Michael Batson

From the Four Thousand Islands in Laos you can get a bus back to Cambodia, make a connection over the Mekong River to Thailand, or go further into the LPDR, which in English stands for both “The Lao People’s Democratic Republic” and “The Laotian Peoples’ Democratic Republic”. The country that is today Laos has been described as an historical oddity like Monaco, Andorra, and Liechtenstein that were somehow left behind when petty principalities were consolidated into great nations. In the mid-19th century, the region today called Laos was composed of a confusing pattern of minor states, none of them able to act in any truly independent fashion. The French seized the territory through a combination of individual audacity, Great Power manoeuvring, and reliance on dubious claims linked to Vietnam’s past suzerainty overs sections of Laos.

Laos came into existence due to colonial rivalry between the French and the British on the mainland of Southeast Asia. An impoverished little kingdom that appeared to lack all the economic and political criteria for nationhood. Following independence and unable to finance itself through conventional economic means, the Royal Laotian Government filled its coffers and lined its pockets by legalising or tolerating what its neighbours had chosen to outlaw, as needy principalities the world over have done. Monaco gambles, Macau facilitates the gold traffic, and the Laotian government tolerated the smuggling of gold, guns, and opium. During the Cold War, the country’s only real export commodity was opium.

Leaving Khong Island, the largest island and commercial centre of the river archipelago by canoe, a minibus was already waiting at the small market on the eastern riverbank. At 8am it’s already hot and the market busy. It’s a short drive to Route Nationale 13 (the “Mekong Highway)”, where it’s right and south to Cambodia or left and north to Pakse, the capital and largest city in southern Laos. Route 13 is the country’s only sealed highway, is almost entirely devoid of any traffic, and is more symbolic than commercial much like Lao Airways - the Ho Chi Minh Trail, parts of which ran nearby, carried more traffic that any subsequent road in Laos. Route 13 makes its way from the border with Cambodia along the Mekong for much of the way through to the country’s sleepy capital Vientiane and onto the splendour of the country’s primary tourist attraction, the former royal capital of Luang Prabang. I took the bus to Pakse.

For 1500kms, and with only one other exception, the present-day border of Laos with Thailand follows the course of the Mekong. But above Pakse, 120kms from Cambodia’s border, the border deserts the middle of the Mekong, over and above its west bank. By the time this section of the river meets the Cambodian border, it’s 80kms from the river. The reason for this was the need to establish the boundaries of spheres of influence between French and British colonial interests. The price eventually paid by Bangkok for retaining its independent existence would be the surrender of most of is Lao dependencies including all those east of the Mekong – a blatant piece of border engineering. Thailand has never been colonised Thais will tell you, but the price for their independence as a buffer state included trade and geo-political concessions.

To the early European traders, the Mekong River was also known as Mekon River, May-Kiang River and Cambodia River. Some pronounce it “May-kong”. The Mekong was originally called Mae Nam Khong from a contracted form of Tai (Tai-Kra-Dai language family of Southeast Asia and southern China) shortened to Mae Khong. In Thai and Lao, Mae Nam (“Mother of Water[s]”) is used for large rivers and Khong is the proper name referred to as “River Khong”. From 1866-68 the Mekong Exploration Commission (MEC) charged by France with exploration and finding a commercial route from Saigon to Yunnan spent quite some time delayed in southern Laos awaiting passports for travel to China. Sparked by colonial rivalry, the determination of those spheres of influence, France sought to contain Britain in Burma and prevent their interference in Indochina.

Led by French naval officers, the expedition also contained a botanist, geologist, and an archaeologist who was also an artist and art historian the MEC thought that “Khong” or “Kong” Island responsible for the “kong” in “Me-kong”; that “Me” means “sea” so the whole means “the sea of Kong”. A globetrotting British traveller, Herbert Warington Smyth (1867-1943), insisted that “Me-kong” is actually an abbreviation of “Me-nam Kong”, or “the great river of Kong”, and that since the original phrase from which Europeans adopted the name was probably Thai, the “kong” must refer not to Kong Island but to Chiang Kong, an important town and port on the Thai border several hundred kilometres upriver in what’s called these days the Golden Triangle. Whatever the origins, all agreed that ‘Mekong’ is a linguistic nonsense used exclusively by foreigners. No one living along its banks had heard of the word in any other context. In fact, they presumed it to be French or English. For them the needed no name and has none. It is simply ‘the river’.

Just above Pakse, the Mekong narrows to just 200m and is deep. So deep that the 70m plumb line of the MEC, which spent months delayed in southern Laos failed to find the bottom. Just north the river runs between near vertical cliffs and is barely 120m wide and was deeper than 100m having added extra rope to the plumb line – in places the Mekong is deeper than it is wide and at the rapids below Kemaral, whirlpools several metres wide, with vortices equally deep. Nearby are the Se Don and the Se Kong rivers (the even bigger tributary which joins the Mekong at Strung Treng) drain and encircle a region known as the Bolovens Plateau (or Bolaven) which projects westwards from the Annamite mountains, themselves the frontier between Laos and Vietnam. In the area are the Se Don silver mines and the Se Kong gold deposits which further piqued French colonial interest in this part of Indochina.

