I've been in Si Phan Don for the last four days. . . . finally left today. Si Phan Don means four thousand islands in Lao. . . . seems to be about right. The area, on the Mekong river in southern Laos consists of thousands of islands, some no bigger than my front porch, others several kilometers long complete with farms and villages. The Mekong divides itself into a million little channels and flows through all of them. This is a fairly remote area, isolated from just about everything else. Much of the area is without electricity. The island I stayed on, Don Det, only gets electricity for two hours a day between 6 and 8. Acommodation here is very rustic. I stayed in a wooden shack bungalow with no electricity or running water. . . . just four walls, a bed with a mosquito net, and a little porch facing the river with a hammock. It was the perfect place to relax and do nothing. It rained every day. . . . one day in particular it rained harder than anything I've ever seen before. . . . imagine the hardest you've ever seen it rain. . . . it rained harder than that, and continuosly for almost the entire day. . . . I thought that maybe I was in the midst of some type of disaster, maybe I would be stranded for days, forgetting that there were no bridges in the first place and everyone there had a canoe. . . . fortunately, for obvious reasons, every building on the island, including my little shack, is built on stilts. . . . and I could really see why. The entire island was covered with water. . . . a little flood, but one that people seemed used to. The water went away just as quickly as it came. I did venture off the island to see some ruins one day, but aside from that, I just hung out on the island and another one that was connected by an old bridge. . . . two little islands in a big river connected by a bridge, but completely cut off from everything else. I rode around on a bike and hiked a little. . . . All the locals grow rice. I met some other travelers. . . . learned some new card games.
This was my ride to Don Det. . . . no buses. . . . only these things. . . . crammed with all sorts of odds and ends.
Crossing to Don Det
The following day I ventured out in the rain over to the opposite side of the river to visit yet another ruined temple, courtesy of the makers of Angkor Watt no doubt.
On the way back to Don Det:
Hiking Don Det:
I shared my little house with several giant hairy spiders, each larger than my fist. . . . no exageration. . . . along with a lizard and a bat one night. The spiders I didn't care for much, the lizard I liked, and the bat I didn't know what to think of. . . . I can't figure out how it got in or out. I came home in the dark one night, opened the door, and there it was, flying around in my room. I flung the door wide open in the hopes that it would fly out, but it didn't. Eventually it quieted down. I promised the spiders that as long as they stuck to the walls and stayed out of my bed I would let them live. We all survived the night. When I woke up in the morning they were all gone, the spiders, the bat, and the lizard. The spiders returned every night. The lizard and bat did not. I showed pictures of the spiders to a girl who lived there, explaining to her that I counted three of them in my room. . She laughed. . . . "no problem" she said. I took her word for it. 
My room, with mosquito net:
View from my hamock during the crazy rain:
The enteance to my little compound on the island:
The view from my hamock after the rain:
The old bridge:
Rice fields after the storm:
Mekong river after the storm:
Arriving back to civilization. . . . sort of:
Crossing to Don Det
The following day I ventured out in the rain over to the opposite side of the river to visit yet another ruined temple, courtesy of the makers of Angkor Watt no doubt.
On the way back to Don Det:
Hiking Don Det:
I shared my little house with several giant hairy spiders, each larger than my fist. . . . no exageration. . . . along with a lizard and a bat one night. The spiders I didn't care for much, the lizard I liked, and the bat I didn't know what to think of. . . . I can't figure out how it got in or out. I came home in the dark one night, opened the door, and there it was, flying around in my room. I flung the door wide open in the hopes that it would fly out, but it didn't. Eventually it quieted down. I promised the spiders that as long as they stuck to the walls and stayed out of my bed I would let them live. We all survived the night. When I woke up in the morning they were all gone, the spiders, the bat, and the lizard. The spiders returned every night. The lizard and bat did not. I showed pictures of the spiders to a girl who lived there, explaining to her that I counted three of them in my room. . She laughed. . . . "no problem" she said. I took her word for it. 
My room, with mosquito net:
View from my hamock during the crazy rain:
The enteance to my little compound on the island:
The view from my hamock after the rain:
The old bridge:
Rice fields after the storm:
Mekong river after the storm:
Arriving back to civilization. . . . sort of:
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