Vang Viang

Vang Viang is the kind of town that Australian bogans seem attracted to and never want to leave. It is enjoyable for a very short time, and once the few attractions have been ticked off, run, run as fast and as far as you can. Well, this is what we did anyway.



We only spent a full day there and paid our dues by floating down the river for the afternoon on old tractor inner tubes. To be fair, it was pretty enjoyable even if the river flowed at a mostly inert pace and Chris paddled us out of there for a good chunk of it. Most people seemed happy to hang out at the multiple bars along the river, swinging off trapezes into the water, narrowly escaping the shallow rock outcrops and basically getting hammered all day. As a result, we were the only ones actually floating down which allowed us to have a very peaceful time enjoying the magnificent limestone cliffs surrounding us.



We actually did stop at one of the bars a bit further along the river. This one was particularly underpopulated which was due in part to the fact that it was only accessible by floating and that the swings were at least 3 times as high as at any other point on the river. We decided to stop there for a quick lunch and just before our sandwich arrived, Chris decided to try one of the swings. A rusty flying fox starting from a 12m high rickety platform over the river. Coming out unscathed, he also tried the trapeze like swing which projected him high in the air and inflicted a look on his face mixing both fear and ecstasy. And then, in a completely unlikely turn of events, triggered by feelings of cowardice and Chris' encouragements, I decided that I would also try the flying fox... Determined that I would only go up the stairs and come down the only other available way, I took a deep breath and flung myself in the air, holding on to that stupid thing as hard as I could. Worried that I wouldn't have the strength to hold on, I was surprised to realize that holding on was easier than letting go and once I did, the feeling of flying through the air waiting for the unavoidable crash filled me up with pure fear. I landed heavily into the water, thinking I might be dead and numbly swam back to the bank. I was in total shock and started crying like a little girl, from fear rather than pain, while Chris watched like a parent, with a hidden smile under a look of tender compassion. Anyway, the deed was done and unusually found that it was actually worse than I expected. I will never do it again but now I know why. As soon as we started floating again, an absentmindedly driven elongated dingy nearly ran us over. Luckily we started yelling at the half-asleep driver in time for him to avoid us. As we got closer to the end, our tubes got hijacked by three children between the ages of 5 and 10. They were infinitely intrigued by our "five-fingered" shoes and endlessly fascinated by Chris' unfathomable hairiness.
The rest of our time in Vang Viang was mostly uneventful, thank goodness!