First it was a local bus to Sainyabuly, a province known for its working elephants. There are still over 400 being used for hauling logs in the rapidly disappearing jungle, and in an attempt to boost opportunities and income for the beasts and their mahouts a French NGO created an elephant festival in 2007. The next one is next month, and the town was gearing up for a big influx of tourists as a result. I'm not sure where they'll house them as it's a rather sleepy place with a nice market, friendly people and a pretty river flowing through. I got to practice my English constantly, from a young monk in a wat I passed through to a Vietnamese businessman at my guesthouse.The walk to the bus station south of town was longer than I expected, but a friendly truck driver gave me a lift the final 2 km. I'd been warned that the trip south was on a bad, very dusty road, and a sawngtheuw provides no protection from the elemants. That's my chariot, the silver one on the left.
Yes the trip was a doozy, with my hair being a lovely grey by the time I arrived in Pak Lai five hours later. Nothing that a hot shower couldn't fix, then it was a wander around town to appreciate the lovely old buildings surrounding a village green. There was even a place selling coffee with a real espresso machine!
The boat trip down the Mekong was a leisurely affair, with bench seats to sit on and even a toilet! Comparing the sides of the river, where one side is Thailand with all the hills covered in intensive agriculture, the other Laos with just degraded forest, was quite a contrast. As the sun set we arrived at the port north of Vientiane and negotiated a tuk-tuk ride into town. Here I've had time to get all the pictures up, have a boozy night on the town with a Kiwi lass from Bangkok, and eat some nice international food. Having a break from the sightseeing for a day or two then it's back on the road.Photos of Saiyabuly province
Getting to the stones involved a freezing cold ride in the back of a sawngtheuw for two hours to the village. We breakfasted on packet noodle soup, deposited our packs, and walked the 6km to the main site. There is a local legend that the stones were erected by a giant, about as believable as all those pagan worshippers at Stonehenge!
More pictures 
Phonsavan was cold, real cold, but luckily I still had all my clothes from China. The next day warmed up and we went on the no name tour to visit the usual jar sites, a bombed out russian tank and a Lao-Lao village.
The Jars date from a similar time to the standing stones, and are mostly made from stone. They are clustered in groups, usually on hilltops, and are thought to be burial sites. Very scenic indeed, though the surrounding landscape was drought ravaged with a few stands of eucalypts. In fact it looked alot like Australia!!
The Jars are also smack bang in the middle of one of the most heavily bombed areas in Laos. The Americans dropped cluster bombs: huge metal canisters which split in two midair and released hundreds of small "bombies" which spun and armed themselves as they fell. On impact they exploded, spraying ball bearings at high velocity over an area of about 250m. They were designed to kill, not maim, and were dropped in the millions over this area. But it is estimated that about 30% never detonated, and these little killers are lurking everywhere. Kids pick them up thinking they are a ball, farmers ploughing a field hit one, even workers building a new road are at risk. And they won't just kill the person who touches them, but everyone else within 250m!! And did I say there were millions of them out there?
All these unexploded ordinance, or UXOs, mean that people are frightened to plough new fields, road building is hopelessly slow because full mine clearance must be done beforehand, and kids try and sell the stuff for scrap metal and can end up dead instead. And still "western democracies" make these bombs! for more info see 
Sam Tai is a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere, but it's famous for its silk weaving. Almost every house has at least one loom with a work in progress, so it was just a matter of going house to house asking to look at their wares. Some of the work wasn't great quality, but some was superb, and the prices were reasonable. I'm sure the really good stuff goes straight to Vientiane or Luang Prabang, but it's nice to visit the weavers and buy directly from them.
We almost stayed longer, as we got invited to a wedding and to join the bride back to her husband's village, but Frankie's visa was running out and this was the sticks afterall. So next day we took the same rattler back up the road to Vieng Xay.
Vieng Xay is spectactularly beautiful. It's a narrow valley surrounded by wooded karst peaks, and in these peaks are hundreds of caves. The caves sheltered the Pathet Laos, a communist group who were fighting a civil war against the US backed Royal Laos Army. Not that the US has ever admitted to being involved, in contravention of the Geneva Accord. The Pathet Laos lived in the caves for 9 years, whilst American planes dropped more bombs than were dropped during WW2 in Europe. Eventually the Americans left, the communists won and have held office ever since.
The caves housed military personnel and the top commanders, as well as stores, hospitals, bakeries etc. There is a huge theatre in which even foreign performers from Cuba, Vietnam and Russia came, and ceremonies were held. Many of the caves were modified to be more homely, and after the bombing stopped they built houses outside the caves they'd lived in. Each member of the politburo had different architectural tastes, so the houses are a very eclectic mix of the various Laos styles. One house even has a swimming pool fashioned from a bomb crater!!
