Long bus journeys

The sheer beauty of this country really takes my breath away. This does sound like a terrible cliche, but on the long (6-8 hour) very windy bus ride from Phonsaven to Vang Vieng it's one that rings true. Whether this is accentuated by the fact that I feel like I really want some chewing gum and am queasy, possibly aided by the 6 hour wait at the bus station as the 10:30am bus crashed and the next didn't leave until 16:30pm (am now noting time in S.E. Asian superfluous fashion) I can't tell. Having met an Italian couple aiming to catch the same bus, the arduous wait at the bus station went by mercifully quicker: we played cards.

My Blackjack winnings of tens of salted pumpkin seeds disturbed me slightly - you know the saying "lucky in cards, unlucky in love". So, why not go back to the town of Phonsaven (bus stations always seem to be ridiculously enough not in or even near the town centre)? Go there and you will know why. In the meanwhile, I gaze out the window at miles of mist-shrouded, tree-covered mountains disappearing into the distance. At the side of the road I see a middle-aged man washing himself at a water spout. People here are, as a whole, very poor. Are things getting better? I don't know, but I hope. And every other hut you pass, even remote ones with wicker-woven walls, has a huge satellite dish outside, so I guess things can't be too awful (or people just have very different priorities).