Laos: Beautiful Scenery and a Near Death Experience

Although this blog about my time in Laos, I had spent just shy of a week with my good friend, Karl, in Bangkok. “Where’s the blog?” you’re wondering. I decided not to write one. I’ve been to Bangkok twice and written about it twice and, quite frankly, the less people know about what you do in Bangkok, the better. 

I left Karl and ventured north to a small town, Luang Prabang, on the banks of the Mekong Delta. I had never been to this Laos before and knew very little about this country. The extent of my knowledge was that it is a landlocked country surrounded by Myanmar, China, Thailand, and Vietnam. I suppose there was a high likelihood that you're going to be communist when they are your neighbours. They were then colonized by the French and then the Japanese. Laos declared that they were neutral in the US-Vietnam conflict, but this meant very little and became the most bombed country in history. Laos couldn’t catch a break. 

Today, it’s still officially communist, but since the 1990s they’ve reestablished Buddhism and allowed tourists more freedom in the country. Luckily for Laos’ tourist board the hippy backpackers still prefer to travel to India and the cunty ones go to Thailand. 

Peaceful Luang Prabang was the perfect break from raucous Bangkok. It has a heavy influence from the French which means the architecture of the town makes you think you’re in Europe, while the people are very rude and stink of garlic. No, obviously the Laotian people are very hospitable and I got to relax by the Mekong Delta drinking French red wine. Perfect. 

After exploring the town, my first venture was to the Kuangsi Waterfall. The water I’d seen so far was pretty mucky river water, so a waterfall of brown water didn’t seem so appealing. However, upon arrival, I’d discovered one of the most idyllic places in Laos. It was a truly beautiful location filled with a fair few tourists, but what can you do? 

I got in the chilly pool and tried to let my thoughts escape as I relaxed. Almost immediately I felt something biting my ankles. The size and pain of the bite made me immediately think I was in a pool of baby crocodiles. As keen readers of this blog will know, I’m not good with animals, let alone flesh-eating animals. I freaked out. As I kicked and writhed, the sea-serpents dispersed and I calmed down. I soon realised that the water pool was filled with those tiny fish that you see in malls that eat the dead skin off your feet. Eurgh! Why would anyone pay for that sensation?! I was most concerned that the fish would feast on my athlete’s foot and I’d have a massacre on my hands. 

Later that afternoon I ‘hiked’ to the top of Phousi Hill. Hiked is a bit over the top, I mean walked up the steps to the top. It’s a nice viewpoint, with a temple along the way. I think there was a Buddhist monk field trip for aspiring young monks there on that day. I didn’t know much about Buddhist training, but they have 10 Precepts which they must abide.

1. I will refrain from harming the life of others.
2. I will refrain from stealing the property of others.
3. I will refrain from sexual practices.
4. I will refrain from lying.
5. I will refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness.
6. I will refrain from food between noon and dawn.
7. I will refrain from dancing, singing, listening to music, and watching shows.
8. I will refrain from using perfumes, cosmetics, and also from ornaments (and anything that bears relation to seduction).
9. I will refrain from installing myself in places located on a higher level than the noble beings.
10. I will refrain from accepting or using gold or silver (metal and notes).

If these are the rules Buddhist monks must abide, then I’m more out than a Brexiteer. I look at those rules and I think I should adopt a few to be a better person, things like honesty, and not putting myself above others. But, if I can’t watch football shows, have a beer, dress up like a drag queen and then lie all about it then what is the point to life?

It had been a great day. I drove into town, parked up my scooter and had planned to have dinner and head back to the hotel. One rather excellent thing about being colonised by the French is that now Laos has an array of cheap, delicious wine and I got a little carried away that evening. I thought I'd leave the bike in town, walk home and pick it up the following day.

I got talking to a couple at the next table who told me about a tourist scam in Luang Prabang, whereby the scooter rental shops lookout for their rented-out scooters and "steal" them back with the spare keys. When the tourists report them missing they are charged a hefty bill. I was now concerned about leaving the scooter in town overnight, so I thought I'd carefully ride it the short distance back to the hotel.

