Lingering in Laos- On a Slow Boat to... Nowhere in Particular

It had sounded like a good idea: a leisurely ride down the scenic Mekong River, two days soaking up the pristine natural beauty of the remote wilderness from the relaxing vantage point of an aptly named “slow boat.” The journey came highly recommended by many others I had met so far in my travels. The first time I heard someone speak of it, a picture of serene vistas and uninhibited relaxation etched itself into my mind and refused to leave. The only solution to appease the desire was to actually attempt the passage.

The opportunity presented itself when it became apparent that I would have to do a border run to get a new Thai visa. Myanmar was closer but I had a friend in Laos who was teaching in the capital, and this fact, coupled with the chance to take the slow boat, easily persuaded me to venture into this country to the east. Getting to and across the border was relatively hassle-free. When I set foot on the opposite bank of the Mekong, I was sure I knew what to expect. It turned out (as it so often has while I’ve been in on this trip) that I had been quite mistaken in my presumptions. I saw the boat and experienced yet another moment of horror/hilarity as I realized, “This is what I’ll be traveling in?!”

I now understood that the next 48 hours would probably not be the most comfortable of my life. I could not even begin to imagine how more than 100 passengers would a) fit on the boat and b) stay that way for two days without deteriorating into insanity. I had guessed that the chairs would be wooden and accordingly had brought a cushion. Only I had also thought that the seats would be the size of a normal chair or bench; instead, the pitiful perch was a 2”x 4”! I opted for floor space instead, and was very glad I did. Although I was crammed between another person and the side of the boat, I was certain that having a flat surface that could actually accommodate a sitting position for more than 5 minutes was very much preferable to one that couldn’t. Over the next two days, in an endeavor to avoid both boredom and stiffness, I found more ways to maneuver my body to fit into that tiny area than I could have imagined possible (maybe I should try out for cirque du soliel!)

After only about 20 minutes, I had already tired of the scenery and started reading the 50-pound book I had been loaned by a friend who knew it would keep me well occupied on such a lengthy excursion. I also met several other travelers to pass the time with talking, as per usual on any transport longer than a few minutes from A to B. One girl, Naoko, was from Japan, and we decided we would share a room in the small village of Pak Beng, where we would be stopping overnight. Touts (another given of Asian tourism) immediately converged on us, impeding our progress up the steep, sandy river bank until we finagled a deal with one who led us to our hotel. Naoko and I settled in for the night. Our progress towards sleep was only momentarily delayed as we formed a spontaneous drum corps after taking note that our “beds” appeared to be made out of plywood.

The next morning we grabbed our pre-ordered lunches and reluctantly boarded the boat for the second leg of the grueling journey. I think this time I just tried to sleep as much as possible to forget about the heat, discomfort, and boredom. Eventually, and not a moment too soon, our destination emerged slowly out of the forested mountains. Luang Prabang is a small, quiet town on the Mekong River which is Southeast Asian in most of its essentials, but exudes a touch of quaint provincial France. Colonialism left behind permanent markers here, from the architecture of the houses and shops to the art of baking the perfect baguettes, painstakingly passed-down and refined over the generations. Naoko and I wandered this beautiful town together, eating in open-air cafes on the river, exploring the many Buddhist temples, visiting a handicrafts market, hiking up a hill in the center of town to watch the sunset from yet another temple, and waking up at 4am to witness the daily procession of young Buddhist monks with marigold-colored robes and shaven heads collecting food from villagers as alms. 

After a few days, I parted ways with Naoko and took a bus to Vientiane, the capital. Other than lots of construction, nothing much seemed to be going on here. I walked to a public fountain, only to find it not functioning. I moved on to a temple, where a Western tourist couple seemed to be the only other souls in the place. I took a cab to Pha That Luang, the great golden stupa that is the national symbol of Laos, and there were about fifty times more people in the paved lot buying and selling T-shirts than there were in the whole of the grounds. As one of the poorest countries in Southeast Asia, Laos lacks much of an infrastructure; therefore, development has been slow.

(Sidebar: Of course, it doesn’t help that the American War in Vietnam has had such long-lasting effects for this country. Some areas are still being cleared of land-mines, craters puncture the countryside where our military pilots indiscriminately dropped their bombs to avoid the humiliation of returning to home base without having gotten rid of them, and Hmong people are still fleeing for their lives from persecution by the government after the Americans secured their assistance… and then left them to fend for themselves, hunted down as traitors to Laos.) Surely there will be exponential growth for the country in the next few years, and if this happens in a similar way as it has for other countries in the area, Laos might soon face similar problems of culture and tradition being pitted against Western “progress” and “comforts”. With such fundamental changes in way of life, Laos may find itself losing what makes it Laos. 

But not right now. The Laotians I met through my English teacher friend very much brought to mind the lighthearted spirit that Laos is known for. They were all perfectly happy to kick back, practice English with me, and drink BeerLao, a beverage this nation prides itself in having invented. One girl, who couldn’t have been more than 20, also bashfully told me that she had had an American boyfriend before… who was 70! I’m afraid that sort of thing is an epidemic all over Southeast Asia. It’s a pretty lucrative arrangement for both the women there and the elderly Western men who seek them out, but in a lot of ways a detriment to the community as a whole, not to mention repulsive in how the unequal distribution of power between these two groups ends up playing out in real life =/

The day before I left Vientiane to go back to Thailand, I happened to walk into an internet café and find Naoko there! We decided we would go to a sculpture park about 30 minutes outside the city the next day before I left. The ride there definitely took longer but it was worth it. We walked around the cement sculptures, which the artist had created using the influences of not only Buddhism but also Hinduism and other native spiritual beliefs. The result was an eclectic and at times eccentric mix of statues. You could even climb through a monster’s mouth, up into a hollow structure filled with labyrinthian passages, and walk along until you came out into the sun at the top, to look out over the entire park and the Mekong River, in the shadow of a towering, abstract cement tree (which can actually be seen from Thailand- more on that in a later edition). Overall, my time in Laos passed very well and I highly recommend going there… however, I will never be able to recommend that slow boat excursion to anyone, except as a joke!