I seem to have fallen into somewhat of a rut here, although I must say it is a very pleasant rut to be in and yesterday proved to be absolutely wonderful as I shall explain shortly.

My daily routine normally runs thus. I wake early due to either the rooster previously mentioned, an early Lao Airlines flight or the depredations of my aging bladder! For a basically nocturnal creature like myself it is somewhat of a shock to the system getting up at eight and being in bed usually shortly after midnight. A quick wash and brush up, then off to Big Brother Mouse, where I am becoming something of a fixture with the friendly staff now greeting me by name. Although the "lessons" often feature a lot of the same content, the attraction of doing it does not seem to wane, the obvious delight of the Lao people is heartwarming. In the way of these things I learn as well. Yesterday I was going through an Australian childrens book about animals with a Lao man with very limited English and came upon an animal called a quoll, which looks like some sort of large rodent I think. I had never heard of such a thing, so something learned.

I leave BBM and head to the Saibaidee restaurant for my morning Lao coffee and a lunchtime beer whilst coaching Noo and Thent on their English homework for College. That usually takes until about three when I either go to the Internet cafe, take in another temple or two or make another abortive trip to the Immigration Office which never seems to be open.

Down to the river to take in the sunset and then decide which of the numerous excellent restraurants to have dinner in. I like to try as many as possible and the food is uniformly good with very few disappointments. A couple more beers and then off to an early bed. Perfect lifestyle.

Yesterday was slightly different. It appears that most of the waiting staff in town are monlighting from either the University or the Teacher Training Colege and one such, Phone, had told me that there was an Open Day affair at the College and I would be most welcome as his guest. He explained that there were visitors coming from Thailand for the event, which seemed to be a big deal for them. I believe the Lao Government are improving relations with their neighbours lately and I read in the Vientiane Times a couple of days ago that a new agreement had been signed with Cambodia, despite there still being a disputed border between them. Phone very helpfuly drew me a map and put his name and class on a bit of paper and told me he would see me there.

After my two "classes" off I wandered and duly appeared at the gate of the College. The security guy looked at me slightly oddly, until I produced my "invitation" whereupon I was allowed to proceed. Once inside, I was greeted by a most wonderful spectacle. The entire place was set up for a typical Open Day with the different departments having displays but, as always, it was the people that caught my attention. The vast majority of the students had donned ther respective tribal dress with Lao Lim, various (H)mong tribes, Akha and the apparently predominant Kmhu as well as some others I am not sure about. Each tribal group processed around the campus and then, for a panel of judges, performed a tribal dance or demonstrated a skill (spinning seemed popular) particular to their group. The visual effect was simply stunning.

I could pay a travel agent in Luang Prabang quite a bit of money to go and visit an "authentic" village along with a hundred other tourists. Forget it, they are just human zoos. I was there for over three hours and briefly saw one other white man. This was not designed to attract the tourist dollar, this was the students letting their hair down and enjoying themselves for their own benefit. And enjoying themselves they certainly were. In the way of Southeast Asian people there was much laughter, singing and general hilarity and good humour. I hope the photos reflect this in some way.

Wandering away from the main events, I came upon a hotly contested spinning top game amongst some of the (H)mong lads whereby they launch a couple of these things onto a piece of ground and then others try to knock them out of the rink with their own tops. They do this with a degree of enthusiasm and I nearly collected a wayward top on the ankle a couple of times, the sight of a frantically hopping farang seeming to cause great amusement.

After the tops, the real lunacy began. They have got a thing they described to me in English as a boat race which is difficult to describe adequately, hopefully the photos will assist. Basically, two long planks per team have bits of rubber nailed to them in the style of sandals. Two teams of about ten put their feet in these, line astern, and then shuffle madly like demented cross country skiiers in a straight race down the length of an outdoor football pitch. I am sure you can imagine the carnage that ensues if one of the team loses their footing or the rythmn of the team, it is chaos and usually results in a large pile of laughing, shouting bodies. It really is something to behold.

Eventually and regretfully I dragged myself away, back to the hotel for a small doze, then up and out to face the night. In my quest to try as many new restaurants as possible I took myself to Smile Lao, a pleasant outdoor place on the main night strip. Unfortunately, the menu here is solely the Lao barbecue, which is gorgeous but was rather more than my appetite demanded. Whilst there I started a conversation with the waiter (it was pretty quiet) in the middle of which he asked me in French if I spoke French (he had limited Englidh). I have not spoken French for 30 odd years and told him so in French. Not deterred he pressed on and I told him how I had spent the afternoon. It transpired he was another moonlighting student from the College and had been there as well. We were then joined by his friend, who spoke English but not French. I got out the camera and was showing them my photos from the day. I discovered that my French came back pretty easily, which surprised me greatly. What ensued was a proper Tower of Babel with the conversation going on in Lao, English and French, it was odd to say the least. I was put in mind of a song called Tower of Babel Time by an old schoolfriend of mine called Andy White (check him on the internet), a very good singer / songwriter.

Down to the Sports Bar for a decent 2-2 draw between Arsenal and Everton and then home to bed early. Big Brother Mouse is closed on Sunday so I have busied myself on the computer all day writing this and constructing a few tips for my Virtual Tourist site for uploading later. Have a look at the photos and try to imagine what a wonderful day it was.

Speak soon,

Fergy.

I give you this photograph to cheer you up (the one below that is). I know that those of you that are in Europe are in the grip of a fairly nasty cold snap now, and I have been gloating somewhat about the glorious weather here. I haven't seen a drop of rain for about four weeks. Cut to this morning when I was awoken by the hammering of a tropical rainstorm on the corrugated iron rooves that make up the complex I am staying in. For some strange reason I quite like that sound in the same way I love the sound of rain drumming on the canvas of a well-pitched tent. OK, so I am weird.
It looks like I have got myself somewhat mired in Luang Prabang. My latest thinking (subject to daily change) is that I will extend my Lao visa for teo weeks and then revert to Plan A, namely Plain of Jars, then South through Vientiane, Pakse and all points to the Cambodian border. A two week extension will give me another monthe or so to achieve this. I can score my Cambo visa in Vientiane to avoid any nonsense at the frontier. However, as I say, everything is subject to change and I have to get out of here first, whichis proving difficult.

