vang vieng

vang vieng, laos

a little something i picked up at the farmers' markets for those hot summer days: take a plastic bag (the clearer, the better), partially fill it with water, and hang it within reach of the sun's rays. it won't have much of an effect on you. all you need to really know is that all that stuff you forgot from the light unit in ninth grade science will be occurring above your head. it's okay if you don't really notice. what matters to you is that each time that bag turns or rotates or budges to a trace of wind, it will have every fly in the micro-district mesmerized. they'll be buzzing around that thing like it was giving away phish tickets, while you can sell that goat cheese without having to wave your hand.

it follows the same logic whereby i am delighted that places like new jersey, orange county, and colorado springs exist. without such refracting and prismatic locales, those people could potentially be at whatever here i happen to be at. so too must the mitt romneys of the world be grateful for the vang viengs. this place captures a professional slacker demographic with one notch more ambition than the audience at a san diego blink-182 concert. not only does the principle activity involve sitting in an inner tube and getting drunk, but one in three is actually wearing the tank top to prove it.

a pass through the town inspires a couple good laughs. there are at least a dozen bars with episodes of "friends" on a constant loop; a handful of others do the same with "family guy." it's interesting to watch skinny british kids in tank tops dancing and rhyming along with an american rapper who would likely quit the mic for good were they to ever see the scene. but the whole thing can be a bit disgusting. seventeen farang died here last year. i take a darwinist approach to any mourning for them, but can't help but feel a pang for their families. they lost a child, that hurts. to lose one and have to identify the body here and realize what a shithead they were must be that much more painful. while i'm sure there's the occasional latent coronary condition or freak accident, the smart money rides on ketamine and an overturned tube.

the locals are culpable in the same fashion that mexico should be blamed for the drug cartels: they're simply fulfilling a niche in the market (told you romney would love this place.) if they start getting vigilant about 'no diving' and giving breathalyzers before handing over inflatables, there's not exactly another industry that the town can turn to. we are, after all, four hours of terrible roads north of vientiane, laos. this will never exactly be the next silicon valley. westerners need to give yard time to their demons and someone has to provide the lenient warden. the local cost is having their fairly modest culture insulted each evening as some sotted farang treats their home like it's a weekend at the sigma chi house.

all of which i expected to think, expected to write, all of which i have seen. much of which is, i am happy to report, anomalous in what is really an enchanting town. i have to admit that i practiced my i'm-not-with/like-them face before i arrived. fortunately, it's still in the bag. there were a few stumblers on the streets last night and, apparently, there was a fall down the stairs at my guest house as well. the majority didn't see or hear because they were in their beds, recovering from biking to the blue lagoon, hiking a limestone cliff, or kayaking down this pristine river. and even within that subgroup that came here to have that type of good time, i saw today as i floated past that nearly all were just doing what young people do all the world over: drinking too much, listening to their music too loud, probably saying very stupid things at very high decibels. basically, all that stuff that would bother you in a neighbor, but is really none of your business otherwise.

as for me? i certainly enjoy tilting 'em back from time to time and this trip has already seen a couple big nights (hello again, hoi an.) for some reason, it's been a little bit more fun to be a fly on the wall than one buzzing around the bag this time. i can actually count on one hand the number of beerlaos i've had these past few days. good thing too: i needed that other hand to hold the mushroom shake.