Our posts are coming thick and fast now. This post describes our entry into Laos at Huay Xai and our trip down the Mekong River.
Crossing the border into Laos
Our entry into Loas was painless. We expected long queues, but there were none. The public bus from Chiang Rai to Chiang Kong on the Thai side of the border was unencumbered; while passing through Thai immigration, crossing the Mekong River to Huay Xai, and clearing Lao immigration was efficient. There were no hassles.
Huay Xai is a quiet border town resting, as suggested above, on the Lao side of the Mekong River. It shows its French history by offering baguettes with over 15 filling options and French inspired buildings. It shows its Buddhist history by maintaining golden temples in strategic positions. The main street is dusty and home to stray dogs that bark all night. But the people are friendly enough and the guesthouses clean.
Tourists do not stay long in Huay Xai because it lacks attractions. Instead they use it as a base for taking the slow boat down the Mekong River—as we did after staying the night.
Slowboat down the Mekong River
Touted as one of Laos’ main attractions and popular because many of the roads are so bad; the slowboat showcases life on the Mekong. Fortunately, our route through Laos went the same way: from Huay Xai in the north west to Luang Prabang further south. The journey took two days, stopping overnight in Pak Beng.
Although colourful, the slowboats lack design features. They are long and square and look like floating one-story wooden buildings filled with old car seats and a small, but well-used herb garden at the front. There are hidden compartments in the floor to store bags and other goodies and a toilet at the back next to the engine room. The boats hold about 100 people with a bar stool at the front for the captain.
The dock at Huay Xai was a funny sight. Our boat was jammed between about 20 other slowboats all jostling for space along the Mekong’s muddy banks. Access was via a wooden, unfastened plank that wobbled noticeably. We arrived early to ensure we got a good seat—although we needn’t have bothered as it was the low (tourist) season.
Departure was a challenge. Squeezing out from the jam consisted of men placing tree branches between the boat roofs and shouting a lot as they clambered around trying to free our boat. We got stuck once, forcing the boat to reverse—it seemed like this was their first time or perhaps this was a particularly tight boat jam. But either way, after some loud creaking and crunching of wood, we were off.
The trip was impressive with time drifting effortlessly away. The slow meander of the boat led from mountain gorges to forested plains, past villages and sapphire mines. Kids jumped off rocks into the river or raced down its banks to sell local wares. Fisherman put out nets while water buffalo and other animals drank. Crops were being replanted and riverbanks turned from sand dunes to grass slopes.
When the scenery was not enough, we read, napped and watched movies. Others on the boat drank Beer Lao—which made the locals happy as they charged well above market rates.
Occasionally we stopped to pick up locals. Now this was no mean feat for a floating building that was not designed to turn. It involved: stopping the boat well before the pickup point; turning the boat sideways so that the current would push it into position; then crashing the front into the river bank, hoping that someone would stop it just in time. We repeated this about eight times during the two days—and although the boat looked full every time, there was always enough room for more people.
There were other river users too—most notably, the fast boats that make the same journey in half the time, but at some risk. Passengers must wear helmets because these small long boats go so fast that the divers sometimes fail to see hidden rocks and debris. Many deaths have occurred over the years. (Fortunately, for those parents at home, we understood these risks so opted for the safer slower option.)
Our stopover at Pak Beng was pleasant; although early the next day we realised that Claire’s Kindle—electronic book reader—was gone. Lost or stolen, on or off the boat, we don’t know. But we do know that the Pak Beng police cannot issue reports on Sundays and speak only basic English. So we had to save our grievance for the Luang Prabang tourist police (see our next post).
After two long days and a lost Kindle, we arrived in Luang Prabang in early evening.
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Our next post will describe our time in Luang Prabang and Vientiane. We are now in Vang Vieng.
xxx
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