I run through the rain to the bus station, meet two Singaporeans (Dawn and Waisan) on the bus and thankfully, I don't miss my bus.

Two hours into our trip, we are woken up by police that come on to the bus and check everyone's passports and ID cards. Dawn takes a photo of one of the police women who then confronts her and makes her delete the photo.

After the scary experience of being ID checked, the bus driver decides he would like to kill us and spends the rest of the trip speeding (40km/hr instead of 25-30) over the potholes. No one is getting any sleep now as we are too busy holding on to our seats. I count the number of times we hit a pothole so fast that that I fly out of my sleeper and hit the ceiling and still have the small bumps to show for it.

We arrive at six at Kunming, have one of the worst meals ever and spend the next two hours looking for a nearby hotel as Waisan and Dawn are flying to Beijing the following day.

The train gets us to Lao Cai at six in the morning and we are able to negotiate a minibus for two thirds of the tourist rate. When we get into Sapa, we look down from the rooftop of our guesthouse and see every tourist followed by a throng of Hmong (dressed in blue) women selling their trinkets.

We hire two motorbikes and a driver for 200k and proceed to follow the route that most people take for their 15km trek to visit the minority villages.

Rice paddies.

Hmong (blue) intruding on Dao (red) turf. I expect this to be as violent as a typical bloods and crips meeting but find that they're all friends and probably hang out at the same pub after work.

The day sets a new standard for worst roads I've been on and involves avoiding potholes by driving through a shop, overtaking trucks on blind corners off the road and driving up roads so steep that the bike gets stuck, even in first, and requires a bit of leg power. Our driver on the other hand is atypical of a Vietnamese motorbike tour guide and is by far the slowest driver I've seen in Vietnam.

As always the kids are a lot of fun, these girls speak fluent English. I try and sell them on a three day, two night trek that involves a home-stay in a Hmong village.

Coolest Hmong chick ever.

Every tourist I'd met in Vietnam has recommended Halong Bay, so I was very excited about coming back to Vietnam to visit this Unesco world heritage site.

When the minibus comes around in the morning, every time the bus stops to pick up a passenger, one of us hops out for one reason or another, buying a padlock, going to the bathroom and buying breakfast. After the third stop, the driver lets out a long string of curses and we decide to mess around no more.

The views are amazing, but there is a lot of traffic, they say that 300 of the 500 licensed boats are out on the boat at any one time and we always see at least one other boat.

This is a snap from the first cave we visit. It's littered with neon lights and looks more like a disco than a heritage site.

Typical view from the boat.

Left to right: Irene from Austria, Tanya from the Netherlands, Alex from England and yours truly.

After the trip, Tanya, Irene and myself end up catching the same sleeper train to Sapa, Alex misses out.

I only have several days left before my Chinese visa expires, and I'm still keen to visit Hanoi, Halong Bay and Sapa.

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to Hanoi takes around 36 hours and I'd have to make a visit to Sam Neua so in total it would take three days of travelling at a  minimum. Although I'd made the decision to avoid flights, I had no choice but to shell out for the very expensive flight.

On the plus side, the plane left half an hour early and arrived fifteen minutes after it was supposed to depart.

Evil Plane

The taxi scams were running in full swing when we arrived, initial rates were 10USD from the airport to the city, however speaking with several travellers, I've heard of them stopping halfway and asking for more money or taking the guests to a different hotel for which they'd receive commission.

I didn't really know which bus was the bus to the city centre, however one of the guys touting a minibus was kind enough to inform me that I didn't want to take the number 17 bus since it takes so long.

While riding on the #17 bus, I start talking to the Vietnamese people around me and it so happens that one of them has a "friend" that works in a guesthouse for $7USD. I tell him I'm only looking for $5 and as luck would have it, they apparently have one of those also.

When the bus arrives, the guy calls his "friend" who picks me up with his motorbike and drives me to the guesthouse. The rooms are still $7 however the girl showing me the room is inexperienced and I get the room for $5, with air-con, TV, hot water and two beds.

