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April 15, 2005
Laos: the 'Kingdom of a Million Elephants'NERVES JUMP DURING VISIT TO THE FORMERLY NOTORIOUS OPIUM-PRODUCING GOLDEN TRIANGLE
By MARK WAITE
VIENTIANE, Laos - Back in 1979, I could only look over the Mekong River from Nong Khai, Thailand and wonder what was across the border in mysterious Laos. Following the end of the Vietnam War in 1975 and the fall of Laos to the Communists, the country stayed off limits to foreign tourists until 1991, the same year Vietnam opened its doors to tourism. The next five years only foreign visitors on package tours were allowed to enter, until 1996, when I became part of the first wave of independent visitors. Laos tourism has skyrocketed since 1996. Now, virtually the entire country is open to visitors, like other neighboring Communist countries in Indochina that are making more places open to tourists, seeking to cash in on the overflow from tourist-infested Thailand. Yet numerous tourists commented they liked the quieter, more Asian feeling of Laos, where women still ride bicycles down the street in Asian sarongs, instead of riding motorcycles in western clothes like they do in Thailand. There are only 5 million Laotians, as opposed to 65 million Thais; the country has a definite backwater-type feel to it. My trip to Laos began with a short boat ride across the Mekong River from the Thai border town of Chang Khong - near the tip of the infamous Golden Triangle, a former opium-growing area where Thailand, Burma and Laos meet - to Huay Xai, Laos, (pronounced Way Sigh). In early January 1996 there were only three of us foreigners at the time in Huay Xai. Now a travel agent was selling boat and bus tickets and there were numerous guesthouses and hotels on the main street. Instead of buying a 14-day Laos visa beforehand through a Bangkok travel agent for $75, I could now obtain a 15-day visa at the border for $30, or a 30-day visa beforehand at the embassy. While most tourists were heading by boat down the Mekong River to Luang Prabang, or by bus to Luang Namtha, in northern Laos, I couldn't find anyone to share the $100 cost of a speedboat to Xiang Kok, a four-hour ride upstream on the Mekong River north of Thailand, halfway up to the Chinese border. I ended up taking the dusty nine-hour bus ride northeast to Luang Namtha, also near the Chinese border. Before I left Huay Xai I changed 1,000 Thai baht ($25) into Lao kip; the exchange rate was 265 kip to one baht, or 265,000 kip, which the travel agent gave me in three stacks of 1,000 kip notes I stuffed in my front pockets. There were no ATMs in Laos dispensing kip, possibly because the exchange rate of the kip continued to plunge; it was about 10,300 to one U.S. dollar. It was obvious that Laos was one of the poorest countries in the world; people along the road scratched out a living in extreme poverty, living in tiny thatched-roof huts with a few pigs and turkeys running around. The bus driver stopped numerous times, for lunch near a charcoal plant, then later when a man held up some freshwater fish for sale. The countryside was nicely forested with a thick blanket of green, unlike Thailand where much of the forest had been cut down. It was also farther north than Thailand and more mountainous. A Lao native, who said he was now living in Vancouver, Canada, scolded me on the bus about the fact Americans bombed Laos during the Vietnam War and sprayed chemical weapons they called "yellow rain." Parts of the country near the Vietnamese border are still unsafe for hiking due to unexploded mines. As we pulled into Luang Namtha, a handful of tiny women in hill tribe dress approached several foreigners stepping off the bus, selling cheap souvenir bracelets and caps. One hill tribe woman whispered in my ear, "Ganja? Ganja?" using the Lao word for marijuana. The streets of the provincial capital were poorly lit, with mostly bicycles and few cars. I read an Associated Press article in 1997 about drug tourism in Asia that led off mentioning Muang Sing, a town two hours by bus west of Luang Namtha. The article mentioned tourists were frequently approached to smoke opium in town. No one asked me to buy opium, just another hill tribe woman who followed me all over the market, eventually asking me if I wanted marijuana. Apparently I looked too straight-laced, although a French couple told me later they had numerous offers to smoke opium while wandering the back streets of Muang Sing. A large sign in my hotel warned visitors not to smoke opium or any other drug, mentioning police checks and a $500 fine even for one marijuana cigarette. The surrounding mountains on both sides of Muang Sing looked appealing for some hikes to see the local hill tribes, but there was no one to share a tour guide from the one hiking outfit in town. Perhaps a dozen tourists wandered around town, a handful of hill tribe women usually pestered them to buy something as they were spotted walking down the street. It was three more hours west on a very slow bus through dirt roads to Xiang Kok, where I was back on the Mekong River. I booked a room at the Mekong River Resort for $5, with a splendid