In the middle of the Nam Song River, Lucky Bar and the aptly named Bar Sunnet share an island of sand and pebbles. Sitting cross-legged on a mat, a divinely fresh beerlao hand, I enjoyed all the sense serenity. The decline of the sun drowned in the shadow mountains in Sugar Loaf and languid villages at their feet. Between the trees, fumaroles report the preparation of dinner. A rickety plank bridge serves diving with an array of laughing children. Suddenly, cliffs refer laughter and cries of pleasure. Now, I see clearly a flotilla of large inner tube truck scattered in the stream. On board, young people with blond hair and, for a few hours, the scarlet skin! There are those who have remained in cluster of three or four, there are lovers holding their feet, their arms for their oars, and then the lonely head in the clouds. On the island, a few small bamboo pontoons mark the end of the trip. The docking sometimes negotiates with some difficulty. Skiff and his passenger, clutching his bottle of beer, just miss all the attachment points, laughing. A hundred yards away the current rushes floating craft against a bridge pier. The castaway suddenly sobered becomes the laughingstock of the kids who go in pursuit of the buoy.