Desperate Measures

Fuji Rock Festival: The First-Timer's Survival Guide

The Fuji Rock Festival is an annual music festival held at the end of July in Japan, absolutely nowhere near Mount Fuji.  The first festival in 1997 was indeed held at the foothills of Fujiyama, hence the name, but it turned out to be quite calamitous.  In 1999, the festival found its permanent home at the Naeba Ski Resort on the eastern slope of Mount Takenoko in Yuzawa, Niigata Prefecture.

I went to the festival for the first time this year, and am writing this guide really for the me that got off the bus from Shinjuku and immediately wanted to get back on.  If I had known then what I know now, maybe it wouldn't have had to be so hard.

FIRST THINGS FIRST:  LET'S TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER

A quick Google will reveal that:  "The climate in Niigata City is characterized by its high humidity and strong winds from the Sea of Japan... Niigata City does receive much precipitation, mostly in the form of rainfall.  On average, Niigata City has 269 days of precipitation each year, about 170 days of which see rain or snowfall measuring over 1 mm.  The rainy season in July brings large amounts of rain..."

 So desu ka.

Which brings us to the first thing that you need to know about the Fuji Rock Festival:  Be prepared for rain.  Even when the sun is out and about, the weather can turn at any time.  

Weather predictions on Wednesday (24 July), Thursday (25 July), and Friday (26 July), the day of the festival.  The forecast on Thursday turned out to be the most accurate.  It was rainy and windy on Friday, typhoon-level rainy without wind on Saturday, and cloudy with some light rain on Sunday and Monday.

The truth is that if you are prepared for it and accept that you will be a bit damp most of the time, it really isn't too bad.  I actually preferred the rain to the heat and didn't mind hanging out in a downpour.

Sat next to this guy for a good part of the first day.  Never got his name.  He was passed out most of the time.

THE LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG AND WINDING ROAD

The second thing that you need to know is that everything is FAR.  And by FAR, I mean FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR.  I cannot exaggerate this enough.

Recorded steps on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, when I left the festival, took the bus back to Tokyo and then boarded a plane for Manila - on Garmin vívosmart 4.  (If you're on Garmin Connect, please feel free to connect with me.  Am there as TangerineChick.)

I actually really don't mind walking.  It's lugging heavy things around while walking long distances that I do.

On the second day of the festival, I didn't even go the festival, but I logged almost 30,000 steps on my fitness tracker anyway.  The bulk of those steps were recorded from about 3 AM to 5 AM, when I went to see Nicola Cruz at the Red Marquee (- he was on the lineup for the first day of the festival so, technically, I did not see any acts listed for the second day), and then from 6 PM to midnight, when I hung out at a bar outside the festival grounds.

This bar was fun!

The rest of the time, I mostly stayed at the tent, with the occasional foray to the toilets.  Except that the toilets were about a kilometre or so away.

I should have realised how big the site was when I tried to print the festival site map and only about a quarter of the map would print.

No wonder I was eating like a crazy person at the end of every evening.  All that walking made me ravenous!

Re the festival food, I wasn't into it.  But I may be in the minority on this.  The only thing I liked was this cured pork belly by the campsite.  It was amazing.  The one in the photo above just looked good but wasn't really.  Average cost per dish was 600 to 800 yen.

TICKETS AND ACCOMMODATIONS

As with most festivals, the earlier you book, the better.  Tickets for Fuji Rock are cheaper when they are first released around February/March.  More options for accommodations are also available.  For instance, apparently, there was a glamping option and an option to camp at the Pyramid Garden, a flat area by the south entrance, that sold out early.

The Prince Hotels runs the Naeba Ski Resort, but accommodations at the resort are primarily reserved for Japanese, as are the neighbouring hotels, and there seems to be some complex bid for rooms anyway.  I did meet some gaijin who were staying at one of these hotels, but they had been going to the festival for years and knew the organisers so, unless you are part of this elite crowd, you're camping with the rest of us.

You could try booking hotels along the bus route but, depending on which acts you want to catch and what time they are on, and given how far everything already is within the festival, I can only imagine that this can be quite the proverbial pain in the hoo-ha.

I booked a three-day festival pass, a campsite pass, rented a four-man tent, and booked slots on the direct bus from Shinjuku to the festival and back.

What would I do differently?  If getting a room at any of the nearby hotels is absolutely out of the question, I would book the same, but will book the first bus on the day before the festival, to have a better pick of where to set-up on the campsite.  I arrived on the first bus on the first day of the festival, and every flat surface was already taken.

Re the Pyramid Garden, while the glamping option sounds tempting, especially since you arrive at a tent that is already set-up on level ground, my friends' tent flooded.  Plus the Pyramid Garden is the farthest campsite from the festival, which means that it is probably quieter but, yeah, too effin' far for me. 

The bus ride from Shinjuku direct to the festival was pretty painless.  Until we got to the festival.  Bear in mind that as foreigners, our options are limited.  I had to get my ticket via a website called Gan-Ban, which meant that, while the Japanese entered the festival through the south entrance by the Pyramid Garden, I had to walk about a kilometre out to get my wristband at the Gan-Ban booth.  I had been duly warned about the rain, but was not warned enough about how far everything was, and I was not prepared to walk that far with all my luggage.  It nearly killed me.  When I finally rocked up to the booth and they handed me the tent and the mattress, I almost burst into tears.  I had to beg the campsite volunteers to let me park my bags at their station so that I could find a place to set-up my tent.  If they hadn't agreed (- and it took them quite a while, with a lot of back and forth among themselves and a declaration from me that I wouldn't hold them responsible if anything went missing, before they relented), I probably would have gone straight home.

Oh, and if I thought it was better to go through the Pyramid Garden and the south exit to get to the campsite, it wasn't, as I found out at the end of the festival when I had to lug all my stuff from the campsite back to the bus.

HOT TIP ON LUGGAGE:  Bring your wheels!  Forget the backpack.  You will want to DIE.  I know I did.  Especially since I didn't bring a proper backpack.  The one I brought was really carry-on luggage that could be carried as a backpack but isn't supposed to be used as a backpack.  And because I had vacuum-packed all my stuff into plastic bags, I could fit more things into the bag.  (Hard lesson learned:  Just because you can fit more stuff in your bag doesn't mean that you should.  Reduced volume does not equal reduced weight.)  The bag nearly took my shoulders out.  I swear as soon as I got off the bus and had to carry all my stuff, I was ready to admit defeat and leave.

Fuji Rock packing pros!

TIPS ON CHOOSING A CAMPSITE

First of all, having an idea of how big a space your tent will occupy will help.  (The tent rental is a four-man Captain Stag tent.  I have no idea what its dimensions are but, if you do, then you might want to bring a metric steel tape to figure out if it can fit in certain spots that may look too small.  And, if you are alone, be sure there are people on site to help you set up as I do not think it is possible to erect this particular tent alone.)

Second, as soon as you find a flat space, occupy it post haste, even if it seems too close to the other tents or the road or whatever.  Because if you don't get that spot, somebody else will.

The ideal spot is a flat but elevated surface.  Don't camp too low because if there is a deluge, the lowest part of the campsite is guaranteed to flood.  Oh, and if you can find anything that fits this description near the Red Gate, that would be best.  The Red Gate (open from 9:15 AM to midnight) is the closest access from the campsite to the festival.  Do not camp at the Red Gate itself as this area gets really muddy and is right next to toilets.  Expect it to be very noisy though.

TIPS ON CAMPING ON AN INCLINE

Yeah, you're fucked.  No matter how big your tent is, most of it will be useless as gravity will ensure that everything you have, including your self, will end up at the lowest part of the tent.  So while my four-man tent seemed to be too much space for one, it was actually just right for me.  My bags took up half of the lowest part, and I took up the other half.

One thing to remember when camping on an incline is to set up the tent so that you enter the tent from the side and not from the front.  I had the "door" of the tent facing the front, which meant that its back was exposed and water dripped in through the zippers.  I couldn't - and did not want - to reorient the tent, so I put garbage bags over the zippers and, thankfully, there wasn't any wind and the bags held in place and kept the water out.

This is the official Fuji Rock tent rental.  You can see how, at this angle, the rain cover protects the front of the tent but leaves its backside exposed.  That was where the water was coming in.  If I had oriented the tent horizontally it would have been fine.  The tent comes with a Captain Stag "mattress", which, even though it wouldn't stay in place and kept sliding down, I found useful.  I actually didn't need the sleeping bag because of the mattress.

UNPACKING TIPS

Because I had the luxury of space, I managed to unpack by segregating my stuff into big, thick, clear plastic bags that I got from my mom, using the following categories:

• things for sleeping
• things for the bathroom + First Aid kit
• dirty clothes
• footwear (shoes, sock, gaiters)
• food

I kept my passport and electronics secure in a dry bag.  Everything else, I left in my luggage, which I wrapped in a big, black garbage bag.

