Travelman in Laos: Prelude to a Two Day Slow Boat Ride down the Mekong RIver to Luang Prabang

I took a three day journey from Pai, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos. The first leg of the journey was less than enjoyable, but everything after that has been fantastic.

This post is a lot of blocks of text without many pretty pictures. I'm not a travel information guy, I'm telling the story of my travels, the ups and the downs, the ins and the outs, so trust me on this one, I'm a good writer, my mom says so... but I won't be offended if you bail on me.

Getting to the slow boat involved taking a mini-van to Chiang Mai, then another Mini-Van to Chiang Kong. The other passengers in my mini-van were unlikable, abrasive, and thoroughly unenjoyable to be around, very un-backpacker like.

TRAVELMAN'S TRAVEL TIP #53- Follow the unspoken backpacker code: Just be cool.

Simple, right?

Not for everyone.

I was the first to step on the mini-van in Pai. I sat in the first row of seats. Three young ladies from Holland, who I had made brief small talk with outside of the van, were the next to board. They asked if they could take my row because they wanted to sit all together.

Granted, the three seats in my row were connected, but it was also in the front with more leg room. I turned around and looked at the empty van as if to point out there are plenty of empty rows. Those seats were two together, and a separate, third seat inches away in the same row. They'd still be "together" in any of those seats. They'd be together by default, it's hard to get separated in a mini-van.

I looked back at them as if to say, "Really?"

Yet, the Blonde girl persisted. "I'm sorry, I know it's rude." She said.

I felt like saying, "Yes, it is." But instead, I followed the unspoken backpacker code; I begrudgingly got up and went into the row behind.

It was cramped. It pissed me off that I'd given up my more comfortable seat for no good reason. Just being cool when the other people aren't cool is hard, screw that backpacker code. I say this universal code (that I made up) needs amendments!

I decided to ask the driver, who was standing outside the van, if I could sit in the passenger's seat next to him. He nodded in the affirmative and I took that primo seat. I felt rewarded by the backpacker gods for sticking to the code.

The other passengers, five more people, got in the van and we were on our way. Ten minutes into the trip the driver pulled over to use a toilet at roadside restaurant. We saw him accidentally almost go into the women's room. I turned and told the three ladies, now sitting behind me a story, about accidentally going into the women's restroom once. My funny story was an attempt to lighten the energy on the bus and build a friendship.

Their response to my funny, light hearted, self-deprecating, and fantastically charming story was stilted and awkward. I turned back around. What the hell? The women's restroom story always kills!

Half way into the trip we stopped at a place where we could buy drinks and snacks. I bought coffee, put it on a picnic table and went to the toilet. I came back and the blonde Holland girl was at my table. I made a lighthearted comment. She responded with a complaint about the bus ride being miserable, an odd response to a fellow backpacker making a jovial comment. Wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, I wrote it off as her being hungover.

A few minutes later I was standing near the van. An Israeli guy who was a fellow passenger stood near me. The road between Chiang Mi and Pai is curvy (162 curves). I made a quip to him that I was pretty sure that from the point we were at it was a straight shot with no turns the rest of the way. His response was, "What is our driver doing?" The Israeli appeared perturbed.

I looked over at the driver sitting, having a snack and talking with people he knew.

I said, "He's taking his break and giving us one, I suppose."

Disdain powered the Isreali's voice. "It's a long break." He said.

Yet another oddly negative, uncool comment from a backpacker.

What was wrong with the people on my bus??? Didn't they know the code that I made up?

We got back in the mini-van and continued onward. I put my headphones on and fiddled on my iPad. The girls from Holland were talking behind me so loud that I could hear them through my head phones. Their voices had an annoying tenor to them. They didn't know how to use their inside voices, or didn't care to show any consideration to anyone else in the van.

We got to Chiang Mi and switched mini-vans.

