the river wild.

generally, we all like to think that we are good people. right? we like to think that if we saw a wee old woman trip in the street, we would rush to her aid and help her right her cane and we certainly wouldn't laugh. of course we aren't mildly envious of the blessed gene pool inherited by shiloh jolie-pitt and those newborn twins. we like to think that we are non-judgmental and gracious, smiling in the face of other people's good fortune, never jealous. screw schadenfreude, we are good people. and when you've been reading the blogging exploits of a canadian or two, climbing great walls and riding elephants and seeing unspeakable beauty unfold before them each day, you've never had a moment of ill-will or green-eyed envy, right? right?

envy this.

we're in vang vieng in norther laos. we arrived on tuesday and scampered across the scenic footbridge to the western banks of the nam song river and checked into rustic maylyn guesthouse. unloaded our bags in the adorable bungalow (that cost $6 a night!) and retired in the garden for a fruit shake while hundreds of butterflies nestled in the flowering shrubs and a box of newborn puppies chirped behind the barn door. behind us, the sun set behind the misty landscape of dramatic limestone karst. anne geddes? was she here? were we to be wrapped in cheesecloth and photographed as pumpkins? because it certainly felt like it. too perfect, right? right.

last night, as we made our way home from swinging in hammocks and sipping beer laos at the island bar, it started to drizzle. as we bunkered down for the night, the rain picked up a bit; we could hear the determined patter on our banana leaf roof. then, sometime in the middle of the night, noah and his twin sets of animals must have set sail on the ark, because by morning the flood had come.

we lay in bed this morning, planning for a fun day of tubing down the river, stopping at riverside bars to swing off flying foxes, maybe having a mulberry mojito or two. ah, how foolish we were. we stepped out of the door of our bungalow and chris said, "uh, brian..." in a worrying tone, "we're missing our bottom step." and it was quite true: the nearby river had swollen up with the unrelenting rain and decided to take it on the road. all the way to us, swallowing the bottom of our stairs in the process. we waded through murky waters to breakfast, water lapping around our shins, rain still coming down. after brekky we arrived back at the room to discover that we had been negligent enough to lose not one, but now two stairs to the raging river. the water was knee-high and angrier than alec baldwin on the phone to his daughter. it was, perhaps, time to seek drier pastures.

it is still raining here in vang vieng. the city has put up its umbrella and gone inside to watch endless episodes of friends. chris and i have moved across the river to a considerably drier hotel room, though the front drive is still under a good two feet of water. we have not, needless to say, been able to go tubing today. that, and i lost my damn flashlight.

now remember: you are a good person. this does not provide you with the mildest of pleasure, nor do you think that we deserve it after raving about the fantastic beauty that is southeast asia. you are not smug, nor are you self-satisfied. right? right?

chris, obviously thrilled.