Crossing to Laos

25^th – 26^th February

The Green Bus to Chiang Kong

I had decided that, given the uncertainty of my travel to the border and the time it make take to complete border crossing formalities, it might be best to plan to spend one night on each side of the border, so I booked for one night in Chiang Khong in Thailand  and one night directly across the river in Houay Xay in Laos.

In retrospect I could have omitted the first night and stayed at extra night at Bamboo next but hindsight is a wonderful thing. 

Nok , our Bamboo Nest hostess provided our transfer back to Chiang Rai and dropped us at the bus station – pointing out that I should catch the green bus for Chiang Kong.  I wandered vaguely in the direction she pointed, wishing that I was travelling with substantially less luggage but pleased that my suitcase at least had 4 wheels that worked better than your average supermarket trolley.

Riverboat on the Mekong, looking towards Laos

A very kind lady, who turned out to be the bus conductor, asked me “Chiang Kong?” and when I nodded, she directed me to the rear door of the bus, indicated that I should get on first and she would lift my suitcase, but a kind passenger lifted my suitcase for me and put it directly in front of him in the back seat.  I asked, using makeshift sign language of course, if he would like to change seats, and I would sit with zero leg space behind my suitcase, but he declined.

The bus was a “local bus” so it cost me 65 baht (a little over $AUD2) for the journey, which was nearly 4 hours.  Towards the end of the journey, my bladder was definitely saying “are we there yet?”

The lights of Laos at night - somewhat mysterious and alluring
 - a close glimpse of a country I had not yet visited

The conductress continued her kindness to all and sundry; leaving the bus terminal, the bus slowed as it passed a couple with backpacks who were obviously tourists, and she called out “Chiang Kong?”  At each but stop, she similarly called out and when passengers were about to leave the bus, especially the young and the old, she would hold onto them until the bus was sufficiently slowed.

The latter was probably highly desirable, as bus ventilation consisted of strapping the doors open.  This provided equal quantities of fresh air and diesel fumes to me for the duration of the trip.

Chiang Kong in the morning was hardly exciting

Her kindness and consideration also reminded me of the kindness of the songthaew drivers to and from the White Temple.  As I wandered, slightly uncertainly, into the bus station, a driver had approached me, asking “white temple?” and pointed to his songthaew, assuring me that it would leave before the one labeled “white temple” that had more people sitting in it. And it did.  I did clarify that we would wait for more people and I would only pay 30 baht (I was not hiring the whole vehicle).   Similarly, when I emerged from the white temple, a songthaew driver asked “Chiang Rai?” and pointed to his songthaew.  I must point out that these conversations are conducted with minimal common language!

The Thai side of the border crossing at the Friendship Bridge

As the bus wound its way through the streets of Chiang Rai, I saw again the occasional older Caucasian man accompanied by a young (or in some cases not so young) Thai woman, some dressed in a way that suggested to me that the relationship might be more mercenary than emotional.  What might be referred to as “short term friendships” by a couple of my diving friends who encountered this expression on one of their many overseas trips.

 The traffic in Chiang Rai can be really slow and chaotic.  Often the streets are narrow and there may or may not be footpaths.  Let me clarify that footpaths do not actually seem to be for pedestrian traffic – this is true of much of Thailand.  “Footpaths” are areas on which to do business – park your street food cart, expand your shops goods, weld some random pieces of metal together… or an area to park your car or motorbike.  Pedestrians need to take their life into their hands and venture onto the side of the road, trusting that the vehicular traffic will endeavour to avoid them.

Although the traffic is often slow and chaotic, albeit in a gentle way, it is relatively quiet and patient.  Thais do not indulge in the honking of horns in the same way that some other Asian countries do.

My Chiang Kong hotel from the Mekong River

As the bus passed from the quite extended metropolitan area into more open and rural areas, hills started to come into view.  Some of these are karst, and promise interesting formations, others are gentle rolling hills.  Even the gentle rolling hills provide a challenge to this ancient bus as it grinds, bumps and winds it way laboriously up some of the hills.  We climb incredibly gently but steadily, and as the area becomes very rural, the villages and towns become more separated and the houses in the villages and towns tend to reflect more of the traditional architecture:  wooden houses on stilts -  the latter to avoid flood damage.

The temptation of Lao textiles.
Silk with silk brocade trim

Eventually we reached the outskirts of Chiang Kong, and the conductress came back to where I was sitting to ascertain whether I wished to alight at the point where I could connect with the Lao boarder that afternoon.  This was, of course, done monosyllabically with the query “Laos?”  Having ascertained that this was not my intent, she resumed her seat until we pulled into the bus station by the market place.

