Airport Shakedown in Laos

Usually I'm first in the departure lounge at the airport, being neurotic about not missing flights, but after checking in my bags, instead of going to the waiting area, I decided to sit outside in the sunshine and wait until the last moment to board my flight to Hanoi. There was little of interest in the tiny airport except a few shops, some offices and a small bank. Upon seeing that it was almost time to board, I went to pass through immigration. I was the only one in the line-up as everyone was now boarding. The immigration officer thumbed through my passport then looked up at me.

'Where's your entry stamp?'

'Whatever is there is what I received when I got here,' I said.

'From where?' He flipped through my passport again.

'I flew in to Vientiane. There should be something there,' I replied. 'My passport was stamped.'

He searched my passport again, looking at all the stamps, then called behind him. A thin, middle-aged man with a humped back appeared and started to ask me the same questions. I gave him the same answers.

'What's wrong?' I asked.

'You don't have the proper stamp in your passport.'

'Well, that's the stamp I got at the border,' I said.

'Come with me,' he said.

I followed him through the airport to a small room and we sat down on the two couches, facing each other. A desk was in the corner. Within minutes, a chubby fellow wearing an immigration uniform that was two sizes too small came in and sat down at the desk to observe our conversation.

'You have to pay a fine,' the hump said.

'What do you mean?'

'You have to pay a fine because you don't have the correct stamp in your passport.'

'Yeah, but that's not my fault.'

'It doesn't matter. You don't have the correct stamp. You either pay a fine, or go back to Vientiane to the airport where you came in and get the proper stamp.'

'Are you kidding me? Go all the way back to Vientiane? It's not my fault I don't have the correct stamp.'

We sat there staring at each other for a minute.

'How much do you want?' I asked.

He mentioned the sum of $200 American and I gagged and said there was no way I was paying that.

'I don't have that on me.'

I was getting pissed because I knew he was railroading me for the cash and it wasn't about any stamp at all, but his power to just gouge me for some quick cash.

'I'm not going to pay $200.'

He got up and handed my passport to the chubby fellow in the corner.

'My bags are already on board. You'll have to tell the airlines to get them.'

He looked at me with a blank stare, and was so totally unmoved by that statement that I got worried.

'You must pay the fine, or go and get the proper stamp, which means you must return to Vientiane and get your passport stamped again.'

There was no way I was going to travel back down to Vientiane, nor did I want to pay $200. How the fuck was I going to get out of this? I couldn't think of a way. Maybe if I cried? I started to sniff a little and I thought it was pretty pathetic myself, but when the chubby guy behind the desk put my open passport up to his face to stifle his laughter, his shoulders shaking, I stood up and snatched it out of his hand.

'That's mine.'

I sat down again but my original tormenter stood up, looked at me, then opened the door and pointed towards the ATM down the hall. I was beginning to see there was no way out of this except to pay the bastard. I followed him down the hall and we stood over the ATM and stared at it for a few seconds. OUT OF ORDER. Out of order? I couldn't believe my luck. The machine was out of order! And further adding to my sudden good fortune, the bank was now closed.

'Well, I guess that solves that problem,' I said, shrugging my shoulders. 'I can't get any money.'

He was not to be deterred. We went back to the little office where chubby was still waiting and we sat down once more. I was starting to worry about my flight which was due to leave.

'Please show me what's in your handbag there,' he said, referring to my moneybelt.
I took it off from around my waist, unzipped it, and let him see the money. I had Cambodian, Laotian, Vietnamese, American, and Taiwanese money and he picked through the various bills like a kid at a candy store, examining it before deciding which bills he wanted. He took the American $50 out, and then took the Vietnamese money which was worth another $20. When he held the Taiwanese money up, I told him it was worthless crap. Luckily, he didn't know its value. Finally, satisfied with his haul, he glanced at the other fellow still at the desk, who shrugged and got up and opened the door for me.

As I went back to the boarding area I walked past the others at immigration. They looked at me sheepishly. They knew what was going on. I shook my head and was just glad to have made it past those cowboys for the sum of $70.

Yes, if you're a traveller, watch out for the cheat, especially dude with the hump back and his chubby sidekick at the airport in Luang Prabang.

