When in Laos, you of course have to go tubing in Vang Vieng. However, as we pulled into Vang Vieng we wondered what the hell was going on. It was mid afternoon and it was like a ghost town; there was hardly anyone about, apart from a few people passed out in the video bars (bars with cushions on the ground showing endless episodes of family guy and friends). As the afternoon progressed into evening, wounded people started appearing from the woodwork – a guy with a patch on his eye, a girl with a bandage on her leg, people hobbling all over the place. It was like a scene out of Dawn of the Dead but we decided to go tubing the next day anyhow. Have you ever wondered where all the drunk British people go when they are not in Ibiza? Well wonder no more, they are tubing in Vang Vieng! Clearly the oldest people there by about at least 5 years, we floated down the river collecting beers along the way. Abi, unfortunately uncoordinated, struggled to make it to the sides of the rivers as the current pulled her away from all the bars. Luckily there were 8 year old Laos boys there to rescue her with a rubber ring. We met up with a group of British/Irish guys and played mud volleyball, mud tug of war, as well as the essential slides and swings into the river. Doing all this when drunk, we soon found out why everyone was so injured in the town. Fortunately though we did not end up with Pink Eye which seemed to be the hallmark of Vang Vieng. We spent the whole next day in the video bars trying not to vomit (they all make sense now), and managed to pull our old selves together for the last day to go and explore a nearby cave. We had a kid attach to us and take us around for a few dollars, which was lucky for us because the cave was huge and a complete maze. We read in the lonely planet later that some travellers go in there by themselves and never come out…
