Happy New Year from an intrepid traveller in Laos

Well I survived the sparrow. I have since eaten piglet on a stick, but was not adventurous enough for the tarantula-like spiders or grasshoppers.

One of my best friends has complained that I was coming over all "Bob Geldof" on her. Never mind the sickly soul-searching, what's the gossip she asked? I guess my blogs have been rather reflective and a tad melancholy. Of course there is gossip but this is a blog being read by many so I have to keep it clean. I promise today I won't dwell upon my visit to The Killing Fields that reduced me to tears, or the jaw-dropping splendor of Angkor Wat, but instead I'll tell you about events leading up to New Year's eve.

I decided to eschew a night on Pub Street in Seam Reap, Cambodia, for a cultural night in Thailand on the Laos border. The usual party would have been fun, but I'd had plenty already (what do you think is making me look so happy on the swing at the full moon party?). I didn't travel thousands of miles to celebrate with a piss-up in a place called Pub Street, something I could do any night of the week. Instead I set off on an intrepid journey across the border to find out how the Thais celebrate. Unfortunately my NYE didn't live up to expectations (does it ever?). It was fun seeing all the revellers, but the Thai pop music does tend to grate after about five minutes, and there are only so many piglets a girl can eat. Would you believe that Babe is my favourite film? It's part of my small video collection (I also own 1001 Dalmations and Free Willy) and it's the only movie I can quote from (baa ram you.....). The journey to my NYE destination was, however, unforgettable.

For the next 24 hours at least, I did not see one Falang (westerner). It had been my plan to get away from the well-trodden traveller trail, and that I did. There is something exhilarating about going to areas where there are no tourists. It was a little unnerving at times, but not once did I feel scared. It was fun riding on the back of my taxi moped to be met with stares from the villagers. My driver told me that only a few falang use this crossing, which explains why I was such a spectacle, riding pillion with my blonde hair flowing in the wind as we raced by remote, rustic villages. When I got to the border I realised that hardly any locals used the crossing either, so I was fortunate that I managed to communicate with the non-English speaking Thai border police that I needed to get a taxi. He looked at me like I was mad. Looking at the filthy face framed with wild, scarecrow hair in the reflection staring back at me from the mirror later that evening, even I was disturbed. I realised that I must have seemed like a mad English bag lady, especially as I was muttering incoherent Thai.

Someone was shining down on me. The kind border control officer flagged down a lift with a Thai family. He was much nicer than Ram, the Indian border control officer I met in Nepal who locked Al and me in his officers' mess. You think I would've learned my lesson then about remote borders. Anyway, Niang and her family were wonderful. Before I knew it, I was speeding through the Thai countryside in the back of their wagon, balancing myself on a load of charcoal sacks and gas cannisters, hoping to God we didn't crash or we'd go up in flames. Niang explained she and her family had been building a bridge in Cambodia. What felt like two hours into the journey I was offered a seat in the front. My hosts didn't speak English so I had to endure more Thai pop music. At least I was safe and sound, although I was headed 100k in the opposite direction to my original destination. Niang said I was a strong woman to be travelling alone. At this point I feared I was more stupid than strong, but I have learned my lesson not to cross remote borders near nightfall when you have no clue what to expect on the other side.

The generosity I have experienced whilst trying to get off the beaten track has been wonderful. Last night I dined with a young group of Lao revellers. Again they spoke no English, instead tapping me on the shoulder to indicate they were inviting me to join in with their new year's day meal. Although we couldn't converse, I spent an enjoyable evening eating, drinking beer and listening to R&B. Okay so the R&B wasn't so enjoyable, but it was marginally better than Thai pop music. (I miss music so much. The only respite I get from my over-played iPod and terrible Thai warblings is MySpace when I use the internet. I'm listening to Manchester band The Nightjars as I write this. Check out the tracks Valentine and You Set me Reeling, they're sublime. It makes me pine for home.) The evening only cost me a dollar, but experiences like that are priceless. I wouldn't have found this in the ubiquitous traveller cafes that you find at every turn.

Tomorrow you (and my mum) will be pleased to know that I am joining two guys for my next adventure, all platonic I might add. My friend also asked me if there'd been any romance. Well that's a whole other blog. I'll treat you to those tales tomorrow.

Happy New Year.

Love Vic xx