Mateo Anna and I decided to head up to Vang Vieng to check out what all the rage was about with the tubing scene. For those of you who have never been to this part of the world, you know you are getting close to Vang Vieng by the number of tubing t-shirts you see flitting about. You can often see what travelers have done or where they have been by their clothes. This is often the best marketing tool for the region. For example: In Cambodia people buy clothes with monks holding umbrellas. In Vietnam almost everyone buys the red shirt with the yellow star in the middle or a Tintin au Vietnam tee. In Laos, everyone buys tubing t-shirts. Getting closer and closer to Vang Vieng you can start to separate those headed north and those headed south by this one difference. This t-shirt is such a purchase for most travelers, that some will buy the shirt before tubing so that they can wear it while tubing. Others, and I got to witness this personally, promptly drug their drunk carcasses out of the water with the sole motivation of stumbling to the nearest t-shirt shack to find their appropriate color and size. I didn’t buy one, but I did go tubing. I don't have any proof, per se, but you will just have to believe me.
For those of you who have any sort of conventional rural tubing in your head, meaning your butt in a hole, beer in your hand, and sunscreen on your face, lazing down the river, let me just stop you now. Tubing in Vang Vieng is more like Nickelodeon’s Guts propelled by alcohol and drugs and without the appropriate harnesses. In the town, you pay about 115,000 kip with your deposit for the day. A tuk-tuk packs you and 5 other sweaty foreigners under your tubes and you are shuffled to bar #1. The drinking starts before you even get in the water.
Upon arrival, I found myself watching 15 stationary people all focused below them. I wondered what was so interesting, so I checked my shoes and tube at the door. As I climbed the stairs, my periphery was sideswiped by a tiny Japanese woman flying through the air. I traced the wire she clung to to the top of a 50 or 60 foot tree where other people were lined up, ready to take the plunge. The heads in the crowd followed her decent into the water and subsequent efforts to beat the current into the shore. Holy gosh. What the hell?
A snapshot of things to come: Booze, river, current, trapeze, zip-line, drugs, naked, mud-wrestling, mud-volleyball, anything you needed to relive your hectic college years all in one day.
For those of you who have ever had the good fortune of seeing me struggle to get down a steep stairway, you will be delighted to know that I, Jessica Rhodes, jumped off the first jump zip-line trapeze. I convinced myself that it wasn’t scary, until about ½ way down, when I started screaming. I didn’t let go here, of course. I was too afraid of the drop, so I swung back up towards the bird’s nest. On the way back down my hands started to slip, but I decided to wait until the pinnacle to let go. Why? I don’t know. My goal was not to go as high as possible; I just saw so many other people waiting. This led to a fall into the water that sent me through multiple stages of my life. The first few seconds felt like freedom, but my anxiety continued to build on the way down. About 20 feet from the water I started to scream, sucking in laughs from the crowd and a whole heap of river water into my body. I must be crazy. When I finally stopped shaking, I was ready to go to the next bar, 15 meters away. This was not a lazy, calm experience. There were about 7 or 8 bars and only one sandwich shop. No wonder I saw so many people the next day walking around bandaged or limping. The last bar has a giant slide that you can go down if you buy alcohol, like you need anymore… After this, you tube down the river for about 45 of the most relaxing, peaceful minutes of the trip, at least, this is what I heard happens.
I had the pleasure of a stray tuber named Sasha latched on to my tube. His tall thin physique left his organs too close to the exterior of his body and when he wasn’t delightfully chatting, he was shaking like a leaf. I drunkenly handed him my soaking wet scarf to keep him warm, and did my best to keep us out of the main current. The other members in our group made it to shore before the city, leaving Sasha and I floating south at dusk. We drifted down the river for about 15 more minutes before we saw the lights of the city and the sillhoutes of children playing in the river. Three of them jumped on our tube, pulling us to the left, and away from the accidental trek to Cambodia. Wide-eyed, we watched as a figure sprinted on top of the water towards us. Defying gravity apparently impairs your reasoning capacity. We were in shallow water!! I jumped off the tube delighted, letting one of the kids run away with it. Sasha’s long body came in handy here, as he gadgeted his arms, swiping the tube away from the kid and saving my deposit. Thank you, my friend.
I forgot to mention the best part, I met someone named Trent that has been tubing for 252 days. This is both a mental and physical feat that I would certainly fail. It took me an entire day to get over the first day! Sasha and I are working out the rights to a TV show based around and staring him. More to come.
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