The bag that the tent came in became my maintenance bag.  It contained the hammer that came with the tent, extra garbage bags, clothes hangers, clips and carabiners.  Keep in mind that all of these, except for the hammer, should also be encased in plastic.  I kept this maintenance bag closest to me.  

HOT TIP:  Make sure that you are in the tent for one big downpour so that you know how it holds up and if it needs any reinforcement.  Mine actually held up the first night.  It was after I readjusted some pegs the next day that the tent started to leak.  It's a good thing I was in the tent when this happened and was able to fix the problem before heading out.

WHAT TO WEAR

• Rain boots.  When choosing rain boots, style over substance is NOT the way to go.  You have to be pragmatic.  You will need a pair that "seals" at the top to keep as much of the rain out.

The selection at Tokyu Hands.  WBSJ stands for Wild Bird Society of Japan.  It was a popular choice at the festival.

I found cheaper boots at Don Quijote (a.k.a. Donki).

Because I had my hiking boots with me (left photo), I borrowed gaiters from Rosan, which served me well after the drunken night that I dumped my rain boots in the mud and they were too wet to wear the next day.  Gaiters protect shoes from mud and rain.  (Second and third photos:  Internet file photos.)

Be sure to wear proper socks or risk getting blisters.  I only had ankle socks and, consequently, got more blisters during the three days that I was at Fuji Rock than I did in 30 days on the Camino de Santiago.

• Rain coat.  Umbrellas are not allowed at the festival, especially near the stage.  Your choice of rain gear will depend on what kind of bag you intend to take to the festival.  If you have a backpack, you might want to go with a poncho so that it can slip easily over the backpack.  Because I went with a bag that fit like a holster, plus a small dry bag, I could wear a short rain coat over them.  The advantage of a short raincoat is that it can double as a jacket in the evening, when it gets a bit cooler.
• Rain pants.  You only put these on when the rain gets heavy.  They will keep your legs dry and mud-free, and keep the rain from getting in your boots.  Of course, putting them on will require sitting down and removing your shoes, which is one of the reasons why your gear should include the next item.

• A portable chair/stool.  Yes, this is part of your outfit.  I wasn't exaggerating about how far things are, and the only seat you will find anywhere is the one that you bring.  According to the festival rules, the chairs are not allowed at the Red Marquee and Blue Galaxy (covered areas where DJs play).  So like the idiot-good girl that I am, I went back to my tent to drop off my stool before going to party at the Red Marquee, only to find all these people camped over there with their chairs.

My Stool Sample.  I had borrowed another folding stool from a friend when I found that my mom had two of these.  They were very light and packed conveniently into my current favourite shopping bag.  (Internet file photo.)

This oversized bag made of straw sacks and discarded saris was a last-minute impulse purchase when I was in Arugam Bay in Sri Lanka in 2016.  I immediately regretted it, believing it would only get stored and never see the light of day.  Until I discovered how useful it is.  It is easy to sling across the body; it's a great shopping bag, and  it is big enough to stuff coats and scarves in - and stools as it would turn out to be - so, now, I travel with it everywhere.  (Left photo: Taipei, 2018.  Right photo:  Ephesus, 2019)

If you don't have a similar bag, a luggage strap - one that is much longer than the one in the photo below - should work just fine.  I actually had one of them with me in case I needed it, but the bag worked out just fine, and was ideal for stuffing my rain gear when they were not in use.

Internet file photo.

• A hat.  I don't know why I assume that everyone knows this but, apparently, it isn't common knowledge:  Raincoats work best with, not only a visor, but with a full cap underneath.  How else are you supposed to see???

Internet file photo.

The cap needs a sturdy visor that can withstand the rain and keep it out of your eyes.  The cap itself is to keep your head dry, whether you have your raincoat on or not.  This will keep you from getting sick.  You will also need the cap to protect you from the sun.  And for bad hair days which, for me, was every day.

 Hatless Chiqui at Fuji Rock 2011. 

Also, with a good cap, sunglasses are unnecessary.  I only used my sunnies for the walk to the showers.  Didn't make sense to wear a hat to the showers.

My hat of choice was a red PVC baker boy hat.  (Internet file photo.)

• Summer festival clothes.  Bear in mind that when it isn't raining, it is HOT and humid.  I noticed that people preferred to get a little bit wet in the rain than swelter in their rain gear.  Most people waited until the rain got stronger to put on their coats.

Apart from the outfit you are already wearing to the festival, if you are staying for the entire festival, bring three more changes of clothes, including what you plan to wear going home.  For girls, I suggest something to wear to sleep that you can also wear around the tent.  I had a tunic that I also wore to and from the shower.  

• Sunblock.  If you're prone to sunburn, do it.  I haven't worn sunblock in years, but my Brit neighbour lay in the grass in between our tents for a few hours and, without knowing it, roasted in the sun.  Don't let it happen to you.  Seriously.

OTHER THINGS TO BRING

• Sleeping bag.  I didn't really need it and was okay with just sleeping on the mat that came with the tent, but it did come in handy one night when I used it as a blanket.
• Travel pillow.  Since travel pillows can be bulky, alternatives for pillows are:  the unpacked sleeping bag, or your clothes stuffed into a pillow case.
• Eye mask and ear plugs.

My ear plug of choice.  They are wax and mold to your ear canal.  They came in handy during the Camino and, now, I always stock up on these when I am in France.  (Internet file photo.)

• Flip flops.  To wear around the tent and in the shower.  Going without any in a public shower is just wrong.  (Hot tip for showering:  The queues are at their longest in the morning.  Best time to shower is in the afternoon.  Forget it at night, unless the rain and the cold don't bother you.  Although the showers are piping hot.  It's like a freakin' sauna in there.)  
• A toiletry kit that you can hang, which will contain:

• • A small towel.  You really should make peace with not washing your hair while you are at the festival, and leave the shampoo and conditioner behind.  (You can always hide your hair under your hat anyway.)  You seriously do not want to spend more time in the shower than you absolutely have to.  It is oppressively hot and is really kinda disgusting.  They are what I imagine prison showers must look like, with only thin pieces of fabric separating the stalls, while others watch you openly while they wait.  So, yes, leave your big bath towel at home.  A small towel is enough to wipe off.
  • Soap in a soap container.  Or liquid soap.
  • Deodorant/anti-perspirant.
  • A wide-toothed comb and a small mirror.  To make sure you still look human.

• Toothbrush and toothpaste.  I recommend bringing these in your festival bag when you go out so that you can brush you teeth before going back to your tent and calling it a night.  To have to retrieve these and go back to the shower area just to brush your teeth is way too much of a trek.  And, depending on how much booze you've had, you will want to keep as much drinking water with you at night and not waste what you have brushing your teeth by your tent, which I did on the first night.
• Water bottle.

I got this awesome cross-body water bottle carrier at Wonderfruit, which is really handy at festivals.

FYI, the sinks beside the toilets are also the water refill stations.  <shudder>

• Head lamp.  Be sure to take it with you when you go out.
• Hangers.  I recommend bringing two to three hangers.  You will need them to dry or air your clothes.

• Carabiners and clothes pins.  For the same reason that you need hangers.

I borrowed these carabiners from my dad and put them to good use, hanging stuff inside the tent.

When the sun comes out, it is almost impossible to sleep, so mornings are usually for drying clothes, airing out the tent and reinforcing it.

If the heat of the sun doesn't wake you up, the chatter from the tents certainly will.

• Hydrating facial mist.  I picked up a big can of it at Donki and shared it with the neighbours when it got really hot in the tents.

Internet file photo.

• Garbage bags / Clear plastic bags / Zip-loc bags / Dry bags.  Be vigilant and secure all your stuff in plastic or dry bags.  Make sure that they are sealed properly before leaving your tent.  I brought two dry bags:  a small one for the festival, and a bigger one where I kept my passport, Philippine money, and electronics, which I left in the tent.
• Fully charged power banks.  I had three.  One, I used for my phone; the other, for the rental pocket WiFi; and the third, I only needed when the two ran low on the way home.  Keep your electronics and chargers in a dry bag.
• Snacks.  The queues for food can be long, so bring some nibbles to tide you over.  I had some trail mix with almonds, cashews, and pistachios.  I also had some chocolate.  I also snacked on them at the camp, and shared them with the neighbours.
• Pocket tissues and hand sanitiser.  I didn't really use the tissues, but I definitely needed the hand sanitiser.  I kept it hanging off the dry bag that I took to the festival.
• Anti-bug spray (- I got mine at Donki) and insect repellant.  I would advise spraying the inside of the tent thoroughly before heading out.  There are a lot of bugs around.  I never used the insect repellant, but I shared this and the bug spray with my neighbours.