It just turns out I wasn't as careful as I thought. I came off on a corner and my wearisome body skidded along the tarmac for longer than anyone would normally enjoy. Two girls came running over to assist me, I picked myself up and started to apologise to them profusely like I'd caused them harm in some way. I guess my Britishness came out. The adrenaline was coursing through me, but I detected no broken bones and only some relatively minor scratches. 

I picked up the bike and it was in better condition than me. I hopped back on and made it back to my hotel. I assessed the situation and went about cleaning myself up. As I was wearing flip-flops, my toes took a bit of the damage. I tried to cut off the severed skin, but it was tremendously painful so I asked the hotel receptionist to help me. She came up to my room with some scissors and ointment and went about hacking off the skin. That for me is 5-star service. 

The next morning, there was more swelling and I'd developed a black eye. I obviously hit my head a lot harder than I first thought. Well, I didn't die, so I'll just mark this down as a life experience. 

I had planned on going to an elephant sanctuary, where it was advertised that you could bathe the elephants, but to be honest, because of the scratches I was hardly planning to bathe myself that day. Luckily it was raining, so I was free to wallow in the comfort of my hotel, hiding in the shadows like Quasimodo. 

I then had the difficult task of returning the scooter to the rental company. I covered most of my scratches on my arms, legs, and feet, but it was impossible not to notice them considering some were on my hands and face. The conversation went as follows:

Scooter Man: Good morning. Oh dear, what happened to your face?!
Me: Oh, don't worry. I slipped when I was exploring the waterfall.
Scooter Man: It didn't happen on the bike, did it?
Me: What? No. No, no, no. No way. Definitely not. Gosh, could you imagine? Nah. Nope. Nahhh. Never. 
Scooter Man: Well, you just have to be careful at those falls.

I got my passport back and was gone in a shot. So, was it worth it? Well, the bike wasn't stolen and the wine was delicious, so yes. 

I took a minibus to Vang Vieng, which is about halfway between Luang Prabang and the capital, Vientiane. 

Vang Vieng was almost unknown until recent years. During the Vietnam war, the US built an airbase in the town. After Laos reopened its borders to tourists, Vang Vieng became a hub. It was famous for tubing down the Nong Sam River, whereby backpackers would take a rather large amount of drugs, get into tubes and drink booze all the way down the river. Unsurprisingly, many tourists died doing this. Who'd have thought? 

The Laotian government put a stop to this behaviour, which suits me just fine. Reducing ways for me to die is welcomed. 

Instead of the famous tubing, I found activities that kept my scratches from getting infected. I think the last thing my wounds need is to get into a murky river with loads of sexually infected youngsters. 

I did very little in Vang Vieng. It's pretty much a hell hole of a place. A place full of awful backpackers, which has little to offer. It's main attractions are ziplining, hot air ballooning or the aforementioned tubing. I avoided these and went for a hike. I walked the 3 miles out of town and hiked up Pha Ngern. It was a 40-minute steep climb, and the last 10 minutes were the most treacherous. When I reached the top I was dripping with sweat. Sweat had penetrated every inch of my body soaking my wallet and even drenching my money. I took off my shirt at the top, wrung it out and tried to let it dry out a little, but the attempt was futile. So much for keeping my wounds dry.

It rained the entirety of the following day and that concluded my time in Vang Vieng. It's a great place for adrenaline-seeking, drug-taking backpacker, but that's not really my scene. The highlight of my time there was watching Arsenal beat Burnley 2-1 at Gary's Irish Pub.

I was warned that there wasn't much to do in the capital of Vientiane, and they weren't wrong. People often go there on visa runs from Thailand. If that's the purpose of your visit then it seems worth being there because otherwise there is shit all else to do. There was once the Lao People’s Army History Museum, which shed light on the atrocious bombing the country suffered between 1964-73. That museum is permanently closed now. There are plenty of temples, which bore the arse off me. So I ended up spending my time in Vientiane catching up on Match of the Day and watching Netflix shows. I couldn't wait to get out of Laos and back home. 

Luang Prabang is worth a visit for a few days, but the rest of Laos isn't worth the effort, in my opinion. 

People say Laos is similar to France. I guess if France had a nuclear disaster like Chernobyl then I would be able to see the likeness. 

