TEMPLE OF THE LAST HOLDOUT

The roof collapsed on this old temple building in Preah Vihear

I’m at the ancient Preah Vihear temple site, where Thai troops have recently had gun battles with Cambodia soldiers over control of the temple. There’s no shooting today. So far.

It’s a long climb up the ancient stone block steps, and eventually I reach the top. To Khmer worshipers of old, perhaps this was a metaphorical climb towards heaven.

With sore legs after the climb, I reach the top, The old temple sits on a stone platform, and it’s somewhat ruined. The roof has totally collapsed, leaving immense stone pillars and beams. Some stones are jacked up by strong wooden supports, to keep them from collapsing further. 

The style is obviously the same as the temples at Angkor Wat. It makes me wonder why the Thais would want to fight for this temple, when it was so obviously built for a Khmer king.

As I look around, a Cambodian policeman walks up. I discover that he speaks a fair amount of English; his name is Kuhn. He says there’s no fighting here today, (at least not yet,) so he offers to show me around the temple.

Barbed wire blocks the border to Thailand

From high up on here the hill, I can see well over the line of control onto the Thai side of the border. On the horizon is a vast green plain, eastern Thailand. On a nearby hill, I can make out a couple of Thai civilians walking down a modern paved road that ends at the closed border. No wonder so many Thais used to come here before, they didn’t have to endure the long trip on a nasty dirt road I just traveled. They could take nice air conditioned buses all the way here, walk across the border, visit the temple, walk back to the bus, and be way back in Thailand before dinner. But not anymore, the border is closed due to the recent fighting.

There are few buildings visible on the Thai side, it’s mostly trees and brush.

Kuhn points to a prominent white government border building flying the Thai flag. “Ta Mok’s house was there,” he tells me. This is the third house I’ve seen that belonged to the murderous Khmer Rouge war chief. I wonder how many more houses he had.

From this high vantage point, I can look down on the Cambodian Army’s dugouts and bunkers. Trenches cross over the hill, and out of sight. I don’t see any such fortifications on the Thai side, but they are over there somewhere, well camouflaged.

Kuhn takes me behind the temple, onto a long, wide walkway reaching up the hill. It’s made entirely of heavy stone blocks, and has many more stones than the temple I just saw. It must have been a monumental effort to haul these blocks up the mountains, all those centuries ago.

View of conflict zone. On left: Thailand. On right: path for Cambodia soldiers along trench line.

Continuing up the hill, we reach another temple building, bigger than the first. I discover that Preah Vihear isn’t one temple building, but several, with adjacent shrines and a pool. This place is bigger than I thought.

I explore two more temple buildings, one has elaborate carvings and a collapsed roof above. The other is a stone Khmer style tower. Curiously, a large green tree is growing out of the roof.

Kuhn points out his temporary house off to the side, not 100m from the temples. Between the trees are some lean-tos, and flimsy buildings. “I live there with my wife and daughter,” he tells me.

For years, nobody could live on that land, as it’s a former minefield.

Heavy stone blocks make a path connecting the temples

Back in the 1980’s when the Vietnamese communists occupied Cambodia, many Khmer Rouge fighters were crossing back and forth from sanctuary in Thailand, so the Vietnamese laid more than 2 MILLION landmines along the Cambodian border, known as the K5 belt, where they continue to kill and maim today.

Many of the minefields close to the temples have been cleared, but with the current border conflict, I wonder if they are laying more mines elsewhere. One step forward, two steps back…

Along the wall of this old temple complex, is a tunnel opening. It opens into a large military shelter; an artillery casing sits at the entrance. Close by is another bunker for the soldiers, and parts of the wall were made from ancient stones they took from the temple. Preservationists would be horrified. These were originally built by the Khmer Rouge; this religious site that was sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, became a military base for communist atheists.

A tree grows atop a temple tower

Some of the walls on the last temple building are peppered with bullet holes. This was the last holdout of the Khmer Rouge. Even after the communists laid down their weapons near Anlong Veng, hardliners still held out here. The Cambodian Army perhaps could have beaten them here, but they were restrained, as they didn’t want to destroy the temple. They could have used heavy artillery, but they didn’t; one artillery barrage could have irreparably destroyed the entire temple complex. The last communist holdouts finally agreed to peace with the Cambodian government in 1998.

Looking from up high to the east, I can see far along the Dangkrek mountain chain. Not far away in that direction, the opposite side of the border changes from Thailand, to Laos.

I enter the last highest temple building near the cliff: the Central Sanctuary.

Within are Angkor era carvings and architecture, familiar to me by now. There’s an inner courtyard, with some collapses surrounding walls, and others still intact. Impressive hallways and arched ceilings are made entirely of stone. I wonder how many of the ceilings have collapsed over the years from age, or from the violence of men.