The modern city of Pakse (Laotian for “mouth of the river”) was founded at the confluence of the Mekong and Sedong (or Xe Don) rivers in 1905 by the French during the colonial period in what was formerly the Kingdom of Champassak (also Champasak or Bassac). Pakse was the capital of the Kingdom of Champassak until it was abolished when unified with the Kingdom of Laos in 1946. Champassak was one of the three principalities that succeeded the Lao kingdom of Lan Xang which held the area of present-day Laos from 1353 to 1707. There were kings of Champassak for almost 200 years from 1713-1904, a colonial French Protectorate (1893-1953), a became a unified kingdom from 1947 and independence in 1953. The country that is Laos descended into civil war from 1959 until 1975, when the monarchy was abolished, and the country declared a people’s republic.

The city is the closest in Laos to two of the greatest natural wonders in Southeast Asia, the mighty Khon Falls; the widest waterfall in the world, the third largest in the world and the largest in the entire region, and the Four Thousand Islands. Southern Laos was the powerbase of the country’s former president (1998-2006) and chairman of the Lao People's Revolutionary Party (1992-2006). Lest anyone forget the connection he rejoices in the name of Khamtai Siphandon[e]. ‘Si’ being four, ‘phan’ a thousand, and ‘don’ islands. He was once a postman and later military commander of the Pathet Lao (Lao Nation) rebellion against the Francophone, US-backed Royal Government of Lao.

In the 1940s over half the population of Pakse was Vietnamese. Today it has a large ethnic Chinese population. Like many Mekong cities it is dusty, especially in the dry season from November to April. The river having made much of this sub-region of mainland Southeast Asia through the constant cycles of erosion and depositing sediment along its course. The city is noted for its many temples. The MEC, during an extended stay in the area, noted 16 temples. The city has its share of French colonial architecture. There’s good coffee to be drunk. Coffee, like rubber and bakeries where introduced by the French. The first ran on cheap labour and sweat where 12-hour days were common, pay was pitifully low and housing conditions miserable. The local fresh produce markets are great. There’s the spawling New Market (Dta lat Dao Heuang) just outside town and the smaller centre market known as Champassak Plaza. You can find live music and floating eateries. The city is easy for bicycles, or you can rent scooters and explore further afield. Road travel in Laos is slow, like much of the rest of the former French Indochina. But if you’re in a hurry there’s Pakse airport.

The Champassak Palace Hotel, a grand six-floor structure, was intended to be a residence of the last Prince of Champassak, Chao Boun Oum, later the country’s prime minister in the royalist government. He had to abandon it in 1974 before it was finished, when the Pathet Lao overthrew the royal government. After the revolution, the building, once described as having a peebledash exterior was completed and used communist party congresses and accommodation for visiting dignitaries. The palace was later converted in 1995 into a hotel by a Thai company following a deal with the Lao government. Rooms these days can be had for about USD100 a night.

Nearby Pakse is Wat Phou (also Vat Phou or Vat Phu) temple complex which spills down a steep hillside, at the base of Mount Phou Khao about 6kms from the Mekong River. During their time in Southern Laos the MEC (who took some six months to to tavle the first 1,000kms upriver from Saigon) set about exploring the area and noted the complex was “a site of sophistication”. More an architectural declivity than an edifice, it includes the extensive reservoirs, glorious statuary, and challenging staircases so beloved of the Khmers “Late Angkorain” say the books. The first structures were erected in the 7th century CE but most other surviving buildings date between 11th century – 13th century CE. It was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2001.

Just north of where the border between Laos and Thailand moves away from the river, the Mekong is joined by the Se Moun, a west bank tributary from what is still just Thailand. Fifty kilometres up the Se Moun, is the Thai city of Udon Ratchathani known as the “Royal Lotus City” is one of the four big cities in Isaan, famous for its annual candle festival and eponymous capital of the nation's leading rice-producing province. Since the construction of a bridge across the Mekong at Pakse, the Lao-Nippon Bridge (you can walk it), the city is now linked with cross-border traffic and trade, and a gateway to Thailand at the Chong Mek crossing (or Vang Tao on the Lao side) for tourists heading to Bangkok from Laos (Lao border officials seem to charge a fee to leave the country).

The Pakse Bridge was completed in 2000, is 1300m long and one of 15 completed structures that now cross the Mekong, a river that once had no bridges whatsoever. The first ever bridge across the Mekong was from Nong Khai to Vientiane. Completed in 1994 it was named the First Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge but was dubbed the “Aids Bridge” as it was feared the new gateway would act as a conduit for the virus to run rife in a country which hitherto had no exposure. Alternatively, there is the option of flying north to the capital and onto Luang Prabang as I was, which saves a three-day journey by bus.