Guilin & Yangshuo, Guangxi, China: The Beautiful South

After our adventures in Cebu, Frank and I flew to Hong Kong. Was I worried about the protests and the political unrest in HK? Well, a little but you should have seen the flight prices. Who doesn't love a bargain?

It was only a flying visit as we stayed for 2 days. It was on the second day that Frank and I separated as he was flying back to the UK for a wedding. I would be taking inspiration from the great Jason Derulo and would be riding solo for about 8 days. Frank's departure coincided with the arrival of a typhoon.

The Hong Kongese and the Chinese might have different stances on extradition and political ideologies, but one thing they do agree on is that it's better to stay home when it's raining.

From HK I travelled internationally into China (controversial), heading northwest to Guilin, Guangxi Province. Any serenity I had from relaxing on white beaches had all gone as I sat amongst the tumultuous Chinese passengers. The only thing that made the train journey bearable was the spectacular views of the southern Chinese countryside. In Guilin, I decided to stay in a hostel as it's much easier to meet others along the way.

I booked myself on a tour of Longji Rice Terraces. On the tour was a Chinese family (mother, father, and two sons), a Chinese couple, and a girl from Israel. The Israeli girl and I talked as we sped north. She was studying in Guangdong for a semester on an exchange program. We started to share stories about how life can be difficult in China and most of our negative experiences of living in the Middle Kingdom, safe in the knowledge that the Chinese passengers couldn't understand us. After about an hour the two 10-year-old boys turned around and started speaking with us in English. Had they heard our previous conversation? When we arrived at the rice paddies the parents of the children thanked us for practicing English with the young boys in a good standard of English.

The Israeli girl and I shared the cable car to the top of the rice fields with the Chinese couple because of our shame of insulting the Chinese. It turned out that they could speak English too! So while we were slagging off China at the back of the minivan, everyone could understand us! It materialised that the Chinese couple was actually from Hong Kong, so they were all for us ripping into China. 

I learned a valuable lesson that day. No matter how much cheaper the Chinese tour is, never do it. On the way back from the rice terraces I wanted to relax and make the time pass as quickly as possible. First, we had to stop off at a restaurant, then a minority village, and finally a minority village market. At the market you could buy ancient Peppa Pig wind chimes or ancient Nike baseball caps. 

One of the main reasons I'm not so keen on hostels is because of the bathroom situation. I talk about my bowel movements probably far too much for this blog, but if I need to go then I shouldn't have to worry about others minding that I'm doing my business. I think this may be one of my last hostel experiences, as I'd rather stay in a hotel and be lonely with the freedom to shit whenever I want. 

My hostel experience was over and I was heading south to Yangshuo. I'd seen pictures online of a sleepy Riverside town right in the midst of the beautiful scenery. But there is no such thing as a sleepy town in China. I looked up the population of Yangshuo and it has the same population as Cardiff. Regardless I decided to immerse myself and travel there by bamboo raft. 

I was a bit let down by the bamboo raft. I thought it was going to be a serene meander down the Lijiang River with some Chinese fella giving the raft a big old push with a stick. Instead, the raft had a noisy two-stroke engine, which spluttered out fumes, and the river was congested by about a hundred of these. I suppose it wouldn't be an authentic Chinese experience without noise, pollution, and overpopulation. 

Our raft driver was on a mission to get to the destination as quickly as possible. Full throttle and weaving in and out of the other rafts. That's it mate, no point hanging around this beautiful scenery. Might as well get there as fast as possible. It's not as if this is the whole reason we've travelled for thousands of miles to be here. 

The following day I awoke without a care in the world. No plan, by myself (😭), but I felt the essence of freedom. I enjoyed a coffee and some French toast (you've got to enjoy it while you can as it'll be impossible to source after October) and set about planning my day. I decided to rent a bike and enjoy the scenery. 

I hadn't been on a proper mountain bike in years and it made me feel like a kid again. I was speeding down hills, riding with no hands, and popping wheelies. The scenery got better around each corner and I was enjoying my leisurely cycle. A few kilometres in and it became hilly and difficult, the clouds parted and the sun started to beat down on me. I began sweating profusely. I stopped to replenish my fluids and as I resumed my journey the chain came off (I obviously don't realise the immense power of my calves). Not to worry I thought, I grew up in the 90s before PlayStations made western children obese. My hands were a bit greasy but I was soon on my way again.

