Who would have thought that in Vang Vieng, the notorious paradise for drug- and other addicts, it's possible to make trips in a beautiful landscape.
For a change I am on my way today with a mountain bike, a rather run-down machine. But in spite of bad roads the riding becomes surprisingly a pleasure. The fact that my ass hurts in the evening, is a different matter.
Over hill and dale
Over stick and stone, through dusty sections that make breathing difficult, then again through ponds whose depth one can only guess, I'm on my way. Despite the heat and the unfamiliar terrain, I feel magnificent. The muscles play along, the lungs too, only sometimes, when I have to conquer a steep ascent, I run out of breath. But like at home on the jogging track, the functioning system is an enrichment of positive feelings. It doesn't even need the release of endorphins.
Dusty and hot and unpredictable
Tubing on the river
The river runs along the valley, crosses Vang Vieng and disappears among the karst hills. Upstream, the young people gather on the shore, loud sounds from afar music and laughter get through the lazy morning.
These are the places where they glide into the water with their rubber hoses and then rock down the river to the place where the ride ends. It is rumored that there have been some accidents, some of them fatal. The combination of alcohol, drugs, the basic danger of water and a good portion of stupidity is rarely harmless.
More and more exhausting
The road becomes more and more exhausting and sometimes on the edge of the reasonable. The air is saturated with the swirling dust, a thick layer has settled over my clothes, my face, my arms and legs.
Anyway, after further exhausting kilometres, I meet a young couple, also struggling with the pitfalls of the road. We go through the usual three steps of announcement: first in English, then in High German and finally in Swiss German. We quickly make friends and decide to continue the trip together.
Laotian hospitality
At a crossroad we are approached by a fashionably dressed young man. He works in the city and now wants to prove his cosmopolitanity to his rural relatives by inviting us to the home of his parents and relatives. After initial hesitation, we give way and are soon in the midst of countless startled people.
The communication, impaired by poor language skills, is limited in more or less silent mutual consideration. We are sitting on a wooden floor under a canopy, surrounded by a lot of women with their children, there's a pot in the middle with a kind of soup. Of course, we are invited to eat their barren meal, and after further hesitation we agree.
It tastes excellent. And so we sit together with completely unknown people, communicate with our hands and feet and feel completely comfortable despite the unfamiliar situation.
The young man is visibly proud of his coup, which should certainly bring him some social credits from his relatives. And finally, the unquestionable: how do you thank them? Is it insulting to give them money? Or should it be considered as what it is meant to be, pure and honest hospitality that does not demand anything in return? We opt for the latter variant, but still with a slight guilt feeling.
Ballooning
Vang Vieng has more highlighs to offer. Back in the city, we witness the launch of a hot-air balloon. It looks adventurous and dangerous. There are some questions at the sight of the balloon cover, which are all concerned with security. Well anyway, everything seems to be okay and with a lot of cheering of the many spectators, the balloon rises into the air and disappears on the horizon.
In the evening I meet up with my two temporary friends for dinner, a fun evening among Swiss people. There is a lot of puffing at the next tables, the fine scent of good material rises in the nose, while - surprise - a series of "Friends" is shown on the numerous screens.
P.S. Matching Song: Pink Floyd Bike
And here the journey continues ...