• A First-Aid Kit containing disinfectant (- I usually go with hydrogen peroxide), cotton, plaster strips of varying sizes.  If you have Compeed, I suggest putting them where your shoes are rubbing the wrong way to prevent blisters.
• Something unique to mark your tent so that you don't end up entering somebody else's tent by mistake.  I had a rubber chicken.

 

• A small rag.  It comes with the Gan-Ban loot bag and will come in handy wiping off mud, wiping down the tent mattress, etc.  I also had a sponge to mop up any water that got into the tent but, since I was alone in the tent, I managed to get the water out without using the sponge.  (I turned my tent inside out at every opportunity.)
  
  

The Fuji Rock Festival was an extreme experience.  It was... um... character building.  Like I need more character.  God knows I have enough character to produce my own Disney movie.

But I made some new friends, got to watch some pretty cool acts, danced in the rain, stomped in the mud, cried when Robert Smith walked onstage and, all in all, had a pretty good time.  At the end of the day, if you can laugh at it all and enjoy the music, you might just be crazy enough to do it again.

(Photos above and below.)  If you ever have a chance to catch The Chemical Brothers live, do it.  They are nothing short of phenomenal.  What an experience.

Robert Smith and The Cure.   I have loved you for so long.

On the left:  Me, Tom, Ally, and Cam, from the UK and HK.  On the right:  Me and family friend, Anna, who has been going to Fuji Rock for the past five years.

The Highlander

Good grief.

When I'm home alone, I don't really eat.  But, now that I have a friend staying with me, because he isn't eating, I seem to have taken it upon myself to eat for us both.

It's like "Highlander":  "There can be only one."  In this case, only one starving person at a time at my house.  Geezoos.

Seriously, why can't I be a normal, reasonable human being?  Who the hell eats two burgers at 10:30 AM???  Someone who has also just had a ridiculous amount of ice cream, that's who.

Gaaaaaahhh!!!

<hate and self-loathing>

It's the same thing when Nicolas is around.  (He's now somewhere in the jungles of Papua New Guinea.)  I'll be on all these strange diets then, as soon as he says he will join me, I'll start eating.  And it's not as if I'll resume eating like a normal person.  If only I were that simple.  No, I'll consume food in spectacularly shocking, outrageous amounts.

I wonder if I do it to be difficult, or to be different, or because I'm really just a pain in the ass.  More to myself then anyone else, really.

Who knows?

Maybe it's the same as when two of my friends, X and Y, were on a plane together.  They had both finished their meals, when X took his tray and put it on top of Y's, then flipped his own tray table up.  Y stared at him, incredulous.  "What," X shot back, "It makes no sense for both of us to be miserable."  There can only be one.

<#workingtheories>

Maybe I'll blame this particular period of insanity on the start of the rainy season...

Blaming it on the rain.  Except that it hasn't been raining all this time...

I will try to be a normal, reasonable human being tomorrow.

***

I know.  I haven't written a blog post in so long, yet here I am, still where I left off.  Some things never change.

 

Laos 2018: Luang Prabang

2-5 January 2018

In 2005, we took the bus from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang.  I remember that I kept passing out during the trip but, whenever I would wake up, I was astounded by the scenery that surrounded us.  It was so beautiful that it looked fake, like CGI.  I tried taking photos, just to be sure that I wasn't hallucinating, but my timing was so bad that I'd end up snapping a blurry photo of a wayward tree branch.  Each.  And.  Every.  Bloody.  Time.

This time around, I made sure to stay awake.  We, again, rented a van from Green Discovery Tours (USD$180, six hours).  I heard that there's shorter route to Luang Prabang but I insisted that the driver take us through the scenic route.  The scenic route turned out to be foggy.  The fog was so thick that we barely saw anything.  But the few glimpses that we had was enough to impress Nicolas to want to do the trip again in the future.

When we arrived in Luang Prabang, I was relieved to find that it was still beautiful.  It was possibly even more beautiful than it was before.  Thanks to it being declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it is free from high rises and fast-food restaurants.

I booked us a second-floor room with a balcony that faces the Nam Khan at The Apsara.  I was surprised that all the hotels I recommended in 2005 were still standing, although I couldn't locate Phounsab, where Sue, Deb, and I stayed.

 
Scenes outside our balcony at The Apsara.

The River Khan.

I signed up for the same Kuang Xi tour with White Elephant, except that Derek was no longer there.  Although he still has shares in the company, a guy called Alex has been running the show since 2014.  They have two offices:  one on the main drag, and the other one where Derek's wife's jewellery shop still is.

I was surprised that I recognised most of the streets of Luang Prabang.  Probably because I did a lot of shopping all over the place.  Kopnoi has moved across the White Elephant with the jewellery shop, alongside the row of establishments where Hive used to be, although it sells mostly handicrafts and jewellery now.

The Kuang Xi tour now costs USD$60 and isn't what it used to be.  I kept waiting for that "Monkeys in the Mist" moment, but it wasn't there.  Perhaps we took a different route?  Or maybe it was the lighting...

 

While we were exploring the Hmong and Khmu villages, another tour group arrived.  I guess this tour isn't unique to White Elephant anymore.

 
Above:  Scenes from the Hmong Village.
Below:  The villagers of the Khmu Village.  Both villages co-exist side by side peacefully.

A different group also arrived just as we were finishing lunch at the rest stop.

This river was only a few meters from where we had lunch but, according to our guide, we didn't stop there because we would have had to buy our meal from the small eatery that had set up shop there, in order to sit by the river.

It's funny how Laos still has that mindset of catering to the gap-year backpacker, even though their market has clearly shifted.  Across the log is a table of beer.  If you manage to cross to the other side without falling into the river, you get a free beer.  Apparently, there is also a zip line somewhere around the waterfalls.

There were also lot of tourists at the top of the falls, but I think most of them had walked up there.

And whereas the water used to be clear and pristine, now some of the pools at the top of the falls looked stagnant and disgusting.  

But the main waterfall itself was still impressive.

 

 

The bear zoo was still there.  There was no sign of the tiger, although we didn't really look for it since we were all quite eager to return to town.

Nicolas thought that the whole trek was unnecessary to see the waterfalls.  But he did like the boat trip down the Mekong which, I, personally, could have done without.

Where the Nam Khan and the Mekong meet.

  Refueling.

We visited the whisky village and Nicolas bought more weird Lao Lao bottles with scorpions and snakes inside.  (These are also on sale at the night market so Derek was still right about a trip to the whisky village being totally missable.)

Nicolas, making his way back to the boat from the whisky village, purchases in hand.

But Nicolas really wanted to try to fish, so they dropped me off back at the town and he and the boatman went out to try their luck along the Mekong.  They didn't catch anything, but had a good time chatting together.

 
You may contact Puk, our boatman, at+856 (55) 678 044.

I wandered about town, and briefly contemplated climbing Mount Phousi, when I stumbled upon some young Buddhist monks-in-training chanting at one of the wats just as the sun was setting.

 

For dining, we loved everything about Tamarind, which was right beside our hotel.

 

The Apsara, too, had excellent breakfasts.

The food at the night market has now been confined to one narrow side street.  You'll find the barbecues and the vegetarian buffets there.

The night market is still interesting and, at least, the vendors now are open to haggling, which they weren't before.

 
The two photos above are for Sue and Debra.  

I woke up early one morning to check out the alms-giving ceremony and found that most of the locals that were up at that time were there to sell food to the tourists to give to the monks.  They lined up plastic chairs for the tourists to sit on and, even then, there weren't a lot of tourists giving alms.

 

Above and below are all tourists giving alms.  At least, the monks now are getting more than sticky rice in their baskets.

She was the only local I saw giving alms.

Most of the tourists were mostly there to take photos, like me.  Which was all a bit sad.

It's a good thing our flight back to Bangkok was really early in the morning, and our car drove by the less commercial parts of Luang Prabang and Nicolas got to see the authentic alms-giving, with locals kneeling by the roadside.

Emails from Laos 2005: Luang Prabang Parts 1 & 2

30 December 2005

Part 1

All the travelers we've met coming from the north have told us that Luang Prabang is a small town.  Well, it isn't that small, especially when you arrive at nightfall, tired and hungry (and more than a little bit out of it), with too many heavy-assed bags, and every place you've knocked at is full.  We are the unholy trinity wandering about looking for an inn.  At the last minute, Sue finds us what was, in all likelihood, a manger in its past life.  Or a garage.  Seriously.  It's one of two rooms for rent in front of what looks like one of the more posh guesthouses in town, suggesting that these two rooms are converted stables/garages.  The room is stark with a tiny window.  The confused manager, who hardly speaks a word of English, hands Sue several blankets which we turn into a makeshift extra bed on the floor.  We are just grateful for a place to lay our heads.