I give my friend Bao (from Phu Quoc Island) a call and we grab some cheap beers (less than 25c AUD a schooner).

Wandering around in the evening, I stumble upon Hanoi's finest nightspot Minh's Jazz Club and spend the next two hours in a trance enjoying the fine Jazz.

In the morning, I enjoy my free breakfast and am informed that my room was booked for the day and that I'd need to leave. No dramas, I find another room (more of a box really, the door hits the bed) but I only need it for the night, I plan on going to Halong Bay in the morning.

During the day we take in the sights of Ho Chi Minh's museum (the Mausoleum is closed so I don't get to see his corpse), the cathedral and the museum of ethnology.

Rocking out with Uncle Ho.

Posing with a statue at the museum of ethnology. It's a lot of fun to watch all the Vietnamese trying to avoid looking at the statues here, those that do giggle like children.

After failing to organise a boat trip ourselves to the Pak Ou caves, we visit a tour agency that sorts it out for us.

The trip involves a stop at a traditional village (*cough* shop *cough*) where the specialty is Lao Lao, a rice whisky slightly more potent than the Vietnamese variety.

Still sporting a Lao Lao hangover, I decide against partaking in any festivities.

The kids in the town all reach a hand out asking for money, every time they do, I play give me five. This little boy reacts a little differently to the rest, and loves to monkey around.

On the way to the cave we pass many children selling caged birds for 1USD, apparently if you free them they bring you lucky. I ask them if they're for eating which pisses off the mothers.

A little girl pulled the cute look on me and thought she'd locked in a sale, when I took her photo, she reached out her hand and said money for photo. My standard rate is 5,000 kip, but I offered her a discount, 2,000 kip. She didn't understand the joke and blocked my path. I feigned a step and passed her, turned to look at her and saw her slumped over with tears rolling down her cheeks, way to make me feel like an ass. The tears worked on the next person I passed and she gladly purchased a bird, the girl cheered up and was trying the same trick in five minutes.

The view from the lower cave is nice, our boat was one of the ones on the right. When the drivers are parking the boats, they tend to squeeze in between two others, pushing them out of the way with little regard of whether they cause any damage.

The caves themselves were rather uneventful.

We find motorbike rental to be incredibly expensive in Luang Prabang, after being quoted prices of 20-30USD we are ready to give up. We are lucky to find a bike for closer to 10USD and decide it's the best price we'll get.

Two heavy Aussies, a weak 100cc bike and a couple of hills prove to be difficult going for our little dream bike, however a combination of 1st gear, zigzagging up the mountain and some burnt oil get us there without either of us having to walk.

The waterfalls are said to have a tiger enclosure and a bear enclosure. The bear enclosure contains six bears who like to sleep and eat. I find out later on that the tiger ate too much buffalo one day and died, highly unfortunate.

The waterfalls are amazing and we stop often to take photos.

One of the swimming areas has a rope swing. The Laos kids love to use it and like children everywhere, they have no fear. I laugh every time I see them swimming back to shore.

Anything Laos kids can do, we can do better, so we join in the fun.

It's a long walk to the top of the waterfalls. We're greeted with a sign saying danger waterfalls, however like all things in South-East Asia, it's more of a recommendation than a rule. This photo is the reward for the daring.

The view from the bottom.

The view from halfway.

In Laos, monks have adopted the latest trends in technology and it's always a fun game to see what technology they use.

It's important to be subtle when capturing a monk with technology, they're not celebrities that need to be stalked.

The one photo missing from my collection is monk with iPod. If in Laos, let me know if you catch a monk with a games console.

The overnight bus left us several kilometres out of the city and I decided on a taking a shared taxi (pickup truck with the back containing benches for people to sit on) to the centre. The first stop the taxi makes, in the market, appears to be the centre to me and I’m rewarded with a one kilometre walk for my eagerness.

After finding a guesthouse and taking a fifteen minute powernap, I take a walk around the city to take in the sights, meeting a fellow Aussie (Graham) to take in the sights.

