Parked in Pakse
It's supposed to be the last major city in southern Lao, but Pakse feels more like a run-down beach town during winter break. The shops are shuttered – all five of them – and the local market seems to only carry badly sewn clothes, shampoo, and questionable electronics.
In Pakse, Lao. It's a weird doo-hicky town. I feel as if I've been transplanted in a twilight zone of Vietnam. Vietnamese diners outnumber Lao establishments, motorbikes criss-cross (thank the sweet Lord) clearly marked paved roads, and I even heard a weird dialect (before this, unknown) of Vietnamese spoken here. I haven't really seen the signs that tell me I'm in Lao, as elsewhere. No monks roam the streets, there is only one dilapidated wat, and to be honest, not much seems to be happening here.
It's supposed to be the last major city in southern Lao, but Pakse feels more like a run-down beach town during winter break. The shops are shuttered – all five of them – and the local market seems to only carry badly sewn clothes, shampoo, and questionable electronics. It does seem strange, however, to find that all the nice-looking hotels are fully booked. YuppieNomad and I have resigned ourselves to a one-night stay in a deteriorating guesthouse. Contrast that to the Vietnamese consulate, walled off and brand spanking new, fully stocked and opulent with tennis courts, wide verandas, and spotless windows.
Heading further away from civilization tomorrow, to Champasak and the Khmer ruins. I promise to catch up and talk about Vientane and my thoughts on Buddhism and Ghandi and well, so much to say and not nearly enough the right words to say them!