About 10km into the journey and my arse was getting a bit achy. The saddle was tiny, one of those that's a poor excuse of a saddle. Why hasn't anyone put an armchair on a bike before? That would clearly be much better. Not only that, but the chain continued to jump off any time I decided to pedal with a bit of vigour.

About 20km in my knees began to hurt. Was this a window into the future? Is my body already depleted? If my body is suffering so much by 29, then I'll probably be bedridden by the age of 39.

In total I rode about 35km, I was drenched in sweat, my arse was crippled, my knees were in agony, and that bloody chain came off about 5 times resulting in me being caped in grease. Bicycles are bloody useless. They should be exclusively used by adolescents, men having a mid-life crisis, and the Dutch. 

(I had a sore arse and painful knees, there's an obvious joke there but I'll let you finish that one-off).

The following day I was back on two wheels, but I'd opted for a motorised version. Without wanting to sound like Jeremy Clarkson, it was clearly better. I had rented a scooter, I paid the daily fee, received the keys, and stood waiting for a helmet which never came. The woman seemed shocked when I asked for one, but was adamant that I didn't need one. 

"There are many things that we can point to that proof that the human being is not smart. The helmet is my personal favorite. The fact that we had to invent the helmet. Now why did we invent the helmet? Well, because we were participating in many activities that were cracking our heads. We looked at the situation. We chose not to avoid these activities, but to just make little plastic hats so that we can continue our head-cracking lifestyles.

The only thing dumber than the helmet is the helmet law, the point of which is to protect a brain that is functioning so poorly, it's not even trying to stop the cracking of the head that it's in..."

Jerry Seinfeld

Feeling like Humpty Dumpty, I set off with my head exposed in optimal head cracking conditions, I headed up through the mountain roads. They twisted and turned around the mountains, through villages, and between gorges. It was so pleasant after I'd gotten over the fact that if I had crashed I'd have been a vegetable in a rice field. 

I made it to the top unscathed and was totally mesmerized by the view from the top. The pictures will never do it justice. Of all the places I've travelled to, I think this has to be the most beautiful.

Mum and Dad, if you're reading this and are wondering if I made it down OK, just bear in mind that I've Skyped you both since this story. For everyone else, I'll keep you all in suspense...I made it down without cracking my skull!

My time in Yangshuo was most enjoyable and relaxing. I then took a train to Shenzhen, which is the city on the Chinese border of Hong Kong. It always seemed like an interesting place to visit. It was formerly a small fishing village, which over the last few decades has expanded to China's hub of technological development. Once I'd arrived, I searched for things to do, but found very little. Having spent 2 days there, I'd suggest the best thing to do is leave and go somewhere more interesting. 

The best thing I did was visit the technology market. I've been to some similar markets before where people sell out-of-date, overpriced technology. However, the market in Shenzhen is like nothing I'd seen before. They had every imaginable part for every machine. There were shops selling the obvious computer accessories, Bluetooth whatnots, etc., but there were also shops dedicated to selling the obscure items. Button sellers, buttons for computers, for washing machines, for elevators. It had everything and if it didn't have what you wanted they could have made what you wanted from the component parts discarded in the back. I saw one man taking LCD screens out of boxes, rebranding them, and then repackaging them. It was dodgy as fuck, but then that's the essence of China and I loved it. 

Although living in China for two-and-a-half years, I haven't seen all that much of it, so it was pleasant to see the south for the first time. Having said that, I'm always happy to leave. Next up I'm off to Bangkok to see my good friend, Karl. The last two trips I've taken with Karl have been to Alicante, Spain, and Pyeongyang, North Korea. I feel if you were to merge those two places you'd end up in a dodgy Asian city full of Brits, which is essentially what Bangkok is. 

Cebu & Bohol, Philippines: Jumping in at the Deep End

I was on board my flight from Beijing to Hong Kong when I thought my ear drum was going to explode. Allow me to give you some context.

A few weeks prior to my flight I had noticed a significant drop in my audible ability. I had fluid in my ear canal and sought the advice of a doctor. They ran tests and put me on a course of anti-biotics, which ultimately did little.