Savan has its share of beautiful sights, however the national museum (opposite the above building) is something special. Many of the cultural relics such as the musical instruments are located in the hallways between the exhibit rooms as they are stocked full of photos of the Laos comrades, Lenin and Marx. Watch out for the following item on display.

The caption reads: This spring was used by comrade Kaysone Phomvihane in the gymnastic session during the elaboration of the plan to seize power.

The highlight of Vientiane is the Buddha park, a collection of Buddha statues not far out of town.

While some of the statues are your typical run of the mill Buddha statue, the brave explorer will discover the more disturbing statues in the collection.

In the morning we hire a motorbike to see the town’s sights. The water fight unofficially continues and the whole country has the day off (except those in the tourist industry).

We take a drive down to the local stupa where the locals are pouring water and oil on the many Buddha statues

Afterwards we make a stop at a couple of Wats and the local dinosaur museum – a one room exhibition that the curator is very excited to show us, those of you thinking about visiting, it’s safe to skip.

For lunch we grab some barbecue chicken and liver, and as we’re walking to find somewhere to sit down, a group of locals invite us for a quick lunch beer and to share their food.

We share in lunch, have a few more beers and eight hours later realise that it’s time for my evening bus to Vientiane, something that shouldn’t be done after a long drinking session.

The following morning, I need to catch a bus to Laos as my Vietnamese visa is expiring and will take too long to extend. I meet a couple of Thai girls that are heading back home, doing the same bus trip. When the Mercedes sprinter bus arrives, I’m told that they won’t take me and that I should wait for another bus.

The bus I travel on is used for daytrips to the DMZ, I’m the only Laos passenger on the bus. After several hours driving, we stop for breakfast and it starts pouring. Since I’m not on the DMZ tour, I don’t get a breakfast, instead, I’m ushered to a minivan. This minivan is not watertight and water starts dripping inside the van, I hope I’m on the right bus and decide I’ll catch up on some sleep on the bus.

After several hours, I am prodded awake by the other passengers and told to get my things and get off the bus. They point the direction I need to walk in and speed off while I’m getting drenched in the rain. After one kilometre’s walk I arrive at the Vietnamese side of the border and go through the necessary formalities.

I cross to the Laos side of the border, where I’m greeted by the two Thai girls I’d met in the morning. Another companion they’d met on the bus is not being given a visa as they don’t like the USD bills he presents them with. I give the guy change for his bills, and after one hour at the border, he can finally enter the country.

The Thai girls, Garbor (the guy with the visa troubles) and I start walking down the road into the border town, with no real idea of where we are going or whether or not we will be meeting a bus. After twenty minutes walking we find our transportation into Savannaket, an old fifties era bus that doesn’t look too roadworthy. We climb aboard and are blinded by a fog of thick smoke. As we cough, we hear the laughter of the culprits responsible, fifteen Laos men decided they’d welcome us to the country by closing all the windows and smoking. They decide we’ve had enough of their welcome after a few minutes and open the windows.

As the smoke clears, we see that the bus is full, everywhere we look there are people, luggage or goods from Vietnam. Our seats are tiny plastic stools placed in the aisle of the bus, we’re told we have six hours and we take off without needing to purchase a ticket.

The bus ride is rough, flat roads are bumpy, the bus is slow and makes a stop every few kilometres as the bus driver is unsatisfied with the amount of passengers on the bus and takes on several more.

After twelve hours of bus travel since the start of the trip, we finally arrive to Savannaket, which is in the middle of celebrating the final day of the three day Thai/Laos New Years Celebration. It’s customary to throw water on anyone and everyone, while we were on the bus as we passed by the groups of locals, those too slow to close their window were given a quick soaking.

In the evening Garbor and I share a room and decide to join in the big water fight. We walk up and down the streets partying with the locals, hopping into their pickups, and dancing to the new Laos national anthem (Flo Rida – Low).

It was too dangerous to carry a camera since it would be soaked. This is the following day, when the eager kids remained on the streets.