So, I should probably explicate upon my experience in Van Vieng. I was hesitant to go there because it had a notorious reputation to be a crazy party place and I was trying to get away from the busy busyness. However, it was on the way to Si Phan Don, my next destination. Also, I had heard that the Van Vieng scenery was absolutely stunning. Both party and landscape had a “must see” tag attached to every account, so I figured it was worth a go.
The 6 hour bus ride was actually quite pleasant because I could watch the green wrinkled velvet of the mountains dotted with the wooden lean-tos with their thatched roofs. Barefoot children ran with their friends along the dusty road. They were beautiful.
Apparently, our road wound precariously down the side of a steep mountain and we were often teetering on the edge. I could hear some of the travelers squealing their discomfort about the hazardous nature of our ride, but I refused to watch the road ahead. If I die via bus crash spinning wheels off the side of this 
mountain in
We made another random stop. Some people decided to eat at the ramshackled hut, but I wanted to wait for the town. I grabbed a bottle of water and sat down with some French and Canadian people. The guy across from me was quietly smoking a cigarette.
“So, where are you from?”
“
“Is it that obvious?”
“I can tell by your accent.”
“It’s a bit of an ugly accent, huh?”
”No, it’s just different. And it’s obvious when you hear one.”
“I’ve got some issues with being American, apparently.”
He laughed and put out his hand: “J_____.”
“Mary.”
Of course, we were dropped off about 4K outside of the city so that the tuk-tuks could take advantage of us. I headed into Van Vieng with a number of other travelers and was shocked by the absolute ugliness of the town. After the beauty of the French Colonial Luang Prubang, Van Vieng was a mess. The roads were dusty, dirty, rocky. Many of the structures were made partially or wholly of rusting, corrugated metal. Piles of broken brick lay in the midst of other half-raised structures. There was little sign of plant-life in the town—though, there were jagged mountain peaks that sawed up along the horizon. The mountains rose and fell backwards into the blue sky. This took the edge off the man-made structures.
I sauntered about and kicked up dust in the hot sun. I wanted to find a place to stay quickly so I could put down my backpack. I saw J down the street. Our eyes connected.
“I’m looking for a really cheap place while I’m here. I need to recoup my losses from Luang Prubang.”
“I am of the same mind.”
“Cool. You want to find a cheap place in this town with me?”
“Sure.”
We were directed to the Champa Laos—with its stunning, uninterrupted view of the mountains.
“Do you have a room?”
“Yes. But only one.”
“Hmmm. How much?”
“30,000 kip. But there are 2 beds.” I was right about to tell J that he could take the place and I would look around, but he just shrugged at me.
“I’m cool with sharing a room. You?”
“Uh. Sure. I’m pretty sure I can trust you?”
“You can trust me. Think I can trust you too?”
“You better keep an eye on that passport.”
We laughed. We settled in and then took a walk around the town. It was a bizarre place. There were only a few major streets that ran through Van Vieng, and every street had bars and outdoor restaurants. There were these bars that were playing loops of “Friends” and “Family Guy” while people lounged around on the floor cushions smoking cigarettes and looking dreamy. Or hung over. I wasn’t sure which. Maybe both?
J and I grabbed a long lunch and then went to the “Irish Bar” and had a long chat about random things over Beer Lao. He was pretty smart, so we had a good conversation. He mentioned his girlfriend—which automatically helped me to put up that boundary—but J had this bizarre sexual but asexual vibe about him.
Anyway, we ended up at the “Bucket Bar”—it is exactly what it sounds like. Loud music, debauchery, pretty people with pretty tans, raised wooden platforms where people took off their flip flops to dance. I danced a little, got dirty danced with a little and eventually just started feeling exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. J wasn’t ready to go when I was, but I had no idea how to get back to the guest house.
“Just let me finish my beer.”
“Take your time. But I’m going to lay down right here.”
“That’s cool. I’ll wake you.”
I leaned back on the wooden planks that were vibrating with the stomping feet of the dancers. I watched the stars for a while. A curly-haired boy with a cute face lay next to me.
“Sleepy?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m curled up like this.”
He chuckled, “you want to take a walk with me?”
“A walk to where?” I yawned.
“To the pier.”
“I don’t know where the pier is. And what’re we going to do down there?”
“It’s a really cool place. C’mon.”
“I don’t think so. I’m really tired and I don’t want to move.”
He brushed a few of those beautiful curls from his eyes. I smiled politely and turned over and continued to feel those stomping feet. Jasper shook me awake sometime later and we walked home.