hilltop view of a scenic bend in the river through the mountains. It wasn't necessary to book a guide to hill tribe villages; the colorful tribes-people came to the Xiang Kok market every morning. The Akha in particular were numerous in the area, easily identified by their headdresses decorated with old coins. Some of the old coins read "Alliance Francaise" from the days when Laos was part of French Indochina. While throngs of foreign tourists flocked to villages in far northern Thailand to visit the hill tribes, I had this place almost all to myself. I felt a little bad after a few days of photographing the arriving hill tribes-people at the Xiang Kok morning market; some turned their heads away when they saw me pull out my camera as if they didn't want to be photographed. I wondered what I would do if I walked into the Pahrump Wal-Mart to shop, to be bothered by foreign tourists snapping photographs of me. A sign on the wall at the Xiang Kok Resort from the Luang Namtha Province Tourist Authority had a list of tips on visiting hill tribe villages that gave an interesting insight into their beliefs. Hikers were not supposed to walk quickly through a town, as the villagers would think they were bad spirits. Kissing in public or showing too much skin was taboo. Entering an area of the forest dedicated to the spirits was forbidden. Tourists were urged not to smoke opium or marijuana as it encouraged young people in the village to do the same. In Akha villages it was usually prohibited to cut or break tree branches. The tourist information poster said the arrival of larger numbers of foreign visitors was already having a negative impact on some villages, with drug consumption causing a community breakdown. There were only a couple tourists in Xiang Kok during my four-day visit and while the resort cabins were in a scenic spot, rats running on the roof woke me up at night. Food was a little scarce too, most items on the menu were unavailable, there was chicken, with the bones cut up in it but no pork; pork was available after that but no chicken. I was getting a feel for the rougher life of the locals. I was in a country that was the world's third-largest producer of opium, staring across the Mekong River at Burma, now known as Myanmar, the world's second-largest producer. Yet I didn't notice any of the bulbs of the opium plants in the area, just a beautiful walk through the pristine forests along the Mekong River. Laos was justifiably starting to promote itself as a destination for eco-tourism; new, comfortable resorts have sprung up in the hills near Muang Sing and Luang Namtha instead of cheap digs catering to backpackers coming for the drugs. Yet I still speculated as I watched them load boats on the Mekong below: Were they piling bags of opium onboard or heroin? Apparently methamphetamine was now being smuggled into Thailand, called yaba in the Thai language. I didn't see any signs of drug use, only poor, uneducated, hill tribes-people with spaced-out looks on their faces. After three days a French couple and I chipped in to charter a speedboat for the three-hour ride downstream to Huay Xai. It would cost each of us $20. The French formed a large part of the tourist population in Laos, visiting their former colony. As we buzzed loudly down the Mekong, I never expected to bounce over minor rapids, maneuver down narrow passageways between huge boulders and pull aside to avoid the wake of larger cargo ships heading upstream to China. We ran out of gas, but a passing speedboat driver gave us some gas in a bucket to make it the rest of the way. After arriving full circle back in Huay Xai, it was easy to talk to a travel agent to join a speedboat down the Mekong River to Luang Prabang. I was quoted a fare in Thai money, 1,300 baht, or $33.50 U.S. A picture at the travel agency showed a dozen or more smiling American GIs from the Mekong River Laos Military Base holding up "The Queen of Nagas," an eel more than 25 feet long, captured from the river June 27, 1973. I wondered afterwards if it would've been better to take the slow boat, a leisurely two-day ride down the Mekong for half the price. Passengers on those boats could sit and talk, while enjoying the beautiful, forested scenery along the Mekong, which left the Thai border and went into the Laos hinterlands after Huay Xai. They spent the first night in Pakbeng, halfway to Luang Prabang, breaking the trip up into two six-hour segments. Instead I zipped along in a loud, cramped speedboat with five other passengers, wearing a life jacket and a helmet, passing by scenes of Lao life at a much slower pace, with cattle resting on sand banks, women wearing sarongs bathing along the riverbanks and children paddling dugout canoes. Other tourists boarded my speedboat with huge backpacks that were loaded in front, while we sat hunched up with our knees practically up to our necks, almost like we were going to do a cannonball in the swimming pool. Everybody complained when we arrived at 4 p.m. near Luang Prabang. The first day I spent in Luang Prabang I was partially deaf, my face sunburned and my legs a little sore. The original capital of Laos, Luang Prabang