The next day, we transfer to an even more expensive guesthouse. but this one has a a double and a single bed so no one has to sleep on the floor.  The bathroom is as big as the stable we just vacated.  It also has a balcony, which is separated from the main room by glass doors.  Of course, I forget that it looks out onto the main drag and hang around smoking ciggies in my bikini until I realize the tourists at the café across the street are staring.

The night market is just down the street and, soon, our room is turned into a giant closet with clothes and shopping bags strewn across beds and the floor.  At one point, I catch Deb taking her shopping in.  She lets out a gasp as she unlocks the door:  the room looks like a cyclone had gone through it!  She shrugs her shoulders and, from the doorway, chucks her bags in, then turns right around to shop some more.  Three chicks let loose on a night market can do a lot of damage.

Luang Prabang is unreal in its beauty, with a light morning mist adding to its surreal quality.  The town itself straddles two rivers, the Mekong and the Nam Khan, and is full of old wats and shophouses.  (For a great view of the town, I suggest climbing the 400 steps to the top of Mount Phousi at sunset.)

We get up early most mornings to watch the monks make their rounds begging for alms.  Local women – and tourist like Deb and me – kneel on mats by the street and place sticky rice in the monks' begging bowls.  Which begs the questions, why is it just women giving alms and why only sticky rice?  I'm sure the monks will appreciate other things in their bowls like a mango or warm soup or larp.

We walk into White Elephant Tours because there is a sign in front listing things to do and NOT to do in Luang Prabang.  Very cheeky.  We likey.  On the list of what not to do are the Pakou Cave which, we are told, is a waste of time and is verified by others who have taken the tour, and the rice wine villages.

The proprietor, Derek, is Canadian and has been living in Laos for the past five years.  He says most of the establishments we see around us have gone up only in the past two years.  Derek is warm and friendly and is eager to share his knowledge about Laos, whether it's recommending a tour or a place to eat.  Later, he points us towards a barbecue joint by the river, which is easily one of the best meals we have in Luang Prabang.

We succumb to the sales pitch and shell out $25 each for the trek to Kuang Xi waterfalls, which other tour operators advertise at only $1 - $2.50 at the most.  Apart from the three of us, there is only one other guy on the tour, David.  Our guide is Burly, and we make jokes about how he is the least burly man that we know, only to find out that his name is actually Vu Lee.  Oops!

Vu, Susan, and me.  (Photo c/o David Boorse.)

You know those movies where there are people walking through wild terrain, then the camera pans out over their heads to an absolutely fantastic view of mountains, and then the film's cheesy title flashes over it like THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST ISLAND OF SHANGRI-LA or something?  Well, if some opening credits had been rolling over our heads during the trek, I would not have been surprised.  Vu leads us through some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen in my life.  Even the fog that coyly slips over the mountains only enhances the magic and the mystery of the cliffs that rise up all around us.  I keep expecting to see a Lao Dian Fossey frolicking on the mountainside with whatever animals they have in these parts.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

Debra:  "It's like a set out of 'Monkeys in the Fog'!"
Me:  "You mean 'Gorillas in the Mist'."

We stop at a Hmong village.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

Laos is composed of three main tribes:  the Hmong, or highlanders, whose people can be found all over Asia, the Khmu who trace their roots to the Khmers, and the Lao or the lowlanders.

Derek makes good on his promise to take us to a village that is hardly visited by tourists and they open their doors to us because, apparently, Vu is Hmong.  Inside one hut, there is man sitting on the dirt floor, playing a melancholy tune on what looks like the Lao version of a bagpipe.

Photo c/o David Boorse

I find that I am hungry all the time on this trip and Vu is kind enough to stop at a most picturesque river, where he takes out our lunch from his backpack.  It turns out that the poor guy has been carrying, in addition to our delicious lunch (prepared by Derek's beautiful Lao wife), water bottles, a papaya and a watermelon!  He must have been relieved that I had gotten hungry so soon.

All photos in this section c/o David Boorse.

 

We resume the trek and it isn't long before we reach what Vu tells us is the top of the Kuang Xi (- most tours start from the bottom of the falls).  We wade through the shallow water and lean over the railing where the water drops to several pools below.  It is the first time we have stood at the top of waterfalls and we are exhilarated.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

We walk down, and the waterfalls are even more majestic below.

Photos above and below c/o David Boorse.

The water beckons and we take a dip in the freezing but refreshing pools.

 
All photos in this section are c/o David Boorse.

I think about the Philippines and how we, too, have beautiful waterfalls which, unfortunately, have been desecrated by local government officials with cement and mobile phone advertisements.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

We warm ourselves with a cup of Lao coffee and I buy Oreos for Vu and teach him to dunk it in his brew, which he thoroughly enjoys.

On the grounds, there is also a small zoo where they keep a tiger and some bears that have been rescued from poachers who sell their bile to the Chinese for medicine.  The tiger is beautiful and only a few months old.  Our heart goes out to it because it looks sad and lonely in its huge enclosure.  The sign tells us that its mother and brothers were killed by poachers.  The bears look like anteaters with afros.  The keeper tells me that I can pet them.  Of course, as soon as I put my hand in the cage, one of them tries to take it off, but I manage to get it away without a scratch.

At the end, we are pleased to have missed the tourist hordes, and look up Derek again to sign up for more tours.

Part 2

Vu tells us that tomorrow is the beginning of the Hmong New Year, which they celebrate for about a week.  He has the day off and would like to take us to his village, which is nearby, to meet his family.

Photo c/o David Boorse.

It turns out that it is also Lao National Day and everyone is out on the streets in their finest Lao national costume.  Vu's family comes out to meet us but are shy and stay on the sidelines.

Debra, David, Vu's two other guests, Susan, and Vu.  (Photo c/o David Boorse.)

His mom cooks us some pancakes made of sticky rice, which we are supposed to dip in something that resembles molasses.  I am just here for the Lao Lao but I guess it is too early in the day for whisky and we make a brave effort to consume the pancakes but, at the end, make excuses that we have just had breakfast and are too stuffed to eat.

Grinding rice into pancakes.

We take a walk to some sort of plaza where, Vu tells us, everyone comes to socialize.  There is a beautiful Lao teenager dressed in a flamboyant pink Lao costume.  We take photos of her like we are the paparazzi.  She looks shy, but Vu tells us she can't be that shy if she has ventured out dressed that way.

Later, a gang of "cool" Lao boys turn up in leather jackets, their hair styled in the latest fashion.  Except that one of them is wearing pink flip-flops and cracks us up.

Vu invites us to come back later in the evening when there is more happening.  But Deb has to leave for Bangkok and Sue and I have to transfer to less expensive digs.  We get emotional when Deb leaves, and are even unhappier because we have transferred to a shithole which, at $12, is still too expensive for what it is.

We explore the town, visit wats (- Vat Xieng Thong is supposed to be the most beautiful in the whole of Laos), shop some more and then sign up for more tours with Derek.  Sue has several more days here so she signs up for a two-day biking tour ($80), while I sign on for a one-day kayaking and trekking tour  ($35?).  We are wary of what we will have to consume at the Hmong village so decide to stay in town on our last night together and treat ourselves to an expensive dinner and drinks.

My tour the next day feels a bit more commercial, probably because there are more of us and we encounter more travelers along the way.  We visit a Khmu village and Tad Xi, a smaller waterfall, which is still pretty but has been "developed" along the lines that the Philippines would.  No, they have not built concrete walls around it, but they did put some tables and chairs in one of the pools and there are prominent Beerlao umbrellas around.

The river is nice and pleasant, with a few rapids along the way for excitement.

The other travelers on the tour are shocked that I eat chicken.  They are worried about getting bird flu - which you CANNOT get once the damned thing is cooked - and then go traipsing about a hilltribe village where there are monster roosters, hens, turkeys, and geese roaming freely and shitting about.  Hello, bird flu!

Deb is a pescetarian and Sue has followed suit on this tour so anything with tofu on the menu excites them.  I, on the other hand, cannot possibly fake excitement over tofu even if it came in the form of a duck.  (It's a good thing we do not see any rats at the market, although we do encounter several small boys along our treks hunting river rats for food.)

When I get back to town, I hang out with Mike, a young Brit, straight out of university, whom I met in Vang Vieng.  I suspect he is hanging out with me because I eat chicken.

We check out The Hive, a local watering hole for expats and tourists, that has a sign outside that says "Please respect the local customs.  You may make noise at the bar but not on the street."  Several Beerlaos later and I am trying out my primal scream at the bar before closing time.  Luang Prabang has a curfew so we head back to town before midnight.

