Surviving Vang Vieng

Along the bus ride north, I was lucky enough to nap a little bit, but wake up just in time to see the beautiful and imposing schist formations jutting into the skyline and between the clouds. As soon as I arrived, I checked into a hostel with Maya’s recommendation, and we promptly decided to try the cheap and accessible Lao massage. After soaking our feet in tea for a few minutes, we put on some matching shorts and shirts and went to the massage beds. The experience was very different from other massages that I have had, involving lots of twisting and contorting, cracking joints and harnessing leverage to bend me all over the place to an impressive degree. It was honestly very nice and relaxing, and I came out feeling quite refreshed and glad I had had the experience. After stepping out, we ran into some friends of Maya’s from the previous night, and decided to join them on a trip out to Blue Lagoon #3, one of many beautiful clear pools in the area that had been turned into tourist attractions. After a beautiful ride through the countryside we arrived at the lagoon itself ready to swim and enjoy. After swimming around and enjoying the swings and diving platforms built into the pool for a little while, I decided to follow some signs pointing out a path to a lookout as well as a cave. This brought me up well above the pool to some old and rotten looking platforms for what looked like it was once a set of ziplines, and eventually the path dropped down to reveal a small opening to a cave, with a small ladder descending into the depths. I went on a brief expedition into the cave, but quickly realized it opened up quite a bit to a remarkably large system. I decided to go back to the group at the pool, let them know what I was doing, and ask if anyone wanted to come along. I was lucky enough to be joined by one German guy, who had even thought to bring a headlamp out with him. Together we returned to the cave, with a looming deadline from the rest of the group who wanted to leave the pool around 4 pm, in a little less than an hour. Rushing slightly, and armed with only our swimsuits, one headlamp, and my phone flashlight, we descended again, hoping to find the pool deep within that marked the start of the aquatic portion of the cave (likely what had filtered the beautiful clear water of the pool outside). Our journey was extremely beautiful, though it didn’t photograph terribly well, with a couple dead ends, but a mostly signposted route with spray-painted arrows and the occasional wooden staircase easing the transition over sometimes sharp rocks. Just as the subterranean pool came into view, there was an abrupt drop off that my friend navigated first with no trouble, then turned his headlamp back to me so I could use both hands to make the little climb/jump down. Unfortunately, the ground below was a little further and slipperier than I had expected, and at some point in the move, my right hand found itself carrying all of my body weight, and some falling momentum, on a single piece of remarkably sharp schist. This scratched up all of my fingers except my thumb, but my pinky took the brunt of the impact, sliced well past the obvious skin layers and into what appeared to me to be muscle. Blood and shock quickly took over and the pain was not terrible, but as soon as I looked at my hand I could tell it would need some care beyond just bandage and antiseptic. After I washed the initial rush of blood in the cave pool (maybe not smart, definitely not ecologically sound), the bleeding slowed quite quickly and after taking a single shaky photo of my companion in the pool, we turned around to see what sort of first aid was available at the outdoor pool complex. We discovered fairly quickly another route that looped around and avoided the damaging drop completely, which left me feeling fairly silly, but after that we navigated the rest of the cave quickly and without incident. By the time we made it out it was just about 4, and I quickly checked in with the people at the pool restaurant, showed them my injury, and asked if/how they could help. They directed me towards a faucet to wash the wound, then gave me some povidone-iodine, a popular local antiseptic, and bandaged me up as best they could. After this, we all filed into the tuk-tuk that would take us back, and I tried to enjoy the scenery as much as possible on the way back. Once we returned to town, I searched the local hospital and took a quick walk over, where I showed them my hand and they quickly ushered me back into a doctors room. A doctor and two nurses came into the room and removed my bandage taking a look and declaring quickly that I would need stitches. I was of course not thrilled by this but knew it was probably a good idea, so I steeled my nerves and let the medical professionals go to work. After another coating of the dark red povidone-iodine over all of the damaged fingers, a nurse brought out the stitch kit and, without any painkillers, started to stitch me back together. I tried to hold still and keep calm, but the needle pulling through my finger was remarkably painful, and I certainly let some of that show. Maybe because of my stifled but obvious complaints, they ended up deciding on only a single stitch, then covered my pinky and some damage on my pointer finger with gauze, sealed them with some tape, packed up a bag with more tape gauze and antiseptic, and sent me on my way. Ultimately, the bill for the entire exchange, goody bag of surgical supplies included, came out to 200,000 kip, or just under $11. Sore and humbled, but grateful for the prompt and cheap care I had received, I returned to my hostel to nurse my wounds, and had a fairly uneventful evening and a dinner that has completely slipped my mind. Luckily, after the adrenaline had died down, sleep came easily that night.

