Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all people cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand eachother, we may even become friends - Maya Angelou
It's been two very quick weeks since I arrived at Bangkok's Hualampong train station and as I finally sit down to pound out another journal entry, I'm almost ashamed to admit that I'm cruising comfortably at an altitude of 37,000 feet somewhere above the Pacific and just to the right of Taiwan. For whatever reason, over the past couple weeks I've fallen prey to a severe case of blogger's block. No reflection on the city, of course – Bangkok is, after all, one of my favorite places in the world – but I think that once I unpacked my bags at my mom and dad's place downtown, especially in a city that I've visited and explored several time before, the "adventure" part of my adventure came to an end. No more scrambling for beds or hunting for a semi-edible meal. No more waking up to a completely foreign cityscape or countryside. No more concerns about being blatantly ripped off by market vendors and taxi drivers. Instead, I could let down my guard a little, re-visit my favorite corners of Bangkok, and best of all, at the end of the day I could head back "home" to enjoy the company of my parents (even if - especially if - that meant getting inexplicably sucked into a couple of episodes of "So you think you can dance" with my mother). Life is good.
ropical sun. Of course, any attempt to convey just what it is that Bangkok "is" within the confines of a blog entry would inevitably come up short. Instead, I've decided to describe each of my Bangkok highlights in a sentence or two:
k of joy on the faces of the shopkeepers when my Mom walks down the alley – she apparently funnels a lot of business their way, myself included. Phra Sumen fort on the Chao Phraya is my favorite park in the city – it's the place to go when the Khao San freak show (a couple of blocks away) gets a little too freaky. The best foot massages in the Kingdom can be found nearby at a secret location. Enough said. Shooting blanks? Barren as the Mojave? Just want to see something weird? Check out the Lingham Shrine ("Pecker Park" to my Dad). It's tucked behind the Hilton on Wireless. Of course. Need a lucky charm? Take your pick from zillions at the Amulet Market next to Thammasat University. Like ping pong? Head to Patpong. Once again, enough said. China Town and Little India combine all the sights, sounds, smells, and chaos you would hope to find in a city like Bangkok – avoid the alleys if you are at all claustrophobic and watch out for the busy streets. I was saved from an indefinite curbside holding pattern by a sweet old lady when she grabbed my arm and pulled me along side as she lunged into traffic. Maybe she figured the traffic was more likely to slow for a sunburned and obviously confused farang. They weren't, but we survived. Those soi (s
treet) dogs that look unusually well-fed are "rice puppies" and you'd look that way too if all you (over)ate was rice. But, at least they're cared for, if not well cared for. A drive out to Kanchanaberi is a great way to spend a Saturday (especially if you're not the one in the driver's seat. Thanks, Dad). Just avoid squashing certain coins on the train tracks that cross the River Kwai. Lese majeste is no joke. Gawking at another man's rented girl is no joke either – I just missed what was shaping up to be a pretty good farang brawl on the sky train the other day when, due to horrible timing, the train arrived at my stop before the fists started flying. Christmas in Bangkok is always surreal – even more so when you see how deep this Buddhist city dives into the holiday spirit. After a series of deflated New Years due to the tsunami, random bombings, and political unrest, this year's celebration was amazing – the city sounded like a war zone as a dozen different firework displays simultaneously lit up the night. On a sadder note, nearly 60 people were killed in a nightclub fire shortly after midnight. Bangkok just can't seem to catch a break.
I love riding trains. My interest probably began as a kid - when I would go to the local amusement park and ride snail paced loops around a small lake full of carp - but I think it truly took root on a couple dusty long haul trips I took as a Peace Corps volunteer in Tanzania. My friends and I would book an entire berth for ourselves and ride, for days at a time, the beat up Chinese trains down to Victoria Falls or up to Lake Victoria for holiday. After watching my first African sunrise from the "comfort" of a rickety dining car I was hooked. Since then, in every county I've visited, I've made an effort to get myself on a train for at least a small portion of my journey. But here's the thing, I ruined myself by unwittingly picking such spectacular trips so early on in my train riding career. After East Africa and an extended trip (with lots of rail time) across northern India, I've found that nothing else quite compares. Be that as it may, I keep looking for train schedules and rail stations whenever I travel, always hoping that I'll stumble into another one of those magical trips.