A couple of days ago I went to Big Brother Mouse, the place where you talk to Lao English students, but the travellers outnumbered the students about three to one and they were obviously being overloaded. This gratified and irritated me in about equal measure. I was gratified that so many travellers were taking the time and irritated that I had got out of bed at an ungodly hour to do it with nil result. I decided to repair to my faovurite restaurant, the one I spent Xmas night in, for a cup of Lao coffee. If anyone reading is able to get some I thouroughly recommend it, it really is very good. I think it has now overtaken Jamaican Blue Mountain as my favourite coffee.

The two young ladies who work there, by name Thent and Noophin (Noo to her friends) are both training to be primary school teachers. Basically, the story is that they work all morning to make the means to survive away from home and then go to college between half three and eight in the evening. The source is designed thus as none of the students can afford not to work. A major part of the course is learning English and if things are quiet in the day, as they verey often are, they do their studying there. They were both working away hard and I asked them what the lesson was. Well, you can guess what happened next. In no time flat, I had donned my English teachers hat and was running my own Big Brother Mouse in the restaurant. Again, most gratifying. I have no aptitude for teaching whatsoever, I just do not have the patience but it is very difficult to become irritable with these lovely people and their immense thirst for education, it really is a hunbling experience.

This has now been going on for a couple of days now, and I think they are beginning to expect me to turn up. Today we went through a session of reading for the pronounciation and I really do enjoy it. However, I really have to make a move soon, although it is hard ot leave a place where I have fitted in so quickly. It is now to the point where local people are hailing me in the street. I went for my daily roasting and pummelling (also known as Lao steam bath and traditional massage) this evening and the boss himself insisted on doing the massage. I see now why he is the boss, by God did he give me some pounding.

From there for a nice feed in yet another restaurant I had not tried, Lasi restaurant, the Heavenly Beef in the mixed entree (rendered mixed entry on the menu) was very aptly named and the ribs were very tasty. I suppose I could stay here until I had sampled every restaurant which should take until about June! I do think, however, that by June several of the establishments will have closed. I definitely get the impression that LP has over-extended itself. Nowhere is anything like full any time of the day or evening. Certainly there are considerably more travellers here than when I passed through before but the amount of facilites geared towards them far outstrips even this increased demand. For example, a little cafe near my digs which was open until at least New Years Eve just disappeared overnight, literally.I went to bed one night and it was a restaurant and open for business. Next morning, completely stripped out. Chairs, tables, everything and the place locked and barred. I fear this is going to be an increasingly common scene here. No doubt everything will find it's own level. I just worry as to the future of the very many young people who have come here from the outlying areas to try and better themselves. What will happen to them? Back to the farm to work an ox driven plough, having had a taste of education? I sincerely hope not.

I had an interesting conversation last might with two London based Bangladeshi girls. Obviously the Bangla heartland in UK is the area I live in, and we knew many of the same places althouugh they lived in Sutton which is not, as far as I know, renowned for a Bangla community. One of the young ladies (I didn't get their names) worked in the City in an insurance place and I was giving forth about the immorality of the financial sector, the credit crunch at al and in the midst of it she said I sounded like a Communist. I nearly literally fell off the bench laughing. Me? A commie? I am somewhere slightly to the right of Genghis Khan. It really was an amusing interlude.

Having spent the evening talking to them, I had completely missed eating an evening meal, so it was back to my faithful late night locals haunt. I have no idea what time it closes, I have never been out that late! It was busy enough and then in rolls a tuk tuk load of absolutely blind drunk Thais who had been to some disco outside town. The reason I know this is because their guide sat at the next table to me and we were talking. It appears the Thai are very fond of travelling ot Lao as they find it extrmely cheap and they do not need visas. I find Thailand pretty cheap, so if they think Lao is cheap it gives you an idea how totally inexpensive this place is.

I am writing this piece in the Lao Lao Garden, where there is supposed to be wifi but the weather has knocked that for six so it will have to be the internet cafe tomorrow after English class! I can't believ ehow much I enjoy it. Thent is much better at Enhglish than Noo and I spent a lot of time today with the L and R thing. It is hard for us to understand what difficulty they have with the R sound as it just does not exist in Lao, but I think I am making progress. Would you listen to me, I am beginning to sound like Helen Keller! If I can upload the photo, Noo is on the extreme left and Thent on the extreme right. In the middle is the owner's wife and her absolutely delightful kids. I have nicknamed the little girl Trouble and the little lad derives endless amusement from shadow boxing with me, most exhausting!

Update.

It is now tomorrow, if you know what I mean, and my routine continues. I am so relaxed and content here, Heaven knows when I will move on. They may just have to pry me out of ehre with a crowbar!

Speak soon,

Fergy.

OK, so hopefully here are the photos. The top one is the final results of our afternoon's labours and yeas, I did actually help make all that, it was delicious too, if I say so myself. The photo bottom left is purely for the vegetarians amongst you to show you what you are missing (taken in the market) and the bottom right is the result of my "chopping and woking" as they call it.

I'll be in touch soon.

A new Year and some more adventures.

Well, another new year, and I really cannot believe so much has happened and already 10 years since the Millenium. Where did the time go? I saw the New Year in with a very pleasant young Irish couple called Jacinta and Keith who currently live in Sydney and were whizzing through Lao and Cambodia in a couple of weeks. They were quite jealous of my ability to travel at leisure. I am though, as usual, getting ahead of myself, so where were we? Undoubtedly in Luang Prabang where I appear to have become somewhat stuck, although there are much worse places to be stuck.

