My time in northern Thailand was winding down. Looking eastward on the map, I planned my journey into a country that I knew very little about. Laos doesn't have beaches. It doesn't have the blaring tourist magnets of Thailand, Vietnam or Cambodia. There is no Angkor Wat or Ha Long Bay here. But somewhere between the French baguettes, turquoise waterfalls, and the golden rice terraces of isolated hill tribes, lie the hidden charms scattered about this Communist outpost of 6.5 million people.
From Thailand to Laos in a Day
My plan was to cross the Mekong River from Thailand into Huay Xai, Laos, where I would then begin an overnight boat journey to Luang Prabang - the heart of northern Laos.
This two day endeavor would first take me from Chiang Rai, Thailand by bus, where I would then cross the Mekong on a ferry into the Laos border town of Huay Xai. From Huay Xai, a slow boat would take me half-way to Luang Prabang, to a tiny little village called Pak Beng. After spending the night in Pak Beng, and another seven or eight hours on the slow boat, I'd arrive in Luang Prabang.
Splendid Views, Cockroaches, and the Tuk-Tuk Mafia
The local bus ride from Chiang Rai to the border town of Chiang Kong was uneventful, minus driving past a scene where a shirtless Thai man, armed with a club, was caught in a battle-royal with some kind of snake; so, for about five seconds we drove past a snake being beaten to death by a tree branch. Just another day in rural Thailand, perhaps.
Apart from witnessing snake murder, I met up with Chloe and Harry, a British couple also traveling on the route to Luang Prabang. The three of us were the only foreigners on this local bus - it's remarkable how much solidarity can immediately exist between fellow backpackers on the road. Within ten minutes we had made plans for staying together in Huay Xai, and figuring out the boat situation together.
In Chiang Kong, after a brief passport stamping and ferry ride, we found ourselves in Laos, looking back across the Mekong into Thailand. Visas purchased and stamped, we found a place to stay for a little over one dollar each.
That evening, we happened to arrive in the middle of a local Buddhist festival, complete with floating lanterns, deafening Lao pop music, and fiery boat sacrifices sent down the Mekong. Naturally, we bought a lantern to set into the night sky (narrowly avoiding power lines on the way up) and Harry set off about four roman candles in a row. All in all, it was a nice introduction to Laos.
The next morning, it was time - time to head down to the boat docks and find our ride for the next two days. Almost completely unsure of what to expect, I was happy to see a decently new-ish looking longtail boat, with a roof, and furnished with what looked like ex-passenger airplane seats. Full of about 95% foreigners, we crammed into this thing until the captain was satisfied, and we were soon off down the Mekong. The sights from my window seat became more and more wild as we drifted away from the Thai border, into the isolated jungles of rural Laos. Conrad's Heart of Darkness immediately came into my mind, as we seemed to slip further and further into the void.
The broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded islands; you lost your way on that river as you would in a desert, and butted all day against shoals, trying to find the channel, til you thought yourself bewitched and cut off forever from everything you had known once - somewhere - far away in another existence perhaps. There were moments when one's past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare yourself; but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, and water, and silence.
Seven hours, no less than seven hours later, we pulled into our harbor at Pak Beng, the overnight stop on the way to Luang Prabang. It's hard to put into words how much nothingness characterized Pak Beng. Almost exclusively supported by the guesthouses catering to this exact boat route, the town had one street that simply ended at a wall of jungle. For me, it was perfect. I briefly contemplated staying an extra day or two, until at that exact moment, the town's electricity cut out for the night. You can't have everything in the middle of nowhere.
A lazy morning relegated us to the back of the boat for day two, but the unending beauty of the scenery outside was more than enough to keep me happy.
Eight hours later, the engines stopped and we pulled over to a sign labeled "LUANG PRABANG COUNTY." I'd read up quite a bit about this scam online, so I wasn't too surprised to see it actually happening. Located about 10-20 kilometers outside the city itself, the captain would park his boat here so that the local tuk-tuk "association" could benefit from all of the tourists paying to get into town.
Harry, Chloe and I were joined by about eight others in protesting the scam. We wanted to go into town, where we had paid to get to. Unfortunately, eight out of about eighty wasn't enough to influence anybody, so after about 20 minutes waiting in vain, we paid the $3 each and eventually made it into Luang Prabang. It was a disheartening, but very real reminder that as foreign tourists, we were targets for any kind of financial milking possible. Fortunately, the bummer that was paying into the tuk-tuk scam soon faded away, as I found myself in one of the true gems of Southeast Asia: Luang Prabang.
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