ith Thais and foreigners alike. I was here about four years ago and, while I haven't noticed much of a change in the downtown old quarter - more coffee shops, maybe - I've heard that the sprawl and accompanying traffic headaches are getting worse. At any rate, I have to catch the southbound train to Bangkok at the Chiang Mai station, requiring at least one night in town. I stretched my visit out to a couple of days which, given my general distaste for knicknack shopping and suffering from the early symptoms of "temple fatigue" (common in this corner of the world), seems to be just about right.
sor of today's Thailand. One result of such a long Buddhist history is the sheer number of temples that were built in and around the city - rumored to rival the number of temples in all of Bangkok. They're literally everywhere you turn and include everything from large active monasteries to random, seemingly abandoned chedis (brick towers) dotting alleyways. The most impressi
ve of all is Wat Chedi Luang - a huge tower in the city center that was partially destroyed by a 16th century earthquake and never really repaired.
-11s, and Starbucks.....always Starbucks. 
I'll be the first to admit that I know absolutely nothing about Myanmar, other than prior to 1989 it was known as Burma and that its military dictatorship has been creating misery for its own people, and neighbors, for decades. So, when I heard a rumor that you could actually cross into Burma (the name preferred by the country's democracy movement) from Thailand, my curiosity was piqued. Turns out that the border between Mae Sai, Thailand and Tachilek, Burma was open to foreigners on the condition that you pay a $10 fee, leave your passport with the Burmese immigration officials (ostensibly to keep you from wandering off and stirring up trouble), and leave within 24 hours of your arrival. Realistically, this limits you to Tachilek although, I had also heard that two-week visas are occasionally available depending upon the whims of the government - but even then you are severly limited as to where and how you can travel. On top of all that, the entire border is occasionally locked down depending on the security situation of the day. Rebels operate in the area and Burma has even lobbed shells over the border into Mae Sai when fighting erupts. 
ull well that I wouldn't see anything remotely related to the "real" Burma in this border town, I decided to go anyway. Yes, I felt slightly guilty about giving my entry fee to the dictatorship, but I also hoped that once inside I could spread a bit of baht to others in genuine need. The border crossing was surprisingly efficient - Thais had their streamlined procedure - and I was pulled aside into a small office where I gave up my passport in exchange for a small, computer generated "day pass" complete with my photo. My 10 US dollar bills were completely unacceptable, however, because of some small ink stains, so I had to fork over 500 baht instead - a $5 penalty. After being ticked off for a few minutes, I consoled myself with the thought that at least I hadn't provided the government with hard US currency. And with that, I was off, free to roam for the day.....sort of.
knockoffs of designer labels from China mixed in with the dead animals mentioned above. Monkey skulls, tiger skins, bear claws, turtle shells, and some sort of dried up testicles seemed to be in high demand. I got the feeling that if I had only known who to ask I could have found an AK-47 or rocket launcher, as well. The biggest headaches were the roaming vendors selling decks of girlie cards, contraband cigarettes, Viagra and Cialis. Everywhere I went I was being offered Viagra at cut rate prices.....after a while, you start to develop a bit of a complex concerning your manhood. And then, as always, there were the whispered offers of opium, heroin, hashish, and hookers. Since Burmese prisons sound even less appealing than their Thai counterparts, I obviously passed.
Visa formalities on the Thai side of the river were fairly straightforward, except for a minor glitch requiring that I leave the country on Christmas Day - a full week before my flight back to the States. Oh well, mai pen rai, as the Thais like to say. I'm sure it will all get straightened out long before my expulsion from the Kingdom. At any rate, the border town of Chiang Khon seemed pleasant enough, but as soon as I had my passport stamped I was whisked to the bus station by a motorbike taxi (driven by a woman - not all that unusual in Thailand, but the first I had met in the last three months). With no time to change dollars into baht so early in the morning, I had to convince her to take American - no problem. The local bus driver was harder to convince, but after I agreed to pay a slightly inflated rate for my ride to Chiang Rai (three dollars instead of two - highway robbery!) he let me board. Riding shotgun with my new friend and his ticket-taking sidekick, a cheerful middle-aged woman I took to be his wife, we pulled out of the station on time and arrived in Chiang Rai a couple hours later.
