The slow hello began with what was really quite an epic slow boat journey. My departure from Thailand consisted of me travelling a winding 6 hours to the northern border, staying overnight in a guesthouse there, and waking up early the next day (along with many another backpackers who had also taken the easy way out and opted for a lazy package deal—yes, sue me, I got lazy!) and took a long boat taxi across the river border to the Laos immigration post. Then by 10am we were loading on to the long slow boat—or should I say cramming? Though it was nothing compared to the sardine can that would take place the following morning. The rest of the day passed without too much commotion or excitement, but was quite enjoyable chatting with other travelers, playing some card games, drinking Beer Lao, and taking in the stunning deep green mountains towering over the brown river. That night we stopped in the little town of Pak Beng, which in essence seems to have come to life because of the slow boat business with a dozen guesthouses and not much else save a small market and a handful of restaurants. The power goes out each night at 10:30pm and there’s not a phone or internet connection in sight. I grabbed a room at a guesthouse and dinner with some new friends, but without power it wasn’t much of a late night. Next morning, we were up early again and piling back onto the boat—only this time the boat was much smaller, perhaps a mere 3/4 of the previous one. Not good. I being my mother’s daughter was not going to stand for this. So there I was arguing with the boat people in front of all the other 70 passengers or so for them to grant us a larger boat (the one from yesterday) for the journey to Luang Prabang. Everyone else on board very helpfully looked on and then asked what had happened when I re-boarded the boat. Not a group of activists I guess. The operators basically won because, well, what other choice did we have, although one other girl (a helpful Brazilian) did join me in my cause. We set out on the six hour journey with not so much room to pay cards and clearly everyone a bit grumpier, more tired and squashed than the previous day.
But when Luang Prabang finally came into sight, relief was audible and everyone scrambled of the boat (with their many bags mind you). We found a cheap guesthouse, grabbed some dinner (I tried larp, a traditional minced meat salad which was very good) and wandered the town. Then it was time to hit the bar scene which closes at curfew—11pm town-wide. Kind of a drag, but not to fear, other options were waiting--either a disco that some of the guys tried out open until 1am, or, drum roll: bowling! That’s right: the town boasts an eight lane bowling alley complete with Beer Lao service open until an impressive 3am. I bowled one (horrendous, shameful really) game and hung around until about 2. It had been a long couple of days after all. The next day I strolled around the beautiful town, first checking out some of the day markets (more temptation), and then walking along the riverfront and check out the wat on Phousi Hill with my new Belgian friend, Tina. 
From the top of the 300 some steps (huffing and puffing all the way) you could see up and down the two rivers that bisect the town and the carpet of green hills that frame the town. Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage sight so the French colonial architecture and manicured gardens make for a truly lovely sight. That night I met up with some friends I had met on my trek in Chiang Mai who were also in Luang Prabang and made plans to meet them in a couple days in Vang Vieng for my birthday celebration. Although planning to stay the next day and see some famous local waterfalls, the rainy season had other plans for me. So instead, I made plans to head to Vang Vieng that day and return to Luang Prabang at the end of the week to do a volunteer stint with a nice Laos organization called Big Brother Mouse (http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/). 
That morning I also woke up very early, dragging myself out of bed at 6am, to partake in the local tradition of donating food to the monks at dawn. I went out to the main road, purchased a couple dollars worth of sticky rice and bananas, and waited for the procession of monks in their bright orange robes. As they walked past with small cauldrons slung low across their sides and lifted the lids, I pressed in a small clump of rice until I ran out.
Another girl from the infamous slowboat, Tanya, whose birthday was the day before mine, joined me on the frantic, winding, hilly 6 hour night bus to Vang Vieng where we arrived just after midnight in time to get a room and a drink with some other people from our slow boat who had arrived there earlier that day. And here’s where the going got fun—very fun—because if there’s any place I could have picked that could comfort a lone traveler on her first birthday not celebrating with my dear old friends and family, I think Vang Vieng was a good choice. This place screams fun, perhaps too loudly at times. Tuesday morning,(okay, early afternoon) Tanya, Tina, and a bunch of Irish and English lads headed to the tubing shop along with 200 other fun-seekers and spent the rest of the day floating down the river, stopping at creaky bamboo bars for drinks and towering rope-swings and zip lines over the river, and even several people waiting on the ladder up to the bar to reel tubers in with bamboo fishing rods. Brilliant! 
This is no James River Tubing, my dear Wahoos—and I say we try to bring this concept to Virginia, though I’m sure with the liability issues it would never happen in the US. But what a good time it was! 
We toasted to Tanya’s birthday all day. And then at night, like lemmings, everyone heads first to a laid-back bungalow bar with frat music until curfew at midnight, then on to the infamously named Bucket Bar for late night. The next day it was time to do it all over again, and with the sun shinning and more rope swings to be had it was another great day. That night I had a surprise—my first unplanned spotting of a friend from home, Neil from NYC! I was literally just standing in Smile Bar and got a tap on my shoulder and a “Laura?” I’m quite sure I turned away at first because I didn’t believe it, but there he was—on a two week holiday with some friends! I hadn’t seen him in almost two years, so crazy.
However, post-birthday-day I was definitely ready for some time off from tubing. Instead, Tine and I rented bicycles and rode the 7 or so kilometers to the Poukham Cave outside of town. There was a swimming hole with more swings and jumps (seems to be a theme around here!) and a steep ascent to a huge cave housing a reclining Buddha shrine and apparently another large dark cave, though our flip-flop clad feet and the slippery rocks stopped us from reaching the final destination. On the ride home too we passed through tiny villages with women weaving by the roadside, stretches of farmland, and more striking mountain vistas.
However, the following day, Friday, the group was back out on the river for final hooray, although my still aching arms were not as intent on rope-swing ambitions. Once again, the pleasant, relaxed atmosphere got the better of myself and others, and against previous plans, both Tina and I decided to stay an extra day to take a tour to explore a couple other days and have a more leisurely day (read: sober) kayaking down the river—choosing to float past the bars this time! And oh yes, we ended the day with a much needed traditional Lao massage to sooth those aching back and neck muscles that had been doing far too much swinging.
Now it’s time to pack my bags yet again and head back up north for a week in Luang Prabang and, if all goes as planned, some volunteer work which I’m really looking forward too. After a week of self-indulgence--in Beer Lao, baguette sandwiches (so good here, thanks to the lingering French influence) and late night pancakes, pillow-filled outdoor cafes, and fruit shakes, and of course lazy river days--I’m looking forward to getting back to giving a little back, especially to a country that’s already shown me such a good time.
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