was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its delightful blend of French provincial architecture and Lao Buddhist temples. There are now 788 World Heritage Sites around the world ranging from the Salzburg, Austria colonial city to Australia's Great Barrier Reef. Taos Pueblo in New Mexico and the Waterton Glacier International Peace Park are two examples of UNESCO World Heritage Sites in the U.S. More than 870 historic structures were identified in Luang Prabang; a committee of World Heritage architects has to review any building plans. Signs around town listed different renovation projects, all funded by the Alliance Francaise de Development: building brick walkways down back alleys, water and sewer lines, repairing streets and renovating Buddhist temples. Though the colonial buildings on the main street of town were now cluttered with fancy guesthouses, Internet cafes, restaurants and travel agencies, I still fell in love with the city once again. I felt like I was truly in a French colony, eating a baguette with Lao espresso at a sidewalk cafe, staring at the artwork on the walls. A tour map showed more than two dozen Lao temples, many were very appealing even to someone who has seen numerous Buddhist temples in Thailand. Some temples had paintings showing the life of Buddha and the consequences of a sinful life, others had glimmering reliefs in gold leaf, like the Xian Thong Temple. A walk up the 328 steps to the top of Phousy Hill afforded wonderful views of the mountains, the town architecture and the city's location at the merger of the Nam Kham and Mekong rivers. A British tourist having a beer at a riverside stand along the Mekong talked about how he wanted to be up at 6 a.m. to see the morning procession of Buddhist monks soliciting alms, but he overslept. That would be quite a site, as numerous young monks wandered around town in their saffron robes. At night I decided to skip an extensive $12 set dinner at a French restaurant named L'Elephant that included steamed chicken and herb mousse cake in a banana leaf; marinated and grilled buffalo meat with lemon grass; minced pork and banana flower salad. Instead I opted for a performance of the Hindu epic poem The Ramayana by the Royal Ballet Theater at the Royal Palace Museum. The showing wasn't as elaborate as performed on the Indonesian island of Java, but it was still a rich, cultural experience. Female dancers were attired in glittering Laotian headdresses and a small gamelan orchestra played gongs. Vendors on the street outside had marvelously-decorated Laotian sarongs and other handicrafts spread out at a night market that extended several blocks. I spent one more day around the city than I had expected just to let the atmosphere of the place soak in, let my brain marinate in the colonial charm. One tourist wryly complained about visiting all the Buddhist temples, having to continually take his shoes off and put them on all day. There were also visits to the Pak Ou caves, with numerous Buddha statues inside, or to neighboring waterfalls. Tourists now can travel together in mini-buses from Luang Prabang south to Vientiane, instead of old, derelict buses. The road was subject to occasional rebel attacks in the past, an armed guard still accompanies the large buses. The route went through more spectacular countryside, along ridge tops, looking out at neighboring mountain ranges. After six hours we arrived at Vang Vieng, a little more than halfway to Vientiane. While Luang Prabang had a more upscale clientele, Vang Vieng was more like a hippie hollow, with plenty of young backpackers coming to enjoy the limestone outcroppings along the river, float down the river in inner-tubes or paddle kayaks, or just relax around the restaurants. A tourist complained some people just sat around the restaurants on the main street watching television shows like "Friends." It was another main street of a popular Laos town turned over to foreign tourists and their infrastructure. A Swiss tourist said there were a lot of drugs in Vang Vieng. Indeed one menu included opium coffee and a sign at another restaurant talked about magic mushroom shakes. I walked over the bamboo pole walkways across the river to hike to nearby caves and mountains a few miles away. It was a great way to see country life in Laos walking down the dusty road, as peasants carried crops back from the fields in baskets on their backs. One girl was making shawls on a homemade loom; a few were for sale for $8 apiece. An elderly woman wove baskets with reeds on the ground while a man next to her yelled out at me, "No take (photos)." After a few days I boarded a minibus for the three-hour ride to Vientiane, the sleepy capital city of Laos across the Mekong River from Thailand. It had only 130,000 inhabitants, its own version of an Arc of Triumph on the busy Lane Xang Street and some more Buddhist temples to explore. The new Lao-Thai Friendship Bridge led across the river to Nong Khai, Thailand, where I took the overnight train to Bangkok. I only wished I had more time to explore the rugged, forested parts of this exotic land once known as the Kingdom of a Million Elephants. |