of Southeast Asia, it is developed, modern, and "first-world" in many ways (7-11, anyone?). The people are generally outgoing, exceedingly friendly, and for better or worse, completely used to foreigners. In fact, one of the things I like least about being in Thailand is the impression I'm afraid I give by traveling as a single male. I find my introductions to the people I meet on the road inevitably including the information that "I'm going to see my parents in Bangkok for the holidays" - in an unconscious attempt to show that I'm NOT a sex tourist. Yeah, the creepy dudes and their beautiful rent-a-girlfriends are everywhere, as are the go-go bars and massage parlors. My little guesthouse was at the end of a pretty, tree-lined alley "guarded" by a well-placed massage parlor manned (woman-ed?) by a handful of very enthusiastic girls. The first few times I walked by, I was fresh meat and fair game - but after a few "mai ao's" (no thanks) they realized I was just staying down the road and not cruising. From then on, I was magically off-limits and free to say hey, flirt, and joke around with them whenever I went home for the night. That's Thailand.
The plan is to travel two full days up the Mekong, fighting the current all the way to the Lao city of Hua Xai just opposite of the Thai border crossing at Chiang Khong. Traveling from sunup to sundown each day still requires an overnight stop at Pak Beng, a small town whose entire existance seems to revolve around accomodating river travelers. Our boat is the typical stretched out, wooden, Lao-style cargo boat that moves people and goods up and down the Mekong every day. This particular run consists of Lao villagers, who hop on and off the boat at random settlements along the way, a half dozen foreigners who are, like me, headed to Thailand, and a cargo of hundred pound bags of rice and wood flooring packaged for export. No food on board - we were warned to bring our own - but plenty of beer and soda sold at a small bar located towards the back of the boat by a mostly sullen and/or extremely bored young woman.
modes of transport in this corner of Laos, boats of all sizes including a few big barges hauling heavy loads of teak logs to upstream to Thailand or further into Yunnan province in China.
o real rapids to speak of on this stretch. A very good thing considering that the few tricky pockets of eddies and cross-currents that we encountered caused the skinny boat to list quite a bit - even tossing some cargo around at one point. Of course, none of this was helped by the foreigners' refusal leave the sunny side of the boat in order to evenly distribute the weight, even against the (weak) admonitions of the crew. They (the crew) just shrugged, lit more cigarettes, and kept chugging along.
ow the left hand bank was all Thailand and just before sundown, we arrived in Hua Xai. The border posts were closed for the day, as I figured they would be, and I found a cheap and grotty room not far from the boat ferry. The next morning I went straight down to immigration to get stamped out just as the office was opening for the day and although there were a dozen backpackers lined up to enter Laos, I was the only one heading the other direction. Consequently I had the ferry boat all to myself as it went back across to the far bank and, after blowing my last 40 kip on a latte (these border towns are so sophisticated), I jumped on board and bowed goodbye to Laos - five minutes later I stepped off the boat and officially entered the Kingdom of Thailand.
Five minutes into my two-day journey up the Mekong to the Thai border and any regrets that I may have had about multiple scarf purchases at the Luang Prabang night market vanished. In fact, I was beginning to wish I had bought a shawl or something with a little more coverage - maybe swiped the ratty wool blanket out of my room at the guesthouse. As we pulled away from town, gray clouds hung low over the surrounding mountains and the boat, while plenty comfortable, was wide open to the cold morning breeze blowing downstream. It seems - confirmed by several shivering locals onboard - that winter had officially arrived in northern Laos. And, as if to mark the occasion, Luang Prabang was hit by a city-wide power outage on my last night in town. I woke up to a dark and cold wood-floored room, packed my bags by headlamp, and settled for a cold water face splash in the sink instead of a hot shower. Still enough hot water left in the thermos downstairs to whip up a cup of instant coffee and, with an hour to kill before departure, I dragged a chair out on to the second floor balcony overlooking the little alley below. Munching on a fresh-baked pineapple muffin from the market around the corner, I sat back and enjoyed one last sunrise in Luang Prabang.