I have been doing a number of things predominantly, it appears, involving walking about in the hot sun during the day. I am beginning to understand why the Lao tend to keep out of the sun, it can get really warm here. I am currently writing this in the shade of an umbrella in a restaurant on the banks of the Nam Kham awaiting my Luang Prabang salad, a local delicacy (further report, written later, it was delicious).

I think last post I was ranting about the appalling behaviour of the tourists towards the monks, and I have had my view of the situation confirmed. I was speaking to an Australian lady not an hour ago who has lived in Lao almost continuously since the early 70's. She was telling me that the behaviour had become so bad that the senior monks got together and decided, much as they were reluctant to do so, that the Tak Bat should be stopped. Apparently they were told in no uncertain terms by the Government that they would continue to walk as it was a tourist attraction and they wanted the tourist dollar. I find this almost as reprehensible as the actions of the tourists themselves. Right, I really must get off my high horse now.

After that debacle, I went back to the guesthouse, had a small doze, then got up again ready to face the world. I decided I needed to spread my wings a bit so I decided to hire a motorbike. The standard Honda 100cc was on offer at a place near where I stay. What a heap. 71,000 kilometres on the clock (and Heaven knows how many more not on it), it didn't idle properly which is tricky on a semi-auto and the brakes were soggier than an Irish Ferbruary. That was the pick of the bunch, so it would have to do.

Off I headed along Highway 13 to see the famous caves at Pak Ou. The highway itself was OK, but the last 11 km to Ban Pak Ou (literally village at the mouth of the Ou) were pretty amusing. An unpaved road with some quite steep inclines and declines with sharp bends. All of this is easy enough to handle but what caused the real bother was the other traffic. Jeep and minivan drivers ferrying their loads of tourists driving like complete lunatics and kicking up choking dust. I had to resort to the old bandana over the face trick. I must have looked a bit like Billy the Kid although I suppose the image was somewhat ruined by the baby pink helmet they had given me. The helmet would have been about as useful as a politician in a crisis had I had an accident. The strap did not fasten and, at anything over about 25mph the wind got under it and started to lift it off my head. I had to resort to the expedient of gripping the loose strap in my teeth. What a bloody performance.

Despite everything I made it to Ban Pak Ou in good order and decided I was in need of refreshement so I sat down at a shack run by an old couple and ordered a cup of the excellent local coffee and a bottle of water. It was there that I was treated to one of the most extraordinary demonstrations of ingenuity I have ever seen. Four local guys were constructing a small house, well sleeping shack really. The old man told me they had started that morning and they already had the basic frame together. I made an inventory of the technology on the "site" which runs as follows. Two machetes, one hammer (minus grip), a bucket of nails (some pre-used) and two small shovels. That was it. The structure was being made entirely of bamboo save for the pre-woven and pre-used woven mat flooring. A beam was put up and, if it dod not fit, was taken down and hacked at until it did. The nails were only used for the largest beams with most of the joining being achieved my means of thin strips of what I think was also bamboo which were used to tie beams together. Needless to say, I couldn't resist and had to offer my services. This caused the usual amount of hilarity as I was wielding a machete with the best of them and tied off a couple of beams under supervision. To think that some poor Lao is going to be sleeping in a construction partly put together by yours truly is pretty frightening.

Leaving my Bob the Builder hat off for a while ("Can we build it? Can we Hell!) I went for a walk down to the place where the boats depart for the caves which are on the other side of the river but when I got there there were so many tourists about and I could see swarms of them at the caves who had come by slow boat from LP, I decided not to bother. I suppose I was still feeling a bit anti-tourist. Instead I set out to explore the village, not that it took much exploring but I did spend an amusing time kicking a football with a vouple of youngsters wchich they seemed to find great fun.

After about an hour I went back to where I had parked the bike and I couldn't believe it. The construction gang had got the floor completely finished, the mats cut to size and laid, the roof beams and rafters all ien place. I cannot believe how quickly they did it. Unfortunately, it was knocking off time so I didn't get to see any more of their considerable skills. Back the way I had come and a fairly uneventful trip back to LP for the evening. I am happy enough driving after dark in Thailand but the driving standards and the roads here seem much worse so I didn't fancy it.

Another fairly quiet evening with a delightful duck dish for my evening meal at my usual late night place and off to bed, where I watched quite a disturbing BBC World documentary about a 12 year old heroin addict in Afghanistan. She was a pickpocket and her mother, another addict, a beggar. It was quite distressing in many ways. That really is a country and a region I would love to visit although obviously not any time in the near future.

New Years Eve dawned fine and bright and being still in possession of both my trusty steed and useless helmet, I decided on another little adventure. I am having quite a lot really. There are two waterfalls near LP, one of which I visited last time round and it is indeed very beautiful. However, in my guidebook I had read that on the far bank of the Mekong there was another waterfall called Tad Hoykhua (Tad being waterfall). It suggested it was 14km West of Luang Prabang in Ban Pakleung. No problem, I can do that on my head. I will quote exactly from the guidebook as to the instructions I was given, "cross the Mekong by boat at Tha Heua (boat station) in Luang Prabang to Xiang Men village and then travel the rest by road. What could be simpler?

I took myself to the rather good Tourist Office to ask about directions or maybe a map, and the young man there admitted quite candidly and smilingly that he did not know anything about the other side of the river. I found this a bit odd but determined to go anyway. It appears the river forms a barrier (much like the Thames) and if you live on one side, you don't really bother with the other.

I arrived at the boat station and the well meaning security guy was not going to let me onto the pier thinkng I had taken a wrong turning presumably. I mimed that I wanted to go over with my bike to Xiang Men and he looked at me slightly oddly. I was beginning to get the impression that this is not a trip often undertaken by tourists. Having been thus admitted, it was the work of minutes to get onto the "car ferry" (pictured) and across to the other side. It may as well have been the other side of the moon, never mind the Mekong. After negotiating the almost vertical track from the boat on an underpowered machine I arrived in the village and it was obvious I was right, this is not tourist country. No paved roads, no road signs (in any language) and astounded looks all round. Halfway through the vilage one lady nursing an infant started shouting with glee and encouraging the child to wave at me and say "Saibaidee". I had to stop the bike and do the waving thing, it was heartwarming.

