Weaving

Another early start, hopefully the last one for a week or so, packed and about to leave when a message arrives from aj to say that he's already arrived, but it turns out he's not only managed to go to the wrong place but is in the wrong country, still in Thailand and, now, south of Vientiane. Seems to have all the hallmarks of an interesting day…


Setting off for the southern bus station and the daily bus to Nong Khiaw, arriving in plenty of time to secure a ticket only to discover that, today, there isn't one but we can get as far as Pakmong and find our way from there. Laughing, I get tickets, head out to find the bus, already kind of full, board and take my seat, grinning as space is found for another couple of late arrivals, bodies cramped for departure.

Somewhere along the way, a toilet stop,  the driver offers to take us all the way for another 15000 kip per head, along bumpy roads bouncing off the roof, following the river, small dry villages and dusty shops and then a tuk tuk from the edge of the village to the bridge, the landscape opening up along the river, a room found, fed and watered into the afternoon sun, an hour walking through dust cast from passing wheels as weariness creeps across my footsteps.

Back in the room I sleep unexpectedly, wake just before sunset, the orb already fallen behind the hills, sparse clouds darkening above them. From the bridge watching the transforming west, a fisherman below, returning boats; the sound of children at play, a group dancing around a mobile phone playing what seems by it's ubiquity to be a local hit. And the colours change and deepen, night fallen around me once again. And tomorrow...