Luang Prabang's morning market is located just down the alley from my guesthouse and I had wandered through it a half dozen times before I actually started noticing how many different things were being sold. Thinking it might be interesting to list everything I saw (and could identify - not easy in Laos), I grabbed a pen, a scrap of paper, and started strolling. The market isn't all that big by Asian standards, just a hundred meters long or so and taking up both sides of a narrow street, but I was surprised by the variety. Dog lovers beware - this may not be your kind of place. Anyway, here's what I found, in no particular order: Plantains (roasted and raw), wrapped bundles of banana leaves, onions (yellow and green), eggs, khai paen (dried Mekong river moss fried with sesame seeds), smoked whole chickens, bullfrogs (dead or still hopping), coconuts, water melons, green beans, a half dozen varieties of tubers, guords, snails, eggplants, tomatos, lettuce, cabbage, oranges, garlic, at least a dozen types of rice, M
ekong catfish (some the size of my thigh), carrots, kale, cabbage, buckets of fishheads, fish stew, fishhead stew, chili peppers, (red or green), pinapples, marigolds, apples, mint, cauliflower, cucumbers, roasted ducks, raw ducks, live ducks, papaya, bundles of firewood, dried squid, wet Mekong river moss, fresh baked baguettes, river crabs on wicker stringers, charred rodents (mice? rats?), tofu, potatos, broccoli, river eel, crickets, larvae of some type, sausages (of unknown origin), barnacles, mushrooms, live chickens (roosters and hens), entire buffalo ears (freshly chopped), a huge water buffalo tail (once again, freshly chopped), ginger root, chili powder, rice noodles, peanuts, sun-dried rice cakes, dragon fruit, mangos, phak nam (a local variety of watercress), piles and piles of chopped and bloody meat, and yes, one entire, partially bloated, completely skinned, dog (Labrador-size). Woof, woof......yum.
Once you leave Vientiane, heading north on Route 13 to Vang Vieng, you quickly begin climbing out of the Mekong river plain and into the mountains and high plateaus that make up over 2/3 of Laos. Moving further north, the limestone karst country of Vang Vieng - so spectacular in a delicate sort of way - gives way to big, solidly built mountain ranges, bisected by deep river gorges and thinly populated by Hmong (hill tribe) villages. The road up to Luang Prabang is (mostly) paved and (mostly) well-maintained, an admittedly difficult task given the terrain. Zig zagging through some of the most impressive country I've encountered on my trip, it reminded me of the first couple of weeks I spent motorbiking through northern Vietnam - and it should, I guess, seeing as how I'm back in roughly the same neighborhood. This stretch of Route 13 also has a well-earned reputation for banditry and roadside ambushes although the paving of the road and recent surrender of the last bands of Hmong anti-communist insurgents (originally organized nearly 40 years ago by the CIA, of course) has mellowed things out considerably. The last attack was in 2004 when two Swiss cyclists were murdered. Today you might see an AK-47 toting soldier or policeman riding shotgun on the local buses just to keep up appearances, but you're far more likely to fall prey to motion-sickness on the winding roads than a bunch of Hmong highway men
. 
t, as you might expect, has been a mixed blessing depending upon your perspective. The positive press that comes along with UNESCO patronage has led to a huge tourist boom - Luang Prabang is, far and away, the most popular tourist destination in Laos. However, there now seems to be funding for historic preservation and a recognition that, at least for the downtown area, it is worth enforcing strict building codes and limiting the (often garishly tacky) runaway growth that you might otherwise find. Old, previously run down French-style buildings are being renovated and turned into slick boutique hotels and spas catering to throngs of well-heeled tourists (including a huge number of Thais). A massive night market - sans all motorized traffic - sets up on the main drag each evening with intentionally low lighting designed to put you in a silk shopping mood. Early morning drums signal the daily march of alm-collecting monks through the streets. Sunsets across the Mekong can be enjoyed at any one of the dozen river side al fresco cafes. Fraganpani lined walkways meander through residential neighborhoods of traditional Lao-style wood homes. Pleasant smelling incense wafts from the open windows of the Buddhist temples located on nea
rly every block. Get the picture?
After being here a couple of days it's easy to see how Vang Vieng's "love it or hate it" reputation developed. First the hate: Vang Vieng attracts an almost Daytona Beach spring break crowd of young travelers and while I won't presume to know their motives, the main draw for most of them seems to be the chance to get absolutely blitzed on cheap and readily available drugs in the company of other foreigners. For this crowd, the spectacular scenery provides a nice backdrop to the party and the local Lao culture mostly takes a backseat. Over the years, an inner-tubing circuit has bee
n set up on the river running through town complete with float-up bars, blaring stereos, flip-flop and t-shirt stands, and dozens of restaurants making stabs at western fare. There are, of course, the "happy meals" and, in a bizarre twist on the opium dens of old, television bars have sprouted up downtown providing (seriously) endless loops of the "Friends" reruns for the glassy-eyed to zone out on. In my hyper-judgmental opinion, the biggest problem of all is the fairly complete lack of respect for the local culture and Lao standards of modesty. It's the bare chested dudes and bikini-clad girls wandering (or stumbling) down the streets, either uninformed or u
ninterested in the local customs that I just don't get. Perfect example: as I write this at 7:10am, there's a scruffy looking blond guy staggering down the main drag wearing nothing but a low slung pair of dirty swim trunks - no shirt, no shoes, just a hairy butt crack. A perfect ambassador from the western world. For the record, I want you all to know that it's not easy being the preachy moral conscience of the backpacking world...ha ha. At any rate, I suppose it's not like the locals don't encourage and benefit from the behavior - I didn't n
otice any falang (foreign) owned t.v. bars. But I suppose it's hard to argue with the flood of dollars, euros, and baht that the visitors bring into town........same old story. 