UXO is a huge problem here, as up to 30% of the bombs dropped didn't detonate. Very little of the area has been cleared, so there's no wandering off into the bush around here!
The bus trip from Udomxai to Phongsaly takes 10 hours with a few stops enroute, including a lovely market town with beautifully dressed Akha women everywhere. I was in my element! Frankie, a Melbourne lass with a fun loving attitude, joined the bus there, so we decided to join forces and find some trekking together. After an exhausting trip on dusty roads we had dinner and crashed. So much for celebrating Xmas.
Phongsaly is a gorgeous town amongst mist covered peaks not all that far from the Chinese border. It has few tourists, a photogenic old town with cobbled streets, and yes the trekking prices were much more reasonable, with about 50% going to the villages. We opted for a 3 day trek that would take us close to the china border and would stay in 2 different ethnic group villages overnight. Well sometimes the best laid plans.....
For photos of the trip to 
In Phongsaly Province Hmong New Year is celebrated some time in December and is held on different days in different villages. It involves much chanting and incantations to send away the bad spirits and illness within the village, accompanied by the blood of a chicken or two and the firing of guns. Then everyone cooks up the chickens and the feasting begins. But not before downing two glasses of Lao-Lao, the ubiquitous rice whisky! Locally made of course! Oh no, not again!!!
The feasting continues for hours, with invitations to visit many households, drink Lao-Lao and eat. By the fourth place there just wasn't any room left in our tummies, and after the fifth place we managed to retire to bed. But at 3 am the guns were let off again - just to make sure those pesky bad spirits really left town - and soon after the locals were up and about and getting ready for the new day. The children were all dressed in new clothes, many beautifully stitched, looking absolutely gorgeous.
After at least 2 breakfasts and some more Lao-Lao, we left the village loaded with New Year rice cakes, generously given to us by five or six households. What a wonderful extra day we'd had, and now we were off to complete the original schedule. But first we detoured to a second Hmong village for our third breakfast and more Lao-Lao, and watched the young girls and boys throwing balls between them. It's apparently part of a courtship ritual, if they keep dropping the ball then there isn't the right chemistry between them, but if they are in harmony with the ball, then they will be in life! Can't imagine western teenagers doing something like that!
About one o'clock we arrived at an Akha village as they were slaughtering a buffalo. They were very eager for us to take photos as they too were celebrating New Year. Then over lunch we were invited to stay the night and join in the celebrations. How could we refuse? We were now up to a five day trek but what an opportunity not to be missed. 
The Akha live on mountain ridges in houses with dirt floors. They have pigs and chickens but no gardens around their houses, growing all their produce at their farms. It's a stark landscape around the houses and it would be hell getting around in the wet season, but the people are unbelievably friendly and welcoming. My bubbles again came in handy for breaking the ice with the kids and soon Frankie's clown antics had the whole village following her like the pied piper! 
The evening celebrations began with more Lao-Lao, the Akha preferring 2-4 glasses before you can start on the sticky rice! The food for dinner was challenging, with raw buffalo meat and a blood jelly dish as mainstays. Thank goodness for sticky rice!
After our second dinner and obligatory Lao-Lao we joined the youngsters in the schoolyard for dancing. These teenagers also indulge in copious amounts of Lao-Lao and young boys can be seen smoking cigarettes. When the music starts its the girls who get up and go and choose a boy to dance with. Although the music was modern, the dance style was comically conservative. Us two foreigners showed 'em a move or two and soon everyone was dancing the new updated style. The commotion when we left was quite moving, they'd never had foreigners celebrate New Year with them and were keen for us to dance the night away with them. But a long day of trekking beckoned, and sleep ins in these villages just don't exist. 
Our third day saw us walking along a road and then through paddy fields to a rather disappointing hot springs. But the forest was pretty and it was nice to have a wash in a less public place than the middle of an Akha village. Our stop that night was in a Yang village, in a lovely stilt house overlooking the river and even had the use of a latrine. Luxury! The villagers weren't nearly as friendly as our Akha guests, however we did get a good nights' sleep.
Day four saw us walking through a protected area which still had primary forest. At our lunch spot beside the river, which we crossed somewhere between 20 and 30 times in one day, we encountered an Akha wedding party returning to the husband's village. We joined the procession with this very shy young girl and watched her dress ready for her arrival in the village. All the women were there to check her out and welcome her, quite the spectacle. Then we passed another bridal party going the other way!