So we have a problem. No map, no signs and no idea where I am going. Ideal, my favourite way to travel. I worked out West easily enough due to the position of the sun (old Boy Scout trick) and immediately proceeded to head East on the principle I had lots of time, I had a bike (of sorts) and I might see something interesting. The further I penetrated into what is effectively traditional rural Lao, the more incredulous did the looks on the other road users faces become. I use the word road advisedly because it was a boneshaking dirt track. I felt so totally alive. It is hugely liberating to be away from any sort of support network, completely self-reliant. If I had had a mechanical failure or even something so prosaic as a puncture, which would not be unlikely on those roads, I would have had to sort it out myself one way or another. I may have said this before on a post but, whilst not in any way on the level of people like Ranulph Fiennes, Eric Newby or even my old mate Mike Asher (look him up on Google), in my own small way it pleased me.

I had sort of hoped to find a village but as the miles went on it was looking unlikely so I turned back knowing I would have to retrace my steps. Back to Xiang Men and off the right way, West. Off the other road out of town, past the police station and then the road forked. What to do. Well, they say "ask a policeman" so I went back there and sat outside as there is no obvious public office or anything. Eventually a cop turned up (at least I think he was, he might have been the cleaner for all I know) appeared and I hailed him. Asked for Tad Hoykhua - blank look. Ban Pakleung - blanker look. Maybe it was my pronounciation, maybe something else but he eventually settled on telling me where Ban Pak was. Thinking this to be a local way of saying Pakleung, I followed the directions, assisted by the fact he mentioned "resort" and I knew there were a few bungalows for rent at the falls.

I went along not a bad road for about two miles and the road forked again. With no-one to ask, I decided on the right fork as I thought the falls were more likely to be towards the hills than the river. Half a mile on and the road stopped. Now I don't mean it became rougher or petered out into a dirt track, I mean it stopped. One minute decent hard dirt track, the next jungle. OK, only half a mile wasted. Back to the fork and took the left turn, which led me to a village. After a few dead ends I met a smiling old man. "Pakleung?", I enquired and he smiled, nodded and pointed confidently along a track. I followed it and it led to, well, the same dead end as before. As I had not seen any other roads going West, I decided the fates were against me and I wasn't going to find my waterfall.

Back into the centre of the vilage to find all the youth of the town gathered and playing petanque / boules (they call it petanque in Lao) in what would pass as the village square. Well, sensing, if nothing else, a good photo opportunity I stopped the bike and wandered amongst them. A quick Beer Lao was secured and I sat down to watch the game. There was much shouting, friendly argument and general good humour about the games that followed.

Obviously I had not fathomed the rules (still haven't really) and eventually the inevitable happened. You must have guessed what is coming next. They thought it would be great fun to watch the farang make a fool of himself and I was dragged into a game of doubles. My partner was a youngish Lao guy and we played two other Lao guys. The women also play (very well) and mixed games are common but this was an all male affair and taken very seriously although with a lot of laughter. I was terrified I would make a complete Fred Karnos of it but to my great surprise I found I have some sort of aptitude for the game. Shall we say I didn't make a complete ass of myself and played a couple of shots quite close to the jack (or whatever it is in French / Lao). It was great fun.

Many more games were played and the system, should you be asked, is this. The losing team buys a big bottle of Beer Lao. Now, this is not merely for the winners but a single glass is available and the beer is distributed in mouthfuls to victors, spectators and apparently any passing stranger! This is the Lao way, eating and drinking are always communal affairs, and they found it most odd that I wanted to drink a whole bottle of beer myself. By the end I felt a little odd doing it.

I mustn't have messed up too badly as I was invited to play several more times and we even won a few games. I got quite into it by the end but a glance at my watch showed that it was four o'clock and the bike was due to be returned by five so back down the road amidst many fond farewells, on the boat and back to LP where the venerable old machine was returned. Wahtever the Buddhist equivalent of the last rites is, I suggest this bike recieves them now because it cannot have long to live.

So, showered and dressed, it is New Years Eve and what to do? Well, I wasn't going to go too mad early on, as the bars were going to be open all night and I fancied a party (this turned out to be wrong, in the event) so I had a small bite to eat and took myself to the Utopia Bar where I met the Irish couple as above. One of the more unusual ways of spending New Years Eve, I would suggest, is playing beach volleyball but that is what was going on. In a bar in a totally landlocked country there is a beach volleyball court and groups of already drunken young tourists were making a frankly pathetic attempt at the game.

I had planned to see the New Year in at the Lao Lao bar but the best laid plans and all that. We toasted in 2010 and they went shortly after, having an early bus to catch. I wandered round to the Lao Lao and had a couple of drinks there but the place was already dying and, despite all advertising and personal assurances to the contrary, the bar was closed at 0300. I went home, very sober, and so to bed.

Up relatively early next day, well early for a New Years Day anyway. A new year and just another day in paradise, literally. A fairly quiet day, had a wander round, visited another couple of wats (there are 34 in total and I have seen about 10!) then back to my favoured Saibaidee restaurant for a snack of spring rolls with chilli dipping sauce, as I wasn't really hungry, and then to the Chillout Bar to avail myself of the Wifi for a couple of hours and post a few very overdue tips on my Virtual Toruist website.

This town suffers big communal hangovers. The Lao Lao bar didn't even bother opening and the rest of the bars were empty. The massive Utopia had four others and myself in it and they were friends of the Canadian manager, a nice bloke actually. I think a lot of the travellers had decided to have New Years Eve here and then head on as the town was noticably quieter and still is today (2nd January). Yet another great meal in the late night place near my guesthouse and off to my comfy bed.

