Flappy Feet

There are some things that you shouldn't mix. Water and electricity, for example, are not a great pairing. Steve can pay testimony to that fact - I remember when we were younger, playing on my uncle's farm, and both of us were caught short. Being miles away from the house and being boys, the natural thing to do was to go in the hedge. As I happily mowed down the stinging nettles and long grass that lay in front of me, I witnessed something I wasn't expecting: Steve breaking the long jump world record. Unfortunately, in our haste to go to the toilet, we hadn't realised that behind the hedge was a fence. An electric fence. Poor Steve.

Another thing that didn't mix too well, we discovered as we travelled between Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng, were windy mountain roads and a bus driver who thinks he is Sebastian Vettel. By the time we'd reached half way, I think ninety percent of the passengers were looking fairly green. The other ten percent clearly had stronger stomachs.

What made the travel sickness bearable was the fact we were winding our way south through some more incredible scenery. Tall limestone pillars, covered in thick jungle, lined the road all the way to Vang Vieng. They broke up the otherwise flat horizon with silhouettes that resembled jagged shark teeth. These limestone karsts also provided the backdrop for the town itself. 

Tired from travelling, and very relieved to have arrived in one piece, we spent an hour or so recovering in a local bar, where we alternated between playing pool, snoozing and admiring the stunning view. Every now and again we would be covered in large shadows as big hot air balloons blew effortlessly across the picturesque town.

We enjoyed it so much that it was difficult to drag ourselves away, but we needed to find our guesthouse.

It turned out that our guesthouse was just as spectacular. Our home for the next three nights was a bungalow on an island in the middle of the river. The only way to reach it was down some rickety steps and across a bridge that looked like one somebody had made as a college woodwork project. Thankfully it was stronger than any of my efforts at school and held our weight.

The next few days we spent exploring the surrounding area. The most relaxing activity was when we went 'tubing': we hired three rubber inner tubes, were taken 3km upstream and spent the afternoon drifting back down the Nam Ou river towards the town.

Dotted along the riverbank were a number of places you could stop and have some food or drink. Helpful men, armed with a coke bottle full of sand and some rope would pull you in to shore and, providing you could negotiate the slippery rocks, you could spend some time getting refreshments. It was at one of these establishments that Steve's latest 'incident' occurred.

Now to be fair, it had been a good few days since Steve had had anything unfortunate happen to him. He'd not left any t-shirts drying in hotels, he'd finished his dose of anti-biotics and he had steered clear of petrol for a while. But as we enjoyed a game of volleyball in the sun, I noticed Steve limp off. "I think I'm out!" he said as he hobbled towards a seat.

"What's up?" Nick and I ventured, half expecting it was Steve being intimidated by our incredible volleyball skills.

"Um, my foot," Steve replied.

Stuck to the sole of Steve's right foot was a big brown leaf, flapping around. I could only imagine that a nasty thistle had dug itself in. I winced in sympathetic pain. And then I looked again. It wasn't a leaf flapping - it was the bottom of Steve's foot!

Resisting the urge to vomit, I quickly ran to the bar and asked for some 'tape to stick my friend's foot back together'. Steve cleaned the blood off before we wrapped it - it wasn't quite a professional job, more a Key Stage 1 cutting and sticking exercise, but it seemed to do the trick.

We walked, or hobbled in Steve's case, back to the river and continued to float back to Vang Vieng. Thankfully, Steve was not in much pain and even managed to dive, in vain, after a pair of sunglasses when they came off his head.

We met a nice couple from Finland who we spent the evening with, and then returned to sway in our hammocks and dose up on mosquito repellent.

The next day, Nick and I decided to go on a bike ride. It wasn't that we were excluding Steve because we thought he was some sort of bad omen; he had decided that he needed a rest day. So off Nick and I went in search of the 'Blue Lagoon'.

We had had a late breakfast that morning and set off at around midday. The cycle to the lagoon would have been hard enough as it was over back breaking bumps and through clouds of dust, but Nick and I had chosen to add to the difficulty by completing the 7km ride during the hottest part of the day. ("Mad dogs and Englishmen....", hey?) By the time we had completed the journey it felt as though we were melting, so we spared no time jumping into the refreshing lagoon.

In the afternoon, we climbed two hundred metres up what felt like vertical steps to a cave. It was worth the effort as we were greeted by a cathedral-like space, filled with stalegmites and stalactites. Every time we ventured around another corner the cave expanded deeper and darker into the limestone cliff. After ten minutes or so I half expected to bump into Gollum.

The sun was low in the sky on our return journey, which meant it was only the chronic asthma and spinal damage we had to contend with. The ride seemed much quicker as we watched the black cliffs turn purple in the late evening light.

The following day we boarded a bus bound for Laos' capital, Vientiane, where we would catch a flight to Siem Reap in Cambodia. We hoped that we would enjoy Cambodia nearly as much as we had enjoyed Laos.

We also hoped Steve would stop trying to audition as an extra on casualty.