Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is the name of both a district and a ban in the northern reaches of Vientiane Province and both are lovely. I have come to love the outskirts of Capital City Vientiane, but it is hard to believe how different it looks from Vang Vieng. The most obvious difference is the lay of the land. The Capital City area is flat and Vang Vieng has glorious and unique mountain formations. It's about 3-4 hours from the Capital City, so we started early and picked up a friend to drive the lorry who used to live in Vang Vieng. He bustled us over the mountains with the usual stops at talats along the way. The school children in the mountains, unlike Capital City, are not on hiatus for SEA Games, so we saw many of them with their teachers picking up trash (mostly plastic items) and cutting back brush along the windy road.

When we arrived, we stopped at one of the driver's favorite hahn-a-hahns (restaurants) for Kawpia (I think I finally have that Lao soup right--It's always been delicious, I just never quite knew what it was called or how to phonetically spell it) and kao bpat (fried rice) and nam duum (drinking water). Fortified for the occasion, we headed to Vang Vieng Resort, where you pay kip to get in, then pay kip to go over the suspension bridge, then pay kip to climb the 200 or so steps so you can enjoy the two small shrines overlooking the beautifully valley and separated by a huge cave. There was even a photographer there to take a picture of the seven of us, so we happily obliged, then spent kip when we came down the steps to buy the picture (10,000k, or about $1.25, so it's hard to gripe). The cave was impressive, well lit with cement steps and walks leading to everything, so it was an agreeable experience all around.

We went from lunch and Tham Kham (Kham Cave) up the road a bit to a narrow passage between two of the more striking mountain formations and got out of the lorry at a remote talat to see what was for sale. Fascinating frogs, bats, porcupine, crabs from a nearby river and a multitude of hooves (from cows, I think, but without the cow body, it's hard for a falang to tell) to go with the fresh honey, chips and Pepsi. (There were roasted scorpions and cockroaches at That Luang Festival, but I didn't feel behooved to buy them either.)

Then it was time for Tham Lom (Lom Cave). Kip to park, kip to cross the suspension bridge (at least you got water or Pepsi with the crossing) and kip to explore the cave. The guys begged off and stayed at the river to watch the people tubing and jumping from ropes into the water, but Po's secretary, her seven-year old niece, our hostess for the day and I grabbed flashlights and, along with our two guides, prepared to explore. Something told me this was not going to be quite like Tham Kham. Understatement. As we climbed the large and pointy rocks with bamboo railings (some of them securely anchored to the local flora and fauna and some of them not) to the cave, I was glad I had walked to the Center each day for weeks. We were all breathing hard after twenty minutes of uphill don't-get-distracted-and-watch-your-step. At least the Cave would surely take us back down to ground level. Into the Cave by going over or under a rock formation and on with the flashlights. Apparently there used to be a huge candle illuminating the gargantuan cavern, but someone stole it (no one said how), so it was dark inside. There was one guide in the front of the group and one guide at the back, behind me. We descended several bamboo scaffolds, then found ourselves on rocky terrain again, though a bit smoother rocks than the climb to the Cave. The problem was that some of the rocks were wet and slick. Of course. There was water dripping from the Cave ceiling! I found myself wondering what my insurance covered and whether it would matter, since probably no one would want to bother trying to get me out of there. Concentrate. Slip, slide and jump to a dry spot. At least we're going down. For about twenty-five minutes we pressed forward. When we stopped to shine our flashlights on the walls and ceiling, the rock patterns and sheer size of it all were amazing. Then, we hit a wet area, the size of a small lake and who knows how deep. Hmm. Po's secretary told me the guide behind me was, in fact, just another explorer. In his flip flops, like the guide in the front, I wouldn't have known. And more bad news: No exit below; we had to retrace our steps and go back. Keep panic at bay. Concentrate. I tried not to think of any horror film or book with a cave in it. Stay close to the others. Follow in the guide's (I think) footsteps. Next thing I knew, we were back to the bamboo scaffolding. Then, down the stalagmite rocks--hold onto the secure bamboo railings and be careful of the others!--and, hallelujah, ground level.

I had fallen once and found my shirt-sleeves and jeans pants legs and walking shoes were coated with muck. I absolutely didn't care. Everyone else was matter of fact, but I stuck my face out the side of the lorry for three hours, felt the fresh air rush past and celebrated still being alive.