Up again this morning courtesy of my friend the rooster. I swear that bird's life expectancy is diminishing rapidly. So what to do? I was too late for Tak Bat and I would not want to witness that obscenity again ever, so I made action on a plan I had been forming for a day or two. It is easy to make yourself feel good about yourself here, there are a number of charity places where you can donate or volunteer or contribute your old books for sale or whatever, with the results being put back into the local villages especially those of the minority ethnic tribes.

This morning I went to a place called Big Brother Mouse, a strange name I know. Big Brother Mouse specialises in trying to attain literacy in the poorer areas round LP. In fact, I read today in the Vientiane Times that 30% of females aged 6 - 25 have never been to school. When I get a connection I will try to find a weblink for you. They commission books for which they need sponsorship and distribute them in the Province but their shop / office / classroom serves as a drop-in centre every day except Sunday as a learning facility for Lao people wanting to learn English.

I speak about ten words of Lao, have no teaching qualification, well no qualifications at all unless you count my Cycling Proficiency Badge and a couple of swimming awards, but this doesn't matter. Many Lao can now speak English as learned at school from Lao teachers but they want to work on pronunciation etc. Heaven forbid there should now be three young men in Lao speaking with Belfast accents! It really could not be simpler. There are a couple of tables, a few maps on the wall and a few childrens English posters of the A is for apple, O is for owl type, and you just sit down, introduce yourself and talk. God knows I am good enough at that.

I have always respected teachers and now I begin to realise why. I had no classroom plan or whatever they are called, so what to talk about? It really was quite nerve wracking at first, especially given the natural shyness of the Lao. What do you talk about? There is no guidance at all from the staff there so you just wing it. My "group", although it is all very informal, consisted of three (H)mong lads, two about 20 and one only 12 years old. They were all from far flung villages in LP Province and the two elder lads were working in town whilst the youngster was studying at school a few miles out of LP. We had two books, an English / Lao dictionary and a book of kids games that Big Brother Mouse produce. So off we went.

We started with the usual, "What is your name?", "Where are you from?" routine, so I came to Northern Ireland. That had to be shown on the very useful world map on the wall, so it gave me a plan. Northern Ireland - North. All the guys had notebooks which they assiduously wrote things in, so I got out the pen and did the points of the compass, using my guidebook to demonstrate. LP is Northwest of Vientiane etc. That led to compass and sailors / boats etc. and we discussed long tail boats and slow boats on the Mekong. I could not mime or demonstrate sailor so the dictionary came into play. Remember sailor, it becomes a little freaky later on.

Sorry if I am going on a bit, you may want to skip the next paragraphs, but this is etched on my mind and it afforded me so much happiness I am going to write it down for me if no-one else.

So, we had done the compass thing and then I noticed one of the older guys, the quiet one, was wearing an Inter Milan top. I asked if he supported them, trying to start a talk about football which the Lao love, but he told me he had bought it because it was warm! In about 30 degree heat and me sweating like the proverbial pig, I found this odd. However, I then regaled them with the story of the founding of that club in 1908. The kids play book was then brought into play, so I got the young lad to read aloud from it (it is in English and Lao) and it started to get difficult. It has long been the butt of humour that Eastern Asians confuse our L and R sounds, thereby rendering farang as falang etc. They also, like the Germans, have a serious difficulty with the W sound and render it as a V, so a fairly extended session on that, correct pronounciation of walk was the big one.

We were having a great laugh, and one of the games was "write your name in the air with your bottom". I can just imagine the hilarity this must cause in a village. So, bottom led to the concepts of bottom top and sides, which went well. Then I was writing something in one of the guy's books and I noticed on the opposite pages a drawing of the Golden Gate Bridge, a map of San Fransisco etc. and a Chinese female name. Apparently, one of the large Chinese community in that city had come here to do what I was doing. I explained that San Fransisco was Spanish for Saint Francis. "What is a saint?" was the inevitable question. How do you explain the concept of sainthood to someone with only the scantest knowedge of Christianity? Go on, try it yourself. I think I managed. This is where it gets freaky. In the two hours I was there we probably looked up about five words, so we looked up saint, and what was it adjacent to? Sailor, as above. What are the chances?

Somewhere in the middle of all this I thought to explain how odd a language English was. I did this to make them feel better as they were obviously trying so very hard and it was difficult for them. In fact, their thirst for knowledge was a truly humbling experience, not lost on one who basically squandered the opportunity of a very good education. You English speakers have a go at this. I wrote down BOW and explained it meant a thing you tie on your shoe, bending at the waist, something with an arrow and the front of a boat. Confusing enough until I told them BOUGH as in part of a tree was also pronounced the same as bending at the waist. English is my mother tongue and it confuses the life out of me.

Then he hit me with another one. "What is Engand and what is Britain?" Here we go again. I am sure there are British passport holders (or is that anybody now?) who would struggle to differentiate between Britain, Great Britain and the UK. Cue another trip to the map and a discourse on the political makeup of the UK, the passport being used to demonstrate. Which led to more discussion of the perversity of the English language. I was talking about the visa stamp in my passport for PDR Lao. You are undoubteldy ahead of me already, dear reader. Stamp. What is in your passport, what you put on a letter and what you do with your foot. Three entirely different concepts served by the same word.

The older, quiet guy hit me with another couple of questions and I realised how little I actually know about my own language. He asked what did "somebody" mean and he asked me to explain when to use the word a and the word the. Go on, try it. Try to explain that. I know when to use them but damned if I knew how to explain it. I tried my best though.

All too soon the two hour session was over and I have to say I left feeling pretty drained. It is bloody hard work that teaching lark, glad I never took it as a profession. The place is closed tomorrow and I have things to do on Monday as I shall explain but every day I am here I will be down there, it really is so rewarding. The looks on their faces are a joy and there is no expectation of you, you don't need to be a formal teacher, although I might jot down a few topics for next time should the conversation falter. If any of you ever venture this way, I strongly urge you to do this, it costs you nothing except a bit of a taxation on your brain, and mine could do with it, and the results are so, so wonderful. I didn't want to stick a camera in these young mens faces so you will have to take my word for it.

