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Articles Tagged ‘Luang Prabang’

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Laos: Pronounced “Lao”

Thursday, October 4th, 2007

Over the past few months, an estimated 100 people have told us how incredible Laos is. And after spending a few weeks here, the ‘Land of a Million Elephants’ lives up to the hype.

We started out in Vientiane, the capital. Planned to spend 3 days…stayed for 6. Monks, baguettes, cool old cars and BeerLao: these are the images conjured up by mention of this city on the Mekong. Influence from the French colonial days is still strong, as many of the locals speak English with a French accent. It’s a town where none of the buildings are over 4 stories, and malls and cinemas don’t exist. Free time in this city is spent lounging around in cafes or drinking BeerLao by the Mekong.

A few hours from Vientiane is a touristy mountain town on a river, Vang Vieng. The place is full of hippy backpackers, and a few non-hippies. Vang Vieng’s main draw is the river, which cuts through limestone cliffs and ushers along kayakers and tubers from one riverside bar to the next. All of the bars have 30 foot high rope swings hanging over the water–with yelping sunburned tourists hanging off and belly-smacking into the water. [read on]

Victim of a Snatching

Monday, October 1st, 2007

Location: a dark but charming street in Luang Prabang, Laos
Time: Sep 30, 7:10pm
Scene: I was leisurely riding back to my guesthouse on a blue 1-speed bike built for a midget, complete with a basket and a ding-ding bell. JR was following. My huge 15 lb tote-bag was in the basket…with my wallet, camera, 4 books (including my Sudoku!), a Chanel lipgloss, 2 bracelets I just bought, a shirt and a pashmina I bought in Nepal. And a new journal with a good 20 pages of writing. A man was parked on a motorbike, which he kick-started just as I passed. He sped up next to me, snatched the bag out of my basket, and sped off.
Aftermath: I started screaming bloody murder “PURSE STEALER! THAT MAN STOLE MY PURSE”, JR was shouting “YOU F’R!” and we both followed in hot pursuit, on our 1-speed childsize bikes. (Just take a moment to imagine a pedaling fury chasing a man on a motorcycle. It was like Dennis the Menace vs. Evil Knievel) I pulled over at a corner store, loudly and dramatically crying. A brave civilian with a long black pony tail drove up on a motorbike and told me to hop on, and we made a brief attempt at catching the motorbike thief ourselves, but we lost him. She spoke English and translated at the police station, then brought me home. Some kids (alerted by my loud white woman screams) had run out to the street and managed to get some numbers of the license plate.

We’ve offered a $50 reward, but nothing has turned up yet. I’ve also employed two techniques to entice the police: flirtation and bribery. They said the “investigation” will take “a few weeks” and that they’ll email me if anything turns up.

Bastard.

Signed,
Brooke
Routine Crime Victim