We travelled to Pakse from Vientiane overnight by bus. Hilarious journey, looking back, as the bus had actual beds on it. They were, however, made for teeny tiny Laos people so we didn't get a lot of sleep. To top it off we had the TV for the bus at the end of our bed with cheesey karaoke Laos pop tunes blasting out all night long. The drivers 4 mates sat in the aisle next to our bed, elbowing Ed is the thigh all night. On the plus side we have managed to purchase the DVD of the actual pop they played as it is safely the most hilarious thing we have ever seen, just not so hilarious at 3am. 
Pakse is a kind of nothing town but it grew on us a lot in the 3 days we were there. We spent time trying to get out to the Bolaven Plateau on a motorbike but it rained so much we didn't make it. Pakse was actually an OK place to kill time and the locals were lovely to us. The market pictures you can see on my previous entry are mostly from Pakse market. We met some great people who became travel buddies for the next couple of weeks. 2 Austrians, Manuel and Martin, a German called Peter and a Canadian called Mark. We are missing them lots now that we have all had to part ways and Ed is still amazed by the fact they all had guitars and bongo drums but were not a bunch of tossers! I felt in no way like I was travelling with a bunch of guys, they went out of their way to include me. That is no comment on your masculinity guys!
Peter, Martin, (Patrick and his massive 'fro) Mark and Manuel
Being ''one of the boys'' . Couldnt do the moody scowl! Plus I look like an proper idiot in those f*cking trekking boots again
After giving up on the Bolaven Plateau we went down to the village of Champasak, to visit the famous but scarcely visited Ankor temple of Wat Phou. Lets just say getting there was probably our most authentic and funniest experience to date. You take what is called a songtao, this is the roman pronunciation anyway. It is basically a pick up truck with benches in the back. They probably hold 10 to 15 people comfortably. Our head count was 30. There were children being passed over our heads, a chicken pecking at Eds legs and at one point a live catfish jumped out of a bag on the floor into my lap! The locals were totally intrigued by us, staring and smiling and even pinching at my arm to see if my skin felt the same as theirs. Or at least I think that is why as I cant speak Laos. The woman opposite soothed her upset son by feeding him a boiled egg complete with embryo and some locusts for afters. The old women al had crimson stained gums and manky teeth from chewing betel nut filled paan
Then we had to cross the river, quite literally on a motorised raft. The truck drove onto this and suddenly the engines started and we were off. The locals stuffing noodle soup down their throats, bought from the enterprising ladies on board the raft. We declined and I am pretty glad seeing as how we saw them do the washing up in the brown waters of the Mekong River after, not the best for the old western stomach. 
We stayed at a little guesthouse with THE jolliest Laos man ever running it and his 2 ladyboy-in-the-making sons. 
Peter has to get the credit for the Beer Lao pic above.We settled in the restaurant on stilts by the mighty Mekong for a night of Beer Lao with Mark, an Italian woman called Antoinella, a grumpy old Brit ex pat called Gavin and a Dutch guy who said, "it is naisch" a lot. I asked the Dutch guy what they called people from Amsterdam. He said that he was an Amshterdamer. Antoinella commented that it sounded like a type of cheese, "Amsterdamer.... take a slice'', in a voiceover accent.
The next day we hired bicycles for the 10km ride out to Wat Phou. It was brilliant passing through all the little villages and getting more "sabaidees" from the locals than we thought possible. The kids wanted to hi-five you as you went past and their little hands nearly fell off from so much waving. Sabaidee is hello in Laos.
Wat Phou was great to see, like an eerie haunted old house because it has been pretty much left to crumble away. 
The next day we took the truck back across the river and were told to wait at the junction for another truck to take us south to Si Phan Don or the 4000 islands. Lo and behold our Austrian and German chums were crammed into the truck with the locals, heading the same way as us. We said we would wait for the next one as it was full but the driver insisted it was fine. This meant Mark sitting on the roof and Manuel and Martin hanging off the back of the truck for 2 hours to the river crossing.
We went across to an island called Don Khong 1st of all. The 4000 islands are at the point where the rivers in Laos converge at the border with Cambodia. There are indeed a lot of islands but I am not sure about 4000! A lot were covered due to the river being high for rainy season.
Don Khong was great and we ate the best fish coconut curry ever and hired motorbikes to explore the island for the day.
Manuel got a puncture so we waited at the local garage, which was a man with a pump and a spare tyre. We wanted a drink and assumed they sold them. When we asked her she actually got on her own mototrbike and drove up the rode to the other end of the village to get us a cold drink and brought it back to us! Service or what?! Such lovely people. 
Peter was sporting a matching orange top and rucksack to match his orange moped.
Peter was sporting a matching orange top and rucksack to match his orange moped. 
Born to model
The garage's waiting room
Endless rice paddies again but then rain stopped play in the afternoon.The Austrians and Mark entertained us all that night singin and playing their guitars and bongos.
Then we moved onto Don Det where we stayed at a lovely little place right on the river run by a super camp guy and his gaggle of teenage helpers, and had a very chilled out time indeed.
Monkls in a boat getting petrol. Monks in anything amazes me still.
Our bungalow for the princely sum of 2 pounds a night
Our next door neighbour. She liked to hang out under her house, with her pig.
We went tubing again, this time it was a bit faster and no alcohol was involved
These were our neighbours behind us. I went to watch a beautiful sunset over their rice paddy and the little girl was so intrigued by the camera.
She took this photo, not bad for a little kid I'd say.
Then we had to say our goodbyes as we all had different plans to stick to. Manuel got very protective of his bongos and had to borrow a rain jacket from our landlord to make his way back in the monsoon rains to his place.
THANK YOU FOR LOADS OF HAPPY MEMORIES!!
