Before I mention my efforts, I'll offer a little background information: Pak Beng, for all of those not in the know, appears off the beaten track, but all backpackers heading from Thailand to the Laotian city of Luang Prabang would pay it a visit, solely because it's the stop off point from Hue Xu (located on the Thai/Laos border) to the stunning city of Luang Prabang, located in the north of Laos. In order to reach the latter one would usually take a two day slow boat trip along the Mekong River (it takes so long because it's too dangerous to take on this river at speed. Indeed, many boats have capsized attempting to do so, resulting in fatalities) and en route, the boat would stop off at the town of Pak Beng. Surprisingly, the previous Lonely Planet guide (the 2006 version - the very one I used when cruising through south east Asia) had no mention about the place so I made it a mission of mine to report my findings.
My findings, it should be said, were of a destitute place where the electricity went off at 8pm (which was a blessing, believe me. I say this because once we awoke the following morning we could see before us what we had spent the night in. The Ritz it most definitely was not; the stain ridden mattress and sheets I shared with Mike that night would have struggled for a single star, but at least the mosquito net did its job. Moreover, we were given a free breakfast the next day of toast, which we had to spread the butter with the aid of a spoon - a common table mannerism in Asia, and a cuppa), and where there were no more than three options for a meal that night. We did, however, find something edible at a restaurant that was powered by a generator, and it offered gorgeous views of the Laos landscape. Yours truly wrote to the LP explaining that the town was roughly equidistant between Hue Xu and Luang Prabang and that one should 'stock up' on any comforts. My piece wasn't printed word for word, but the next time you're in a good bookshop (or indeed a rubbish one - they'll probably stock the book) check for me in the 'contributors' section in the back of South East Asia on a Shoestring and you'll see my name in print.
Furthermore, despite its apparent backwardness, Pak Beng did provide me with one of my most memorable moments in Asia: as we were travelling along the Mekong we stopped off along the way to pick up a pregnant lady, who had presumably hoped would hang on until we arrived at something resembling normality in order for her to give birth. However, soon after she stepped on board she dropped, and I was sat no more than 10 meters from the whole event. Fair play to the lass, she did it quietly!
Back to the here and now, and life in Sydney has been business as usual. By that, I mean the sun has returned (more of which later) and I am still stuck in a job with my Marxist of a boss. Alas, though, I only have to put up with him and his office for two more days as I have found a new job beginning this Wednesday (17th). (As it stands, I do not know much about the new role, but come this time next week I'm sure I'll be filling you in, probably in a negative tone). Anyway, throughout the duration of my time in my current role I have been working alongside a fellow temp, and this week Karl Marx himself offered this person the chance to stay on for the company - for $15 an hour. To anyone reading thinking that's a good wage, it's not - it's an insult, and I almost fell off my chair when I heard of this.
The reason why the wage is an insult is simple: we're currently employed through a recruitment agency, where with the aid of an educated guess (a guess made safe in the knowledge that the majority of my employment history has come courtesy of temping agencies), we're both being paid roughly $30 an hour. Tax, commission, and the formalities aside, we take home two thirds of that sum, so therefore to offer $15 an hour is theoretically halving our hourly wage. The person in question didn't take the job, and sadly, he didn't offer me the position either!
Anyway, all this work and no play mentality that I have been deploying for the past few weeks went out the window this weekend (Saturday 13th), as I went to the annually, and world wide, celebrated Earth Dance festival. However, unlike last year's event where they hosted it on a Sunday, they decided to host it on a Saturday - and it had negative repercussions as the event had to be closed down early. I was far from happy about the decision because at the time I was baking in the 30 degrees heat (not bad for the start of spring. Folks back home are lucky if the mercury rises to such highs in the height of summer), enjoying the music on offer - awesome house with the aid of an overwhelming sound system, I was bopping away with Lysey, plus a few of her mates and a group of mates I had made, and I was well intoxicated.
Anyway, the reason given for turning the tunes off was because of over crowding, which seems plausible as it was free festival, and there must have been over 20,000 people in attendance. However, still fuming about the decision, and with a lukewarm beer in hand, I decided to ask a group of policeman what was happening, and this one idiot said the reason for it being shut down was because people were trying to gatecrash the fences.
I call this policeman an idiot simply because the event was a freebie, so why would people climb the fences if they didn't have to pay a fee? He said the event organisers wanted to shut it down early to prevent any trouble, and I suppose that is a credible reason as the event was about promoting peace. However, the real reason why I branded him a idiot is because I said it was a shame to close it all down early, to which he replied that he didn't care as he could get off home earlier. Nevertheless, the three of four hours I spent near the front of one of the main stages was superb, and the best bit is that it marks the start of festival season over here.
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