A Bowl of Stupid

(Kuang Si Waterfall — about 26 K south of Luang Prabang, Laos)

Yesterday morning I woke up nursing a massive (MASSSSS-IVE) hangover acquired after drinking entirely too much Beerlao and lao-lao the day/night before. Ahh, good times.

So I figured the best way to deal with said hangover would be to take a 28 kilometer bemo ride to the famous Kouang Si waterfalls. I had heard they were awesome … and honestly, I was not disappointed. The waterfalls — actually a series of waterfalls topped off by a 120 meter(ish) high grand waterfall — was absolutely magnificent. And honestly, any pictures you see do not do it justice.

Plus, the water was a brisk 20-22 degrees (C) or so, which helped to cool the red-hot pokers that were surreptitiously placed behind my eyeballs whilst I slept the night before.

And while the waterfalls themselves were indeed spectacular (unlike the jarring, jostling, sphincter-clenching bus ride up to here Luang Prabang from Vang Vieng), I think I've reached a turning point on this particular trip. It's happened to me before when I travel without the specific intent to go surfing — I get sick and tired of the type of people I run into (and hang out with) in the whole Southeast Asian tourist/backpacker scene.

Simply stated — it's all been done before.

There reaches a stage when there is nothing more the majority of these people can say, do, or be that is of any interest to me. The majority of these people think they are the most outgoing, adventurous, and brave people in the world — simply because they have been staying in shithole guest-houses and hostels for a few months.

C'mon, get the fuck over yourselves, people!!

Yes, there is something to be said about doing what you've done and being to all the 'backpacker' haunts you've been to, but not THAT much.

So you've swung from a rope into a river … ooohh, here's a cookie!

So you've gotten pissed drunk or stoned incontinent in the middle of the jungle somewhere … umm, okay.

Got over it. It's NOT a big deal!!

Go surf triple overhead at G-land, go climb the Himalayas, go live in some cave or shithole village for a few months — THEN maybe I'll have some respect for your boring-ass stories. But as it now stands, your shit stinks just like the rest of us.

This is what happens when my gills dry out. This whole backpacker scene can hold my interest for only so long, and I just want to go someplace to surf with people whose company, and stories, I actually enjoy.

I just wanna go back to where things make sense to me. I wanna go surfing again.

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