of the most impressive limestone caverns I've ever seen - all the more so, because I had them entirely to myself (if you don't count the numerous Buddha statues that seem to inhabit all Asian caves). Turquiose blue swimming holes, pristine river beaches, beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and the friendly locals and ex-pats that I met topped the whole experience off.
Two express buses a day make the run north from Vientiane to Vang Vieng - and, unsurprisingly, they're packed to the brim with foreigners hoping to avoid the standard start and stop routine of the local buses. Problem is that between the high demand and an uncoordinated ticket selling system, the seats are routinely over-booked, and our bus was no exception. Not a problem for me and my seat mate (an older Dutch professor who was suddenly traveling solo after his daughter couldn't fly into Bangkok). We had arrived early enough to snag a couple of front row seats. By our scheduled departure time every single seat was full and there were still a half dozen ticket holding passengers standing outside the door. What to do? Well, if you're in Laos (or Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, etc..) you fill the aisles with plastic patio chairs and pile on in. Bodies, chairs, and backpacks jamming the aisles, we eventually left Vientiane behind, the overloaded, badly shocked bus bottoming out over every pothole. If nothing else, by sitting up front I had slightly more leg room than most and a clear shot at the door in the event of a rollover. You take what you can get.
ey arrive. Not much fun to participate in, but always entertaining to watch from the comfort of a sidewalk cafe with cold beer in hand, the "turtle races" are made up of travelers - either singly, in pairs, or often in large groups (herds?) - wandering the streets, guidebooks in hand, racing from guest house to guest house in search of a bed for the night. Technically, there are "snails" (those wearing only an oversize backpack) and "turtles" (those wearing an oversize backpack on their backs with a smaller day pack worn in reverse over the chest). Although a distinct minority, there are also those who masochistically drag their wheeled luggage all over the developing world, but I haven't come up with a name for them yet. At any rate, it's easy to avoid the race by (1) booking ahead, (2) arriving early enough in the day that you're bound to get a spot in your first-choice guesthouse, or (3) hop on the motorbike belonging to the first hotel tout you see and hope for the best.
racers. After a quick dinner of laap (Lao meat and mint salad) and sticky rice, I walked down to the Nam Song river and bumped into an American couple, dusty and covered in sweat, dragging their wheeled suitcases through the sand and cobblestones at the rivers edge. They seemed to be lost and rooms - or at least the ones they were willing to pay for -were filling up faster than they could drag their luggage. They were about to completely lose it and I'm pretty sure she had been screaming at him just before I showed up. Feeling a little sorry for them, I offered to help - show them my map, offer a suggestion, something - but they declined and wandered off into the dusk.
“Vientiane is exceptional, if inconvenient”, wrote Paul Theroux in 1975, “the brothels are cleaner than the hotels, marijuana is cheaper than pipe tobacco, and opium is easier to find than a cold glass of beer."
ey're back on the streets plying their trade to an annoying degree. I can't walk more than two blocks at night without an offer ("hey you, you want Lao lady tonight you?") - although, sadly, most of them are coming from the taxi-driver by day/pimp by night dudes. I guess "boom boom" is big business in Vientiane again. Never a group to hide on the sidelines, Katuoys are also on the prowl. Normally the Thai-style Lady Boys are pretty harmless and mildly entertaining in the light of day - they get a little creepier when they start hooting and hollaring at you on a dark street. If you've been to Southeast Asia you know what I mean. Enough said.