Luang Prabang Recommendations*

To stay:

• If you're not on a budget:  3 Nagas, Villa Santi, Apsara (which also has two houses for rent).
• For flash-packers like us, definitely Phounsab.  Don't let the crappy-looking restaurant downstairs mislead you, the rooms are actually nice.
• Stay away from Sok Dee.  "Sok dee" means "good luck" and you'll need it here.  David recommended the place because he was staying there but, as soon as he brought us there, they tried to sell HIM a room.  They were surprised but unapologetic when he produced his room key.

To eat:

• The Lao salad at Naunenapha.  That is THE ONLY THING to eat there despite their kilometric menu.  And don't let the grumpy woman taking your order put you off.
• The barbecue along the river.
• The vegetarian buffet along the night market for 5000 kip, which you have to get them to heat in a wok, as Mike informs me.  The girls and I had ours cold, which didn't impress me but they seemed to like.
• The Lemon Grass Wine Bar looked nice, and we've heard good things about Joma bakery, which is also in Vientiane.
• Sue and I ate at the French-owned restaurant on one of the side streets but it may be better for non-Lao food.

To drink:  Lao Lao whisky in its many incarnations!

To shop:

• Kopnoi is an excellent boutique with a lot of fab cotton clothes.
• Mixay Boutic, for silk.  They are also in Vientiane.
• The night market for bedsheets.  They come with two pillow cases but they will sell them to you at extra cost if you don't ask for them.
  
  

*Bear in mind that these recommendations were made in 2005.

Laos 2017/2018: Vang Vieng

31 December 2017 - 2 January 2018

I don't remember the ride from Vientiane to Vang Vieng in 2005.  We must have taken a mini-van and fallen asleep.  I just remember getting out of the vehicle and the sound of our jaws collectively dropping at the sight of Vang Vieng's achingly beautiful limestone cliffs.

This time around, Nicolas and I got a private transfer from Vientiane to Vang Vieng through Green Discovery Tours (USD 130, around four hours).

A sticker in the van.  I'm dying to know what it says!

Most of the ride was forgettable in terms of scenery, but we did happen upon a Hmong festival...

   

During Hmong festivals, the single women dress up in traditional garb.  Although, through the years, their traditional garb's hemlines seem to be steadily rising.

... and stopped at a roadside fish market so that Nicolas could ask about a monster fish that he wants to organise a future fishing expedition for.

   

 
While Nicolas was looking over some maps, the market vendors shared their Berrlao and potato crips with me.

But, as soon as the mountains came into view, I was beside myself with excitement.  And then, just like that, they disappeared from sight, and the van stopped.

"Traffic," the driver announced.

"Traffic?  What???  Are we in Vang Vieng?" I asked.

"Yes.  Traffic to cross bridge," he replied.

On the right side of the narrow road was a high bamboo fence.  The sign on it announced that it was the Riverside Boutique Resort.  I remembered it from 2005 as being one of the pricier resorts.  Apparently, it still is.  Across from it was another fenced-in resort.  I couldn't see beyond it, where Jardins de Vang Vieng used to be.  (I've since done a Google search and I don't think it exists anymore.)

There were no mountain views.  There were no river views.  There was only the traffic and a one-lane bridge.

They charge for the cars to cross.  I forget now how much.  But foot traffic is 4000 kip per person although, at night, it's easy to sneak across.

It was all very disturbing.

Until we got to Vieng Tara Villa.  I couldn't have picked better accommodations.  We were right by the mountains!  This must have been that place with the huts that we had stared at across the river back in 2005!

Those huts in 2005 must be where Vieng Tara Villa is now.

 

Vieng Tara Villa.

2005 (above) and 2012 (below).

While I do love modern architecture, I love it in big cities.  In place as naturally stunning as this, you've got to have a hut.  And our hut was unexpectedly perfect.  (Nicolas kept saying how it looked so much better on the inside than the outside.)

 

It was New Year's Eve so I booked us a table at Riverside.  Dinner wasn't until 8:30, so Nicolas and I crossed the bridge into town a few hours early and had a walk around.

All polka-dotted for New Year's Eve!

There was never anything remarkable about Vang Vieng's town, except for its spectacular backdrop, but I hadn't expected it to be so completely unrecognisable.  And UGLY.

   

  This monstrosity of a hotel is one of the town's biggest eyesores, in a town that has no shortage of eyesores.


And this is what it looks like from the river.  What a shame.

I wanted to cry.  It didn't help that the dinner at Riverside was lacklustre, as was the resort.  And somewhere across the river, some really atrocious music was blaring from what sounded like megaphone speakers.

I had originally intended to book three nights in Vang Vieng but miscalculated our dates and ended up booking only two.  After seeing what had become of it, I regretted coming at all.

The next day, Nicolas and I took a long tail boat on the river.

As soon as we left the mad, haphazard development behind, Vang Vieng cast its magical spell upon us and I fell in love with it all over again.

After the boat ride, we went back into town and wandered around again.  The mountains were still partially visible from between the featureless buildings so the town wasn't as ugly during the day as it was at night.

It was supposed to be the high season, but there didn't seem to be too many tourists.   Gone were the throngs of gap-year backpackers and, in their place, were mostly Chinese, Korean and local tourists.  (In its heyday, Vang Vieng's backpackers outnumbered locals 15 to 1.)

"Do you know where you're rowing to?", with apologies to Miss Diana Ross.

The Lao government was pressured into cleaning up Vang Vieng by foreign ambassadors after 27 deaths were recorded in 2011 - mostly Australians jumping off various contraptions while high and/or inebriated and cracking their skulls wide open on the rocks.

While one can still go tubing down the Nam Song River, it is now regulated and life vests are a must.  We saw a zip line, but it looked pretty lame.

Yeah, I think I'll pass on that.

There are still a few bars by the river, but they were all empty when we went past.

And if there are still Friends bars in town, we didn't see them.

While you can still find restaurants selling happy pizzas and mushroom shakes, you will have to search them out.

The ubiquitous signs of yore advertising drug-laced snackage have been replaced by signs for pancakes, and Nicolas and I gorged ourselves on every possible combination.  (Vang Vieng has most definitely adapted its food to the Western palate.)

 
This lady by the Western Union was our favourite. 

Nicolas also loved the hamburgers from this lady.

Noting the lack of Western toilet facilities in town, we decided to head back to the oasis that was our resort, and savour the view from the privacy of our balcony on our last night.  I must have sat out there for hours, totally entranced by the mountains. 

If I ever return to Laos, I will still always want to visit Vang Vieng.  Especially because the views get even better on the ride from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang.  Hopefully, Vieng Tara Villa will remain the sanctuary that it is, and a faithful steward to those enchanting cliffs.

Emails from Laos 2005: Vang Vieng

21 December 2005

Vang Vieng has gotten a bad rap because of all the drugs and backpackers allegedly turning it into one big party place.  We pencil in two nights for this small town, which has become a popular rest stop for those traveling between Vientiane and Luang Prabang.  We end up staying for four and could easily have stayed a week or so longer.  What we did not count on was the absolutely stunning vistas of limestone cliffs.

We stay at Les Jardins de Vang Vieng (- a 10 to 20 minute walk from the main drag, depending on how much you've had to drink), which is not the Les Jardins you read about in the guidebooks.  We find out that the owners of that one had to leave the country and some enterprising folk from Vientiane took over the name and its reputation.  Although lacking any visible jardin to speak of (- they were working on it though when we were there), what the place has going for it is its spot by the river, right in front of the cliffs.  It was hard to tear ourselves away.

The view from the guesthouse's restaurant.  And, right below that balcony, was the scene below:

The guesthouse.

The huts.

The artwork.

At the end of the day, it was all about the view.

For those on the lookout for drugs, it is everywhere.  As soon as we get off the bus, all the restaurant signs in front of the terminal advertise happy pizzas, mushroom shakes, and special teas.  Several travelers mention to me that it is legal here, which I think most people would like to believe because of its widespread availability, but all the guidebooks – and common sense – still warn that it is illegal.

We find Friends Street on our first night.  I don't know its actual name but the street has earned the nickname from all the restaurants along the strip doing non-stop screenings of the TV hit show "Friends".  Fantastic for those with addled minds.  As a matter of fact, the whole town is vegetative-state friendly, and all the restaurants have lounges instead of chairs with tons of plump pillows, perfect for those in a drug-induced stupor.

The "den" we have chosen has several television sets so that even if someone sits up in front of you, you can always catch what's going on on another screen without having to lift your head from the pillow.  We settle in for about five episodes, which are more than Sue has ever seen in her life, but is pretty much normal for me since I am, after all, a couch potato** and a die-hard advocate of movie and DVD marathons.

[**At that time, I was writing a newspaper opinion column with a friend called The Couch Potatoes.]

