TRAVELMAN LAOS: Bowl like a backpacker in Luang Prabang

I stayed at the Chitlatda Bila Hostel with Bart, Christiaan, Paul, and Sam. On the first night, the five of us, as well as four others we'd met on the boat, got something to eat at the night market. While there, we ran into Kyle and Hayley; they joined us. -Then we ran into another couple from England who sat behind Kyle and Haley on the boat, they joined as well.

After dinner and a quick walk through the extensive night market, we went to a popular bar called Utopia. It was next to the river. It was packed with people and most of them were from the boat. Utopia was outdoors for the most part and had many tables low to the ground. You sat on pillows or small stools. You could opt to skip the tables all toghether and lounge on a pile of cushions to rest your weary bum. Our group found a long, high stool, table near the bar.

The five British girls who I sat near on the first day of the boat ride came by to sit with us. I discovered that their accents gained strength and speed as they drank. My own inebriation and the din of the bar didn't help. I did a lot of bad lip reading that night.

After a bit, they decided they were going bowling at the only alley in town. One of them, Katie, asked me to join them.

"You fancy to join us?" Her eyes sparkled like the jewel of the Mekong, if the Mekong had a famous jewel.

I hesitated. I coudn't decide if I fancied. I wasn't quite sure I remembered the name of my hostel correctly and I was a bit worried I may not be able to find my way home in the unfamiliar town. Maybe I shouldn't fancy, maybe I should just do the opposite and be plain.

Also, I knew people in my group better than I knew the British ladies, and fancied that it might be good to stick with who I know.

That was the dumb part of my brain trying to do the thinking.

The smart part of my brain slapped the dumb part upside the head and said, "Hey! Moron! When five beautiful, young, fun-loving British ladies (three blonde, two brunette) ask you, the only guy invited, if you fancy bowling, you damn well fancy it! You call yourself Mr. Fancy and you go!"

So I pulled up my fancy pants and went.

We jumped in the back of a tuk tuk-taxi truck, plastic beer cups in our hands, and sped off to the lanes. The girls and I laughed and drank the entire way. I got all their names- Katie, Georgia, Laura, Cornelia, Katie (the repeater helped).

I marveled at where I was and about the company I kept. The night was warm, the wind of the road blew through our hair, our drinks jiggled in our hand, our drinking arms floated up and down as we bounced over bumps and careened around corners, a dusty quest to bowl like a backpacker in Laos.

We arrived. The taxi truck lurched to a stop. The driver said he'd wait outside, they do that. Next to the entrance of the bowling alley, they'd set up an archery range. Nothing like a litttle drunken arrow slinging late at night.

We walked to the entrance. A young Laoation guy on the steps outside leaned close as we passed. "Weed? Smoke?" He said, like the "Psst. Wanna buy a watch guy?" from 1950's lore. We said no thanks and continued on to the front desk.

The ladies did the talking and discussing, I did the paying for my share of it. We got a lane, a bottle of vodka, a liter of sprite, and a bucket of ice. All were separate charges but added up to about five bucks a piece. The vodka bottle was less than half the price of what we would've spent on buying beers.

We stumbled to the lane deepest in the alley, we were bowling on the edge. Some locals and some tourist filled seventy percent of the remaining lanes. The ladies, and myself, displayed skills that would have had us banned from the bowling tour for life. There was a lot of falling down and jumping in front of fellow bowlers, and a lot of screaming, dancing, and laughing.

As we were throwing a fifth frame of gutter balls, the gang from the boat showed up. In fact, the entire town showed up, well the tourists. Apparently, the bars in town, like Utopia, close early and the Bowling alley is the only place open late. The tuk tuks line up outside Utopia and fill their trucks with freshly minted bowlers. The lanes morphed into more of a bar that happened to have bowling lanes.

We talked, mingled, jump up and down, drank, danced, smiled, winced on every trip to the toilet, and laughed til closing time.

Afterward, we piled into the tuk tuks and they dropped us safely into our hostels, like babies being delivered into cribs by storks.

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