Mekong Tourist Pak Beng

Old style freighter about to enter the rapids bellow Xiengkok.  All photos Jan 9 and 10, 2009

Up where the Golden Triangle still exists, there still is a place without much government or anything resembling one. Xiengkok Laos is at the end of the road, and the road ends at the Mekong, and that’s why I was there. For the time being the river itself is the fastest, if not the best way out. Out to mobile phone coverage, the internet, and money changers. Out to the electric grid and roads with cars and trucks. The upper Mekong hasn’t been gentrified,,,, yet.

Fast boats Xiengkok looking upstream. Burma left, Laos right.

Xiengkok lies halfway up the three or four hundred kilometer stretch of river where Laos shares a border with Burma. I know other foreigners pass through, but I’ve never seen one. Mostly it’s a bunch of steep hills with trees and a river cutting through them. The river is relatively narrow and it carries a heck of a lot of water. The water is in a big hurry to get downstream someplace where it can widen out, take it’s time, and get sabai.

I’ve no idea who controls the part of Burma across the river. I’ve never even seen people over there. I know it’s Shan State, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shan_State but not run by the Shan State Army and most assuredly not the Myanmar Government. Warlords.

Despite it’s reputation for being the lawless center of South East Asian opium cultivation, (and methamphetamines now) the whole place exudes a feeling of listlessness. As if nothing happens and nothing ever will. The river transportation is by way of fast boat, and I don’t remember much of the ride.

Chinese freight boat emerging from narrows.

It was early, sometimes with thick fog just meters above the river. We stood by for a few minutes somewhere waiting for a Chinese freighter to make it’s way up the narrows. The Chinese blasted a route through the rapids a decade or more ago, it’s kind of a tight squeeze for two boats to pass each other by.

When golden tats start appearing through the trees on the right you know you are getting close to the Thai border. There is a big casino on the Burma side operated by a large Chinese syndicate. Thais and others cross to do the gambling that is illegal in Thailand.

The Lao side of the river is Ban Mom, with a large boat landing. The tour groups out of Thailand taking the opium tour (without the opium) get a boat ride across the river to Ban Mom and for ten bucks they can get a real Lao stamp on their passport good only for Ban Mom. Lots of places sell T shirts, and pickled snakes in bottles of whiskey, that kind of thing.

There was a woman at the locals restaurant waiting for me or someone just like me or even better would have been five someones just like me. She was a sawngtheau driver waiting for fares. But there was only me. After hectoring me to finish my bowl of pho, and after I paid way too much money in advance, we drove around town for half an hour looking for more riders. We found none.

The road over the piece of land formed by the big turn of the river was a lot longer than I’d thought. Maybe her price wasn’t so outlandish.

I know I slept in Huay Xai, the town that is the traditional entry point for backpackers on the South East Asian circuit. They enter from Northern Thailand, take a slow boat that is reserved just for western backpackers for two days down the river to Luang Prabang, then down to Vang Vieng for partying, Vientiane, Sii Pon Don, then out to Cambodia and they’ve “done” Laos. Huay Xai is smack dab in the center of what is called the banana pancake trail. A well trodden route for western independent tourists.

Cat skin, I think clouded leopard, Huay Xai

I might have crossed briefly into Thailand to renew my visa or use the ATM, I don’t remember. I’ve passed through Houay Xai a few times. Whatever the case by late the next morning I was down at the fast boat landing on the far side of town checking out the possibility of a ride further on down the river. It took awhile but finally we took off, a couple other passengers, and the fast boat guy.

Down at the first big bend of the river Thailand skedaddles off to the east and the Mekong continues on between Laos on both banks. It actually flows like that all the way down almost to Vientiane when it once again becomes the international border.

As people flagged us down from the bank the boat got more and more full. If you count babies we had nine people on board. The gunwales were barely above the water, but when we got up to speed we were skipping on down the river as normal. The other passengers were all Hmong, which was weird. Hmong live up on the mountain ridges where the air is cooler and there is less malaria. Maybe they were relocated Hmong.

Quiet of mid day Pak Beng

My destination was the town of Pak Beng. (“mouth of Beng”, as in where one river dumps into another) Pak Beng has held a nefarious reputation on the Banana Pancake Circuit. Many tales of not enough rooms in the hotels and sleeping in makeshift bamboo places with tons of rats. Being sold drugs only to turn around and have money extorted by police. Any horror story you might care to imagine. What I was especially waiting to see was the mobbing of the slow boat by the town as children try to grab backpacks for the porter fees, and steer folks towards hotels for commissions.

The main drag getting ready for slow boat Pak Beng

The arrival of the slow boat to Pak Beng had taken on a larger than life reputation, part of the backpacker mythology. Something one just had to see, like the running of the bulls in Pamplona.

The town was asleep it was noon. In the time between the slow boat leaving in the morning and the other slow boat coming in the evening, Pak Beng reverts to being a regular Lao town. Kind of like a beach town in the winter, half deserted and waiting for the main show. I checked in to the very first hotel I came upon. No electricity in town until the generator kicks in when the boat comes. I killed time.