We wander about town, and use the computers at Wonderland Internet Cafe.  It is run by a Singaporean who will also download whole albums onto your iPod for $1.  I give him $12 and he downloads about 14 into my 60gig.

The next day, we explore the charming village across the river, which we have already taken tons of photos of from our guesthouse.

It costs 2000 kip one-way to cross the bridge, which is nothing really, but they don't even give you a receipt so you have to wonder who is keeping the money from this business.  (We are told that one village chief pockets most of it.)

Two guys we meet later on said they crossed on motorbikes and were charged 15,000 kip ($1.50) one-way.  They stopped at one of the caves and one of them forgot to lock his fuel pump.  He came back to find most of his fuel siphoned off, with just enough left for him to return to the village.  Which is pretty considerate, considering...

We wander about for a long time and take pictures of various rural scenes and the mountains.

Then we spot a bar along the river and decide to stop for Beerlao, which is the only thing they are serving anyway since, we are told, this is their very first day of business.  They are celebrating their grand opening with some Lao Lao (Lao whiskey – very lethal) and I comply with a few shots.

The next day, we sign on with Green Discovery Tours for some kayaking and trekking.  We choose this particular outfit because Sue has read about them and she says they should at least be organized and know what they are doing.  We let go of these expectations straight away when they are VERY LATE picking us up at the guesthouse.  They tell us it is because the guy who signed us up the day before went off on a tour and failed to inform everyone else that we were supposed to get picked up.  Right-ho.  Along the way, later on, the guide gets lost several times on the path to and from a cave.  I suppose it could have been worse.

We are getting organized at the riverbank and our guide hands us life jackets.  Sue and Deb look at theirs disdainfully.  "Uh, we don't want to wear these," they say.  "We're very good swimmers," they promise.  The guide shrugs then proceeds with the briefing.  Afterwards, I approach the girls and tell them that I had been rafting in Indonesia and Malaysia, and if there are rapids in the river then they should wear the life jackets.  Sue says the briefing changed her mind and they both don their vests.

I partner up with Ana, a German girl, and I position myself in the rear (- the person seated in front paddles while the one at the back steers the boat), but I quickly learn that kayaking on a river is very different from the oceans that I am used to.  The swift currents make the boat unstable and it is highly vulnerable to every stroke of the paddle.  I am finding it hard to maneuver the kayak.  My partner informs me that she has been river kayaking for the past six years, so we agree to change places halfway through.

We stop and trek through the mountains and the guide gives us head torches to we explore a huge cave.

Bear in mind that I am still wearing those beaded flip-flops (with my skin back on*) and everyone is surprised at how well they are holding up.  (Deb has already had her shoes re-soled in Vientiane and Sue has her Birkenstocks repaired later on.)

*I started writing a series of e-mails that I entitled "Asian Fables", which chronicled our trip from Manila to Kuala Lumpur to Chiang May and then onto Laos.  The Laos entries begin at Asian Fables 4 and, previous to that, I had mentioned that I was wearing new beaded flip-flops that had been taking my skin off, and Sue and Deb kept teasing me about them because my feet were covered with plasters.

After lunch, Ana and I trade places and she is doing a fantastic job and I wish I had her take charge of the boat the whole way.

After one particular harsh turn in the river, our guide instructs us to turn the boats around to watch the others and make sure they make it around the bend.  One kayak overturns but the two Germans on it quickly surface and float along with their boat.

Then I see Sue and Deb going over fast.   Sue hurtles into the branches of a tree and I see her trying to get under them but she is caught and holding onto the boat, which is being dragged away by the currents.  Soon the kayak flips and our guide is screaming for us to catch whatever heads our way.

"The water bottles, the water bottles!  The paddles, the paddles!  The boat, the boat!"

Soon, the self-proclaimed "good swimmers" are floating down towards us, waving cheerfully.  We flip the kayak over and are happy to find Sue's dry bag still attached to it with all the contents safe and sound.  Deb's dry bag has held up as well but she's lost her $200 sunnies and Sue's lost a skirt.

"We are not amused."

We regroup down the river and stop at the organic mulberry farm where they are making tea and scarves from the mulberry silk worms.

Remnants of war as decor.

This is also the starting point for those going tubing down the river so, when we head off again, we are surrounded by lots of loud drunken travelers floating down the river in large tractor inner tubes.

We make another stop to check out Non Cave, which is a mega-ass cave for what it is called.  We wade in freezing water up to our waists just to get in and Deb is not too happy that her legs are short.

There are bars all alongside the river now, to cater to the "tubers" on the river.  If you want to stop, they haul you in with a bamboo stick and you can have a few beers or slide down a rope or jump off a platform or however way you wish to injure yourself in the name of having a good time.  Most of the people we see jumping or sliding have awful landings, and a guy I meet later on has several injuries from attempting various stunts along the river during his tubing excursions.  (Most travelers have, at least, two goes down the river.)  Towards where most tubers get off, there are more restaurants/bars with lounges so that you can chill by the river while other tubers pass you by.

Of course, we go tubing the next day.  But it's very late in the day and the sun has gone down and our butts are in the cold water while the chilly Beerlaos in our hands are freezing our upper bodies.  Plus the current does not seem too strong today so we have to paddle with our arms a lot.  We got our tubes from our guesthouse so that we could float all the way down there and not have to take the tubes back anywhere else.  We never make it to the guesthouse.  It's too damned cold and we hail a tuktuk halfway along the riverbank.  Ah well, it was fun while it lasted.

Laos 2017: Vientiane

29-31 December 2017

It's 12 years later and I do not recognise Vientiane at all.  It is, obviously, a lot more modern, but is still very rural.  There is a wat or a stupa around almost every corner.  On our street alone, there are at least three wats, one of which is right beside the old house where we are staying.

 Our guesthouse, Lani's House By The Ponds (- truthfully, the photos look a lot better than the actual place, and the breakfast is overrated, but it isn't a bad place to stay), is right beside this wat, which I think is Vat Hai Sok and, every time I pass by, its roof has me mezmerised. 

The colonial houses are harder to spot now.  Some of them have been given facelifts, while others are obscured by newer, nondescript buildings.

I ask the Filipino receptionist at our guesthouse for a lunch recommendation.  He says Khop Chai Deu Bar Restaurant is popular.  It is on our street and is conveniently located next to Green Discovery Tours, which I have to visit since I've contracted them for private transfers to Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang.

When we get there, Nicolas points out the lifesize cardboard cutout of a blonde in a drindl serving Beerlao.  Tourist trap much?  (I find out later that Green Discovery Tours and the restaurant are sister companies.) 

VIENTIANE HOT TIP:  When ordering food in Vientiane, ask for "no chilli".  "No spicy" and "less spicy" do not work because what is not spicy to a Laoatian is still enough to cause you to spontaneously combust.  Then again, without the chilli, the food can be bland so, if you can manage to be understood, you might want to ask for some chilli dipping sauce on the side.  The grilled stuff is always a safe bet and, yes, it comes with the chilli dipping sauce on the side.

Grilling at the night market.

Sticky rice: a must with every meal.

After Nicolas' lunch set his internal organs on fire, he heads back to the guesthouse to question his life choices.  (I'm kidding, he had a siesta).  I had the grilled spareribs with sticky rice and a Lao salad so I feel good and have a wander about.

There are a lot of spas offering authentic Laoatian massage.  Now my memories of Laoatian massages aren't very good, but I am a sucker for punishment so I sign up for one.  It turns out to be surprisingly good and, even more surprisingly, Thai.  I suspect that the Lao people have realised that their massages are rubbish and have either hired Thai masseuses or paid for Thai massage lessons.

I poke about the side streets looking for some retail therapy at those wonderful boutiques of yore.  One of them, Mixay Boutic, is still around but, now, it looks more like a stockroom rather than a boutique, and everything seems to be either orange or red so I leave quickly before their color scheme can induce an epileptic seizure.

The only shop I find worth mentioning is Her Works.  Thankfully, I don't find anything that I absolutely must buy as I had forgotten how expensive Laos can be.  Later, Nicolas tells me that, before reaching our guesthouse, he wandered into an antique shop where he was quoted a three-figure US dollar price for a piece of painted wood.

Every evening, by the riverside, there is a night market that starts at 5 PM.  Sadly, most of the stalls are crammed with generic, cheap merchandise from China, Thailand, and Vietnam.

The market is still worth a visit though because of all the food choices.  This is where I learn that a request for "no spicy" can still turn you into a fire-breathing dragon.  A lot of Coca-Cola is consumed.

Across the market, there is a store called Walkman Village.  There are a few of them around town, apparently.  There is nothing exotic about it, except that it has about two floors crammed with modern clothes and shoes.  Nicolas wisely steers me out before I purchase winter coats that I do not need.

