Posted by: sfnomads | February 19, 2010

Mutiny on the Mekong


Eric overlooking the Mekong. Thailand is on the other side.

Our tale begins, as all good sea journeys do, with a ship. Ours was a wooden slowboat, built to hold maybe 70 people. Acting on the wisdom of our kindly guesthouse owner, about 10 of us arrived at the boat 3 hours before departure in order to get the comfy seats at the front. These ended up consisting of about 6 sets of cushioned car bench seats that had been removed and placed in the boat. The rest of the seating consisted of wooden benches loosely arranged throughout the boat. We made ourselves comfortable while we waited for the rest of the passengers to arrive.

Our tale also includes a captain. A short, gruff man with foot long whiskers growing from the mole on his cheek, who periodically barked out orders to crewman and passengers alike with a voice that had clearly endured a lifetime of lao-lao (Laos whiskey) consumption. As we neared 11:00 (scheduled departure time) the boat had begun to fill to what we judged as capacity… most of the small benches had at least one person on them, and many had two cramped on. Our captain had other ideas, however, and seemed convinced that he could squeeze on the additional 100 people waiting at the shore. He first kicked off any Lao people on the boat, including a family with young children that had arrived as early as we had to claim a spot. He then yelled at all the tourists to double up on the benches. When that had been completed, he started directing people to the wooden floor.

About this time, those of us in the front of the boat started trying to convince everyone else waiting on the dock not to board, and instead demand a second boat (there were about 20 others sitting empty). This was a well-documented ploy, and those of us who had read our lonely planets thoroughly knew they would cram as many people as possible to reduce their fixed costs, until the passengers demanded otherwise. However, apparently many people hadn’t read their lonely planets, because they were very hard to convince to take a stand in the face of the captain’s (Ahab we took to calling him) shouts that they would be left behind if they didn’t assume their spot on the floor in the limited space between passengers knees. And of course, those of us that had waited 3 hours to get the comfy seats weren’t going to lose our prime location. Luckily a few (maybe 30) brave souls stood their ground and demanded a second boat, joining in our chants of “second boat!”, despite the scare tactics. However, most were too afraid and stayed in their spots on the floor, scared those 30 would get left behind, instead of supporting them in their demands. We finally left, 2 hours late, without them. I am sure everyone sweating on the floor were dismayed when 1 hour later the second boat, which was blissfully uncrowded passed us by, the successful protesters gloating as they stretched out in their own row of comfy seats each.


Clara enjoying the hard-earned comfy seats.

If that was the end of our adventures, there wouldn’t be much to tell. After all, as long as our overloaded boat didn’t tip, we had nice seats, and would be fine for the 8 hour journey to Pak Beng, the town we would stop at to spend the night at the guesthouses there. Except that we never made it to Pak Beng. Unbeknownst to any of us on the boat, the water level on the Mekong was apparently extremely low all week due to the Chinese damming the water further up in order to produce extra power for their Chinese New Year’s festivities. As a consequence, a part of the river was impassable. We learned of this fact when both boats pulled over on a sandy patch of beach, started unloading all of our bags into small motor boats, and through a series of grunts, indicated we should get out and start walking (they spoke fine English, mind you, but the 3 bottles of lao-lao consumed by the captain and crew in the 6 hour journey probably didn’t help their communication skills). Rumors abound throughout the passengers… some said we would have to wait until the water level rose (which could be days), some said we were just walking an hour downriver where a second set of boats would meet us past the rapids (which were visible and intimidating) and take us on to Pak Beng, while others claimed we were sleeping on the beach. As we hiked in the general direction the crew had indicated, backpacks on our backs (we had grabbed them before they were loaded onto the unexplained speed boats.. which proved to be a smart move, as it wasn’t clear all were recovered) we passed through a tiny village where local children ran out of their houses to urge us onwards to our unknown destination. After some frantic pointing by the villagers, and a steep slippery climb down through a jungle, we arrived a half hour later on a beach strewn with tarps, christmas lights, and bottles of Beer Lao. Someone had hooked a generator up to a boombox and was playing Bob Marley’s “Everything’s going to be alright”. Clearly the villagers had judged our mood correctly and were seeking to reassure us. The next song was “Don’t worry, be happy.”


Eric walking through the village. Destination unknown.

We plopped ourselves down on a tarp and found an English speaking local, who explained the situation to us. Due to the Chinese appetite for electricity for their New Year festivities (he had some choice words for the Chinese), passengers had been forced to camp out overnight on the beach in this little village for the past 6 days on the way to Luang Prabang, and the enterprising village had benefited by setting up little beach bars where they sold drinks, provided bonfires and tarps to sleep next to, and their wives cooked dinner over open fires.


