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Mar 13-14 Don Det - We spent the next couple of days just chilling out in Don Det. There were hammocks strung in front of our bungalows, which had brilliant views out over the Mekong, but were still slightly shaded. There's a roaring trade in second hand books on the island - they're about four dollars each, or maybe a dollar if you've got one you've already read to swap. I grabbed a couple of novels - Ellmore Leonard or someone - nothing too edifying! After Cambodia, which had been a mad rush of travelling and trekking, it was actually a lot of fun just to unwind and watch the world go by while reading. I spent most of the first morning just lazing about, and could probably have stayed there for ages. Around lunch-time, though, my hammock snapped - sending me crashing to the ground! This was clearly a sign from the gods to get off my backside and do some exercise - so we reluctantly set out to find some bicycles and explore the island a bit further.
Don Det is mostly full of younger travellers - a mix of gap year backpackers, and hippie-ish types. I wasn't sure which category we fitted into! There were a lot of people who'd lugged guitars along with their backpacks, and as you cycled round the island, you'd hear Bob Marley or Eric Clapton songs being played from many of the bungalows. The vibe was actually quite nice - very relaxed.
The beach at the northern point of the island is also a cool spot. This is where we'd been dropped off on our first day, and for some reason (maybe lighter sand) it didn't seem to get as hot at the beach further south on Don Khon. It was a great spot for swimming in the turquoise waters, and just for laying about and soaking up the sun. There's an old bull water buffalo who clearly owns the beach; he would lumber through the town every morning and evening, and clomp his way down to the beach for a swim. Then he'd haul himself out of the water in a stately fashion, and find a group of people to lie down next to. Obviously he was a bit of a playboy, though, because I swear he would always choose a group of young, bikini-clad girls. He'd then settle down with his harem and allow them to pat him and stroke his head. He definately had life on Don Det sussed!
A peculiar phenomenon you start to see all over Don Det is the 'Happy' bar. These are normally bars or restaurants with names like 'Happy Sunset Bar' or 'Big Smile Restaurant' - although we did see one guesthouse with a big sign outside saying 'This is a Happy guesthouse, for Happy people. Only.' Happy basically means that for an extra few thousand kip (about 50c), they restaurant owner will top up your fruit shake, pizza or any other meal with a chaser of marajuiana or opium. One bar, the 'Rasta Bar' on the Sunrise Strip, dispensed with all the euphemisms - at the bottom of its drinks menu, it had 'Joint, Small - 5,000 kip', followed by 'Joint, Big - 10,000 kip'! As we were cycling back on the first day (past the Happy Guesthouse), we saw a guy staggering down the street - looking like the protaganist of an Irving Welsh novel. He was rake thin - although with a pretty good tan - and had bushy hair sticking out from his head at all angles. He also had piercing blue eyes that were rolling slowly and independently in their sockets, like a washing machine at the end of it's cycle. He careered off into the grass, and collapsed, spreadeagled on the ground. One of his mates lifted a dreadlocked head from a hammock, giggled, and said "Hey man. He's really, really Happy! Hee hee hee." It was still early afternoon, and so we cycled off - feeling a bit old!
As we got back to our guesthouse, we disturbed a snake which was sunning itself on our balcony. It was long and thin - looked something like a grass snake, and it raced off into the banana plantation in the middle of the complex. I was amazed it had managed to survive this long in a built up area - as snake's a real delicacy in Laos. We had a cold shower (which was incredibly refreshing) and watched another beautiful sunset in the bay. We had a great meal overlooking the river, and sat talking into the night. At about 10PM, they switched the lights off; I think a couple of people were still finishing their dessert, but they take their early nights pretty seriously in Laos! So, we walked the main drag for a bit - looking for a bar that was open late (you'd think there'd be at least one in this sort of place, right?) but there was nothing doing. Even Mama Tatoun was locking up as we walked past. We wandered back to Souksan guesthouse, and the gate was shut! We had a brief moment where we though we'd need to sleep on the beach (definately warm enough) but then found a side gate to let ourselves back in, and to bed. The island is totally silent at night - it's amazing what a peaceful night's sleep you can have without any mechanical noise, although there's a particular type of large gecko which repeatedly shouts out a loud 'f*** you!' - just to show there's no hard feelings!
Our idyllic existance at the Souksan was slightly shattered the next day. Four fat lads from Croydon moved into the bungalow next door. They weren't small, so it must have been a pretty cosy fit for them in the two double beds, but I guess you save money where you can. They didn't seem that interested in seeing the island - and parked themselved on the balcony - taking over all the hammocks. They'd bought a couple of bottles of the local Lao whiskey (about $2 a bottle) and looked like they were settling in for a long day, as the caps came off at 10AM. We cleared off, and walked round to the south side of the island to a bar called the Mekong Crossing - this has a pretty good restaurant upstairs, and a 'hammock lounge' downstairs, with shaded views over the river and across to Don Khon. After a great lunch, we settled down in a pair of incredibly comfortable bamboo hammocks (the frame is made from a single large stem of bamboo, which is split and stretched out to form a hammock shape. Smaller strips of bamboo are woven into the frame to complete it - it's a great design). We spent the rest of the afternoon reading our books and watching the action on the other side of the river, where a wedding was going on. The Laos people clearly know how to throw a good wedding party - we couldn't see everything that was going on, but they have a sort of procession around the island, carrying trees with money pinned to them, and also taking some sort of portable PA system. There's lots of speeches, shouting and singing. One old boy who was either very drunk or very tone deaf (maybe both) managed to commandeer the microphone for half an hour to belt out some favorites ... they finally wrested it away from him, but I'm not sure he noticed. After an hour or so, the procession passed out of sight (and hearing!) and we got down to the serious business of not doing anything for a couple of hours.
We wandered back to the north side of the island, and found an Indian Restaurant for dinner. We were sitting next to a couple from Oman - Wayne and Sandra - and they joined us for dinner. Wayne was South African, and probably had the coolest job I'd ever heard of. He was working for a huge six-star resort, looking after all the guest activties - yachting, trekking, parasailing and off-roading. Apparently the place occupies a whole bay, and is ringed by mountains on every side; one of your options for getting there is to get the helicopter to drop you off on the hilltop, and then paraglide down to your villa! ANyway - they were really cool. We had a nice meal, and then moved to another bar for some drinks afterwards. About 20 minutes after we sat down, though - the curse of the Indian meal kicked in. Cheryl and Sandra started feeling slightly ill, but Wayne turned a kind of greenish colour, and eventually had to jump up and vomit over the next door fence. Needless to say, we called it a night.
The Fat Four from Croydon were in bed, but still shouting the odds. The whole balcony was covered in cigarettes and empty whisky bottles - clearly they'd been there the whole day. The walls of the bunglows are pretty thin, so we could hear them slurring away; "Oooi. Mate. Mate. Naw whhhaaa I mean? If you cood like doo any bird, mate. Ooo wood you doo?" "Me mate? Dunnno mate. Wot abou Angelina Joli-ay?" "Phwwoooar mate. Yeaggh! I'd do er. SHe wants some, innit!" "Oi. Arry! You farr-ed mate! Aw mate - thas disgustin!"
f***ing tossers - pardon my French. Luckily - Cheryl rembered she'd brought her iPod and a spare set of headphones, so we went to sleep with U2 drowning out the k*** next door.
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Maria Hi Guys, Do you remember how much the bungalows were at Souksan? cheers M