After a late start on 11th June I headed to a recommended travel office. I wanted to ask about a short 1 night trip that I had read about, to an artificial lake called Ang Nam Ngum, about 90km north of Vientiane. However they told me it was “impossible” for me to go there without a guide.

However my book had said it was possible, and worth it, and that I didn’t need a special travel pass, so I didn’t take “no” for an answer. I checked the buses, and there appeared to be a bus service to Thalat, near the lake. I had taken the precaution of getting the travel office person to show me what “Thalat” was in Lao writing, and then I copied it into my guide book. This was so that I could show it to someone at the bus office and would stand a chance of getting good information about a bus and what times it went! – very few people speak English here.

I wandered past Lao Tourism office, but they were no help regarding my trip to the lake either. But I resolved to try to get there the next day. Then I walked to another of the main sights of the city: Pha That Luang, a temple with an impressive central stupa. It was closed but I hung around until it opened, taking a photo of a curious ring that had formed round the sun.

From the temple I headed back to the Pratuxai monument (Arc de Triomphe) but this time I went up to the roof to the viewing platform.

Looking out at the mostly deserted streets it was hard to convince myself that I was in the middle of the capital city of a country the size of the UK and with a population of 4 million people. But I’ve seen this before in other communist countries…

There was a little more activity in a small food market that I came across…

I wandered to another attraction – the Wat Si Saket, which boasted 6840 statues of the Buda. Some were bigger than others – I didn’t count them..!

Last on my list of temples was the Wat Si Muang, the site of the “city pillar” and home of the guardian spirit of Vientiane. It was lit up like a Christmas decoration:

At the end of the day I went to a restaurant on the banks of the Mekong, recommended as having draft beer and being a good place to watch the sunset. I duly had a beer and watched the sunset, while eating chicken laap, the national dish, consisting of salad and toasted rice.

Back in the hotel I started reading a novel that I had picked up called “Saigon”. It is based on the period near the end of French rule in Indochina, and it seems to be giving me plenty of background to the last few turbulent decades.

On 12th I was up early, checked out, and headed to the bus station. I was able to figure out which bus I needed, and by 9am was on the way north – it looked like it wasn’t “impossible” after all. It was certainly cheap.

Ban Thalat was not a particularly attractive place – it seemed to be more like a frontier town with a lot of activity, but nobody caring what the place looked like. I was able to get a ride to the lake by hanging on to the back of a Landcruiser that was heading that way.

On the shore of the lake I wandered round – it was a bit disappointing, not the picturesque view that the book had suggested. After a bite to eat in a little restaurant I got talking to a guy who had a boat and for $2 would take me to a little island called Santipap where there was a place to stay the night. Anywhere seemed better than where I was, which appeared more like an industrial logging base than a tourist attraction.

The boatman explained that there is indeed a logging operation. An underwater logging operation. Apparently the government authority that built the dam to create the reservoir didn’t think ahead, and didn’t fell the trees that would be underwater before the water had covered them. So, having now decided that the trees should be removed, Laos now leads the world in underwater logging techniques!

I duly reached Santipap island in the little boat, and discovered that there was indeed a small, and very run down hotel there. There was very little else on the island, from what I could tell. It was peaceful and I figured I’d stay the night, though the unfelled drowned trees were a bit of an eyesore.

I was given tea, and then fish for dinner after which I settled down to some letter writing. I tuned in to the BBC and heard one of their 15 minute “English lesson” programs, in which they analyze a well know song and explain the lyrics in slow English. This time the song under the BBC’s microscope was Something Happened on the Way to Heaven by Phil Collins.