Mekong sunset. The first (I think) of many.
Reached dry land at half five and disembarked from the boat, groaning.
The town of Pak Beng consisted of a little beach where river traffic
stopped, and a single dirt road winding up the hill towards nowhere. If
you followed this road far enough you'd eventually get to China but I
just let a tout lead me to a simple wooden guesthouse a couple of
hundred yards from the river. The owner showed me the room then closed
the door behind us and dropped his voice a notch. Took a tightly-packed block of weed out of his pocket, broke off enough to roll maybe a couple of spliffs, and tried to sell it to me for about six quid. No thanks, friend. So he dropped his voice several further notches and offered me opium. I must have sounded less equivocal when I refused that cos he never offered it again; but he followed me around half of Pak Beng for the rest of the night, trying to sell me weed.
There were plenty of Lao restaurants in town but there was an Indian place too and it was calling to me. Went in there and got a chicken tikka massala. The waiter gave me a funny look and asked me if I was English. Oh yeah.
Spent the evening talking to some Dutch guy and went to bed at ten o'clock. Never did buy any drugs.