liaison with insanity

Laos Part Two:

Friday I drop my visa off, and surprisingly enough, there's no issue - it will be ready Monday. Finally, it's time to leave this not so charming city and head to Vang Vieng, the place I've actually been excited to go. There are six other passengers in the car. I think it's a little strange that the woman in the front seat looks really nervous to be getting in. She keeps smiling at me and the driver and well, everyone. She should be used to these whack drivers by now I think. 

I ask the driver if it's about 3.5 hrs to get there. "No," he says, "it will be three or four hours." Ok. We get there in exactly 3.5 hrs, but not without difficulty in the form of the Communist "police" or whatever they claim to be. These imposing men in brown uniforms with red striping and braiding flag our minivan down and ask for everyone's passports. Yep, you got it, my passport is still in Vientiene with the Thai Embassy. I explain this to a Lao woman in the seat behind me who lives in England and consequently, speaks English. She apparently tells me to stay in the car, but you'd think I would've heard her say that. The officials are more interested in the Lao people than me or the other western person in the car. They get on their phones and are pissed that front-seat lady (the Lao/English woman's mom) has left Vientiene. Now it makes sense why she seemed nervous/excited to be going somewhere else. The Lao/English woman's boyfriend, an English guy, explains that his girlfriend went to great lengths to get the paperwork and stamps saying her mom could leave for the weekend. For some reason, these guys are angrily explaining that the Vientiene office never should have authorized her to leave. 

We're about to board to freedom when they approach me and ask for my passport. I think they're joking, that the L/E woman must have told them my circumstance. I suck down my cigarette (yes, this week has brought me to buying those smoky treats with their magical calming powers) trying to look nonchalant and play along without coming across as cavalier. Inside I'm about to start panicking. Two of them are hiding smiles (that's why I think this is a joke), but the one pressing me with the questions looks beyond unamused. He's telling me I can't go any further with the van without my passport, that in a communist country, you must always travel with documentation. That I'll have to stay with them until we can find transport for me (in the middle of nowhere). There is no way, besides physical detainment, that I am staying/going anywhere with these guys. My head is dizzy. The L/E woman comes up behind me, "Just get in the van," she says under her breath. I start moving away, smiling at them like I don't understand what they're saying even though they're speaking English. We climb in the van. He's still talking to me. I smile and wave goodbye, and by the grace of God, the driver lives up to his profession. "I can't believe you didn't stay in the car! I can't believe they let you go. They were very strict, very serious," my new best friend is telling me. Lady, let's drop this, I'm thinking. I can feel the anxiety building. I try tactics to halt it before it fully develops, but this country has taken a toll on me so that I'm just completely realizing right now how shaken up I am/have been.  

I'm reciting Bible verses, listening to music, focusing on my breathing, and praying when God reminds me that he has a plan for me - a specific one - one that does not include me dying within the next three years at least. I start to calm down somewhat. By the time we reach Vang Vieng, I'm good to go. 

This place is far and away one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. I'm going to rank it second only behind the Olympic Peninsula. The limestone cliffs are towering - absolutely monstrous. Because they're limestone, they erode erratically lending to their dramatic visuals. They become more beautiful the further they crumble in decay. I check into the nicest place I've ever paid for for under $9/night. The staff are friendly, the place is ultra clean, I'm on the top floor with a balcony and a view of the cliffs and the river, it's pouring rain through the blanket of mist, and the two English girls I'd met the first day are in the room next to me. 

The rest of the day and the next two are . . . interesting. This place is a drug mecca, and because of that everyone here pretends they're living in the 60s. They dress the part and act the part (I'm assuming). It's all full on hippie wear, or bikinis and body paint. The only form of "glassware" are buckets for drinks (which seemed to be continuously free) or buckets for shakes laced with anything you'd want, or wouldn't want depending on what your definition of a good time is. I do see teacups - for the opium tea. I cannot believe how straightforward all the bars are in their advertising. I have no idea how every "happy pizza" place isn't shut down. I suppose it's half the draw for the tourists. 

Anyway, there are other things to do like hiking in the rain, swimming in blue lagoons in the rain, tubing down the river in the rain, and exploring caves to get out of the rain. I find friends the first night who will participate in these aforementioned activities in the coming days. They sit waiting at a bar where I am drawn like a moth to the black lights. 

Bridge - I love what the raindrops are doing.

Here I meet the owner, a guy from Seattle oddly enough, and two other girls who are traveling solo. We have the place to ourselves. Green laser lights dance over the grass looking like fireflies gone mad. The outdoor bar is strung up with hammocks and Sigur Ros blasting from the speakers lends to the unworldly, dreamy quality. 

By the time I leave, I'm ready to go, but I will definitely come back someday that is not soon. 

Blue Lagoon in the rain

The rest of the trip is pretty uneventful. I pick up my passport and exit Laos as quickly as I can. Quick enough to walk by the "exit fee" booth undetected. I spend a day in Nong Khai and a day in Udon Thani - two relaxing towns back in the comforts of Thailand. These days are pretty uneventful due to my lack of vision. I left Vang Vieng with one of my eyes swollen shut and by the time I pry it open, there are red spots all over the former white part. It must be pink eye, I think. (Do I think this because I conveniently happen to already have the medicine in my possession? Probably, definitely.) So I proceed to douse my eyes (both for good measure) with this antibacterial medicine and unknowingly destroy all the good bacteria in my eye. By the time I'm in Nong Khai, the pain is so bad, and my vision is so blurred, I decide to visit a couple of pharmacists. They both prescribe me eye drops for "minor irritation." What about massive hemorrhaging is giving you the idea that there is anything minor going on?  

Once I hit Udon Thani, I make a beeline for the international hospital. Within an hour, I'm out of there with four medications (in a gift bag) for my hemorrhaging eyeballs caused by a "viral infection" which is apparently different than a bacterial one where you should be using antibacterials. Note to self: self-medicating = bad. Also in tow, is my complimentary clock which is given to patients arriving between 5 and 8pm to celebrate the hospital's 12th anniversary. Still trying to figure that one out. 

Twelve hours later I'm greeted at the door by three-year-old Sammy hugging my legs saying, "P. Lauria, P. Lauria." Thank you “home” that wherever you are, you always feel the same.