Savannakhet sunset

"Savannakhet has a number of French colonial and Franco-Chinese buildings. A local Vietnamese school, Mahayana Buddhist temple and a Catholic church testify to a continued Vietnamese influence." Yippee, another church! And I've only seen one hundred and seventy-four in the last week! Excuse me whilst I eat my arms off with excitement.

During my time travelling however, I've come to the conclusion that the Lonely Planet manuals are written primarily for the Dutch and French, as they're the only nationalities that, almost without fail, have such affection for the words "colonial" and "museum." Should the yellow bible have been written for let's say, the British and the Germans, the words "lager" and "battle-field" would be more common. So just maybe Savannakhet had more to offer me than historical architecture. After all, every traveller will testify to occasionally experiencing a memorable moment at a time it was least expected. A thought I cling to as my well-travelled bus pulled into town.

Can you guess what was the first thing I saw when I stepped off the cramped old bus? Not a colonial building, for I wouldn't know one if it jumped on my head shouting, "I'm a big, fat colonial building." It was in fact a chicken running around without a head. The sort of surreal activity that became standard during my brief stay in the town.

Having a bath doesn't make you any cleaner in a Mekong town

Before I'd even settled into a (Vietnamese influenced?) hotel, I witnessed a young boy riding an old bicycle at full speed directly into a brick wall, much to the amusement of his drunk, and under-aged, friends. Do they watch Jackass in central Laos? This was on my way to the market place, held along the banks of the mighty Mekong River. A market where my first sight was not of a pleasant stall of handicrafts being sold by an elderly woman whose skills have been passed down eight generations, but of eight boys, none of whom could have been over ten years old, destroying an abandoned market stall.

Their ringleader, sporting a slightly miss-spelt 'Ronaldio' football shirt, was stood back firing ball bearings from his gun, whilst his gang worked with metal poles, sticks, cleavers and a knife with a six-inch blade. Those without a weapon just kicked and punched until the flimsy wooden structure collapsed. This group of lads would be feared if they lived on a Manchester council estate!

The more I travel though, the more I realise how alike people from all parts of the world are, so I held no fear in approaching them. Besides, I have security - a pile of soccer stickers that I brought with me from home. If I've learned anything else during my adventures, it's that children the world over crave the English Premier League, except for American children, who like armoured rugby and cars that cannot turn right!

My David Beckham jokes received mixed reviews

So this is how the story goes. In a small Laos town where nothing happens, I produced some football stickers and the children went berserk. The eight destructive young boys threw down their weapons and argued over who had the Bolton Wanderers midfielder. Sensing the chaos, other children ran to the scene, eight became twenty, twenty became thirty. Some time later I walked among the market stalls, with over a dozen companions, including a young girl who had Gareth Southgate (an England defender) stuck on her forehead. The joy I had created reaped rewards, as I was granted free games on the stalls run by families of my new posse. Unfortunately, nearly every game involved darts being thrown at balloons and nearly every prize was watermelon pop drink. The Beerlao was too precious a commodity to be given away to a non-paying customer. Sure, the soccer stickers are great and he's cheered the children up, but Beerlao? I don't think so, buddy!

In the little town of Savannakhet, home to several Franco-Chinese buildings and a 10 o'clock curfew, I had one of my most memorable experiences whilst travelling. And what caused it weren't great historical landmarks or beautiful scenery or fine culinary choices, but a group of local people who had nothing to do, who wanted to keep company with a rare visiting foreigner who also had nothing to do.

The moral of the story? Sometimes doing nothing at all is just what you need to be doing. So long as you have football cards.

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