Away from Big Brother Mouse and along the main street to another place I had seen before, the central library, book exchange and just about everything else. The scene here is you buy a book for a mobile library which goes on a slowboat and is distributed amongst the outlying villages about twice a month. If you happen to be in town you can go on the boat but I don't think I will be here. The cost per book is a mere $2 US or about £1:50. Think about it, two books is about one pint in a London pub, it is nothing, and in the 23rd poorest country in the world it means such a lot. I bought some and wandered about town feeling very good about myself.

I often listen to celebrities on TV ranting on about various causes, and it normally makes me very sceptical, which is my normal state of being. It does not take huge donations or Live Aid concerts, all it takes is a small investment of time or a very little money to change things. OK, so I am starting to sound like Mother Teresa now, I'll stop it, but this place really does change your perceptions of things. I read in the Vientiane Times today that the average wage in this country is $400 US annually. That means that my monthly pension equals about four months wages (give or take) for an average Laotian. Think about it. All things are relative. All future correspondence should be addressed to fergy@righteoushippyfreak.co.uk

I will go and get this posted now, and will keep you updated in due course.

Well, it had to happen!

Well, inevitably it has happened as I knew it would and as it does every trip. I have just spent 30 hours in bed sweating and shivering with the only break in the routine all to frequent trips to the bathroom. I have no idea what brought it on as I have been eating fairly carefully but it left me weak as a kitten. I went downstairs to get some water (important to keep hydrated) and literally could hardly get back up the stairs. Experience tells me tha there is nothing to do but go to bed and ride it out, so that is what I did.

I got up this morning and returned to the UXO Lao place which was fully open, and the main exhibition is even more appalling than the little bit I saw which appears to be the operations office. The figures are quite staggering and some of the photos extremely harrowing. It is estimated that 2 million tons of ordnance was dropped on Lao by the Americans during what we call the Vietnam War. A few more figures for you. They reckon 30% of all dropped ordnance does not explode, so do the maths on that yourself. One person per day is killed or injured by UXO in Lao. The submunitions (the small bombs in cluster bombs are locally known as bombies and there are estimated to be 78 million still unexploded here. That is frightening.

All the above figures do not include the war against the French and the Second World War. It is appalling but I think every visitor to Lao should visit here or a similar facility (there are seven organisations involved in similar work). The project is primarily UN Development Programme funded and I saw adknowledgement of assistance from various Governments including ours, which pleased me.

From there I went to the TEAC which is a museum / exhibition showing the lifestyles of the various minority tribes, and very interesting it was too. It is good that the TEAC ploughs back 50% of what it makes into sustainable projects amongst the tribes. In fact, I have noticed that a lot of the trekking companies and so on are geared towards responsible tourism which is pleasing.

It was a very hot day today, and I hadn't eaten for a while due to my bout of whatever and was consequently feeling a little weak, so I headed back to the little restaurant near my hotel and had a bland meal. I need to lay off the more exotic food for a day or two. Another little doze and then up, showered and I am writing this.

I have BBC World News here, and it appears the news is following me. One of the lead stories is that Thailand has forcibly repatriated 4,000 (H)mong people to Lao. This is one of the larger ethnic groups and one whose lifestyle I had studied in TEAC. Thailand claim they are purely economic migrants but the (H)mong claim they will be persecuted in Lao as they supported the Americans in the war. I do remember the last time I was here hearing that the Government were not exactly friendly towards them but I do not know to what extent they may suffer.

I will sign off now and go to find an internet cafe to post this.

Fergy

As John Lennon famously wrote, "And so this is Christmas, and what have you done?" Allow me to tell you. I have spent Christmas Day floating down the Mekong River in Lao, eating some absolutely superb food, having a coupl e of drinks and returning to my room to write this.

Let's get back to where we were. Chiang Rai, I believe. Visa time ticking and yet again I had to leave a great place and move on. Isn't it a great irony about travelling that when you do it you keep wanting to stay places? A fairly uneventful local bus trip of a couple of hours and arrived back in the border town of Chiang Kong (Chiang Khong). It has become undoubtedly a lot larger than it was last time I was here, but still remains a border town and border towns seem to have a strange sense about them. They are generally far from the capital, prey to the slightly dubious "business activities" that borders engender. It is still a pleasant little place, pretty quiet, well normally it is. Trust me to pick one of the three nights of the annual so-called food festival. On the way up the street, I had seen a pretty large stage with a fairly decent looking PA and light rig set up. I wandered along, having not even consulted my guidebook, and decided on a beer in the Green Tree Guesthouse, bar,, restaurant, art gallery and photgraphic gallery. Well, it is a wooden shack really and it was the photos that attracted me. I wandered in, ordered a beer and was served it by an English guy whose work the art and photography was. He ran it with this girlfriend who was form one of the hilltribes judging by her dress but don't ask me which one, I have not got that sorted out yet.

No point in going any further as they had rooms, so I organised one for the night. I'll tell you about it shortly. Having dumped the bag, it was explained to me that there is a three day food festival in the town at this time of year with live music. Well, no second invitation needed, I dispatched myself tout de suite back down the road. It loked like it had been set up in either a carpark or possibly a buss station with plenty of room. It was a food festival by virtue of the fact that there were many food stalls about the place and I did avail myself of a few of the delicacies on offer, but the main draw was the music. The "house band" really was very good, and there were various singers, I think local heroes by the reaction they got, and although I didn't understand a word, the music (Pop Thai) is seriously catchy. A very pleasant night where I was one of onhly a handful of Westerners which is a thing I always love.