IMPORTANT LAOS TIP:  If you find anything that you like in Vientiane or Vang Vieng, buy it already, because it will surely cost double in Luang Prabang.  I bought an... erm... "item of clothing" in Vientiane for 38,000 kip, and it was being sold for 75,000 kip in LP.  In Vang Vieng, the dress that I got for 100,000 kip - around $12 - was being sold for US$59 at a boutique.

Yes, there are ATMs too and they work!

The next day, armed with this map, and another one that I no longer have:

... we decide to explore Vientiane on foot.  We don't get very far because it is too damned hot.  We hail a tuktuk and I show the driver on the map where we want to go.  He agrees to take us for 200,000 kip.  We haggle him down to 150k.

Our tuktuk driver.

Here are the photos:

It looks like the That Dam Stupa (Black Stupa) needs a bit of a trim.

Lao's very own Arc de Triomphe, Patuxai (which is the Lao word for "Arc de Triomphe") was built to honor those who fought for independence from the French. 

   Lao designs on the ceiling of the arc.

 The view from the top.

 There are a lot of stuff being sold inside the monument, like...

Har.  And, no, I didn't get one.

Pha That Luang, the most important national monument and the national symbol of Laos, it is believed to contain the breastbone of Buddha.



   We probably should have gone inside, seeing as we were already there, but Nicolas didn't want to take off his shoes so we hung around outside drinking coconut water and taking photos of the surrounding edifices. 

 

TEMPLE TIP:  When traveling to a Buddhist country and you plan to visit some temples, wear flip flops or shoes that you can easily get in and out of.  (No, not Crocs.)  And have some socks ready, just in case it is too hot or too gross to walk on the grounds barefoot.  (I am assuming that you know that your legs and shoulders should also be covered.)

I distinctly remember this wat and the next from our visit in 2005.  I remember noticing how different the Buddhist temples here were from the ones I had seen in other countries before.

 

 

 

 

The Presidential Palace is right next to Haw Phra Kaew.

My favourite temple in Vientiane.

 

The naga is a serpent god.  These mythical creatures are believed to have come from the Lao stretch of the Mekong River.

   

 

According to our map, there is another wat that we have to see but, when we get there, we realise we are all watted out and can't be bothered to leave the tuktuk.  We are ready for lunch so we ask the driver to take us to a restaurant that we had passed at the start of our tour.

 Random wattage along the road.

OTHER SITES TO SEE:  If we weren't so darned lazy on the day we arrived, we should have checked out the day market.  I am still unsure if I want to check out Buddha Park.  It is 25 km. outside Vientiane and has more than 200 Buddha sculptures.  (Probably not.)

I had read earlier that this was a popular restaurant, which was why I wanted to try it.  When we get inside, however, I immediately recognise it as the place where Sue, Deb, and I treated ourselves to a nice meal in 2005.

The old Jaguar that is permanently parked at the restaurant.

Because we asked for no chillies, Nicolas found the food bland, while I enjoyed it.

In 2005, there was a show with dinner.

And they did not have the tasting menu yet.  According to my Facebook caption on this photo, we found the food bland and preferred the street food.

And the curtains were more colourful.

I bought that dress from one of the boutiques in Vientiane in 2005.  I didn't see another boutique like it on this trip.

It's our last night in Vientiane and I want Nicolas to have French food in this former French colony.  I decide on a restaurant called L'Adresse - Cuisine by Tinay.  He is excited about the cassoulet but, when it turns up, it seems more like a duck confit.  He likes it anyway.  He also likes my Mekong river fish (a.k.a. a tilapia).

I swoon over the creme brûlée.

So why did I book a stay in Vientiane after my less than stellar recommendation of the capital in 2005?  Because I wanted Nicolas to see Vang Vieng and I didn't want him to miss the spectacular views on the way from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang.

RECOMMENDATION FOR ACCOMMODATIONS:  I didn't get a chance to check it out but Salana looks good from the outside.  It is rather close to the night market though, so you might want to check the online reviews to make sure that the noise doesn't carry all the way to the hotel.  It also has a restaurant downstairs that looks promising.  It was always empty every time I passed it though, so I don't know if it's because its prices are too high for the average tourist or if it isn't any good.

RECOMMENDATION FOR PRIVATE TRANSFERS:  I contacted about four or five different agencies and the cheapest I found was Green Discovery Tours.  Cost for two to Vientiane to Vang Vieng (approx. 4 hours) is US$130 and from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang (via the scenic route, approx. 6 hours) is US$180.

Emails from Laos 2005: Vientiane

14 December 2005

If you look at a map of Thailand and Laos, Chiang Mai doesn't seem too far away from Vientiane, so why our bus went from A to F (for "Fucker!") just to get to B is beyond me.

I am not amused and turn up Metallica on the iPod.

We finally get to Udon Thani at 8:05, the 05 being crucial here because we miss the bus to the border by exactly that.  Five minutes.

A helpful bus station manager points out that we should be at a different terminal the next day to get to Vientiane.  He helps us get a tuktuk to a hotel that has the word "Palace" in its name so that we are excited to finally be staying at somewhere fancy.  Our hotel turns out to be so fancy that it has showers underneath its sinks.  (The water spills directly from the sink on to the floor.  No such thing as pipes here.)  This is where cockroaches come to die.  I am still not amused.

We are up bright and early the next day, only to be told by Bus Terminal #2's Manager that we cannot get on the bus to Vientiane because we do not have visas.  (The international buses wait just long enough for everyone to go through Immigration, but not long enough for everyone to get issued visas.)  He says we should go back to the terminal where we were the night before and catch the bus to Nong Khai on the Thai border bright and early THE NEXT DAY.

A lot of desperate looks and pleading get us on the bus.  It might have helped that there were only three of us without visas.  Well, two really.

My travel companions, then Siargao residents, Debra Wennett from the U.S. and Susan Brandstetter from Australia.

They don't tell you this in the guidebooks but ASEAN-member nationals do NOT need visas.  Although if you stupidly queue for one, they'll gladly take your $30 and give you a visa, thank you very much.

The crossing is quick and painless -- and cold!  It's freezing!!!  The girls make plans to buy beanies, jackets, and socks, while I just want a Lao skirt because, well, they look nice on the women at the border.

We are excited to be in this new country.

Our guesthouse has a wonderful courtyard with a cute little bunny that Deb renames daily so that it is confused and tries to eat a hat.  (I'm making that up.)  We have three beds in our room and our bathroom is actually big enough so we do not have to multitask in the shower, i.e. bathe whilst sitting on the toilet.

We're next to some wonderful boutiques where my credit card takes a beating.  And, on our first day here, we are sitting along the river, having a fabulous Lao meal for 10,000 kip ($1) and are toasting to our new host country with our first bottle of Beerlao.

Internet file photo.

Until we get to the market, that is.  The fabric for my Lao skirt is $35!  ("But that's only $2 in Cambodia!")  All of a sudden, Laos isn't looking too hot.  And they're not coming down on the price either.

I stop to admire some fabric a local is holding up and when she turns to talk to me in English, I immediately collar her into helping me drive the prices down with the market vendors.  She tells me the market across the street sells things for half the price so she takes us there and, while we are haggling, Sue and Deb disappear around a corner.  My new English-speaking Lao friend gets me my fabric at $17, which is still too expensive but I have to have my Lao skirt -- although I'm not sure exactly why.

I find Sue and Deb sitting at a table with some market vendors, where the Beerlao is flowing and large amounts of vegetable hand rolls are being consumed.

It turns out that when Sue happened upon the women, they dragged her to partake of their afternoon snack, with Deb following suit.  It doesn't take long before I am chugging along with them.  We are loving Laos all over again.

The woman on the left was the one I accosted at the market.  She helped me shop for my Lao fabric, which I had made into a skirt, which I don't think I have ever worn.  She gamely joined us for beer and vegetable rolls with the other market ladies.

The girls finally procure their own fabric and one of the shop ladies takes a breather from the Beerlao to escort us to a tailor at the market.  The tailor says she can make our skirts for $3 a piece but, for the three of us, she'll do it for $10.  Right.  She must have thought we were too drunk to do the math on that one.  "Let's just do it for $3, shall we?"

When the girls bring back the skirts from the market the next day, they are total and utter SHIT.  You do get what you pay for.  So I nip over to the tailor next to the guesthouse and get my skirt redone for $10.

Laos (pronounced "La-wuS", as the locals do because, to paraphrase Eddie Izzard, it does have a bloody "s" in it, doesn't it?  And the last-letter-impaired French did move out ten billion years ago), apart from being cold this time of year, is not as cheap as we thought it would be.  Having gotten used to the half-dollar prices of Chiang Mai, we are surprised to find that everything here costs a little bit more than we are prepared to spend.