Having extricated myself and my suitcase from the bus, I was immediately approached by a tuk-tuk driver, offering his services.  My attention to ensuring that all my accommodation bookings are stored on my mobile phone made it easy to tell him in English and show him in Thai where I wished to go, but I thought I might be being charged over the top.  A 5-minute journey would cost almost 2/3 of my 4 hour bus trip.  I postponed an immediate decision by trying to find a toilet and was pointed in the general direction.  It is interesting to note that the toilets I have experienced over the last few days that demand a payment for their use are generally less desirable and less clean than those that are free.

More tempting Lao textiles.
At about $450, worth the money for hand woven,
but I was not very tempted

Since Google Maps (my current favourite app) told me that it was a 25 minute walk to the hotel, and the footpaths, where they existed, seemed to be used in much the same way as many other places in the country, I elected to take the tuk-tuk to my hotel. 

 My hotel room was very motel style clean and comfortable but with a balcony overlooking the river that promised for a pleasant, quiet evening. (We won’t go into the source or meaning of the sounds of reveille periodically emanating from somewhere close by…)  To look across the river, and know that the river itself is a political border, was in some ways rather exotic.  It’s a long time since I crossed a land border and to know that it was only a stone’s throw across to another country, a different set of values, culture, customs etc, was a bit of promise of things to come.

Thailand (Chiang Khong) from Laos (Houat Xai)

I headed out for a walk to see the “sights” of the town, and visited the market.  I had decided to buy a beer to accompany my sitting on my verandah later (Asian beer is very different to Australian beer, don’t worry, I am not about to replace a cold glass of bubbles or Sav Blanc with the amber liquid once I am back in Aus) but the girl in the 7/11 store pointed to the sign that indicated alcohol was not to be served at this particular hour.  Not to worry, when I got to the market, an enterprising lady was quick to tell me the price of her bottled alcohol (although she could not tell me what was in the bottle) and I brought a bottle with a label that included English somewhat cheaper than that which I could not buy minutes before in the 7/11.

And the lights of Thailand from Laos....

English is even less spoken here than in Chiang Rai, I remember much more English in Chiang Mai several years back, but maybe its my memory and the distance of the time gap that is impacting on this impression.

Hunger was setting in:  food intake since breakfast had been minimal dried fruit snacks and a snickers bar which I remembered was somewhere in my backpack.  A street food stall selling sweet things appealed (yes, I can have dessert before my mains if I want to!) so I succumbed to one which seemed to have a quantity of dried fruit like raisins and was given the odd taste of this and that to try in addition, then found a restaurant that was cooking and ordered pad thai – a tasty noodle dish before getting back to my hotel just on dusk to enjoy the river views.

Laos has stunning orchids too

I did consider, briefly, some of the fish options from the menus, but these are freshwater fish, and I suspect many come from the Mekong, and I don’t even want to think about what goes into that river upstream.

 The mattress was unusually hard, even by Asian mattress standards, and I was reminded of a night in Mae Hong Son when Lynne Morrison and I spent a most uncomfortable night to discover, in the morning, that our mattresses were on the bed upside down!  However, I did not have the heart to respond negatively to my hostesses inquiries the following morning about whether I had slept well.

More lovely Lao orchids

The hotel did not provide breakfast, but it did provide free dripper coffee and bananas and the local deep fried pastries that are somewhat like doughnuts.  This was sufficient as I spent a leisurely morning getting ready to leave.

I had looked at umbrellas the day before and it would have been prudent to have purchased one, but hindsight…..

It was raining and I asked my hostess if it was possible that whatever vehicle would be transporting me to the border could keep me dry.  It was not only raining, but cold, and my merino mid-layer got its first airing since I put it in my bag after leaving Paro.

I had been told that the fare to the border was 150 baht and I was a little concerned when the driver loaded my suitcase into the back, with nothing to stop it sliding clean out of the back of the vehicle, and indicated I should sit in the dry cab with him.  That bit was OK.  He stopped after 50 metres to go, presumably to his house, to find a cloth to wrap over my suitcase.  I would have preferred a rope to tie it in place, but the thought was a sweet one.

Temple in the centre of  Houay Xai

We approached the Thai side of the boarder and, although it will sound completely silly, I had been so focused on what I might need for Laos immigration and my Laos visa that I had forgotten that I would have to clear Thai Emigration.  I went through these formalities, then was informed that I would need a bus ticket.  As this seemed consistent with the sign that said there should be no foot traffic across the bridge, I purchased the ticket and went outside to wait for the bus.  The unseasonal cold weather was sufficient to have me diving into my suitcase for yet another warm layer.  I passed the time chatting with some fellow travelers from the UK, then the bus was ready for boarding.  It seemed positive luxury after the local bus the previous day.  We were dropped about 5 minutes later on the other side of the bridge at Laos immigration, and signs directed us to the source of visa and immigration forms.  It was cheaper to pay for the visa in US dollars ($30) than in Baht (1500 Baht) and fortunately I still held some US dollars.  Actually – even cheaper, I think I purchased this currency back when the Australian dollar was approaching parity.

