• Add to Collection
  • About


    A few years ago, the village of Vang Vieng consisted of a dozen huts boards around a summary airfield. Today, teak houses turned into Guest-House… Read More
    A few years ago, the village of Vang Vieng consisted of a dozen huts boards around a summary airfield. Today, teak houses turned into Guest-Houses. Concrete appeared in two main streets intersected by some cross alleys. The absence of asphalt into the blood color mess with the first rains of the monsoon. All buses linking Vientiane to Luang Prabang to Vang Vien stop for lunch. Often the site view and atmosphere "backpacker" that prevails prompting some passengers to postpone the second part of the journey. In the streets, bars and restaurants alongside small cheap hotels. From here and there is a succession of rental motorcycles, hair salons whose specialty is the installation of dreadlocks, and of course trekking agencies and "tubing". This latter activity is great entertainment Vang Vieng. The descent buoy, about six kilometers long, is dotted with many stops. In the bars on stilts, the local beer is flowing like the decibel rock music bouncing off the cliffs in Sugar Loaf. The laos do not lack imagination to meet a youth of adventure. The crossing of the river, hanging on the zip line, gives the impression of a Hollywood adventure, crocodiles less! For some sober up and continue to push the water down, there is still attached to the trapezoid end of a mast. Strong in arms reach swing long enough to attract the admiration of girls, more ... Splash in cool water first jump. Read Less
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.
From the village of Vieng Samay, I saw beautiful freshly transplanted rice, but my motorbike advised me to continue to walk in the path paved with large stones out of the river. The sun dips behind the cliffs quickly. Tonight my trip ends. The edge of the road, the chiaroscuro is sublime. Some rays still illuminate puddles where the emerald carpet of young shoots fleet. Some conical hats still bent in the muddy water, others away to the river with hands on hips. Their cries and returned by the walls laughter echoes in the valley. Six miles away, when I arrive in the main street of Vang Vien sound recorded American series laughter. Strongly dawn!