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“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

Luang Prabang Laos

I had a total mental collapse by the time I got to Luang Prabang, so I just stayed in my room and rested. I didn't take many pictures either. Here is an excerpt about Luang Prabang from Randy's Travel Articles which I have cut and pasted because nothing much has changed since he was there in 1974, and he describes it so eloquently.


"Luang Prabang -- does it still exist, or was it just a hazy dream I conjured in my imagination? Luang Prabang, the royal capital of the fairy-tale kingdom of Laos, is a beautifully quiet town, dozing in ancient splendor beside the majestic Mekong. A little city of 25,000, it neither teems with excitement nor seethes with intrigue. Life flows slowly here, like the muddy Mekong. The people are gentle and unassuming, accepting the incongruities of life without needing to understand them.

Two lazy rivers happen upon each other in their wanderings through Luang Prabang -- the Nam Khan and the swirling brown Mekong. Traditional Lao houses, high on teak pilings, creep down to the river's edge, engulfed in tall swaying palms and jungle shrubs. Naked children laugh and play here, jumping from high trees into the rich brown river -- bathtub of millions. A few small pirogues drift downstream, carrying fruits or hauling nets. A person could stay here forever and not even realize it.

I entertained just such feelings one misty afternoon, as Jean and I sat resting on a covered terrace overlooking the Nam Khan river. We were perched on the back side of the verdant Phousi, the sacred rock hill that rises up abruptly in the middle of town. On the front side, a grand stairway winds all the way to the top of the Phousi, and a splendid view rewards the arduous climb, especially in the calm of the early morning or at dusk. At the summit sits Wat Chomis, a small temple looking directly down upon the elegant Royal Palace and out over the mountains in all directions.

The temple architecture in Luang Prabang contrasts to the southern Lao and Thai styles. The sweeping tiers of the multiple overlapping "saddle" roofs spread nearly to the ground. The most impressive example is Wat Xieng Thong, standing on a point at the confluence of the two rivers. Laos still has a titular king, who patronizes Xieng Thong as his local temple. The buildings are lavishly decorated with mosaics of tiny red, green, and blue mirrors on a gilded background.



Each temple keeps its own ornately carved wooden longboat (or two) sheltered under a separate canopy on the grounds. Each August a great boat race is held down the Nam Khan river and out into the Mekong. The Royal Boat has never been know to lose, manned as it is by trained royal guards, while the others are paddled by local worshippers.

Coconut palms rise up wherever you gaze in Luang Prabang. Our inn had a large and pleasant courtyard in front, with a kitchen to one side. Here we often ate in the moonlight, filtered through the palms overhead. From the open rafters hung fresh bunches of litchi, bananas, and grass.



Just up the street, a money changer deals in all sorts of foreign currency. The most interesting to me was the Pathet Lao money which, while growing scarce, is still legal tender in northern Laos. The 10 kip note pictures Pathet Lao guerrillas planting bamboo stake 'booby-traps' in the jungle. The 500 kip note is the most extraordinary however; it depicts five women harvesting in the fields, some with babies slung to their sides, and the others with rifles. They are looking up, as in the background anti-aircraft guns bring down an American fighter plane in flames and smoke.

Shopping is still an informal affair in Luang Prabang. As everywhere, the Morning Market is the place to go for food and entertainment. There are hundreds of temporary and semi-permanent shops, stalls, and blankets spread on the ground, where virtually everyone converges to buy and sell most anything. Here the primitive hill tribesman comes face to face with the modern western traveler in a milieu strange to both of them. Yet, life comes easily here and such anomalies are taken, as a matter of course, with a broad smile.



Motorized tri-shaws swarm outside the Morning Market but we preferred to stroll leisurely through the streets of town. Luang Prabang is small enough that you can see much of it in one day if you aren't careful. Several fabulous old French manor houses repose along the shady side streets, reminiscent of colonial days. The antiquated prison, grim and dilapidating, stands on the dusty back side of town, down beyond the old USAID compound.

During the earlier years of fighting in Laos, some of the Meo and Liu tribes people came to live in Luang Prabang itself. But though they live in the town, they have resisted any change in their traditional ways of life. Hidden by stands of banana and palm trees, their villages appear to have been transplanted -- complete with bamboo huts, dirt paths, and water buffalo -- right out of the jungle to the back streets of Luang Prabang.