Houay Xai is a little underwhelming.
So much so that a British couple I had met at the border crossing
decided that less than one day was more than enough!

The process was quite slow, and I was grateful that I had not elected to do this in the early morning before being met by my guide for the river cruise. 

The ATM dispensed Lao Kip – though it feels wrong to press the button saying I wish to withdraw one million.  I had suggested to my British fellow travelers that we share a taxi, since they were not only headed for the town but for the same hotel, and we proceeded to attempt negotiations. Nothing doing.  The fare was set per person.  Payable in Kip or Baht.  My mental arithmetic suggested Baht was the better option, although subsequent calculations suggested not much difference.

Interesting temple murals around the main door

The general appearance as we progressed towards Houay Xai was a little more rustic than on the Thai side of the boarder, and the hotel gave a similar impression.  The electricity was off – and would be off until around 4 pm – it turned out this was not just the hotel but the whole town.  I was shown to my room – I think that most of a can of air freshener had been emptied into it, but the man in charge muttered a word that sounded quite like mosquito, and when I pressed the point that it was a little overpowering, he opened the door to the balcony – which overlooks the kitchen and contains the air con unit.   At least it can be opened.

I wandered down to the restaurant and glanced at the menu and the riverside view – the staff looked at me somewhat disinterestedly – so I wandered up to the main street to explore the town.  I found the tourist information centre, which was closed, so climbed the steps to a nearby temple and was intrigued to find it locked – unlike all the Thai temples I had visited – but enjoyed trying to work out what the murals were about.  I noted that the painting and statues of Buddha were all much more androgynous than those in Thailand and Bhutan and Buddha was portrayed with elongated ear lobes.

Temple murals

A young monk approached me with greetings and a wish to practice his English ready for his test that afternoon.  My query as to whether he could practice by explaining the paintings was declined, as he had not been there long enough to interpret all the murals.  He is 16 years old and has been there as a monk for 3 years.  They have a school for the monks and he studies Maths and English and Physics and Chemistry as well as 2 subjects in Buddhism.  I am impressed; his English is better than of any young person I met in my few days in Thailand.  We discuss  a little of the differences between the requirements of Buddhist monks in the different Asian countries.  He wishes to do well in English, to go to university so he can teach English to the young children, and to be a tour guide so that he can explain Buddhism to visitors. 

More interesting temple murals

I find a nearby restaurant that is prepared to serve me lunch, and it was cooked on the open fire beside my table.  Electricity is still not on.  This place serves not only as a guest house and restaurant, but as a training centre for hill tribe girls who have come to the town and are at risk.  They produce handicraft as well as participate in the running of the restaurant and guesthouse.  It seems a worthwhile project.

I wander through the town and am intrigued by the general lack of interest should I look at items in a shop.  I inspect some jewellery and gemstones – I wish I knew more, I suspect there might be some bargains to be had with buying unset stones, but have insufficient knowledge to venture there. 

Making friends with a young monk

I find a couple of shops selling textiles and am very impressed by some of the styles for the jackets/blouses.  Nicely fitted and trimmed with brocade edging, they are beautiful, but not half as beautiful as the traditional Lao silk lengths with their deep brocade-like pattern borders.  I am intrigued that those I see have an adhesive fabric bonded to the back – presumably to protect the carried warp threads from being caught, but am uncertain as to why this would be done to the plain pieces.  The shop people can show me the prices, either written into a notebook or on a calculator, but cannot tell me if the product is silk or not. 

I am tempted by a couple of pieces – one navy with a beautiful blue brocade pattern and the other navy with gold.  They are not cheap.  Around $120-$150 AUD.  I do not know if these are hand or machine woven either.  I don’t think the bonding would be all that comfortable in warm weather.  There is one REALLY intricate and stunning piece, complete with the matching scarf type wrap and a couple of borders at the ends that are intended to be cut off and used as strip for a blouse or jacket.  Gorgeous but too intricate for me to actually wear.

I see a duty free shop and inquire – yes, I can buy and not take across the border, so a bottle of Tanqueray is procured.  I even find a can of tonic to go with it, the latter being ridiculously expensive – but that how it goes if you buy such things from a bar.

I negotiate, with no shared language other than “internet” and “call” the purchase of a local sim card for my phone – hopefully with enough credit to last the distance.  I am using wifi at the hotels, but it is useful to have my maps app and internet should I want to get a message to family or friends during the day.

I find a quiet and very scenic corner of the hotel restaurant deck for dinner, and enjoy watching the river go by and the dynamics of a young group of travellers from Paris – a small group of boys very much distance themselves from a much larger group of more mature and noisier girls and are happy to engage in some conversation – to his credit, one is very fluent in English.

I looked forward to a good nights sleep (subject to the elephants in the room above me stopping their running around) and tomorrow’s adventures.