It seems that no matter where I go, a catchphrase for the trip arrives no sooner than I have stood up. This time it was a classic with a close runner-up.
After our big night, we lazed and lazed. That evening we caught the over-night train north to Laos. After endless hassles from the local drunk who cracked onto Tom and then Christine. Knowing where Joey and his hammock adventure got us in Brazil where i ended up with my horny guy’s crotch preciously close to ma honker, I stayed away from the guy. Unfriendly I know, but hey, my lesson shone through as this whiskied dude got on the train and proceeded to talk to Christine until the train pulled away. I told ya…..
Sitting opposite us was a prematurely white haired gentleman, looking a touch grumpy. The train pulls away, and his hostility grows until his rasping finger can take it no more. As the train guard checks the tickets, he throws an pointer finger accusingly at a girl’s bag lounging on the floor and shouts…”It’s not supposed to be there asshole!” Well, well. Wonder what turned his hair white. Actually he kinda reminded me of Christine’s Dad, the man who brilliantly warned us not to go to the west of China as he’d “heard about those Kstans.”
We arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, pre-warned and for me slightly disappointed. The great Mekong River has almost dried up, there are gringos galore accompanied by the usual internet cafes (where i sit at the moment), Western food and “let’s get drunk” signs. the temples looked worn down and the gringo trail is well and truly set. European couples slouch around, late 20s i guess. We ate Laos foodntianeas much as possible and relaxed, stumbling round the construction sites the city in the blazing heat with our new Japanese friend Yusaku with whom I spoke a lot of japanese. That’s cos he wasnt an asshole.