One morning while strolling by the Nam Khan, we paused outside a little inn where a monkey and a black bear cub were tied to a tree. Inside the inn we caught a glimpse of a little old woman working over a large loom. She chewed her betel as she worked, and flashed a crimson smile when we stepped inside. While we watched, she deftly and patiently plied her shuttle to a magnificent length of heavy cloth, intricately filled with designs of all colors. We admired her work so much that when she later finished it, we took it with us for an embarrassingly low price.

In those brief months of interim peace in 1974, you could also hire a local boatman to ferry you across the Mekong to the deserted caves on the far side. There isn't much there except an abandoned temple overgrown with vines, and a broad green meadow beside the river. But that was reason enough to sit and gaze out across the mighty Mekong at lovely, lazy Luang Prabang, and just let it flow."

Vang Vieng Laos

Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang

I decided to take advantage of the break in weather and head up to Luang Prabang from Vang Vieng. It's a rough ride, about another four hours north on a roughly paved road, but on that day it was slippery and dangerous, and we were delayed a few times as a result of the bad conditions. I was a little nervous we'd slide backwards over the cliff into the canyon! And all the cattle on the road didn't help either!
I was so glad to get out of Vang Vieng and all the televisions in the outdoor restaurants grinding out endless reruns of Friends. There were a few things to do and see there, but the town itself didn't agree with me.

Check out this guesthouse.

Vang Vieng Laos

Fours hour north of the capital, Vientiane, is the small town of Vang Vieng on the Nam Song River. It's a beautiful spot surrounded by limestone caves where you can go river-rafting and kayaking. When I was there, an American went missing while he was rafting, so it can also be dangerous if you don't take precautions. It's a back-packer town filled with restaurants, bars, guesthouses and travel agencies. If you like the television sit-com Friends come here because every open-aired restaurant plays endless re-runs of the show, until you want to run away screaming for the nightmare to end. It rained most of the time I was there in May, but when it cleared up the scenery was awesome.
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It rained and rained without let-up after I got to Vang Vieng and shortly after that I lost my mind.


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I met a fabulous Laotian man named Toi, who spoke well-articulated English. He had lived in France for years and had worked as a diplomat. He was very well-educated and had many interesting stories to tell. Now in his retirement he had a little restaurant in Vang Vieng and lived with his family. He was intelligent and funny, and his restaurant offered the best food in town. When he told me he was nearing 80 years old, I didn't believe him. Can you see why?

Vientiane to Vang Vieng

It's a good thing that cigarettes aren't addictive. I spotted these kids puffing away on the street, lighting a new cigarette with the butt of another. The youngest was probably about six or seven years old.

Nicki, my Taiwanese friend, and I took the bus to Vang Vieng, but the road was flooded and blocked some of the way, so vehicles had to pass in single file. The water was so deep in spots I thought we were going to roll over and drown in the bus.

This country is right out of The Lost Horizon. There is very little civilization between Vientiane and Vang Vieng, just lush countryside set in a mist of cloud. Thatched houses cling perilously to the cliffs and I don't think I would sleep well if I had to dwell in one of them, particularly with monsoon rains and landslides threatening to send them tumbling into the ravines below.

We were stopped by the police during the journey. I don't know what they could have been looking for in that desolate outback, but there they were.



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Like every other country I've visited, riders were jammed into the local transport. Cute kids were at the window of one of the thatched houses along the way.


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We stopped in a small town at what the bus driver told us was a restaurant. We walked into an enormously filthy room, where two young men were sleeping on broken couches and another watching television; they weren't the least bit interested in serving food but concurrently, I wasn't the least bit interested in getting food poisoning. One of the fellows opened an eye, scratched his parts, and turned over and went back to sleep. A cassette player blared out 70s rock, competing with the television. I found that people moved at a similar pace all over Laos: walking while lying down. That was part of its charm.

Vientiane, Pha That Luang Stupa - Laos

Nicki and I flew from Siem Reap over the Mekong River, which flows up to Laos and through the city of Vientiane. Laos doesn't have the same amount of tourists that visit Cambodia and Vietnam.


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The Gateway to Vientiane.


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The gateway to Pha that Luang Stupa in Vientiane.


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In front of the gilded stupa.


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Incredible designs on the ceilings


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