I really didn't want to waste a night in a 'nothing' town and was keen to get on to Laos. However, having paid for a through ticket, I was loath to spend more on anther vehicle to take me on. I eventually got a refund of part of my fare and, meeting another couple in a similar fix, sat at a bar with the bus company rep. to try to negotiate a 'sensible' solution. My bargaining partners were a French couple called Laurence and Fabrice and, between us, we managed to get seats on a minibus leaving an hour later. As has so often been the case, both Laurence and Fabrice spoke much better english than I could their native language. They were heading for the small town of Don Det, on the island just north of my destination.
Along with our 12 bus companions, we found ourselves at the Laos border an hour or so later. The bus stopped, a couple of hundred metres short of the border, at a cafe, where we were invited to sit and fill out the appropriate immigration paperwork. Then they asked us for our visa fee - $5 more than the published fee. We all expressed surprise and asked why we needed to pay this extra charge, at which point the 'agent' got agitated and 'invited' us to go sort it ourselves.
One thing I have learned as I have travelled is how backpacker, especially, tend to be on a tight budget and so will not spend a penny more than they can get away with. With this in mind, we all traipsed, in the heat, over to, first, the Cambodian exit gate to get our departure cards stamped and then across no-man's-land to the Laos side to buy our visas and enter their territory. Passing my passport, application and requisite $35 through the little window, conveniently placed at waist height, a hand took my offering and almost immediately placed it back on the window ledge. Bending low to try to communicate with the hidden official I heard a disembodied voice from behind the screen say '36 dolla'. I remonstrated, pointing out that the Laos visa web site stated $35, but he was having no of it. Standing back, I watched as all of my companions tried the same. Some argued profusely, but, eventually, we all bowed to the inevitable and handed over the extra cash to 'smooth the process'.
Our passports were then passed through the checkpoint office to the immigration officer. Who, in turn, showed a passport, through his similarly ill positioned window, and, when the owner stepped forward, swiftly retracted the document and demanded another $1 'overtime. By this time I was getting pissed off, not a state I often reach. However, one thing I really dislike is corruption, especially in government officers. It quickly became obvious that this was a battle we were not going to win and so, reluctantly, one by one we parted with another dollar. I asked for a receipt. The dollar was snatched, contemptuously from my hand and my passport thrust through the portal.
So this was the reason that the cafe agent wanted five bucks extra. By now our driver was also miffed as, presumably, he didn't get his cut for dropping us at the cafe in the first place. So, while we were stood by the bus waiting to continue our journey, he sat under a shelter with other drivers and border officers watching football. Having none of this, we marched over and told him we were ready to go. Ignoring us, he continued to watch the football with his confederates. One of our number went and stood in front of the tv. We might not have been able to win against the border officials, but we sure as hell were going to make life difficult for the driver if he didn't capitulate. After a brief stalemate he conceded and we were on our way again.
After 3 amazingly relaxing days in Don Khone, it was time to move on again. Before I left, I bumped into my French travelling companions again and enjoyed a beer and conversation in a quiet bar. I then took a boat back to the riverbank to get a bus to Tat Law, a set of waterfalls north east of us and about a quarter of the way up the country.
Waiting to board the bus, I met Jerone and Marta. The former Dutch, the later Spanish. They had met a few days before and now were travelling together to the same destination as me. So we became a somewhat unlikely triumvirate. We had a long and tiring bus ride and got to the village after dark. Checking in at the first available guesthouse, we then spent a couple of days exploring and visiting the waterfalls that are the main attraction. Hiring moped we drove to see the biggest one, about a 20min ride followed by a 15min walk, only to be totally under-awed by the thundering...trickle of water that evaporated in the daytime heat before it had a chance to fall to the pool below. The other, smaller, falls were much more impressive and did make trip worthwhile.
Leaving Tat Law, we three continued north to visit some wonderful caves at Khonglor, and then on to Vang Vieng, north of the capital, Vientiane. Vang Vieng is a backpacker magnet of a town and is home to an activity know as 'Tubing'. Previously this involved floating in a lorry inner tube along the Mekong, being towed into the multitude of shoreside bars, drinking and continuing on downstream to the next bar. Following the death of a young Australian about a year ago, the Laos government put a stop to the bars and so, whilst Tubing still happens, it is now a much more tame activity.
After 3 days in Vang Vieng, Jerone and I parted company with Marta. She was heading straight to Bangkok and then to Burma. Jerone and I were going to Luang Prabang. After another tortuous bus ride, we made it to the town with time to wander around to find accommodation in daylight. We had met a couple of Danish women on the bus, Cecilie and Rikke. Whist we opted to sit at a bar to have a contemplative beer, they headed of to find a room at a good price. Consequently, when then came back along the road a little while later, we were able to take advantage of their research and check in at the same guesthouse!
We had a great couple of days in Luang Prabang, visiting some more waterfalls and some rather over stated caves. However, after 2 days, it was time for me to move on the pastures new, as Thailand was calling. So, leaving Jerone to stay a few days more before heading south to Bangkok, I headed for the airport to fly to Chang Mai.
My flight was late morning, so I had a lazy lie in and then got a tuk tuk to ferry me and my bags to the airport. It is a very small terminal and so checking in was both quick and easy. One extra piece of luggage that I acquired in Saigon, and had been carrying with me since, was a small 'travel' guitar. A poor, but reflex, purchase as it looks good, back will not tune for ready money. Probably because it's made of balsa wood, or something. However, passing through the airport security, the guards took quite an Interest in my belongings and asked me to take it out of its case. Having done so, they then passed it between them, giving it a tuneless strum and holding it up to inspect the sound hole. Passing it back to me, they asked me to play something! I tried desperately to think of something they might recognise and settled on The Bare Necessities, from Walt Disney's Jungle Book. They joined in as they got into the rhythm and a couple of people in the queue who know the words gave accompaniment.
My little impromptu performance over, I began packing my guitar back into its case. As I turned to leave, the woman behind me in the line said to me, in hushed tones, 'I'm so pleased I didn't pack my rabbit in my hand luggage!'
Next stop Thailand. I'm nearly chasing my own coat tails (or should that be coat tales)
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