Luang Nam Tha, Laos: Better dog-tired than dead.

The bus from Luang Prabang to rural Luang Nam Tha in the north of Laos was surprisingly painless, given it takes nine hours and Lao roads are windy and bumpy (vomit bags provided). Our seats reclined, the bus had air-con, we even got some kip and arrived still feeling human. No such luck with the return journey, more on this later.

On our first day here we did some research on going trekking in the Nam Tha National Protected Area (NPA), and treks sounded interesting, including visits to hilltribes and lunch with great views of the surrounding NPA. Then at dinner in the evening, an English man best described as a tedious buffoon was lurching from table to table (I don't think he was drunk, though he had probably overindulged in stronger things in his youth) asking everybody why they came to Luang Nam Tha if they weren't going to trek into the wilds of the NPA 'to see the tigers'. If I say that he looked like a cross between these three men, but with a stare that was both manic yet vacant, then you can probably form an accurate mental image of the man. But it was not only the trek-shy who had gotten his goat. He was also unhappy at how many Chinese workers there are in Laos, and how many 'falang' (foreigners), and couldn't wait to tell this to anyone in sight - be they Laos or falang. He wasn't aggressive in it, he was just a berk. I wish he'd asked me if I agreed on there being too many foreigners in Laos so that I might have answered: "Only slightly".

We settled on a trek that started at one hilltribe village and ended at another, donating the Laos/English children's books we'd bought at Big Brother Mouse in Luang Prabang to schools in the village. It gave the kids a giggle as two funny-looking foreigners rocked up dishing out pressies, I think, but the teacher seemed appreciative. Once into the jungle, our guide showed off his knowledge of which plants and roots the villagers use and what for, as we struggled on the uphill climb on slippery clay that had been subjected to three massive downpours in two days. Shortly after a feisty little creature resembling a turbo-charged guinea pig with a tail had frightened Jacqui by darting out from the bamboo plants and practically over her toes, we stopped for lunch. This consisted of chopped baby pumpkin with pork mince, sticky rice, some mushed up ferns with some grey stuff, and pork scratchings. And it was most delicious.

After lunch, things got properly jungley. I don't think many people had been doing this trek lately as our guide spent half the time hacking through the undergrowth and holding up thorny branches for us to crawl under. He said it was because of the storms, but I wasn't so sure. I think even the villagers hadn't been on certain sections of the trail in a good while. Eventually, we made it to our end point: a fantastic village of Lanten tribespeople, strewn with laughing kids, women weaving and making paper out of bamboo pulp, and countless cute black piglets causing mayhem and disturbing the afternoon snoozing of many a tribe dog. Exhausted, we clambered into the car and got straight into the shower when we got back to the hotel.

The bus back to Luang Prabang was a shocker. No air-con option this time, nor any legroom. We had people sitting on plastic stools in the middle aisle - not us, fortunately. The bus was unbearably slow, and it was about 10 hours later that we arrived, broken and stiff, in Luang Prabang just as it was getting dark. Still, it could have been worse. An English couple we met in Yogyakarta told us a story about a friend of theirs, who had once shared a bus journey in South-East Asia with a dead man who was travelling alone. His friends had put him on the bus, and arranged for him to be met at the other end. I love this story, and it sums up all you need to know about budget travel in this part of the world. I can't help wondering whether he got a double seat to himself. "Plastic stool in the aisle, or prop up the dead guy, sir?"