Mekong Slow Boat

Lets say you get a ticket for a boat, and that ticket says to be at the office at 9 am. When would you think the boat would leave? Lets say you show up and show your passport to some "police" officer and provision yourself for 8 hours on the water and watch some old men play petank and meet some Israeli guy and wander about and then are told the boat will leave at 11. So lets say you get on said boat and stow your backpack and see how comfortable you can get and play a few rounds of cards and read a couple of chapters of your book and wonder when an acceptable time to start eating your snacks is, and you look at your watch and its 11:30, so you say to your traveling companion, "When do you think the boat leaves?"

Lets say you then hear the murmerings of some frenchies that the boat, she leave at noon. So you play some cards with some strangers and try to pretend you're not yet hungry and reposition yourself on the wooden benches and chat idley with the people next to you until you realize it is now past noon. And then you see a thunderous hoard of travelers coming down toward the boat, dwarfing the number of people who have been patiently waiting on the deck for the past two or so hours. They leap aboard, baggage flying. "Where will we sit?" they say in a variety of languages, the most prevalent being the official language of the former Soviet block. They thunder toward the stern. They thunder toward the bow. Finally, a frenchman in his 50s (who I refer to as No Immigration Before Cafe, given his border stance the previous day) insists they ask for another boat. Another Boat! Yes, we all nod, having read the same paragraph in the Lonely Planet. Demand another boat! Russians yell from the stern to those on shore: "My luggage is now on the roof of this boat!" "Well, get it off, you idiot, because we must demand a second boat, and I'm not demanding it alone!" "But the provisions look superior on this boat!" "Well we will demand a boat with plush seats that have been removed from some Chrysler minivan!" (or so I imagine they said. It could have been another discussion altogether that simply coincided with this moment of boat swapping).

So they thundered to a second boat, which was in fact decked out in double seats from someone's old Chrysler Town and Country. Where once we had hated them for making our boat wait around and then making us smoosh together on the tiny wooden benches, now we hated them for that and the fact that their boat was more comfortable. Plus it looked like all the drunks got on the back of that boat and were starting the fun well before happy hour. We collectively shook our fists as we finally pulled away, just 3 and half hours after we had initially thought. Thank god for a vast supply of Beer Lao. By the way, the entire time this was going on, the british couple across from us intensely read John Grisham novels. They did not look up once. Not even when the drunk englishmen at the back of the boat unexpectedly rushed in and took a picture with the reading man while high fiving.

About 7 hours later, the first half of our boat trip concluded on the banks of Pak Be township. The Russians had managed to beat us to town, and as the sun had already set, the guesthouse hawkers assailed us from the steep sandy banks unseen, but certainly heard. Everyone unloaded onto the bank, then reloaded to get the bags which were stowed under the deck. Kate climbed the hill in search of an affordable guest house, while I dove into the unlit boat to grapple with everyone for the bags, including the town's 8-11 year olds, who would try to cop some kip out of you by basically stealing your bag and carrying it to the top of the hill. After securing a thrifty little hovel on the main drag, we went in search of food, which came in the shape of a little indian restaurant. At the door, we said hello to some folks from our boat and they were promptly seated at our table, which was great because the woman turned out to be a hilarious brit and the guy had grown up in Wellesley. As the next day promised more of the same boating and jostling, we went to bed early - but not before the power went out all over town and we were plunged into darkness. Hilarious!

The next morning found us wondering what time the boat should leave - 9? Sounds like a strong possibility. This time we came well provisioned, and being our parent's children, eschewed the pricey and carb-laden beers for brown-bagged vodka and fruit juice. This time, we climbed aboard the minivan-seated vessel (same same! the boat driver assured us - oh, no sir. They are not same same) and wondered when we'd push off. After an initial scare that the monks would kick us out of the plush seats (the canadians in front of us had a serious evil eye for those monks), we got on the river a little before ten and floated for 8 hours towards Luang Prabang, through some unbelievabley beautiful scenery dotted with small fishing villages and a few sheer stone cliffs that fell into the water.

Arriving in Luang Prabang (or L'a 'Bang, as I like to call it), we searched out a hostel and marveled at the adorableness of this town. Two-story colonial-type wood trimmed villas along bricklined back alleys, flowers and trees and flowering trees, and a number of beautiful wats (temples) make the city incredibly attractive. Its also the first place I've been (outside of Bangkok) where I feel like having a whole lot of money would make this place infinitely pleasant, with its boutique hotels and spas and fancy little restaurants. It is still infinitely pleasant, and we went to dinner and strolled around the night market. This morning we got up early, saw some wats and the royal palace museum, ate some food and strolled along the two river banks. I love the french for their colonialist spread of the baguette, which is a lovely change from rice and noodles. The boat trip was well worth it, not just because of its eventful slowness but also because this town is so obviously enjoyable and enchanting.

On a side note, uploading pictures is hell. I highly recommend people do it every day that they are traveling, and not, say, when you have filled up your memory card.