Isaan, the Thai province nearest Pakse, is where millions of ethnic Lao live. The Thai dialect spoken there closely resembles Lao. Thai soap operas are closely followed in Laos as viewers can understand nearly all the dialogue. The province has its’ own distinctive cuisine, culture. The inhabitants are thought of as country bumpkins by city dwellers from other parts of Thailand like Bangkok. Life can be hard. Poverty caused by poor harvests drives the men to Bangkok for work in factories and the women to work in the sex trade. Many of the bargirls working in Pattaya for example, come from the area.

Most of the passengers in my bus from Khong Island were headed there, Pakse seemingly offering no appeal at all, or they were on tight timeframes and a provincial town in Laos barely rated a mention form anyone. Young, scruffy, glued then to guidebooks (now largely supplanted by smartphones) they often miss much of what is on offer preferring the highlights of the travel editors, and sometimes not even then. On short trips or extended “gap years” that period between education and a working life extending out ahead of them they invariably gravitate towards their own. Good honest informative conversation, especially today, is in short supply and memorable characters harder to find if at all. The belief that international travel will always expand our mental horizons – especially given the proliferation of commercialised and sheltered touristic experiences wherever you go – doesn’t bear much scrutiny.

The young man at departure at Pakse airport placed a large bottle of Tiger beer on the counter. As it was barely 9am I asked if he was starting early. He informed me that it was the second to last cold bottle of beer left in the entire terminal. I was unclear if that was because he had drunk the rest. “I’m so over this place man,” he said. “Been here two fucking days waiting to leave.” His girlfriend informed me that yesterday their flight to Vientiane had been cancelled due to a flat tire, and the day before that the plane didn’t arrive. It appeared that all was not well with these tourists in the Lao PDR.

The pair reminded me of a couple of California surfers with accents to match. The young woman was in the middle of an animated exchange with the Lao Airlines representative behind the desk over the damage done to the cover of her backpack. While this was going on the man suddenly reached into his bag, looking for what I presumed to be some important piece of documentation, but what turned out to be his stubby holder for his valuable bottle of beer. With this in hand he placed it on his bottle of beer and suddenly seemed relieved. On closer inspection I realized that the pack cover the young woman was referring to, was in fact, a rain cover. A flimsy article at best, it’s designed to prevent dirt and keep the bag little more than shower proof. Hardly robust, placing it in a baggage compartment it would be easily damaged and seemed careless at best. Lao Airlines were doing their best to appease the Americans without much success. Observing their demeanour across the terminal I surmised foreign relations remained tense.

Later on, I was relieved to see a plane on the runway, a French built ATR-72 now favoured by Lao Airlines, somewhat more reliable, I’m informed, than its predecessor, a craft of Chinese manufacture. Once upon a time the national carrier flew aircraft of Soviet manufacture by Antonov and Yakovlev, and from China, Harbin. In 2013 the flight from Vientiane to Pakse, the same flight but in the opposite direction, crashed into the Mekong while landing in a typhoon, killing all on board. Our chances of getting airborne seemed much improved, that is until 30 minutes later it suddenly disappeared down the runway towards some destination, leaving me contemplating that thought of spending more time in Pakse.

I can’t imagine there’s much to do for the staff of Pakse airport, there being only a handful of flights per day, with apparently, some of those not eventuating. There is a branch of Monument Books, also found in Phnom Penh on one of that city’s main thoroughfares, Monivong Boulevard, at the city’s airport, also in Luang Prabang, and is an excellent source of reading material on the Mekong region. I retreated to the café for coffee and while waiting for it to arrive gazed at the contents of the fridge, where, as the young American had explained there remained a solitary bottle of beer. It was so quiet in fact, that after I sat down the women staff of the café pulled up chairs at the adjoining table and produced a large bottle of Tiger beer which they shared about in glasses filled with ice. Nothing, as they say, is what it appears to be, and the young American had been misinformed.

From the air on the leg to Vientiane, the extent of the dry season on the Mekong River becomes apparent. Large rock formations, which will form rapids once the rains come are clearly visible. Wide sand dunes at the river’s edge and sand banks in the middle of the waterway covered during the wet season outline how far the water levels will rise. On the outskirts of Pakse there is a huge golden statue of Buddha, Wat Phou Salao, its golden colour simmering in the afternoon sun.

The flight path to Vientiane is almost entirely over Thai territory. The land is flat and for the most part, arid. In the distance are ridges and massive rock formations. Occasionally, dual carriageways can be seen stretching off into the horizon. Farther north the lad becomes greener, with rivers and lakes. Most amazing were the cloud formations, voluminous cumulous cloud rising several thousand metres into the air, perfectly white. Near Vientiane, there were smoke trails in the sky tapering off at 3000 or 4000m. As I watched a rocket screamed up into the sky, perilously close to the flight path of the plane. Its speed of ascent led me to believe that this was less and rocket and more like a surface-to-air missile. As I watched another set off from a departure point near a motorway, and inadvisably close to the route of civilian aircraft.

The flight from Pakse to Luang Prabang via Vientiane had left on time which had sparked a brief flurry of activity among the ground staff. Before like many other things in Laos, everything settled back to its relaxed status in the country where even the currency, the Kip, is named for relaxation