Dripping wet, shivering drunkards... in tubes.

I don't suppose anyone else will appreciate the delicate irony* here, but I truly thought that being in Laos on Australia Day would allow me to safely ignore my homeland. It has, however, brought me in contact with more Australians than I usually meet in a month. Yes, this is partly because I'm a hermit, but also because there are way the fuck too many Australians in Vang Vieng. It might be the horribly obnoxious riverside club scene that draws us in, or it may be the beautiful scener-- nope, it's most likely the club scene.

An afternoon tubing sounds like fun. Nice, relaxing fun just floating gradually downriver... all you need to do is make it past the half-dozen or so bars littered along the banks. Try to ignore the shitty... shitty music and once you're past the big slide (yes, the big slide) it actually does live up to my snobbish expectations.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) most people don't make it past the big slide. And as such, a tuk-tuk service is set up to drive the dripping wet, shivering drunkards back to town.

This is one town where I really feel sorry for the locals. I understand why our hotel manager is so grumpy all the time.

*possibly because it's not true irony at all, rather the Alanis Morrisette kind of irony that is anything but.