When I boarded, a couple from Sweden was sitting in two of the seats in the front row. Sure enough, the girls from Holland asked if they could sit in their seats.

This time the blonde Holland girl said it was because they get horribly car sick. This struck me as a lie. We'd just gone down a mountain with a 162 curves unscathed.

The Swedes shot back with what proved to be their own lie, that the woman in the couple gets car sick as well and that's why they were sitting there. So the Holland girls sat in the one empty seat in that row and next to me (splitting themselves up). The remainder of the way, no one appeared to suffer from car sickness in the least. In fact I saw the Holland girls and the Swede reading, which is not something you do in a car when you're prone to motion sickness. Buncha' stinking code breakers, that's what they were.

We stopped at the famous White Temple for pictures and snacks...

The King's funeral was to be the following day...

Finally, we arrived at the border town. Our hostel overlooked the Mekong River. Across the river was Laos.

Sunrise...

We checked into our rooms, they were doubles but I was the only one in my room.

The Swedes were next to me. After settling in and getting something to eat, I sat on the bench in front of my room and surfed the internet. The swedes came back from their excursion. The guy was holding a fishing rod. I'd heard them ask the Hostel keepers if there was a place to buy one.

From where I sat, I said to the guy, "You found a rod. What will you will you be fishing for?"

Without humor, he said he did not know.

With humor, I replied, "Fish. Just fish."

He said, "Yes. Fish" with the smallest amount of humor in his voice.

I said, "I'm not much of a fisherman. But I once caught an old tire in the creek down the street from my house when I was a kid."

No reaction from the Swede.

"My dad fried it up though, to support my efforts..." I dug further into my failing jokes.

A nod from the Swede, then an awkward pause. I gave up on talking, then he asked, "Where are you from?"

I said, "The states, Ohio, California."

He nodded, then there was silence. No follow up questions. It was as though that was all he needed to know. After a couple minutes, he finished whatever he was doing outside the room with the rod and other things they'd bought, went inside his room and didn't speak to me again the entire trip. Okay. ...Lousy, stinking, code breakers.

Is it me? I couldn't help thinking the thought by this time. The funny thing was, the code breakers- the Israeli, Swedes, and the Dutch were getting along with one another!

It wasn't me.

A truck taxi took us to immigration at the border. Their beloved king was being cremated on this day...

I walked up to the first table manned by a guy that checks your passport and exit form you fill out at the airport upon landing in Thailand. I didn't realize I was supposed to keep that exit form. This guy was a guy before the main guy that checks you through. I was about to politely ask the gentleman what I needed to do when the Holland girls walked up to the desk, ignored the concept of "a line," stood next to me, pulled out their passports, and thrust them at the guy. I had yet to speak to the guy at the table. One of the Holland girls didn't have the exit form when he asked for it.

The Holland girl loudly and rudely began saying, "I don't have it! I don't have it! No one said I need it!." She kept pestering him by repeating her statements as he was looking at her friends' passports. She needed to sit with a monk and learn some patience.

So it was at this moment that I thought about becoming a murderer because I wanted to kill her. The guy at the table became visibly angry with her and gave us a lecture. He rightly bore into her about being in someone else's country and demanding things in a rude manner. I was included in the lecture because it looked like I was with them. Now I wanted to become a particularly gruesome murderer. I also wanted to do the "Um, I don't know them" thing.

I was livid. The guy was threatening to fine us because of her. I was on his side, the Holland girl sucks!

Be cool. Just be cool. Follow the code... He gave us new exit forms to fill out and waved us on to the next desk.

I wanted to curse her out as well, but I stuck to the code.

We made it into Laos, took a Tuk Tuk to the boat, where I was elated to realize that I'd be able to break away from the mini-van maniacs and socialize with the hundred and fifty or so other backpackers on the boat... Who knew the code!!!

Just be cool!

The boat is when things turned into some of the best times of my trip. That's the next post, and post after, and post after that. So many good times!!!

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