You learn more from failure than from success; don't let it stop you. Failure builds character. – Author Unknown
Wednesday, November 27, 2013 (DAYS 632 - 635)
I’ve traveled so many months and days that I’m unsure if the past 24-hours has been the longest consecutive travel day or not, but regardless, I was in transit in some form of transportation for 21 consecutive hours before reaching my 30th country–Laos. I suppose that it would be fitting that even without timing the date of my arrival in Luang Prabang (ຫຼວງພຣະບາງ) that it would fall on American Thanksgiving, because I have so much to be thankful for over the past year and this new chapter of my life. I am thankful for the incredible support of my family (both in the States, and now in Korea), thankful for the friends that continue to provide me with encouragement from the States, often through just short messages or fb posts, thankful for the amazing people I meet on a daily basis and that I’m fortunate enough to call friends, because for those that do travel for extended periods of time understand through their own personal experiences that while this life we may lead may appear to be a symbol of absolute freedom, just as with my journey from Thailand to Laos, it can be downright exhausting. Since I want to continue to provide a bit of travel advice for others, today will be a short section on preparing for overland border crossings–everything from what to expect to what things will make the crossing a bit easier.
I’ve traveled so many months and days that I’m unsure if the past 24-hours has been the longest consecutive travel day or not, but regardless, I was in transit in some form of transportation for 21 consecutive hours before reaching my 30th country–Laos. I suppose that it would be fitting that even without timing the date of my arrival in Luang Prabang (ຫຼວງພຣະບາງ) that it would fall on American Thanksgiving, because I have so much to be thankful for over the past year and this new chapter of my life. I am thankful for the incredible support of my family (both in the States, and now in Korea), thankful for the friends that continue to provide me with encouragement from the States, often through just short messages or fb posts, thankful for the amazing people I meet on a daily basis and that I’m fortunate enough to call friends, because for those that do travel for extended periods of time understand through their own personal experiences that while this life we may lead may appear to be a symbol of absolute freedom, just as with my journey from Thailand to Laos, it can be downright exhausting. Since I want to continue to provide a bit of travel advice for others, today will be a short section on preparing for overland border crossings–everything from what to expect to what things will make the crossing a bit easier.
| OVERLAND BORDER TIPS:
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MY RTW PERSONAL EXPERIENCE:
Waking up at 7:45am excited, yet also exhausted with the knowledge that over the next 24-hours I will be going through one hellish journey to reach my 30th country. After packing up my gear and doing a thorough double check of my room, I head downstairs for some brekkie–scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. I’ve found that a decent meal before departing on a long travel day is always a great decision, because you never know when your next proper meal may be. Yes, there are generally the roadside stops that are made, but this is often far from a meal with much sustenance. Since I was told that the pickup time would be between 10am and 10:30am I’m sitting waiting in the common area or lobby of the hostel. Just before 10:30am a young kid, whom I’m guessing is 16, but with Asians you can never truly tell their age, for all I know he could have been 12 of 40, walks in and yells out, “Luang Prabang.” Jumping up, I wave at him and gear up. Walking past the open garden area and toward the front entrance gate of Deejai Backpackers I’m expecting the shuttle bus to be parked, but this is soon a faded dream. Without saying a word he climbs on his motorcycle and motions for me to climb aboard. Surprisingly, this is not my first dual motorcycle experience carry both my large backpack and my smaller one. He signals for me to give him my smaller backpack, which he places on his lap where I climb aboard, awkwardly with close to 40lbs strapped to my back, and before I know it we are racing through the streets of Chiang Mai. Winding through narrow neighborhood streets that would be considered alleys back home, as he slams on the brakes and looks down another side street I realize what he is doing. We are attempting to chase down the shuttle bus as it is also driving through the city. A few more turns–flying through an intersection without hesitation–he turns over his shoulder and we both laugh, even though I know I’ve just been blessed by not being sideswiped by another crossing vehicle and we have caught up to the shuttle bus. Climbing off the back in the most ungraceful of manner, almost falling from the shifting weight of my backpack, I thank him and climb in the shuttle bus, sweaty and already dirty. What a great way to start a long journey?