The people of Pak Beng gathering for kao poon before the arrival of the slow boat

Slow boat approaching Pak Beng

Later in the afternoon I and seemingly at least one person from most of the hotels and restaurants went down to meet the boat just above the landing. An Indian fellow struck up a conversation, the owner of the local restaurant, every town has to have one Indian restaurant. He spoke in measured tones no trace of the typical choppy fast lilting Indian accent. Laos is a very small country, it’s easy to gossip about towns and people and businesses. English speakers who have stayed very long invariably have something to talk about.

A young Lao guy also speaking English joined us but bantering the Indian using made up simplified English. “You Bengladeshi, yes sir, you Bengladeshi kohn kahk” Bengladeshis being the predominant South Asian illegal immigrants of the the country due to proximity just across... Burma. Khon Kahk a slightly racist jibe at South Asians in Lao Language. The Indian cursed him soundly but in a bored tone. A nightly ritual no doubt.

The rest of the crowd talked quietly. They waited patiently with flyers advertising room rates and restaurant menus. They had none of the look of sharks smelling blood. When the boats finally arrived there was no pushing or crowding or hard selling at all. The backpackers looked tired from sitting on the boat all day and maybe sipping a couple of  those large Beer Laos.

Backpackers arrive Pak Beng

Imperceptibly my attitude had changed towards my fellow tourists. Rather than wishing to see them mobbed by touts I hoped they would soon set their largish backpacks down at one of the many new clean guesthouses and order off the English language menus of the now opened restaurants waiting to serve them “chicken curry” with a side order of fries. The people getting off the boat seemed less like gap year stoners and more like middle aged professionals taking two months off to see SEAsia. The main street of Pak Beng with the coming of dusk had transformed itself into a set for a Jimmy Buffett song complete with candle lit tables and soft reggae playing in the background. Looks like I missed Pak Beng at it’s peak by about ten or twelve years.

Today is over four years later still. Pak Beng is now undergoing major road work and a bridge somewhere a couple kilometers upstream. An all weather hard surface road will provide access to Chang Mai and Lampang from Udomxai and Mengla. (Thailand to China) It’s looking like there will be three bridges on the upper Mekong in Laos.

Things Change.

It's now official, Slowboat Stopped Huay Xai to Luang Prabang (old post)

Lao People Democratic Republic

Peace Independence Democracy Unity Prosperity

Ministry of Public work and transportation Number 274

Section of Public work and Transportation province Bokeo date 18 Feb 2010

Announcement

To: Tourist companies and citizens whom will be traveling from Houeisay to Pakbeng by local boat.

At present, the department of Public work and Transportation Bokeo province would like to announce that the river transportation has to stop at present because the big boat can no longer travel due to the low water level in the Mekong River. Rapids in the river would make it unsafe for boat to travel. All big boat transportations have to stop until further notice.

This regards all concerned persons that provide transportation and all tourists that which to travel between Houei Say and Luang Prabang and vice versa. Please acknowledge and follow for your safety.

Special: 45 seats Bus Transportation are available daily:

1. Houeisay to Luang Namtha 2 departures

2. Houeisay to Oudomxay 1 departure

3. Houeisay to Luang Prabang 3 departures

4. Houeisay to VTE 1 departure

5. Houeisay to Pakbeng Normal operation by speed boat

Department of Public Work and Transportation, Bokeo Province.

MR. LOTHOUNHUENE TOUNGASAEM

http://bit.ly/cOOPYH

Second Trip North Headed Back

Once I turn around and start heading home trips often seem to end quickly. It’s like the horse knowing it’s headed for the barn after working all day.
I barely stopped for the night at Phongsali then rode down to Hatsa to catch the boat south on the Nam Ou. I wanted to avoid the bus Phongsali to Oudomxai if possible and I had visions of sliding down the Nam Ou three days to Luang Prabang.
The negotiations over the fare were beyond me. I was quoted eight dollar, I said ok, but there was still a lot of work to do. The conversation was going too fast for me to follow and I also had no interest. Eight bucks seemed to be pretty reasonable to me. I always try to pay “the right price” to help those who come later and so that locals don’t get the idea that the falang is some kind of walking ATM, but when I don’t know the price and it seems reasonable compared to other prices I just go with it.


Slow boat negotiations almost finished

No one was making any moves to get on the boat, so I did. Soon all the Lao people followed and with a little more haggling between the official in charge of the landing and the captain of the boat we were off.

Riding in the lap of luxury

Boat rides as a passenger tend to make me lethargic, sun reflecting off the water, steady drone of the engine, monotonous bank sliding by, the only problem was that I couldn’t lie down and go to sleep. After a couple of hours there was some excitement as a passenger spotted some fish that had floated to the surface. Soon there seemed to be more and I realized they were rising up out of the river. The boat was turned around and we floated amongst the dying fish that were rolling over on the surface and trying to gulp air. People were scooping them up with flip flops, baskets, paddles and anything else that came to hand. Mostly they were about six or eight inches long, not what I would call big, but everyone seemed excited.