Laos is reknowned for its silk, which come from the worms on the mulberry trees.  You can get scarves from the market for as little as $4, or from upscale boutiques for $35.

The country is also known for its coffee.  When you can get a good cup, it tastes almost like very dark chocolate and it goes down well with the condensed milk that they like to use in these parts.  But we have more cups of crap coffee than good ones, so we choose to imbibe Beerlao instead.

Vientiane, its capital, is chock full of old French colonial houses in various states of disrepair.  You can almost imagine Catherine Deneuve in "Indochine", swanning about in her opium haze, inspecting her rubber tree plantation.  The houses that are well kept, as in Vietnam, are government buildings or banks like the ADB resident mission, which actually looks quite spanking new.

There are also a lot of wats (spelled with a "v" here).  Our guidebook cites one in particular, where nuns run a herbal steam bath.  Excited by anything with the word "herb" in it, we pile into a tuktuk for Vat Sok Pa Luang.

As soon as we get there, we doubt very much that the place (a hut really, off the temple grounds) is run by nuns.  Maybe because the fat, boisterous lady in charge makes a lot of jokes about running off with the male customers.

After stripping and wrapping ourselves in sarongs, we try to enter the unisex steam room, but it's so steamy that we can barely see and are pulled into the room by unseen hands.  The hands turn out to be attached to two Laoatian men who, we find out, are regulars and come almost daily.  (Most likely to perve on the western women who are scantily clad in their sarongs.)  One of the men is panting heavily while applying various ointments to his body.  At one point, he leans over me, I suppose to get the full force of the steam since I am sitting next to its source, and lets out a huge groan while vigorously rubbing his body.  It's all very disturbing and we do not stay in the steam room for long.

There is a queue for the massages, and several men are hanging about the open massage room as well.  I have nothing under my sarong and must have made them happy, flashing them several times while being manipulated by the masseuse.

All in all, while we did have an, er, interesting time, two days in Vientiane would have been enough.  If you do not have much time to explore Laos, you may give its capital a miss altogether.

Happy 2018!

It's the first time in a long time that I am traveling during the holiday season. But I've brought my polka dots with me!

Sending you the very best wishes for 2018 from Vang Vieng in Laos!

 

The view from our room at Vieng Tara Villas.

See you in the New Year! 

 

 

My Niseko Recommendations

I meant to write an update a few billion times but, since I last wrote, I was in Cebu, Manila, El Nido, Manila, Cebu, Siargao, Cebu and, now, I'm in Japan.  So I'll just fast forward to now, shall I?

Nicolas and I were just in Niseko, Hokkaido upon the invitation of French property developer (and future Siargao home owner), Nicolas Gontard, and his lovely Chinese wife, Bellce.  Gontard (and his two Norwegian partners)'s company, Odin, owns the nine-room boutique hotel, Kimamaya, where we stayed, as well as the restaurant next to it (The Barn, although its management is being handled by a different company).  They also own a commercial center in town called - surprise surprise - Odin Place, which houses their coffee shop, Koko, their bar, Musu, and their Swiss restaurant, The Alpinist.

Following is my mini - unsolicited and objective - guide on where, what, and how to in Niseko.

How to get there:

Apparently, there are a lot of international flights direct to Sapporo.  We flew from Tokyo to Sapporo's New Chitose Airport.  From there, we took a bus (2-3 hours) to Hirafu, where the manager of Kimamaya picked us up.  The hotel was only about two minutes away.

There is one 15-20 minute rest stop during the bus ride.  Nicolas is a big fan of the mushroom-cheese sausage that is sold there.  He thinks it's the best sausage he's ever had and beats the one we stumbled upon on the streets of Vienna after a night out at the bars.  He also recommends the fried Camembert.  I recommend shopping for refrigerator magnets and saying hello to Godzilla.

Celebrity sighting in Japan.

What really had Godzilla's proverbial panties in a twist was that some other green creature had already coopted the line, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," which left it the only option of what it hoped was a bloodcurdling snarl.

Where to go for breakfast:

Although Kimamaya's breakfasts are served at The Barn, I totally recommend trying Musu's breakfasts.  While, yes, Musu is indeed a bar, it is open from 7:30 AM to midnight and serves food.  Very good food, as a matter of fact.  The eggs benny couldn't have been more perfect.  Then maybe grab a chocolate cookie at Koko next door to dip into your coffee.  (They're crunchy and a bit burnt, the way I like it.  I always ask for the thinnest cookie in the jar.) 

The Barn serves breakfast exclusively to Kimamaya guests, but is open to the public for dinner.  I liked the Japanese breakfast (salmon, tofu, rice, nori), which has to be ordered a day in advance.  Their barista can also make your hot chocolate exactly the way you want it.  I like mine dark, with very little milk and sugar.

Where to go for lunch:

Yukitei's star attraction is its udon noodles which are made from potatoes.  They had just opened for the season when I went, and had a limited menu on offer.  I wanted to return for the rice dishes, but never got the chance.  I hear they do hot pots at night.

Bombay Sizzlers has a 1000¥ lunch special that can't be beat.  It features a big-ass naan, your choice of curry, Japanese rice, and a salad.  I ended up paying about 1400¥ because I upgraded the plain naan to a cheese one (which I totally recommend), and had a sweet lassi to wash it down.

Somoza is a newcomer to the Niseko dining scene and, while I am sure it must be beautiful at night, it is definitely worth a visit during the day.  Its Australian owner is an architect.  He bought a 150-year old kominka, an old Japanese house, in Tochigi, Honshu then transported and reconstructed it in Hanazono, Niseko.  It is now home to the restaurant and an art gallery.

The stark winter scenes provide a dramatic background for the restaurant and the art gallery.

The restaurant.

The downstairs art gallery.

Somoza only has tasting menus.  The food is as artfully crafted as its surroundings.  

Where to go for dinner:

Dinner at The Barn is a must.  I only had their starters and desserts, all of which I can heartily recommend:  the foie gras sushi, the seared beef sushi, the clam chowder, the mussels, the chocolate fondant, and the cheesecake.

Nicolas prefers the raclette over the fondue at The Alpinist, especially because he's French and likes his cheese strong and smelly.  It seems that The Alpinist has adjusted the tanginess of its cheese fondue to suit the Asian palette.

If you get a craving for wagyu, head to Bang Bang.  Nicolas had a 400-gram A4 steak, while I had a 250-gram A5.  They cost about the same, but the difference in quality was apparent.  So absolutely worth it.  Reservations recommended.

Taru Zushi is a Niseko institution and reservations are a must.  This tiny sushi bar is in the middle of Nowhere, Niseko (especially in a snow storm), and it may be difficult to find as its sign is only in Japanese.  It is run by an elderly Japanese couple.  He is behind the counter and prepares the sushi, while she takes care of everything else.  Ask for the omakase and he'll start you off with some wonderfully fresh sashimi, before getting to the serious business of sushi.

Where to go for drinks:

On our first night in Niseko, there was a party at Powder Room, and it reminded me of the scene in Siargao with the establishment owners, staff, and guests mingling in one space.  It was a fun night and I remember loving the vibe and the music.

It was the one and only time I smoked in Japan.  It would have been rude not to.  Nowadays, when you can smoke in a club, you should always be thankful and graciously indulge.

Clowning around with one of the wait staff.

Charly, one of the bartenders at Musu, comes out to play.

Wasn't too keen on the music at Musu ("Macarena"and "Despacito", really???), but the cocktails are a knockout.

This is my clear favorite:

Which is made of this:

Note the lack of any sweet mixers.  My kind of drink.  Served so sweetly to me by Johann.

We were told that the best bar in Niseko is Gyu Bar, the main entrance of which is a refrigerator door.  Unfortunately, on the night that we chose to go, it was closed.

Tamashii also seems to be a popular hangout.  It always had a crowd of young people drinking out front.

Must do:

If you're strictly an après-ski person like me, then a Nikka Distillery Tour in Yoichi should be high on your list of things to do.  Indeed it might be the only item on the damned list.

There aren't any guided tours for gaijins and, to be honest, I would have rated it a Definite Can-Miss if it weren't for the bar at the Whisky Museum where you can sample any of Nikka's whiskies.  For a price, of course.  Regular whiskies go for 300¥, but one of the lushes in the crowd clued us on to this bottle:

 

A bargain at 1000¥ a shot.  I had two.

Seriously.  Do they really think that those who trek all the way to their distillery are interested in the literature?  Of course we want to drink!  The free samples at the end of the tour were boring and anticlimactic, but we were more than happy to hoard bottles at the shop.

Our Japan haul, including purchases from Duty Free:  14 whiskies and two gins, plus some whisky-flavoured chocolate.