Clara posing with the village kids.

We sat down on a tarp, ordered some food, and observed how everyone else was taking the news. It made for some great people watching. Some were clearly pissed, likely because they had pre-paid for guesthouses in Pak Beng by a clever scammer at the beginning of the journey, or because their luggage was nowhere to be found. Others (those who had enjoyed plenty of their own beer and whiskey on the boat already), ordered up some more alcohol, sang along to Bob, and lost more and more clothing as the night progressed (I think it must have been reminiscent to them of Full Moon parties in southern Thailand, and they felt right at home), while others supported local entrepreneurs of a different kind by buying copious amounts of ganja and opium to get them through the night. A few people were seen curled up in balls weeping (we suspect they had lovely 5 star resorts booked for the evening). As for us, we sat back and enjoyed the show, entertaining the local children who were watching us like zoo animals, and thinking about what a great blog entry this would make. We ended up finding the boat we would be leaving on in the morning and sleeping on the floor, happy to have our sleeping bag liners and large amounts of mosquito repellent. And of course, we were assured of comfy seats the next day, since we were already in the boat.


Our boat/bedroom (left) in the misty morning.

The next day was much less eventful, as we awoke early and got underway for the 11 hour journey to Luang Prabang. The sites along the way were beautiful, and a short tropical downpour provided some excitement to break up the long trip. When we finally glided into Luang Prabang at sunset, the glowing lights looked like Paris after our journey, and we had all spent the last 2 hours talking about all the food we would eat when we got there, and how great clean underwear would feel. We splurged on a nicer guesthouse for the night and gorged ourselves on pizza.


Pretty scenery along the way.

Okay, so maybe there wasn’t a mutiny… but there sure was a lot of grumbling! All in all, it was actually a pretty exciting trip, and I’m not sure we would have traded it if we had foreseen the adventure. We had a much more intimate experience with a tiny fishing village than could be provided on any “hilltribe trek”, we saved some money on a guesthouse for the night, and we met a lot of interesting people (who we have passed on the street and shared that wink and grin that bonds people after a harrowing experience).

Luang Prabang has proven to be just as charming as advertised, and we have spent the day wandering through cobblestone streets admiring the french colonial architecture, beautiful Wats, and delicious crepe stands. We are looking forward to spending some time here. Just out of curiosity, we walked passed the office selling boat trips in the opposite direction as we came, and they at least are a little more honest about the journey. It was advertised as a “funny, exciting boat ride” with a “special village stop”. Indeed.


Temple in beautiful Luang Prabang… our reward for the journey.


Responses

  1. I just loved this post. I almost felt like I was there with you…keep these coming. Beautiful photos. Did you get the recipie for the Luang Prabang pizza?

  2. You do have quite the talent for writing. I probably would have been that wussy girl who was cranky and tired and started crying!
    I worked a 24 hour shift yesterday, and then I could only stay asleep a few hours this morning, so now I’m up and “studying” (reading your blogs) in my no-sleep-intoxicated state. When I don’t get enough sleep I feel a bit like puking too. Oh well. πŸ™‚ I get the WHOLE weekend off so that’ll be sweet! I’m excited to read about the next adventure of Cl-Eric… (cleric is a real word… damnit.) πŸ™‚ missy

  3. Got your blog info from your mom today. I love it!! I am jealous too. Keep writing! You are really good at this and it is nice for us moms to be able to keep track of you. Happy travels!

  4. Great, great writing! The beach spot that you were forced to spend the night at sounds awesome…

  5. What a riot! You have to be young to put up with all that. George and I would never be able to any more.

  6. Wow! I knew I was in trouble when you guys were doing a blog instead of emails, because of course I’m JUST NOW getting caught up on whole month of adventures! This last story is my favorite… one for the books, for sure! You guys are troopers πŸ™‚ I think the most challenging experiences always make for the best stories, so I’m glad I get to benefit from them from afar. He he. Keep writing and sending pics! Miss you guys!

  7. Oh man this is one of those wonderful adventures that only traveling across the world can give you! I loved it, and you attitude through it all. It is possible I would have ended up as one of those crying people curled up wishing for my guest house:)

  8. Hi, Clara. Hope you are well. I’m missing hearing about your adventures….I guess I’m really missing you. Your blogs allow me to feel a part of your adventures!


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