bit, and have been for a while, Vientiane could win the world's mellowest capital city award, hands down. I know I've (over)used the term "sleepy riverside town" to describe most of the places I've visited in Laos, but there's no way around it - Laos is full of them, and the biggest of all is Vientiane. Compared to Hanoi, Saigon, and Phnom Penh....well, there's just no comparing (I won't even mention Vientiane and Bangkok in the same breath). Vientiane is more of an oversized
town than anything else, which is wonderful, if a little boring when all is said and done. The Buddhist temples are (mostly) beautiful and there are literally dozens of them within the city limits to check out. The food selection - via French cafes, Scandanavian bakeries, Indian and Italian restaurants, the riverside fish stands, a Tex-Mex place, and more - is out of this world, especially when compared to some of the local gruel I've had to endure over the past few weeks. The locals are exceptionally friendly and the touristas definitely entertaining (the Japanese "lotus-eaters" (wiki that one) I'm dorming with are....interesting). As someone told me, the lure of Vientiane is not so much seeing as just being.
km between Pakse and the capital, Vientiane, in one go was about as appealing as having a jagged piece of bamboo poked up my rear. Conversely, I've found that I can't handle being in a local-style bus for more than about six hours before I start going nuts - due as much to the endless loops of sappy Thai music videos and Cambodian comedy shows played on the bus "entertainment centers" as to the painfully slow progress they make. By cutting the trip into a few sections, I hoped to regain bits and pieces of my soon to be tested patience. At any rate, travel during the day allowed me to see more of the central Lao countryside, although that turned out to be a bit anticlimactic - if you've seen a hundred stilt-houses, you've really seen them all. 
er kept my steaming coffee cup topped off I chatted and mimed with the chain smoking taxi drivers waiting for incoming fares. Perusing the sidewalk food vendors who were assembling I feigned disgust (ok, it was real disgust) at the racks of freshly killed squirrels for sale. Mmmm....furry breakfast, anyone? After a couple hours it was finally time to mount up and head out.
Condom boxes and cockroaches notwithstanding, my trip to the Bolevan Plateau turned out to be really pretty cool. Although I had initially intended to motorbike around the area for a few days, that plan was scuttled as soon as I realized that my possibilities for accomodations may have peaked out with the evening at the Sekong Souksamlane. Instead, I got up early the next morning and spent an entire day picking my way along dirt roads and through dusty villages all the way back to Pakse.
Just for the record, if you ever find yourself on the far side of the Bolevan Plateau in a small, dusty town called Sekong, and the sun is sinking fast and you're thinking "man, I'd better find a place to stay tonight....and quick," DO NOT, no matter how desperate you may be (and given the options in Sekong, you will be VERY desperate), stay at the Sekong Souksamlane Hotel. It's the one with the goats and piles of water buffalo shit out front. 
Apparently, hammock time isn't as good for your health as you might think. After living the island life for a couple of slow days, I managed to come down with my first real illness of the entire trip - no, not malaria, tapeworms, or even simple giardia (although Emilie's money is on Dengue fever). No, I've been taken out by the common flu. The past two days have been spent mostly curled up in the fetal position underneath my fan, with occasional attempts to choke down a little bread and orange soda. The mere thought of yet another bowl of rice kickstarts the dry heaves. Ok, I'm being slightly dramatic, but still - being sick with something as lame as the flu, in a foreign country sucks. That being said, I did manage my first full meal in 4
8 hours this evening. It hasn't come up for round two yet - life is looking better.
es started cackling and laughing, red betel juice dripping from the corners of their mouths, until one finally shoved the bagged pigs back to the floor. Eventually everything calmed down and off we went, in a cloud of road dust. Minus what I hope to be the tail end of my illness, Champasak turned out to be a pretty cool little place. Sleepy riverside towns seem to be a dime a dozen in Laos but Champasak also has a UNESCO World Heritage Site going for it. About 10 km south of town lies Wat Phu Champasak, an ancient Ankor-era temple complex that, like Angkor, has been slowly reclaimed by the surrounding jungle. Wat Phu Champasak is unique because it was built up the side of the nearby mountain, peaking out at a sacred spring. The spring is still flowing (I took a holy splash bath after my hike to the top) and some of the ruins are being restored with the new UN money. It's no Angkor Wat, but its locatio
n is arguably more stunning. Climb to the upper temple and you can look out across the Mekong and beyon eastern Laos into Vietnam. Riding my bike down to the ruins at sunrise let me beat the crowds of tourists that bus in from nearby Pakse - I had the it all to myself, save for a French couple and the Lao women setting up their shrine-side snack snops, for an hour or so.