Dead fish

I couldn’t figure out what would cause such a large fish kill and only on that section of river. There is no industry or towns of any size above that point on the Nam Ou. I thought maybe chemicals from some home grown mining on the tributary we had just passed? I wasn’t about to tell anyone not to eat free fish, maybe the oxygen content had radically changed on just that section of river.
The hills on both sides of the river seemed to have been cut. No big trees up both sides for quite a ways. I assume the logs were floated down the river to Luang Prabang or taken directly by boat. There was a lot of human activity also, as the valley widened there were many villages and even once in a while a road.
Sometime in the mid afternoon we made Muang Khua. Muang Khua is one of those steep river towns built because of a ferry crossing. I got a room at the first place I came to and walked up the hill to look around. Yes there was a bus that left at eight, and quite a few older buildings. Nothing ancient or classic but still an older established river town. Small but nice market. Small winding alleys leading between houses on down towards the river, houses built up against the hill, three stories in front and one in back due to the rise.

Temple carving Muang Kua

I stopped at the restaurant recommended in the guidebook and found an English language menu and hugely inflated prices. I should have known.
I asked the young owners of my own guest house if they could cook me up some Lao food for dinner and they agreed.
Large mild chilli peppers stuffed with mung bean noodles pork and spices, ( a whole plate of them)
Small green pea pods on the side with bean sprouts
Gaeng made of cabbage with tofu and bits of pork.
Steamed rice on the side
Green tea in a pot.
Three dollars

I had to excuse myself I just couldn’t finish all of green peas, I was happy enough to have even completed the stuffed chillies.

Hua Wai Muang Khua

I hadn’t had a real cup of coffee since leaving the bus station in Oudomxai so many days ago and so I got up early, found myself locked in, and ended up climbing out the balcony. At the market I met an interesting man. I should begin by saying it was probably six thirty in the morning. I get up at that time often or even earlier, seen enough monks on their morning rounds to satisfy a few tour bus loads of Luang Prabang tourists. I like markets in the mornings. Good breakfast foods to be had and lots of busy people.
There was a counter and a lady that sold soft drinks and coffee. I ordered two at once to save time. A well dressed Lao man sat down next to me and started to make conversation in English. I continued it in Lao from the get go. My horrible Lao is usually a lot better than Lao peoples more horrible English, if it isn’t things usually sort themselves out quickly.
He had stayed at the large rich seeming hotel at the top of the hill the night before and was traveling to Dien Bien Phu. These were his associates and when he introduced me to his friends one of whom said “How are you this morning?” I asked the Lao man if he was a tour guide, usually I can spot them earlier than this, not really he said but in the tourism business. I asked him if he spoke English, big smile and a “yesss” can we use English then? “certainly if you’d like”. His English was some of the best I’ve ever heard from a native Lao speaker. I felt like ten kinds of a fool.
His company is one of the old big ones that have been operating in Lao since even before they opened it up for independent tourists. Mostly they do the actual work for smaller companies that book the tours with the customers. All those large tour busses etc. They were about to open a new route through from Thailand for Thai nationals to Dien Bien Phu and he had to take the trip himself to check the condition of the road and hotels and so forth. I guess Dien Bien Phu is only a couple more hours of good road from Muang Khua. That puts it at five hours from Oudomxai, and would make it an extremely popular route once they open the border.
Because this man seemed so knowledgeable about tourism in Laos and his English reflected an understanding of western culture I asked him about the interactions between hill tribes peoples and western tourists. I even explained the things I’d found troubling, mainly that we hadn’t been properly warned about giving things away in the villages we visited and had even been given candy to distribute. Also the feeling my fellow trekkers felt that sometimes they were being disrespected often by being stared at by young men. I had felt that sometimes the children were laughing at, not with, them.

Stalking the elusive hill tribe photo at the Muang Long Market

The tour operator said that actually tourism hill tribe interaction was a big problem and mentioned villages outside of Muang Sing that not even he is safe to visit. The long history of tourists always giving things to hill tribes people has created the feeling that every tourist who stops in their village owes them as does the tour operator. When the villagers don’t get money they get angry.
And then he went on to recommend the work being done to develop in a less harmful way in the Luang Namtha area, initiated by some individuals and used by most of the operators there. He was effusive in his praise. Coming from someone who had such a long history with development here, and who works in an entirely different sector of the tourism market, I was impressed.
Normally I’m a very cynical person when I start hearing words like “sustainable development” or “eco tourism”. Usually I assume it’s another way to appeal to yuppies who consume the earths natural resources at the fastest rate in the history of the world and to make them feel good about it. It’s like calling something 100% natural. I think my next goal is to head to Luang Namtha and check it out for myself.

The remainder of my trip I took on auto pilot. The eight o’clock bus that left at 8;30 and had a battery shake loose caused us to roll into Oudomxai as the Luang Prabang bus was rolling out the front entrance. The sharp eyed driver knew exactly why some old fat falang was hurrying towards him with a determined look and they waited for me to get on. Back in the land of Falangs each guarding their spare seat with a day pack and staring out the window while listening to their ipod. The road to Luang Prabang seemed very smooth and new. The next morning on the 6:30 bus the guys driving recognised me and remembered that I get off at Nang Tang.

Bus Station Muang Khua