OF CABBAGES AND KINGS.

Vang Vieng in Laos's reputation precedes it. Rumours circulate of a land where restaurants play F•R•I•E•N•D•S 24/7, shrumours of mushroom shakes handed to you in every bar, where comatose teenagers float down the Nam Song river. That was the Laos of three months ago. We arrived in a ghost town, every bar closing at 1 AM. We had to make our own fun (not being slags), convieniently the rooftop of our hostel was strewn with mattresses which was perfect for (not slagging but) rooftop parties. Three nights in they were pumping; if we were in Clueless, which I always imagine I am, Cher would have described it as 'slammin'. We were truly the toast of the town...of forty people. Until five fifty year old, giant woolly jumper clad, Laotion (yeah that's right) men turned up. My train of thought went thus, 'Ok that's cool, we're expanding, our clientel are maturing... Snazzy jumpers, boy they must think this weather's cold for Loas... Why are they taking them off? The party atmosphere must be warming them up... Oh mother of Christ there's guns under those garms, and not the sexy kind you take to the 'gun show', the kind red necks take to an actual gun show and hunt animals a lot bigger and stronger than humans with, FUCKKKKK'. Awkward when you've spent the evening inviting everyone to your 'slammin' roof top party' then everyone gets arrested. Particularly awkward when a man orders the lad sat next to you to stand up with a gun and you do. Seven million kip (£600) fine or a year and a half in jail? Um...

Shame how tubing had been closed down by the Government; every single bar is boarded up or burnt down. Awfully depressing. There's no sign of the mudslide of mudpie dreams or the zipwire of death (three people had died so far that year on it - Oi spoil sports, if you're starting to drown STOP POPPING AMPHETAMINES). Now all anyone does is just float lazily down the river in a ring; laaaaaaaame. Seems we were unfashionably three months late to the party. Someone else who was late for the party was the current reigning King of Popworld, Harry Styles. Or a boy with his exact face, and The Hair. Ooooh suddenly floating down the river looks like the best time ever, yayyyyy fake tubing.

AUGUST 2012

NOVEMBER 2012

That evening, I found BFF at the bar chatting to the most beautiful boy the world has ever seen, his carved-out-of-diamond-by-an-angel face topped off by a mint-green snapback. Gotta love a boy in a cap, it hides all manner of horrors. Orright, I know when I'm not wanted, I'm off to find Harry Styles. Later that night I burst into our room (it had quickly become our room; the girl who'd been in there when we rocked up having changed rooms after one evening with us. Rude) to see BFF and Mint Cap awkwardly sitting miles apart, 'Oh shit I'll be outta your way' I race outta the room, shutting the door. A fraction of a second later and the BFF wrenches open the door whisper-yelling my name.

'Yeah? I'm leaving you be buddy, don't you worry'
'Noooooo please come back in'
'What? Why?!'
'He STINKS of cabbage'
'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA you serious? But he's a megababe.'
(BFF practically crying) 'I knowwww, PLEASE PLEASE come back in'
'Soz fave, I got Harry Styles serenading me, laters.'

Seems after hours of him pouring out his life story, safely from the other side of the room, she eventually got Cabbage Patch Rid of him. What a waste.

CHIANG ME CHIANG MAI.

We slept our way up through northern Thailand to Chiang Mai on the sleeper trains. These trains hold the glorious, and highly underated, Dinner Set B. Promise me, swear on the Lord Elton John's life, that if you ever find yourself on one of these trains grasping the menu in your sweaty mitts, you will order Dinner Set B; so good they didn't name it twice, they tattooed the name on them forever.

 

AND YOU THOUGHT I WAS JOKING.

- OBVZ I GOT MINE ON MY ARM AS HARRY STYLES HAS HIS 'A' FOR HIS MUM ANNE THERE AND I KNOW

THAT, WHEN WE MEET,  ME BEING ABLE TO SAY 'BE THE A TO MY B' WILL MEAN WE'LL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

 

You're thinking 'Are they honestly that stupid?' when what you should be asking yourself is 'Shit, just how delicious was it?' For that question, my friend, I have no words that will do the answer justice. We travelled via Bangkok, where my ex-boyf in a drunken stupor put my size seven flip-flops on, leaving his, and abandoned me in to the mercy of the 40°C  tarmac of the Koh San Road with only fucking Hagrid's flippers to wear. Fuck knows how he didn't notice. Having no shoes, something has Chainged Mai foot something awful and it's now more swollen than my imbecillic lightingbolt finger tattoo new wand. Surviving a car smashing into our tuk-tuk ("AVADA KADAVRAAA") we stayed at an elephant park, chosen because of the mind-blowing pineapple one Trip Advisor review said it served.

 COURTESY OF (THE CRAZIES ON) TRIPADVISOR

 

For supper we ate truly the best pineapple we ever did taste, and as night fell we played Mystery Meat (known locally as Eating Fur, but I thought to the squalid Western mind this may sound like a different game) and Singing Around a Campfire. These are the songs that the elephant trainers, or Mahoots, knew, and the courses they accompanied:

 

Rice, sugar and coconut                       I Don't Want to Miss a Thing - Aerosmith
cooked in bamboo                             
 

Seeds                                                    Wonderwall - Oasis
 

Buffelo skin (fur)                                 When You Say Nothing At All - the Ronan Keating version
                                                                            

 

Ronan was the only one we all knew all the words to (soz Manchester, three years under your rainy sky hasn't taught me the second verse to Wonderwall 'BACK BEAT the word was on the street...???' No? Fuck knows). Well done Sir Keating (surely), doesn't matter if you're breaking up marriages, you are uniting nations; it's amazing how you can speak right to my heart, without saying a word you can light up the dark... Our last day in this wondrous country was spend with the Nellys. Honestly the best pineapple I've ever eaten for breaky, with the guliable BFF enjoying her first elephant egg omelette, then we went to feed the elephants (not their own eggs, that would be cruel) and ride and bathe them. Shout out to Grandma Golden Moon, surely the noblest elephant of them all.

PINEAPPRECIATION.

After some more marvelous pineapple we had a cup of tea with this AMAZING new food called coffee creamer which means you DON'T NEED MILK, seriously you just don't need it. Plus it's delicious, Jamie Oliver should be telling the world about this stuff. Mmmmmmm. Time for one more round of that heavenly pineapple and we'll be on our way. Thank you, goodnight and God bless Thailand.

Kob khun ka.