Skip to main content
The Mekong river and the past of the Golden Triangle
Heavy rain knocking on the roof takes me slowly away from my dream and worries slip instead into my mind as I made up my travel plans for my journey on the mighty Mekong river. But setting my first steps in the early morning while the city is awaking for a new busy day, the sun takes a change to claim its right place - and gone are my grey thoughts. Beside the street dogs feeding on the garbage bags of last nights mobile food stalls, only a few monks are joining me on the street, walking with their still empty food baskets from door to door in exchange for prayers. Soon the city will turn into a modern jungle for pedestrians, with dangerous and sometime hazardous movements to cross a steadily growing flow of cars and motorbikes. The latter conquer like ants the last sanctuaries of strange people like myself: walking through the city on foot from one corner to another, challenging my philosophy of "the journey is the reward".
One hour later I am on my way up North, enjoying the breeze of open doors and windows in a local bus. Only the speakers make more noise and are a straight introduction to popular Thai music. It's a hop-on, hop-off system, hence such a local road trip takes time, plenty of time to get a feeling how people countryside make their living.
Suddenly the road comes to an end in Chiang Saen in front of gold-painted Thai characters on a big signboard: welcome to the Golden Triangle. Just behind a first glimpse of the majestic Mekong river, retaining Burma and Laos on the other side. These days the tourists took over the paths of the former opium trade route. They arrive by bus, stay in riverside hotels, and move - armed with cameras and iPads - by boat between the three countries, providing important income opportunities to somehow remote local communities. However, I will take the other direction - downstream to Luang Prabang, an ancient city declared in 1995 as a world heritage site.
After one month travelling in Thailand the Mekong river also means moving on to the my next destination: Laos. Something to celebrate! So I decided to go for a tasty Mekong river fish soup at one of the plenty mobile food stalls along the esplanade. "Spicy?", the smiling cook asked me, being aware of the falang's weakness after dining out on local dishes, countered by my "medium" steak classification scheme I know. Oh yes, my soup was not only hot but still famously spicy, only to be managed with a big bottle of Chang beer, served in glasses filled with ice. A memorable evening, reaching another of the great streams on earth, accompanied by a rare sunset turning slowly from orange to pink.
Next day I took a small canoe at Chiang Khong to depart Thailand, crossing the Mekong to reach the sleepy Laos border town of Houay Xai. Though the facilities reminded me some border crossings in Africa, service handling is smooth by friendly local people and officers. It is true for a real traveller: no need for travel agencies to arrange your trips. And so I did. A few hours later I was departing for the next two days on my Mekong river journey on a so-called slow boat along the vast jungle that covers hills and mountains with only a few superficial wounds of civilization.
I may say this was one of the surprises for me. During two days along the riverbanks we passed only a few settlements and two or three villages with mobile telecommunication towers. People seem to be basically peasant farmers that cultivate on steep hills mostly corn, fruits, and do some additional fishing. The jungle quickly takes back the land after they move on their fields which they reach by canoe. Each time the slow boat embarked at one of these settlements, camera flashlights from the outnumbering tourist passengers captured waiting local passengers and playing kids in their rural livelihood.
It was an easy trip, indeed. The high water level and newly introduced used benches from minibuses made a rather comfortable ride with only scattered showers of rain. During the night of the two-day trip all boats stop over at Pakbeng. I do not know it this "monopoly" is a opportunity or curse or for that small village. Night by night tourists flock into the settlement in search for accommodation and food, and all leave next day either down the river to Luang Prabang, or upstream to Houay Xai, repating day by day, year by year. I only may comment one can feel this interrelated dependency.
Comments
Post a Comment