Loight boolb

Muang Ngoi Travel Blog

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Another river shot
Up; had breakfast; went for a beer. It being after midday. The slow place in Muang Ngoi is hard to fight.

H passed by the restaurant where I was drinking after a while. She and her room-mate were going to the beach to chill out; did I want to come? Yeah, sure. We took a few beers down to the river and sat doing not very much for a bit, before going to a restaurant for lunch. It was early and I'd had three bottles of Beerlao already so I was going to get a coke with my meal, but Ben was goading me. You're not going to let a German guy drink while you're on the soft stuff? Hell no! Rule Britannia! Blood, sweat, toil and beer!

I'm an idiot.

Anyway, the upshot is I got pissed.
Me. Still pre-haircut, as you can see
H wasn't a big drinker and I doubt I endeared myself to her; I didn't see her again after today. The rest of the day is quite hazy. Dinner with Ben and H and an Austrian staying at the same place as me, but I ditched them at some indeterminate point and ended up in a large group sitting around a campfire somewhere. The evening closed with me helping a very drunk guy from Worcestershire lug his very very drunk mate back to their guesthouse; then I went to bed. It was about half eleven and I'd not been so drunk since I'd been in Asia.

Hangover-free the next day (I'm rock-hard, see), I walked up to the Ban Huay Bo again. Ate at the same restaurant, where they still had no meat. The owner of the place came and sat with me while I waited for my food; he got a load of Beerlao bottletops and set them up on his checkered tablecloth, and we played draughts.
You Muang Ngoi accommodation. Luxurious it ain't, but you don't come to Laos for luxury
Luckily my lunch arrived before he could beat me.

He had reasonable English, this guy. Apparently he was taught the language by a Frenchman who came and stayed with him for nine nights or something. (He had a mattress on the floor in a hut for twenty-five pence a night.) He was still learning, though. Brought me an electric light-bulb and asked me what it was called in English. "Light bulb," I told him.

"Loight boolb."

"Light bulb."

"Loight boolb!" I give up. You know how strange it is when you hear your own voice on tape? This Lao basardization of my Brummagem twang was even stranger; the aural equivalent of a fun-house mirror. Anyway. I walked on from his restaurant, uphill through the jungle. I was aiming for a waterfall, but by about half three a local managed to convey to me in sign language that it was too late, and I'd have to go back. Oh well. I left Muang Ngoi two days later.
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Another river shot
Another river shot
Me. Still pre-haircut, as you can …
Me. Still pre-haircut, as you can…
You Muang Ngoi accommodation. Luxu…
You Muang Ngoi accommodation. Lux…
The river, from in front of my hut
The river, from in front of my hut
The forest, between Muang Ngoi and…
The forest, between Muang Ngoi an…
And again
And again
Your Muang Ngoi toilet. Except of …
Your Muang Ngoi toilet. Except of…
...it looks like this. Enjoy
...it looks like this. Enjoy
Muang Ngoi
photo by: edsander