Waking up at 7:45am excited, yet also exhausted with the knowledge that over the next 24-hours I will be going through one hellish journey to reach my 30th country. After packing up my gear and doing a thorough double check of my room, I head downstairs for some brekkie–scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. I’ve found that a decent meal before departing on a long travel day is always a great decision, because you never know when your next proper meal may be. Yes, there are generally the roadside stops that are made, but this is often far from a meal with much sustenance. Since I was told that the pickup time would be between 10am and 10:30am I’m sitting waiting in the common area or lobby of the hostel. Just before 10:30am a young kid, whom I’m guessing is 16, but with Asians you can never truly tell their age, for all I know he could have been 12 of 40, walks in and yells out, “Luang Prabang.” Jumping up, I wave at him and gear up. Walking past the open garden area and toward the front entrance gate of Deejai Backpackers I’m expecting the shuttle bus to be parked, but this is soon a faded dream. Without saying a word he climbs on his motorcycle and motions for me to climb aboard. Surprisingly, this is not my first dual motorcycle experience carry both my large backpack and my smaller one. He signals for me to give him my smaller backpack, which he places on his lap where I climb aboard, awkwardly with close to 40lbs strapped to my back, and before I know it we are racing through the streets of Chiang Mai. Winding through narrow neighborhood streets that would be considered alleys back home, as he slams on the brakes and looks down another side street I realize what he is doing. We are attempting to chase down the shuttle bus as it is also driving through the city. A few more turns–flying through an intersection without hesitation–he turns over his shoulder and we both laugh, even though I know I’ve just been blessed by not being sideswiped by another crossing vehicle and we have caught up to the shuttle bus. Climbing off the back in the most ungraceful of manner, almost falling from the shifting weight of my backpack, I thank him and climb in the shuttle bus, sweaty and already dirty. What a great way to start a long journey?
Settling in to the middle seat as we continue to drive through the city picking up more passengers, I’m thankful to see that we are finally on the highway heading out of the city. I stop and look around to notice that we only have a total of 7 passengers, and I’m thankful to have an empty seat next to me. The road towards Chiang Rai seems to be just as windy as the 762 curves to Pai, maybe even more so, but after a few hours we stop at a small roadside shop where we are told that we will be here for 30-minutes. Piling out of the minibus the shop is relatively empty and there is a woman-selling pad Thai and chicken fried rice for 40THB ($1.24). After fueling up on food and a stop to one of the cleaner bathrooms for a roadside stop I spend several minutes outside stretching all of my joints before contorting myself back in to this minibus where, even for a shorter Asian, my knees are still pressed up against the back of the bench in front of me. A short period of time later and I could feel the onset of a turtle-head wanting to poke out. Turning white rice with fear, I began popping Imodium pills like pez just praying I could make it to the next stop without a fudge explosion. Thankfully, this wrenched shut my plumbing and I was only in a small amount of discomfort where a few hours later at 4pm, we’ve arrived at the Mekong River–the natural border that separates Chiang Khong, Thailand from Huay Xai, Laos.
From the Thai side, down the hill on the paved road that leads to the banks of the Mekong on the right side is where you will receive your exit stamp from Thailand–be sure the departure card is filled out and there is no fee to exit the country. Once this has been achieved there is a small tent or hut where you can purchase a ticket for the boat crossing for 40THB ($1.24) and from here you will be directed to which of the several long boats will be taking you across the river to Laos. The boat ride is short and takes less than 10-minutes and upon reaching the other side of the river you are now officially in Laos. But don’t get too excited, there is still a bit of a process and longer wait to receive your entry stamp or tourist visa for the country. After climbing out of your sea-worthy vessel, on the right side up the hill there is a set of stairs that lead to the visa application booth. Ask for the forms, there are three forms to fill out including the departure form. Once all of the forms are filled out you will hand them through the window along with your passport and wait for it to be processed, which laughably as I peered through the window was three men sitting at a table handwriting the information that was handed over to them. Directly next to this window is where you will pay the entry fee. Since many Third-World countries are highly susceptible to corruption, especially at the borders, I was glad to see that the visa fees were actually posted on a wall with the prices based upon what your nationality was. I had noticed that for U.S. Citizens the fee listed was $35 and I had exactly this amount. One by one your name will be called and you will be told what your fee amount is and once this is paid you will be given back your passport. Apparently the piece of faded paper on the wall had not been updated because the fee for U.S. Citizens was actually $36. The entry fee can also be paid in Thai Baht, as another American girl was able to do this, however, after using my super-Asian mathematical skillz (yes, skills with a ‘z’ because that’s how I roll), I noticed she paid 1,400THB ($43.57), a significant difference, and once again why I highly suggest carrying multiply currencies, especially U.S. Dollars at border crossings. On a side note, this reminds me of how I had a discussion with a border agent in Nicaragua when the entry fee was $14 and would not accept anything but U.S. currency, I asked him, “how do you not accept your own countries’ currency for entrance?”
Even though there were about ten or twelve other people waiting for their admittance into the Laos, the process was short and took only about 15-minutes in total. After receiving my 30-day tourist visa that takes up an entire page in your passport, I walked up the 35-degree angle hill to the road and climbed aboard a covered pickup truck where I met a couple from Portugal. Once the two short benches were full of passengers–all of us wedged in tightly together–we were off for the 7km drive to the bus terminal. As we are driving through Huay Xai, I can already feel a sense of rural South East Asia (SEA) that many spoke about in comparison to Thailand, and I can’t help but smile, as I feel more comfortable in these settings having spent so much time in Central America. Even though the conditions may be poor and unfavorable in the eyes of First World countries, there is a reason that I have grown to love the people and the simplicities of Third World countries. The lack of possessions, but degree of happiness demonstrates–to me–the skewed definition of what being successful has become, because the quality of life seems to have more value than those that carry six-figure incomes and are weighed down with more debt and unhappiness than the people carrying smiles on their faces unaware of why not owning the largest flat screen places them in a category of poor.
