Don Det was much the way it was when I left four years ago, but even quieter. The friends I made back then had all moved on, and it seemed like the lowest of low seasons, and the high season nothing but a vague promise from a former lover best forgotten. The restaurant I had breakfast at so many times before was empty, and the bar I drank far too many beers in was dark and shuttered.
After two days at a cheap bungalow on the sunset side without a working toilet, I moved to the sunrise side to an even cheaper place where I needed to fill a bucket to flush the toilet, but at 2.5 USD a night I had no interest in complaining. I was befriended by a Texan by the name of Brian, who told me where I could buy cheap weed and advised me on the best resturants. My efforts to develop another drug dependancy came to nothing, as the cheap weed did nothing for me. I spent a pleasant week mostly in a hammock, watching Youtube via the surprisingly fast Wifi, reading trashy science fiction, and shooting the shit with Brian, seldom venturing more than a hundred metres from my bungalow.
I did go for a short walk at one point to the so called village based around the local school, and the old French Pier, which was a nice stretch of the legs. It was scenic enough and I had a chat on the way with a English engineering student, but this was enough sightseeing for a while.
When I started taking an interest in the sex lives of the geckos living around the bungalows I knew it was just about time to leave. I could have happily rided out my visa on Don Det, but I still had a long way to go.
I took a walk to the sunset side for a beer and to of course watch the sunset, which was the first time I saw anything like a crowd anywhere on Don Det this trip. Back at the Indian restaurant near my bungalow I booked boat and bus tickets to get me to Pakse. Brian was also leaving on the same day, and it would be nice to have some company for a bit longer.
The last night on the island I ate a space cake, and felt absolutely nothing from it until the morning, where I dry-heaved multiple times, and felt incredibly hungover, which struck me as grossly unfair. In this fragile state, I managed to pack and walk to the pier, and board the ferry and then the bus to Pakse. My only memory from the bus ride was a short break somewhere and a French backpacker asked me about my tattoo, and my poor attempt to explain it. I shared a Tuk-tuk with Brian to the cheapest hotel we could find on Agoda, where the receptionist fumbled his way through check-in and then led me to my very basic room, where I promptly fell asleep.
If you liked this post, please check out the rest of the posts from this trip here!
Adrian's Got The Moose 