The New Vang Vieng

by mattchesser

The view from happy hour

Vang Vieng feels empty.

The Lao town on the banks of the Nam Song between Vientiane and Luang Prabang used to be the debauchery capital of the country – overrun with dumbass 20-somethings getting hammered during the day at tubing bars that lined the river and then partying into the wee hours of the night. 

Unfortunately, the bros and biddies kept dying.

According to local gossip, about a person per month would either drown, overdose, fall victim to awful bar owners that laced cocktails with toxic substances, or break their neck on a zipline and die in the river. Pretty awful stuff, which led to the Lao government burning and bulldozing the tubing bars a few months ago (apparently there were over 30 of them).

Now Vang Vieng is peaceful, gorgeous, and one of my favourite places in Laos. We kept hearing from other travellers that we had to come – and boy were they right. The scenery is stunning: surreal limestone karsts that rise out of nowhere. The town is half-deserted (sad for local businesses but wonderful for us). And there are a bunch of fun outdoorsy things to do in the surrounding area.

I would have hated the old Vang Vieng. I’m a grouchy old man at heart – I stopped clubbing years ago in order to avoid the type of person that Vang Vieng used to attract. But the disappearance of the party crowd has devastated local businesses. Our hotel manager estimated that tourism has dropped by about 70 percent versus the same period last year. Anecdotal evidence confirms this claim, as cavernous bars on the main street sometimes have more televisions playing episodes of Friends than they do customers.

Selfishly, I appreciated the change. Laura and I spent a relaxing afternoon slowly drifting down the river with hardly a person in sight. The three-hour float amidst spectacular scenery was made even better by the Lao grandmother who sold us cans of beer from a hammock on the riverbank.

We rented bicycles and cycled 7km to the beautiful Blue Lagoon – a lovely swimming hole in which to cool the posterior bruises inflicted by the bumpy Laos “road” down which we rode. Spelunking the following day was even better. Laura and I each rented a motorbike (really a scooter) and drove the winding road to the “cave loop” 13km out of town. The bikes were liberating. After being stuck on buses, minivans, and tuk-tuks, there is nothing more gratifying than hitting the open road at your own pace.

An old Lao local led us deep into the expanse of Cave Loup and Cave Hoi, each with odd assortments of stalagmites and stalactites. They were no match for the “water cave” (Tham Nam) though – which one traverses by lying on an inner tube and pulling oneself along the ropes that lie on the surface of the water. The top of the cave sits only a few feet above the top of the tube, making for a surreal and claustrophobic experience.

I’m happy to report that I did not see a single spider in any of the caves.

We didn’t plan on visiting Vang Vieng. It wasn’t on our itinerary until a few days before we left Southern Laos. But given its (forced) change of heart, I’m so glad that we did.