Boob Tubers

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng in winding and jittery. Whenever I lay back my head to sleep, we hit a bump and the headrest slams into me as if to say "wake up, woman! Look out the window!" In the haze that comes with the consumption of one beer lao at the rest stop, I oblige. Limestone cliffs loom behind a smoky haze, teasing me with their beauty. If they are this lovely when shrouded in a burning season veil... Quietly I imagine them at their full potential. Sleep eludes me, as always. A few rows up, I enviously watch Ian's relaxed head bobbing with the motion of the bus. At least I have my limestone.

We pull into town and our lazy tuk tuk driver will only take us to the center of town. Our favored guesthouse is just outside of town, so we walk. The street is lined with identical signs, yellow with a large bottle of beer lao plastered down the side, only the text varies from sign to sign. Doesn't really matter, since the restaurants boast seemingly identical menus. The hordes of frat boy tubers I've been warned about are nowhere in sight,but neither is the stunning landscape that supposedly keeps travelers like me coming to a place that has a bad reputation as teenage party central. Then we take a turn and the Nam Song river stretches far in both directions. As we approach our guesthouse, I become sure that we will stay slightly longer than planned. Maylyn GH has adorable little bungalows scattered across a peaceful garden next to a stream. Cows graze in a meadow 100 feet away, their bells tinkling with each movement. We are shown a bungalow with a patio that looks out to rows of jagged cliffs. The sun is low in the sky and everything is shimmering with a golden glow. I can't believe we almost breezed through this town.

At night, I am craving meat–red meat–due to my 14-day-long period, most likely. That was fun. We head to a place in town called Whopping Burger and holy cow! (If cows are holy this burger is surely a deity.) Delicious double-patty garlic mayo goodness. I rarely crave meat, and never a burger (especially in SE Asia) but this puppy is totally worth it. I thank the cows in the meadow.

We walk home through the center of town. There are restaurants where all of the cushions face forward so that every zoned-out teenager has a great view of the friends reruns playing on the television. Always Friends, every restaurant. No, wait, there is Family Guy. This is supply and demand, what the tourists want. Whatever happened to visiting other cultures (question mark not currently available on this Cambodian computer) Rows of shop hawking bikinis and short skirts in an otherwise conservative community. The local women swim fully clothed and I mean fully--I have seen women in jeans and sweatshirts in the river. I wonder what this town was like ten years ago before the bros, buckets and bleached blondes took over. The drunken douche bags hardly notice the scenery and the whiskey-fueled debauchery doesn't lend itself to the surroundings. At least it is amusing to look out onto the street while munching on your dinner and count the number of bandages and crutches that walk by. Ya hear that, kids (insert question mark) Limestone and booze don't mix.