Back to the room, both literally and in the sense of the blog. Let me describe it. The building was stilted, with the room secured by a padlock which was slightly unecessary as it took an almighty heave to open the door or indeed close it from the inside. There were cracks in the floor you could have put a bicycle wheel down. There was one bare bulb which my ciagrette lighter outshone, a fan (unecessary as it wasn't that hot so far North) with no apparent electric source to plug it into, a balcony in imminent danger of collapse with a hammock that might just have accomodated one of the Seven Dwarfs and a door that didn't lock. The mosquito net looked like it had not moved for a decade. In short, it was perfect, I absolutely loved it. I adore staying in places like this. It is what I go travelling for. Had I not had to move, I would have happily stayed here for a week.

Move, however, I had to , and after a cup of lovely coffee and a packed lunch to take away for the slow boat, I wandered down to the pier where the border lies, and my first glimpse this trip of my beloved Mekong. I think I mentioned before that it is probably my favourite river in the world. I can't explain it, there is just something about it that really gets to me. Thai immigaration is a breeze, quick althoug important stamp on the passport. If you don't get it you can have serious problems trying to get back in. A five minute journey on a little skiff and I had crossed my first border this trip and was standing in the People's Democratic Republic of Lao, a very different country although it obviously looks outwardly much the same. After a fairly frenetic but good-natured scrum at the visa office and a $35 dollar bill, I was in. I was interested to note on a poster, whilst waiting in the queue for the visa, that Kyrgystani residents only pay $30 and I was wondering exactly how many Kyrgystanis visit Lao annually.

I knew the way so I ignored the blandishments of the various tuk tuk drivers and wandered the 15 minutes or so to the slow boat pier. If any of you ever plan this trip, and I do recommend it, forget just about everything you are told. The boats do not leave at 10, they are always later, it is not a long walk to the pier, it is 15 minutes maximum, you do not need to get a ticket in advance, you buy them at the pier (up the steps on the left past the boules pitch) and you do not need to book a room in Pakbeng, there are plenty. So with the travel tips out of the way, let me tell you about the journey.

There is always a danger in returning to a place you love, that it will not live up to your memories. I did this trip about seven years ago and I have written on several travel websites that they were two of the best days of my life. That still holds. To move slowly down this majestic river with the astounding scenery and glimpses of riverside life is something everyone should do before they die. Last time I was here, I got on a working cargo boat, about 50/50 travellers and local people with the hold full of bags of cement, rice, chickens, various boxes of fruit. You name it and it was there. All the travellers climbed on the roof, produced bottles of Mekong whiskey and Beer Lao and tried to catch the sun whilst the Laotians sat inside, ate sticky rice and tried to avoid the sun. We stopped frequently at hamlets not even served by roads who relied on the boats, and I clearly remember wading knee deep up to the beach lugging various baggage ashore. It was all part of the fun.

Things have changed. We were herded onto a boat with no cargo facility at all, merely hard benches packed so closely as to render them all but useless to large foreigners. They crowded the boat to the point hat it was up to the gunwales in calm water at the pier, and it was only when several travellers remonstrated, that they agreed to put on a second boat, where about half the passengers went. Eventually, about an hour late, we took off. Absolutely no way going on the roof, I suppose they have lost one too many partying backpacker overboard so we were cramped inside. I ended up standing most of the six hour journey as it was more comfortable. Where previously we were jumping ashore to buy Lao lao (local moonshine) in water bottles now we were compelled to buy hugely overpriced drink from the bar which seems to have been installed in all the boats. Fortunately, not even expecting such luxury, I had a few beers with me.

I really do not know what the local villagers are doing now, perhaps roads have been constructed to the villages and I know there has been much road building in the country since last I was here. Apparently, the boat crews have worked out there is more money to be made from the increasing numbers of tourists than there is from their traditional way of life. Eventually, off we went and the Mekong worked it's magic on me as usual. I could stand and watch it go by all day. I got friendly with a German couple, a family from Derbyshire and a Greek guy who seemed somewhat amazed when I spoke a little of his own language with him.

Well, the river hasn't changed, as you would expect, although I did notice a lot less of the fishermen perched like monkeys on the huge limestone rocks that littler the banks. Perhaps it is not the season. Eventually, just after dusk, we reached Pakbeng. Now it seems to me that Pakbeng only exists because it is about halfway from Xuay Hai and Luang Prabang. It is a convenient staging post for the boats that provide (or at least provided) the lifeblood of the region. Last time I was there I am sure it did not have a paved road into it and was really a backwater. Now, it is a bit bigger and consists of a strip of guesthouses and an Indian restaurant I know for a fact did not used to be there. I avoided the crush of hotel touts at the pier and picked one I fancied the look of. A decent, clean room although basic. Still, it was only £3:50.

When I got into the room, I decided to lie down for a little while before heading out for a bite to eat. All of a sudden I didn't feel too great. No stomach problems, I just felt wiped out, and a bit achy so I just lay in bed from half six at night until I was awoken by my early morning call at eight next day for the boat. During the night, though, I had made a completely schoolboy error and forgotten that the power in Pakbeng goes off at aobut midnight and doesn't come on until dark the nest night, it really is that remote. A late night trip to the loo necessitated my fishing about in my suitcase looking for my Maglite torch. I really didn't fancy the concept of a Lao loo by braille.

Made the boat in good time the next day after struggling down the perilously steep track, and then the fun really started. They had decided they were only going to take one boat dowen on the second leg and no amount of cajoling them would alter that. Although the boat was marginally bigger than the one the day before, it was still stupidly crowded. I had to sit on the floor (thankfully I had my inflatable cushion) in a tiny space although I didn't have to put up with it long, as I spent the next eight and a half hours being used as human ballast. Because of the overcrowding, everytime the boat hit the slightest of turbulence it started rocking about wildly and the crew were gesticulating wildly at us to move from one side of the boat to the other.I really don't know why they put their craft at risk like this just to make a few extra kip on what must be a lucrative run for them. Ther are always plenty of tourists making the trip and I have no doubt we were paying a lot more than the local people, which isn't a problem. Speaking of local people, the overcrowding was compounded when we did make a stop or two to load them on. Whilst it added to the local flavour, and they were as friendly and the youngsters as cute as they always are, it must have put the boat another 18 inches in the water. Fortunately, we arrived in one piece about half five in the evening.

