Odd place

We rested last night at a strange hotel. It did not appear on any hotel app, nor on Google. The receptionist in Luang Prabang helped us find it, and there was some trepidation as we approached the two-horse town claiming to be its location. We passed a newly built but still skeletal structure that looked like a future hotel, hoping it wasn’t our target. We passed another hotel we had telephoned endlessly without success; it looked quite derelict. Eventually, we reached the spot and—phew—there was a hotel.

Not speaking a word of English (and why should they?), we resorted to Google Translate. No, they didn’t have a booking for us (groan), but yes, they did have a double room (that’s fine, I thought, Nellie and I will be comfortable). I tried harder, and at last we ended up with the correct number of rooms. Nellie went off with the daughter of the owners to buy beer and organise a take-out for dinner. She struggled to keep the menu ‘normal’—i.e. no heart, brain, intestine, foot, claw or beak. I kid you not, we could have feasted on the lot.

The rest of us fiddled around with Ham’s car and then did it again for fun.

Come morning, which started early for most of us—with some rendition exhorting children to go to school or join the peace corps or some such, blasting out of loudspeakers at 5am (yes)—we discovered plastic was not an option when paying the bill. “Four million Lao kip in cash, please,” Google Translate intoned. Petrol money, sweetie money, ice-cream money, reserves—all were raided, and we cobbled together enough to be let out. (It comes to about £140 for six rooms, dinner, and a few beers!)

A gentle drive along the Mekong River allowed us time to stop for coffee and supplies, cars purring contentedly with little pushing and shoving to tick off the miles.

Two quiet days now, you ask? Where, you demand, is the challenge in that? Well, you are right to ask, and I shall answer—without sounding at all defensive. You see, I holidayed in these parts exactly a year ago, and so it was natural, with Nigel taking the lead on China and Ham with his extensive contacts in the ’Stans, that I should facilitate and route-plan South East Asia. The original plan had us cavorting all about Laos, into Cambodia for a lightning visit to Angkor Wat (cancelled because of the border skirmishes Mr Trump has turned his attention towards), and then Thailand, etc.

The cavorting about in Laos bit is where we became a little unstuck. We were shocked by the state of the roads, as loyal readers will recall when we left Boten on the ‘Most Atrocious Road in the World’. An average of 15kph improved fractionally to 20kph. The next day was the same, and the next. Reworking of the itinerary became mandatory and urgent.

Why didn’t I know about the roads? I’d holidayed here. I admit, with some chagrin, that our travel in Laos was by boat (down the Mekong—very pleasurable it was too), by train (built by the Chinese for Chinese tourists, but we squeezed on and it was fast), and by aeroplane. Curious that not a bit of it was by road. Now I know why. We asked anyone who looked as if they might know; we challenged ChatGPT; we searched the forums ourselves. All answers came back that the roads in Laos are the same everywhere and are terrible.

So wrong! So wrong!

Consequently, we are now tentatively skipping and hopping along a shortened route rather than striding magnificently across vast tracts of country. Easy driving rather than adventure. 

But it does allow us a little time to sort out tinkles and knocks and squeaks and bangs and groans and oofs; so near to the end, we don’t want any last-minute disasters.

🤞