My impaired hearing would have to wait as it was the end of the school semester and I was off to Southeast Asia for six weeks. I boarded my flight and as we ascened the pressure of the cabin started to play havock with my ear pressure. I tried yawning and moving my jaw up and down to ease the pressure, but I was moving my jaw so much I looked like I had a severe case of tourettes. Although, it would have been the perfect excuse to unleash a torrent of profanity. The pain was getting so intense that I thought my ear drum was going to burst like a boil on an arse. 

There was little I could do, but I was lucky enough to sleep through some of the trauma. I did however have a dream, not a profound one like Martin Luther King Jr., but instead a very mundane one. In my slumber I dreamt that I was partaking in a pub quiz with the round focused on football trivia. In my dream I was becoming more and more agitated as I wasn’t able to hear the questions clearly. You don’t need to be Sigmund Freud to analyse my dream; I think about football too much and my ears are buggered. 

As I wasn’t able to enjoy the quiz in my dream, so I will make up for it in this blog. There’ll be football trivia questions for you to enjoy with the answers at the end.

Question 1: Which nation won the gold medal in football at the 2012 Summer Olympics?

We landed in Hong Kong and once I disembarked the plane my ear pressure normalised. Unfortunately, I’d have to go through the trauma all over again on my connecting flight, and on 5 more flights over the next 6 weeks as I travel from the Philippines through Southern China, Thailand, and Laos.

Frank, a fellow Celtic and a bloody good bloke

When you picture the Philippies, what do you imagine? Pristine beaches? Palm trees? Well, we didn't get any of that. Donald Trump used a particular word to describe places such as Cebu City. It rained for the first 2 days, so we did what most Brits do when the weather is wet - drink. We were drinking in a shit seaside town where it was raining a lot, we might as well have holidayed in Morecambe. 

Despite the lack of sun, I was sunburnt, I had a dodgy stomach, I was half deaf, I was hungover, the weather was shit, we were staying in a dingy hostel, and the taxi driver from the airport to the hostel had ripped me off. But, you know me, even in the most trying of times I remain upbeat and never complain.

We finally got a break from the rain and scooted on down to Moalboal, a town famous for families of sardines, waterfalls, and beaches. We parked up at our hotel and the rain continued, we woke up in the morning and the rain continued some more. We did anything to pass the time and even went to get out hair cut. The fella who cut our hair had a huge wart on his face. I don't know how you can be in a room all day surrounded by mirrors and not notice it, when he does he'll be embarrassed. So far after 4 days, we'd been on this tropical paradise and all we'd achieved was some folical grooming. It's a long way to travel for a haircut.

Finally, the next day the sun came out. It was a bit windy, but after days of waiting we were like a couple of sun junkies looking for a hit from that sun pipe. We headed for the beach, placed our valuables inside our shoes so the thieves wouldn't be able to find them, and raced into the sea like a couple of excited school boys. We tried to relax, but the waves were too rough. We tried to frolic, but fighting the waves was too much exercise. As we looked to see how far the waves had taken us down the coast we noticed a dog urinating on our valuables. I shouted "piss on the coconuts, not my wallet!" but the mongrel didn't listen. I rinsed my t-shirt in the sea and rode my scooter back to the hotel exhausted, in a wet shirt that still had traces of dog piss on it. Another successful day.

Question 2: Which Spanish football team are nicknamed “The Turks”?

In the bar that evening we got talked into doing a canyoneering tour. It sounded adrenaline pumping and we decided we needed a bit of excitement after a slow start to the holiday. We were told to bring suitable shoes, but as we didn't have any they said we could rent some. I was expecting some aqua shoes, instead we received some knock-off Nike's with absolutely no grip. I've sent better quality trainers off to Africa before. And in consistent fashion of this trip, the already terrible souls came loose almost guaranteeing an ankle injury. 

We started off the tour with some easy waterfall drops, but they increasingly got bigger. 5m, 8m, and 10m, that might not seem so high but it's a different story when you're at the top looking down. Every ounce of your being tells you not to jump but you do it anyway because the Filipino lads are calling you a ladyboy. 