We pull in to the small bus terminal in Huay Xai, where there is a single colorful bus waiting, which we all assume will be our overnight transportation to Luang Prabang. Piling out of the back of the pickup truck, something that resembles a group of clowns continuing to exit a tiny vehicle, our driver runs off and later returns with green index cards that are our tickets for the parked bus. After handing our bags over to one of the handlers we all begin to board the double-decker bus, which only has passenger seating on the upper-portion of the bus, while the entire bottom half is dedicated to storage. Within about three minutes, the bus becomes too stifling hot for any of us to bear, and we all begin to pile out of the bus gasping for fresh air. Later, we realize that the bus tickets state that our departure is not until 6pm, almost an hour from now. Noticing a group of outlets I take advantage of this time to charge my iPhone for the 12-hour bus ride. Once the driver starts the ignition where it’s so hot like a hot kitchen, where we’re rollin our bodies and got everyone in here wishin…for more spacious seats that is, we are off on one of the bumpiest roads that I’ve experienced. It reminded me of the extremely bumpy road from Lanquin to Semuc Champey, where that only lasted an hour and this was 12 continuous hours of being jostled back and forth, often being thrown against my Japanese seat-mate.
Groggy, sore, and exhausted we arrive at the northern bus terminal in Luang Prabang just after 6:10am. Navigating down the narrow-winding staircase of the bus single-file like zombies, we gather our bags and are greeted by a handful of taxi drivers that are attempting to persuade a group of sleep-deprived cranky travelers to use their services offering the best price or quickest option. The competition is always the same. After wandering over to a driver and all of us obviously being sleep-deprived agreed on a price of 20,000₭N ($2.50) each for the short 6km drive across the Nam Khan River to the center of town, we pile in the back as the rain begins to fall and I’m just thankful that each time I travel I always make sure to place my rain cover securely around my larger backpack. We are dropped off on what appears to be the main street in the historic or old part of the city with French colonial architecture. The town is still very quiet since it is still before 7am and our group of six begins to dissipate as we each wander off to find our own accommodations. Realizing that it may be a struggle to check in to a place this early in the morning, I’m determined to find something, because I can feel my body ready to shut down at any minute. Walking with a guy from Australia and two girls from England, we inquire at several guesthouses, but are told there is no occupancy but to check back in the afternoon. As we continue our march around town, a kid peddles up to me and tells me he has a guesthouse nearby with clean cheap rooms. After talking with the others, we depart ways, in this early morning state there is no time for pleasant formalities of goodbyes, but a nice smell you later is sufficient enough, and I begin following the kid on the bike. When we arrive just around the corner the house resembles a Victorian mansion and I’m already impressed. After taking a look at the private room with the most comfortable queen size bed I've had in months along with private bathroom and confirming that I can check in immediately, I’m sold for the price of $20 for two nights, and the 295th place to call home. Even though I’m ready to collapse from exhaustion, I know I should eat something as well as take advice from the Waterboy and have some high quality H2O.
Over the next few days, I explore the small town of Luang Prabang, the former capital of the Lan Xang Kingdom and a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1995. The former home of the Royal Family until shortly after the 1975 revolution, Luang Prabang is nestled between the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers and rests 700 meters (2,296 feet) above sea level. At first glance, you cannot help but notice the significant influence from the French–a former colony that still continues to embrace the dual culture. As I slowly stroll through the streets that are lined with French mansions, even the restaurant menus offer baguettes with many meal options, which is a distinct difference in the European flair found in South East Asia. While the weather is not cooperating with overcast skies and bouts of rain, the town and the people remind me very much of Salento, Colombia. Cold mornings give way to warmer afternoons, as the rise in temperature tends to evaporate the morning mist that surrounds the mountain hillsides across each of the rivers flanking the town, and, while there are slight breaks in the clouds to allow the sun to peak through, the evenings cool back down to where jackets are once again a necessity. The laidback atmosphere and slower pace of life is a nice change from the noise and crowds of Chiang Mai, but as with every traveler I’ve found that after resting up from the lengthy journey that has brought me here, it’s time to move on.
Once again too recap the trek from Chiang Mai, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos; I have traveled a total of 816km (507 miles) utilizing five different modes of transportation (motorcycle, shuttle bus, long boat, coach overnight bus, and two separate pickup truck-style taxis), the cost was 1,400THB ($43.51, which averaged .11 cents per mile), and the total travel time was almost exactly 21-hours.
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