The Mekong is still my favourite river, and the scenery and sights are still breathtaking but, at the risk of sounding like a travel bore, it was a commercialised and sanitised shadow of the wonderful adventure I had had not so many years back. If anyone is contemplating visiting this region, I would recommend it, as the Mekong is something to see but prepare yourself for some discomfort Personally, I don't think I'll bother next time but what a different way to spend Christmas Day.

Having made Luang Prabang, I ran the gamut of taxi men and hotel touts and wandered to the place I had chosen but it waqs full so the lady suggested the place next door. Now, it will never win boutique hotel of the year but it is clean, has hot water and even a TV and the bed is comfy What more could you want? The fact that it is about £5 a night doesn't hurt either. A quick shower and off into the night for a bite to eat. Remember, I had only had two baguettes in two days and was in need of something filling.

Well, I didn't go far wrong there. There are two roads on either side of the hill that dominates the town and they are just coming down with resturants, bars and guesthouses not to mention souvenir shops, travel agents and massage joints (of the legitimate sort I might add). As an aside, Lao is a much different place to Thailand. Prostitution is ilegal and very frowned upon, and it is illegal for a non Lao to sleep with a Lao they are not married to. Indeed, by law, all non Lao must be in their accomodation by midnight but I don't think that is enforced. If I can upload the photo, I will let you see the notice on my hotel room door. Apparently, I am not even allowed to make blue movies in my room! On a whim I picked one of the restaurants on the strip called Sabaidee (Lao for hello) and liked the look of the prosaically named Set 1. It may have osunded prosaic but what a meal.

If you have been following this from earlier, you will remember I described a meal in Mae Hat, Koh Tao where a brazier affair surrounded by a reservoir is put over charcoal set in your table and you basically make a soup of barbecued meats, veg and glass noodles yourself. This was a similar setup, although I defy any one human being to eat the amount of food offered. Shrimp, squid, chicken, pork and beef accompanied by tomato, about three kinds of wild mushroom, the local watercress, pak choi, some sort of a flowering plant and Heaven knows what else. You then season the whole affair with tamarind sauce and chopped garlic. The idea is to fill the reservoir from the "soup" which is really stock and get cracking. It was delicious and a suitable repast for the Christmas meal. I was on the point of asking the waiter to send my compliments to the chef, then I remembered it was me and it might have seemed conceited. The service was attentive and very friendly so, as it was Christmas, I had a couple of cocktails although I rarely drink spirits. The lychee martini was particularly good.

PDR Lao really is such a different place from Thailand and in Luang Prabang, a big tourist destination, there is generally a 10 o'clock curfew on the bars. Whether in celebration of Xmas or whether it was because it was Friday night but some of the bars stayed open late and I crossed the road to the Lao Lao Garden which was, you've guessed it, totally surreal. This is a word you are going to keep haring from me as it is the only one that aptly describes some of the sights. This place musrt be garish enough ordinarily given the number of lights that adorn the two bars and the staircase to the eponymous garden but in this season it was outlandish. A huge fuly trimed Christmas tree had been erected, along with all sorts of seasonal lights and decorations and all the staff were wearing Santa hats and red scarves. Imagine Santa's Grotto on acid and you will be close.

I played a couple of games with a long haired Italian who took every opportunity at gamesmanship and downright cheating, so I beat him twice and then told him he was "cattivo" which seemed to surprise him. Look it up if you like but it is not terribly complimentary. Deciding enough was enough, I took myself off to my room where I wrote some of the above.

Today, a quick visit to a couple of wats of which there are literally dozens. At one, I was engaged in conversation with a 16 year old monk who explained he would like to practice his English. We had a great chat andhe explained much about Buddhism to me that I did not know. A very pleasant time followed by a very unpleasant one.

I had seen signs for UXO Lao Visitor Centre which I took to be unexploded ordnance, i.e. bombs, and I was correct. I followed the signs and came on the place. Three Lao men were sitting eating soup and playing cards and, although it was obvioualy not open, they invited me in. Friendly as always. What is inside is horrifyng in the true sense of the word. There are photos of the operations they carry out defusing bombs and there are also some fairly graphic and disturbing photos of the effects. Well, bomb injuries are never pleasant to look at. I believe I am right in saying that Lao is the most bombed country in the world and as a result has the greatest per capita incidence of amputees in the world. I've seen them. The figures on their Ops board are equally horrifying. The sheer scale of the problem beggars belief. In one school playground they defused no less than 350 bomblets. Can you imagine children playing amongst so much explosive, it is appalling. There are Tshirts for sale although the man did not have the key so I will definitely return on Monday to buy one, that is a T-shirt I have to get.

I will conclude this episode in the LaoLao Garden bar I mentioned before having just watched the last few minutes of what appeared a fairly boring 0-0 draw between Birmingham and Chelsea. Tomorrow is not yet decided, such is the joy of my travels. I may score a motorbike and explore the local villages and the waterfall or I may have another day of "wat-bashing" in Luang Prabang. Most likely, I will give myself off the day I have promised myself and do a lot of stuff for Virtual Tourist, the website I write tips for. For those of you that do not know it, search the internet for Virtual Tourist and then search for memebers, my username is planxty. You can see a lot about my previous travels there, and after five weeks I really should get some more stuff posted. I know it will take all day to do even half the stuff I have amassed.

Yet again I am having trouble sorting out my photos on this damned computer, The supposedly user friendly Picasa system is certainly not friendly to a berk like me. Hopefully, you will get a few images, if not, bear with me.

I hope to post again soon if a giant Mekong catfish (look it up on Google) doesn't get me!