The final jump was 15m high and standing on a ledge only 20cm wide. The adrenaline kicks in, you give in to the peer pressure and jump. The decision to jump was made easier as there were a bunch of cute Korean girls in the pool below and I'd jump 15m into a snake pit if it meant getting close to some Korean girls.

After leaving Moalboal we scooted along to coast to Oslob, the home of the whale sharks. We had finally been blessed with some good weather and were making the most of each minute of it. We rose early the next morning for prime time whale shark diving. I'd already expressed my concerns to Frank about how I'm not too good with animals, but he said they're harmless and I'd be fine. I'd be the judge of that.

The boat pulled up and these huge 4-metre long sea monsters were below us. They've got long terrifying bodies like great whites, but gormless faces like Joey Essex. Their faces pop above the surface vacuuming up the fish guts the tour guides throw for them. I haven't seen gums on an animal like that since my mate, Jack Cassidy, told me to Google search 'granny gummers,' (do so at your own peril).

Despite their 'thick as shit' expressions, as soon as you enter the water with them my feeling of danger returned. I know they're harmless and won't attack humans, but whenever you hear the word 'shark' it signals danger. Whenever you see footage of sharks it's generally of man-eaters, so when you willingly get in the water, submerge yourself into their habitat and see a 4m long beast with fins and a tail I started to panic. I stayed close to the boat, but still they come at you from different angles. You turn around and are faced with two or three more. After a few minutes in the water, unjustly panicking, I realised that I'm not a marine biologist and got back on the boat. The thing is, if a stray dog comes near me on the beach I can just kick it up the arse and it'll leave me alone, but I don't even know where a whale shark's arse is, so it's best just to stay out of the water. 

Frank was a champ and was at home in the water, but to be fair I've seen some of the women he's dated so being in the company of whales is natural for him.

All it did was convince me that I'm never going cage diving in South Africa with great whites. Let the Japanese clear out the oceans for all I care. And while I'm at it, I'm ruling out scuba diving. You've got to take a week long course to get qualified to look at brightly coloured fish and things that freak me out? No chance. If I want bright colours and bad trips I'll just take some acid. If there's anything worth seeing in the ocean and they need my opinion on it then I'll get in a submarine. 

Question 3: Which player had the lowest minutes per goal in the 2018/19 Bundesliga season?

The weather was now on our side and we headed back to Cebu City. We returned the bikes and got the ferry over to Bohol, a neighbouring island. As dramatic as the first week was the following week was totally the opposite. We decided after being on the road for a week that a week of doing bugger all was in order.

Question 4: Who became the first Filipino player in the Premier League in August 2018?

I’d like to claim that the legs in this picturesque setting were mine, but they’re Frank’s. My legs are a combination of peeling skin from the previous sunburn, current sunburn and hair, which is why I haven’t been asked to do much modelling.  

We spent six days beachside but decided to venture out one day. Our first stop was to see the smallest primates on the planet, after Danny DeVito. They are the size of your fist and are found in a limited number of islands in the Philippines. Their eyes are bigger than their brains, much like the small-minded Katie Hopkins. If they get too stressed they commit suicide by holding their breath, something we hope Katie Hopkins does.

We travelled the best part of an hour and a half to the sanctuary, paid the entrance fee and were told they are only active at night. We walked around while the guide pointed to tiny creatures slept hiding in the leaves. It hardly seemed worth it. 

Question 5: Which is the oldest stadium that has been in continual use since 1855?

Next on the agenda, we scooted along to a bamboo bridge. Again, paid our entrance fee to essentially walk back and forth on a rickety old bridge. I shuffled along it while it creaked and swayed. Why do I do these things voluntarily? I got an ice cream as a reward for being brave, but then had to walk back along the unregulated bridge one-handed. Without doubt the least relaxing ice cream I’ve ever had.

The final attraction of the day were the relatively famous Chocolate Hills. Filipinos say the hills were formed when a heartbroken giant cried a lot of tears which led to the formation of these limestone hills, geologists say they were the result of erosion of limestones which were uplifted above sea level and fractured due to tectonic processes. I just don’t know which one to believe.

Quiz answers:

1. Mexico

2. Deportivo de La Coruña

3. Paco Alcácer

4. Neil Etheridge

5. Sheffield United's Bramall Lane