The next day I was feeling a little better, and after changing my bandages decided to take First (who had just arrived in Vang Vieng) up on an offer to join him and a group from his hostel for river tubing. I tried my best to waterproof my injured hand, and a little after noon set off with the group to a spot upriver, where we could calmly drift down the river until arriving back in town around sunset. Of course there were numerous stops for drinks and food along the river, and between those distractions and the numerous breathtaking views as we floated lazily by, we barely made it back to town before dark. In the evening I got out to another popular hostel to play some pool with a nice British couple (Greg, and another name I forget) who I had met back in Vientiane. We spoke for a little while, with them sharing stories of their life for the last decade or so, living full time in Malaysian Borneo. After a nice afternoon and evening, I returned to my hostel and once again got some sleep. Unfortunately, the next morning, I awoke with congestion and a brutal sore throat, barely able to swallow. Feeling generally crappy and low energy, I took a hot shower, got some water, changed the dressing on my still healing wound, and went back to bed for a while. Later in the day I managed to drag myself to a local pharmacy where they gave me some antibiotics and ibuprofen and told me to take each 3x per day. The next 3 days or so are basically a blur of low energy, with about 1 meal per day, and probably 22 hours each day just sitting in the hostel bed and feeling deeply uncomfortable. With no consistent sleep schedule, this led to some interesting early mornings searching for water before the hostel desk had even opened. The brief moments of beauty showed me a side of the city I couldn’t quite appreciate, but most tourists likely miss altogether. I got to see the fleet of sunrise hot air balloons rising over the city, and a beautiful street market of and for locals, selling all sorts of foods (including squirrel, rat, and some bugs) to be cooked either at local restaurants or homes. As my energy slowly returned, I took a couple of short walks around Vang Vieng to see the nearby temples. Eventually I found myself feeling mostly better, and with the energy to get outside and communicate. With some congestion and lingering wounds on my hand, I got my stitch removed at the same hospital, and had one quiet and short evening out with another British couple that I had met all the way back in the South of Thailand, on the route between Phuket and Surat Thani.

The next day, feeling thoroughly done with Vang Vieng and only mostly recovered, I got a last bowl of the delicious soup that had sustained me through the worst of my illness, and booked an afternoon train further north to the city of Luang Prabang. In the meantime, Greg and his girlfriend offered for me to come along on a morning outing in their Tuk-Tuk to see more of the lagoons and a popular local viewpoint atop a mountain. The lagoon was very nice and had lots of stalls selling drinks and food around the area. I enjoyed the clear waters for a little while, but eventually found myself drawn to the nearby cave here as well. With my recent injury fresh in mind, I committed myself to taking it slow and not doing anything where I thought I could slip or fall. There was a long walk up to the entrance, which tired me out a surprising amount, but when I got in I had the pleasure of looking all around a large cavern and poking around the corners. There were routes that clearly headed deeper into the darkness of the cave, but with my train as a deadline and the others waiting outside, not to mention my newly heightened risk-aversion, I decided to turn back towards the entrance before too long. We then took a quick ride over to the viewpoint, and commenced another, even longer, walk upward. I think because of my gradual recovery and recent streak of sedentary days, I really struggled on this climb, stopping to sit and rest when I got lightheaded, at times unsure if I would reach the top. But with time, and the patience of my companions, we all reached the summit together, and got to reward ourselves with a somewhat cliche photo on a motorbike that locals had somehow managed to get all the way to the top of this steep climb. This morning was a truly wonderful way to kick myself back into action, and see some of Vang Vieng that I almost missed because of my illness. And I even managed to do it all injury free! That said, when I returned to the hostel, I was still more than ready to move on, and did so by means of the massive Lao-Chinese railway, a massive joint infrastructure project that clearly showcased the wealth China was pouring into it. Quite impressed by the airport-like security check and mechanized arms moving boxes onto and off of cargo trains, I boarded the nicely air conditioned train and set off for Luang Prabang, hoping it would involve fewer difficulties than Vang Vieng had.