Pilot episode: The one where it all began

Has Laos become the new Bangkok?

The queue at the check-in counter for the Udon Thani-bound flight was surprisingly the longest, beating traditional favourites like Bangkok and Phuket. Laos may have the Channel U's travelogue programme 'Adventure Clicks' to thank. My fellow passengers comprised mostly Thai nationals and a few Singaporeans - backpackers in their mid-twenties, middle-aged men who were perhaps visiting their Isaan girlfriends and an ex-colleague whom I hardly knew. I spotted her again at the bus station in Udon Thani, and that was the last time I saw her.

By the time I arrived at the bus station in Udon Thani, the tickets for the 10.30 a.m. bus to Vientiane were all sold out. In fact, it was overbooked Laotian style. Some passengers had to sit on small plastic stools along the aisle.

The 11.30 a.m. bus left 20 minutes behind schedule, and arrived at the Friendship Bridge in less than an hour. It was almost devoid of human traffic, so we cleared immigration at both checkpoints in no time. After having my passport stamped at the Lao checkpoint, I made my way to the bus only to be stopped midway by an immigration officer who asked to inspect my passport. After taking a quick glance, she pointed me in the direction from which I had come. I had my stamps, so what more did she want?! I tried to find out, but she could not speak a word of English and I could not understand her gesticulations. Her colleague who was sitting quietly next to her all the while finally spoke. “Pay tax,” he said. That, I understood. In fact, I had read about it. I retraced my steps back to the booth, which I had conveniently bypassed earlier. The officer at the booth held up a 20 baht note. I took one out of my wallet and handed it over to him. In return, he gave me two receipts. I took a look at them when I got on the bus, and chuckled to myself, much to the bewilderment of a Thai (or Laotian) lady who sat on the opposite side of the aisle. One of the tickets read, “Overtime fee 2500 kip (approximately 10 baht)” For crying out loud, it was not even 1 p.m. yet!

A little over an hour later, the bus pulled into the bus station next to Talat Sao (Morning Market) in Vientiane. It was not a pretty sight. The bus station was nothing more than a shed with a few benches. Dust and litter were everywhere. A shit-hole was perhaps the most apt description. I later found out that all bus stations in Laos looked like that or worse.

It has almost become a tradition in this part of Southeast Asia that the first local that one comes in contact with at the bus station is the tuk-tuk tout. At least two descended on me like vultures would their preys the moment I alighted from the bus. One of them just could not get off my back despite my best efforts at ignoring him.

“Tuk tuk?” “Do you speak Lao?” “Where you go?”

I finally lost it. “I am going to the toilet, so stop following me!” I yelled.

It worked. And I was not lying. I really needed to take a leak after the two-hour bus ride. The toilet was surprisingly clean. Then again, at 1,000 kip per entry (approximately USD 0.10), one would expect no less. 1,000 kip may be next to nothing to tourists, nevertheless it was an exorbitant sum to pay to use the toilet in Laos. I found out later that despite it being one of the poorest countries in the world, Laos could be rather pricey, sometimes more so than Thailand.

According to the map I had downloaded from Travelfish, my guesthouse was only a few hundred metres from the bus station, but the problem was I had no idea in which direction I should head. It turned out I did need a tuk-tuk driver after all, but I was not going back to the pesky driver who was looking expectantly at me from afar. I walked out of the station and approached the first driver I saw. “Mali Namphu?” I asked. He nodded. “How much?” I enquired. “20,000 kip,” he replied. (On two separate occasions, I heard tuk-tuk drivers pronouncing ‘twenty’ as ‘seventy’. I wonder if they had the same English teacher.) I bargained it down to half the amount, and I still think I had grossly overpaid.

We arrived at my guesthouse in a couple of minutes’ time. I handed him a one-dollar bill. Initially, he refused to accept it. I later found out that USD 1 is worth only about 9550 kip today, unlike more than 10,000 kip in the recent past. “Kip. Kip,” he insisted. I was already pissed (mostly at myself) for having to pay USD 1 for a ride that took less than two minutes, and he was not making things any easier. “I only have 9000 kip with me,” I told him. He realized he had no choice but to take my dollar bill and rode off.

Mali Namphu was an absolutely delightful guesthouse. Its nondescript shop front belied a small yet lovely courtyard where breakfast was served. My room was small but it came with the holy trinity - an attached bathroom (Their showerhead was technologically more advanced than the one I have at home!), an air conditioner and a satellite TV. Famished, I wasted no time in settling in and headed out for lunch. I had read rave reviews of PVO, a Vietnamese eatery, and wanted to check it out, but it has since shifted from its old location near the Nam Phou fountain to the Mekong River area. The February 2007 edition of Rough Guide is already outdated! The very recently published Lonely Planet has the updated address. Truth be told, I was disappointed by the shop’s façade. It was a decrepit standalone single-storey shop house with a row of motorcycles parked out in the front. But what really mattered was the quality of the food. Their sandwiches came highly recommended and rightfully so. I ordered a tuna baguette sandwich served with lettuce, tomatoes, onions and a whole stalk of spring onion. The plethora of tastes just imploded in my mouth and lingered for the longest time. Canned tuna and raw vegetables never tasted so good together. And did I mention fruit shakes everywhere in Laos were incredibly tasty and cheap! My all-time favourite has got to be the mango fruit shake.

After a hearty lunch, I proceeded to Patuxai, Laos’ very own version of L’arc de Triomphe in France, on foot. I had decided to skip Buddha Park (an unwise decision on hindsight). The sunny weather and clear, blue sky (which sadly did not last long) were perfect for photography but not for a walking tour. I was sweating buckets in no time.

It was a long walk. Finally, I spotted it from the other end of Lang Xang Avenue. It was not the monstrosity as what many had made it out to be. I have not seen the real McCoy (only in pictures), but Patuxai looked rather impressive herself. I did not bother to climb up to the top of the monument for a bird eye’s view of the city as I figured there was nothing much to see (and photos from other travelers attested to my wisdom).

The country’s national monument, That Luang, also featured on their currency, was more than one kilometre from Patuxai. I was a little too exhausted to continue hiking especially in the sweltering heat, so I approached one of the tuk-tuk drivers. 20,000 kip was the opening price, which I knew was too much to pay. Once again, I managed to bargain it down to half the amount. The driver asked if I would like to take his tuk tuk back to Patuxai for another 10,000 kip. I flatly declined. He should have at least offered a discount on the return trip. Poor business acumen he had.

The temple was closed by the time I arrived. I circled the site, which was really small. I doubt I missed out on much, if anything. And Rough Guide did not lie. That Luang was indeed spectacular near sunset.

I hiked back to the Mekong River where I had dinner at Nazim. Nazim served good Northern and Southern Indian cuisine at affordable prices. The stuffed naan (with cheese and potatoes), tandoori chicken and banana lassi made a satisfying meal. The restaurant - a backpackers’ favourite - was said to be packed on most nights but it was more than half empty that night. It must be the low season. I observed that business at almost all the restaurants in Laos, even those that were said to be popular, was bad. Hopefully, the country's economy does not survive on tourism alone.

After dinner, I popped into an Internet café a few doors away from Nazim. It turned out to be manned by Chinese nationals! It was oddly comforting to hear Mandarin being spoken in Laos!

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