Another day, another bad-tempered border guard, another medical disclaimer signed to assure the authorities we don’t have swine flu. I’m so bored of this global health paranoia that I thought about following James’ advice and writing ‘Mexican pig farmer’ under the occupation section of my Laos visa form, just for shits and giggles. But I came to my senses and wrote ‘unemployed pork lover’ instead, so we had a smooth crossing from Thailand to Laos, arriving by truck in Vientiane for our first peek at the Mekong River.

Vientiane was a wonderful introduction to the pace of modern Laos (slow) and to its past influences – it feels more like a provincial French town than a South Asian capital city. Fresh baguettes baking in the morning, tree lined boulevards, snooty colonial architecture…plus you can get steak frites and a biere for less than a fiver.

We hired some bikes that were last serviced during the second world war and sniffed out the handful of temples and monuments that survived successive colonial sackings by the Siamese and the French (ha – I can tut about them knocking temples down but I still eat the cheap steak), and generally spent a lovely couple of days meandering around. We also paid an enlightening visit to the national history museum, which contained some very informative displays and some truly spectacular Communist propaganda.

After three laid back days in the capital we took an over-crowded local bus to the even smaller town of Vang Vieng to meet our friends Laura and Kinloch and have some water based fun in the Mekong.

Vang Vieng is legendary on the gap year backpacker trail thanks to miracle of tubing…I first heard about it about 5 years ago and I thought it was an urban myth: somebody gives you a rubber ring and lets you float down the Mekong with a beer, occasionally pulling you ashore for another beer and possibly some sort of water sporty activity before sending you on your way to the next bar. I thought that could only happen in heaven, but since then quite a few reliable friends an acquaintences have participated, so I knew it was real, but I still didn’t really have the right idea. So here’s what actually happens (stop reading mother):

You pay some money to hire your tube and a tuk tuk driver takes you 5km out of Vang Vieng – you know you’re close before you see the river because you can hear the techno music pumping out of the first bar. You get out of the tuk tuk and an annoying 18 year old from Surrey plies you with whiskey and asks you whether it’s ‘your first time’. You leave your ring at the bar and get a beer, giving you time to pluck up the courage to climb 20 metres into a tree, grab a trapeze, swing out over the river, pick a spot that looks deep enough to drop into and let go. This is without great the greatest way in history to enter shallow water.

Then you grab your ring, float a maximum of 20 metres to the next bar (louder music), and repeat the process (the trapeze becomes a zip wire) with ever so slightly less co-ordination. Them you grab your ring again, float 20 metres again, and repeat again ad infinitum (or at least until you get to the end of the strip), walking away at the end tipsy but largely unscathed.

This is what ordinary people do.

However, yesterday was one of the rare days that sporting history was made by somebody who is far from ordinary: our friend Charlie ‘Tombstone’ Surridge pushed the boundaries of technique and laughed in the face of danger in order to create the ultimate trapeze dismount: I cannot describe the salmon-like grace of her descent into the low waters of the Mekong – her poise, composure and upper body strength reduces me to tears. Watch the video and you’ll understand.

 

*** Quick update ***

Here’s a YouTube video response from Matt, Anna and Samantha: