UP THE MEKONG RIVER TO CAMBODIA

I leave Vietnam from their oddly designed Mekong River immigration post

As our boat chugs up the Mekong River against the dark water’s strong current, I look to the riverbank. Up on a flagpole, the familiar red flag of Vietnam flaps in the wind. Steps away, a red and white fence marks the border. Our small boat boat passes the fence, where another banner waves above a humble border post. The flag is striped blue and red, with an image of the ancient Angkor Wat temple in the center. 

I’ve just left Vietnam, and crossed into the Kingdom of Cambodia. 

I’m traveling with a mixed boatload of travelers, hailing from China, Finland, Korea and Australia. As usual, I’m the only American and we’ve just left Vietnamese immigration. We could have just walked across the border, but this is all part of a Mekong journey taking me to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital. Our boat docks, and walking up the riverbank, we pass beneath a large sign: “KAAMSAMNAR-KOHROKAR INTERNATIONAL BORDER CHECK-POINT POLICE STATION”. That’s a mouthful. 

Crossing post with faded paint marks the riverside land border

Compared to the Vietnamese side, immigration here is a small operation. Leaving Vietnam, their new immigration office was strangely designed like some kind of new age ship. It was even air conditioned. 

But not on this side. Cambodia doesn’t have money for that extravagance, so we queue in the hot sun. There are few immigration officers in this small office, so the line is slow moving. Most visitors travel to Cambodia by road or air, so this Mekong border crossing has fewer travelers. 

The first major difference I note, is their priorities. They don't have much money for a big immigration office, but they do have money for their religion. An impressive Buddhist shrine and large spirit house are at the entrance. Both look stunning with gold paint and red trim, outshining the simple government buildings that surround it. Cambodia is no longer a radical communist, atheist country. Buddhism has returned.

Buddhist shrine and spirit house by the border post

After sweating in the queue for awhile, I finally pass into the shade and get my passport stamped. We head back to the river, and end up with a larger boat, though it’s not much of an upgrade. We are joined by 10 more Spanish and English passengers, so it won’t be a very roomy journey. Although our new river boat has a toilet in the back, it’s not quite up to environmental standards. The bathroom is the size of a closet, and the hole where you sit drops straight into the river. Adequate sanitation is scarce here; lots of raw sewage empties into the Mekong.

As we depart, one of the Khmers (Cambodians) on board starts calling out to the passengers for his side business. “Change money… Change money for Cambodia riel.” I decline, due to Cambodia’s unusual currency system. Although the official currency is the riel, the US dollar is widely accepted. The highest riel bill commonly found in circulation is the 10,000 riel note, worth only about US $2.50. Larger purchases are usually done in US dollars. Even Cambodian bank ATMs give out cash in dollars. 

Queuing for Cambodian visa and passport stamps

Settling in for our long river cruise, I immediately notice a major change in the river from the opposite side of the border. Back in Vietnam, the Mekong is a delta with many branches. But on the Cambodian side, this is just one huge river, more than a mile wide. 

River traffic is reduced too. On Vietnam's side, there are many more boats, fishermen, and villages. That is partly due to the fact that Vietnam’s population is more than six times that of Cambodia, so the river gets more use there.

With an open river ahead of us, the Cambodian side is definitely more scenic, rustic, and romantic. Here there's far less evidence of man and modernity. On this stretch of the Mekong, there are few coastal towns, Khmers on the river live mostly in small villages with plenty of distance between them. Palm trees lining the riverbank are far larger, and numerous. There’s not as much logging in this quieter, less hectic corner of Southeast Asia. 

I find the hum of the motor rather relaxing. The hot sun is replaced by clouds, and the boat’s motion gives us a cool breeze as we head deeper into Cambodia. Our long blue boat isn't big on amenities; rather than individual seats, passengers sit on wooden benches that run the length of the boat. The ceiling is strangely decorated with artificial flowers. A woman working the boat makes the rounds with a basket, selling beer and soda. Nobody buys beer, since everyone is hot and dehydrated from the tropical heat. 

Khmer fisherman on Mekong River

As we continue, the river craft begins to list to the port side, and our boat slows down. The Khmer pilot comes aft to the passengers, making hand motions to a portly Spaniard. I chuckle, realizing what he’s trying to say. If he could have spoken English, he would have said, “Would the heavyset Spanish gentleman please move back to the other side of the boat?”

Once the Spaniard gets his meaning, he says, “I didn’t know I was that heavy.” There’s laughter, as he changes sides, the boat is righted, and we’re off again. 

Looking upriver, I see mist ahead of us. Rain. We’re about to get poured on. Soon we’re in it, and the crew scrambles around the riverboat, bringing bags of rice down from the rooftop. Then they quickly lower the cabin’s side flaps, hoping to keep us dry. 

The rain grows heavier, and I hope the downpour won’t last. As we shelter from the deluge, I ponder the Mekong’s stormy past. On this slow boat up the Mekong River into Cambodia, I'm reminded of Joseph Conrad’s river journey in ‘Heart of Darkness’, and the Vietnam War era movie "Apocalypse Now" that was based on his book. Much like the movie and book, there was a time when the journey here led to madness. During the war years, this was the world's most dangerous river. It started with the communist fighters of the Khmer Rouge. 

Our crowded boat heads upriver into Cambodia

I'd already encountered former communist fighters in Vietnam, but as I'd also seen in Ba Chuc, the Viet Cong had nothing on the Khmer Rouge when it came to murderous brutality. Some of that violence was seen here. This stretch of the Mekong River was a lifeline for the US backed government of Cambodia during the war; in the early 1970’s the Khmer Republic received most of its supplies up this Mekong route. But as the communist Khmer Rouge gained in strength, they began targeting river convoys here with a fury. Many supply ships, escort boats, and lives were lost on this river. Much of that war refuse remains; marine wreckage and a great deal of unexploded ordinance still litter the river bottom. out of sight beneath the darkened waters.

Khmer Rouge attacks here brought heavy retaliation from the US military, using B-52 bombers. When the Mekong’s river banks were seen later from the air, a US embassy officer remarked that the countryside, “looked like the valleys of the moon,” from all the bomb craters. Just like in Vietnam, B-52’s weren’t the answer to stop guerrilla warfare. In time, the Khmer Rouge eventually cut off all resupply convoys, blocking river access to Vietnam and the coast. When that finally happened, the days of the Cambodian government were numbered. 

Some river boats look overloaded, low in the water

Before long we motor ahead out of the rain, the flaps go up, and our lovely river views are restored. River traffic picks up, and we pass wooden boats carrying sand, gravel and bricks. It’s good to see that military cargos have been replaced by construction materials. These cargos are meant to build, not destroy. Some overloaded boats look so low in the water, that you’d swear that they’re sinking. At night, some don’t even use running lights. They appear as long, dark silhouettes in the water; some have been sunk after late night collisions.

My fellow travelers aren’t a talkative lot, except for the Spaniard, who asks aloud, “Is this country communist also?”

An Englishman corrects him, “No, it’s a kingdom”.  

This 'kingdom' is one of the poorest countries in Asia, as poverty is widespread in Cambodia. There are few signs of modernity, we see only a rare cell phone tower, and a pair of new Buddhist temples. A farmer with an ox cart walking the riverbank reminds me that most poor Khmers get by as farmers. Many villages we pass are all thatched roof homes, lacking electricity. My journey is during the dry season, but in the rainy season, much of the shore in view will be underwater. I see no bridges over the river either; Cambodia remains seriously underdeveloped.

As the hours pass, I find myself yawning. There are too many passengers on our boat’s benches for anyone to lay down. Still, some are already asleep. With the motor's hum acting as a lullabye, I give in, and close my eyes. Sleep finally comes. 

Soon, I arrive in Phnom Penh.  

AIRBORNE ELEPHANTS LEAVING LAOS

Old domestic terminal of Vientiane's Wattay Airport

I’ve left the far north of this lovely land of Laos, and made my way to Wattay Airport, in the capital Vientiane. I’m not here for long though, I’m waiting for a flight. Soon, I’ll be departing. Leaving Laos. 

Overall it’s been an enlightening visit, and I regret that I’m leaving. I only had one close call in Laos. That was the unfortunate encounter between my trousers and a knife, which happened while I was riding on the back of an elephant!  

Walking around the shops and restaurants of the international departure terminal, I find it more modern than expected. The domestic terminal is a relic, (more like a bus station) but the air conditioned international terminal is an oddity of advanced development for such a poor country. Foreign diplomats always fly in and out of here, and just like in other third world capital airports, diplomats hate to be uncomfortable. So they were more than happy to provide foreign aid money to build this new international terminal, to make their own airport experiences smooth and comfy. 

Before I bid adieu to Laos, I stare out the departure gate window across the tarmac. Once again, Laos surprises me!

Will an elephant from Laos survive in North Korea?

Farther down to my left, I see a Russian built cargo jet. What surprises me, is the large starred flag painted across the tail. My eyes widen. There’s no mistaking that flag, this bulky jet is from another communist country. It’s flown all the way here, from North Korea! 

Straining my eyes to see what’s going on, I can see that the rear cargo doors are swung open, and a large truck has been backed up to the tail end. 

What could they be loading? This wasn’t any secret cargo. If there was, they would have loaded the jet over in the military area of the airport, out of sight from foreigners like me. What were they loading exactly? 

TWO ELEPHANTS !

Reported in the media, this pair of departing pachyderms were a gift from the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos, to their communist brothers in the People’s Democratic Republic of North Korea. (Those are strange titles for both, since neither country has any real democracy.)

Never mind that Laos isn’t really communist anymore, as capitalism abounds. There is still oppression here, but it’s nowhere near as bad as in North Korea today. But since the cold war is over and the reds lost, the North Koreans will take all the friends that they can get, even a poor landlocked friend like Laos.

It makes sense that they have to fly the elephants there on a cargo jet; they might not survive an overland trip in trucks, followed by a long sea voyage in a cargo ship. 

Leaving Laos. I'll miss this place.

Then again, I  wonder about the wisdom of sending Asian elephants to North Korea at all. Elephants have enormous appetites, and North Korea is prone to food shortages. I don’t expect that those Laotian elephants will be eating very well after they arrive. And how well will these elephants survive those cold North Korean winters, when they come from a tropical climate?

I’ll miss the simple charms of this warm locale, but now I have to leave this lovely country. My visa has already been extended, and it runs out tomorrow. My time in Laos is up. I will have to cross borders to avoid fines, or risk trouble with the authorities. 

Today I fly back to Saigon in Vietnam, but I won’t be there long either. Traveling on, I will make my way to the final country on my Southeast Asian odyssey.

Cambodia.


**NOTE** The old international airport for Vientiane has been closed. The new airport has opened, across the street.

AUSSIE AND THE BOMB

Rice paddies and karst mountains in the remote, beautiful town of Viengxay

Viengxay in Laos, was once just a series of scattered villages, until the war put this place on the target map for US bombers. After it became the underground headquarters for the communist Pathet Lao rebels, it grew to shelter 20,000 soldiers and citizens. Now with the wartime caves emptied, Viengxay is among the larger towns of the remote northeast. 

Today the town looks like any rural Laotian community. Walking dirt streets, I pass traditional wooden Lao houses, with handmade bamboo fences. Local men play petang, a game brought here by French colonials. On the outskirts, farmers tend their rice paddies by hand, as they've done for generations. 

Meanwhile the misty and mysterious karst mountains stand sentinel around Viengxay, ancient guardians of history. I pause to watch them, as passing clouds move between the peaks. Before my eyes, the mists completely obscure entire mountains that were visible only minutes before. 

Meg, only white foreigner living here

Continuing my stroll, I find the local tourist office. Walking in, I meet a worker that I was never expecting to see in this remote place. 

A white woman!

I say hello, and chat with Meg, an Aussie. She’s short with white hair, and appears to be nearing retirement age. She tells me that she used to teach at a university in Australia, and now her kids are all grown. She decided to keep working because she enjoys it, and she heard of a position here in the tourist office. 

“Philosophically, I’m a peacenik,” she explains. I wonder if she protested against Australia’s involvement in the war in Southeast Asia, all those years ago. 

I ask Meg why she came to Viengxay, and she answers, “I liked the challenge.” There’s no mobile phone signal here, and no internet either. When she wants to check her email, Meg has to take a bus to Sam Neua, over an hour away. And there isn’t always a bus to come back either. 

I can tell she's worked in Viengxay for a while, since she walks around the office barefoot! One of her jobs here, was editing text on the historical signs that I’d seen in the caves. For once, most of the tourist signs here were written with correct English grammar, so I can thank Meg for that. 

Meg even worked in Viengxay before, and returned to work again. The warmth of the Laotian people brought her back. “I love the Lao people,” she says. “The Lao people are so optimistic. So much destroyed, and they are still optimistic.”

Men play petang by old cluster bomb casing

As it turns out, Meg was unexpectedly a firsthand witness to some recent destruction. One morning she was walking to work here in the office, just like she did every day. On the way, she heard official announcements blaring from the community loudspeakers. She can’t speak Lao, so she didn’t understand the announcement’s meaning. 

She soon found out. She was arriving in front of the tourism office when it happened. 

B-O-O-O-M!!!!! 

A massive explosion shattered the calm of the quiet morning. This deafening sound was unlike anything Meg had experienced in her life. When the bomb went off around 100 meters away, she was more than just surprised. 

“I was knocked to the ground!“ she told me.  

An explosive ordinance disposal team had just detonated a 500 pound bomb that had been recently found, left over from the war. Rather than trying to remove the dangerous old weapon, they had decided to detonate it where it had been discovered: within town limits. The community loudspeaker announcements that she hadn’t understood, were warning town residents to take shelter for the coming blast. 

“I felt violent nausea,” she said recalling those shocking moments, “and horror.”

I ponder her thoughts on the explosion. This was only from a single 500 pound bomb, and so many of these were dropped on Viengxay nearly every day during the war years. Those caves where they took shelter weren’t comfortable, but they were preferable to living out here in the open, where death rained down from above. 

Caves of Viengxay, where residents and soldiers sheltered during air raids

I bid Meg good bye, and continue on through town. 

Her job certainly is a challenge. Given Viengxay's remote location, trying to attract tourists here is an uphill battle. As I’ve walked around town, I’ve only seen two other visitors all day long. 

Although few journey this far, there are those in high places that still remember Viengxay’s importance. Recently, an impressive caravan of 120 cars rolled into town all the way from Vientiane. It was a government convoy arriving for a commemorative event for this former communist wartime headquarters. It was a grand affair, and the current Minister of Foreign Affairs gave a speech. 

Like many of the others attending the official event, back during the war the Minister had been born here in the caves.

ELEPHANT CAVE AND UNDERGROUND THEATER

Ledge for anti-aircraft guns

I continue exploring this communist caveland of Viengxay, and now I'm climbing many, many steps up the stone mountain. The steep climb is enough to make my long legs sore. 

Finally, we reach a large ledge that has been cut right into the limestone of the mountainside. It’s a steep drop below me, with a commanding view beyond. In the distance are more mountains, with feathery clouds dotting their peaks. Beautiful rolling farmers fields are swathed in many shades of green. 

My guide Kale tells me his family is from Viengxay; his parents were farmers here during those fearful times of war. He says that when they were out working the fields then, and enemy aircraft came, they ran into the jungle or into the caves to hide. When day time air attacks became frequent, they could hardly get any work done at all. So they began working fields at night. 

The commanding view from this ledge is no accident, because this vantage point was once the site of a Pathet Lao anti-aircraft emplacement. The old guns are gone, but a sign here describes what days were like back then. 

“Defending Viengxay

Anti-aircraft guns were fixed inside this cave and on the plain below. The Anti-aircraft gunnery commander was situated high in this cave, where there was a good view across the plain to the west. From here field telephones were used to command the gun emplacements on the plain and to direct fire at the incoming enemy aircraft. Warning sirens on top of the peaks were set off when incoming planes were spotted. 

Anti-aircraft gunner's view of plains and mountains surrounding Viengxay

Anti-aircraft gunners sat here for hours on end surveying the skies to the west. They were waiting for American bombers to arrive from their bases in northern Thailand, mainly from a specially constructed base in Udon Thani, or Royal Lao Government aircraft from Vientiane. When the bombers were seen, the noise from the guns firing from inside the confined space of the cave must have been deafening. For the gunners on the open plains below, the risks were even higher than for their comrades in the caves, as they were directly exposed to attacking aircraft. You can see bomb craters just below this cliff, at the base of the stairs to the Artillery Cave.”

I peer down at the ground to look for the craters, but they're difficult to see with the thick brush below. It may not be entirely safe down there either. Even though there have been three decades for erosion to fill in many of the old craters, there are still many unexploded bombs in the ground all around Viengxay. 

Farmers still find these old bombs when they're out plowing fields in the region. Being a farmer can be a hazardous profession in Laos. 

'Elephant Cave', the largest cave in the underground communist city

Continuing on, I finally reach the biggest cave in all of Viengxay, and it’s an impressive sight. I’m gawking at the cave of Xanglot, which translates as ‘Elephant Pass Cave’. The jagged and uneven limestone ceiling curves from 20 feet high at the sides, up to more than 30 feet near the middle. The cave is well named; a full grown Asian elephant could walk in through one end of this cave, and straight out the other. 

In the underground world that made up wartime Viengxay, this was an important political center. There were official functions in this huge cave; communist party rallys and propaganda meetings.  For the Pathet Lao, this was kind of like Moscow’s Red Square, only in a bomb shelter. It was also used as a lecture hall for military training. 

Thanks to it’s larger entrances, I have plenty of light to see. At the far end is a curious sight, a theatrical stage. That reveals this place's other name: 'Theater Cave'. 

Photo display of old wartime performances and rallies

The cave stage is complete with an orchestra pit, and a room in the wings for costume changes. The stage floor isn’t made of wood though, it’s smoothened bedrock. I imagine there wasn’t much tap dancing here. 

Out in front, the audience section had room for 2,000 comrades, where they sat out on the bare rock floor to enjoy the show. 

In the sheltered, underground life that everyone in wartime Viengxay endured, this was one of the few places where the soldiers and locals could enjoy themselves and forget about the bombings for a while. 

There were cultural shows, circus acts, and singing with live music for the party faithful. There were even special appearances by female performers doing traditional dances, brought all the way in from Vietnam. These were the communist versions of USO shows. It wasn’t Bob Hope, but it did a lot to lift their spirits and boost morale. 

Visitor walks across the old empty stage

The Theater Cave still gets some use nowadays; the local community uses it as a venue for the Laotian New Year’s celebration. But for the most part, the old stage is quiet and bare; even the old curtain has been removed. 

The days when Pathet Lao troops here, enjoyed the communist version of vaudeville underneath a mountain, are now only distant memories.