While some stones have collapsed, other temple walls are still standing strong

In the courtyard’s center is the innermost shrine. Much of it is still intact. The intricate decorative carvings have survived, though the colors and paint have faded from time, leaving faded grey and white stone underneath. Ducking inside, I see a Buddhist statue through the shadows. Some old offerings from rare pilgrims are left at its feet.

Walking out behind the last temple, a dirt path leads to bare bedrock on the edge of a cliff, it’s well over 1,500 feet down. There are no trees blocking my view. In front of me is the most amazing view in Cambodia. Far beneath me is a vast carpet of a greenery, a flat plain that stretches to the horizon. Only a couple of dirt roads cut across the green scene. 

From atop the cliff I get a fantastic scenic view of Cambodia

Small dots clumped together by a crossroads are the village houses of Kor Muy, where my driver Shanghai awaits me.

I’m in awe of this view. No wonder the Thais are fighting them for it.

I bid goodbye to Kuhn, and mount a motorbike taxi for the trip down the mountain. On the way down, we pass a convoy of government officials on their way up, with journalists in tow, carrying cameras and camcorders.

Soon I’m down the mountain, and the motorbike driver drops me in Kor Muy. Word is going around the village that while I was up by the temple, there was another border incursion by Thai soldiers. The conflict here isn’t over yet.

I find Shanghai, and we head back to his muddy car. He fills his old Toyota Corolla’s radiator with water, and we start the long drive back to Anlong Veng.

Landmine warning sign. Stay on the path, or your next step might be your last.

After the long journey, I’m back at my hotel, and I flip on the news. CNN is reporting, “Tensions along the Cambodia – Thailand border”. They are saying that 100 Thai troops crossed ‘briefly’ into Cambodian territory. The Thai government says that the situation is 'calm', and denies the border breach.

It’s calm all right, as this time there wasn’t any shooting. Fortunately.

Two weeks after I leave Preah Vihear, fighting erupted again near the temple. When the shooting stopped, 2 Thai soldiers were dead, and 9 were wounded. 12 Cambodian soldiers were injured.

As Cambodia is a country still recovering from several wars, I really hope that the Thais will finally leave them in peace.

*NOTE* - The events described above took place in 2009. Violent conflict between Cambodian and Thai soldiers in the region surrounding the temple has continued to occur sporadically in the years since then.

BATTLE FOR A TEMPLE

A Cambodian soldier looks for Thai soldiers in front of a bunker at Preah Vihear

I'm about to head into the disputed territory of Preah Vihear temple, in remote northern Cambodia. This is no longer a visit to an old war zone, there has been fighting here only days ago between the Cambodian Army and encroaching Thai soldiers. This historic place was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008, and both countries claim this centuries old temple.

There hasn't been any shooting yet today, so I'm about to head up. As I prepare to leave nearby Kor Muy village, I am quickly mobbed by desperate motorbike drivers offering to drive me to the top. There are few visitors with the recent fighting, and they are all anxious for my business. After negotiating a price, I’m on my way up.

We start motoring up the mountain, and I’m surprised to see we’re climbing a new, well made road, a rarity in this remote region. It’s not even blacktop, it’s concrete. I bet it was paid for with UNESCO money, though at some points it looks so steep, that I wonder if any vehicles have flipped over backwards on the way up. Now I know why there are no taxis here, only motorbikes.

As we curve around a switchback, I spot sandbag bunkers, manned by Khmer soldiers armed with Kalashnikovs and light machine guns. They look tense; all of them are peering into the jungle, and the mountain directly across from us. They are looking for Thai troops; perhaps some of them have infiltrated the Cambodian side of the border again. The jungle in front of us is so thick, it would be easy for them to stay out of view.

After the fighting, the market was rebuilt by temple stairs

My driver slows, and as we are out in the open on the road, I realize we're dangerously exposed. The soldiers in front of us are in bunkers, so if shooting starts we would be a sniper’s easiest target.

Fortunately, with their eyes searching for infiltrating Thai troops, the Cambodian soldiers don’t bother with us, and we continue on up the disputed hill. I'm glad; I don't want to be here if another firefight breaks out.

We finish our climb without incident, and soon I find myself at the bottom of an ancient temple stairway, with remnants of destruction nearby. There used to be a small guest house only steps away. It did not survive the recent attack by the Thai military; most of it burned down. Conflict is nothing new to Preah Vihear; this old temple has been occupied by several different armies over the centuries. 

The first temple was built here over 1000 years ago in the 9th century by the Khmer Kingdom. Over the next two centuries, larger temples were built by succeeding kings. It was originally a Hindu temple, and much like Angkor Wat, it is now used mainly for Buddhist worship.

Thousands of Khmers died from landmines when they were forced across the border by Thai army

Later the French took over Indochina, and with Cambodia as a colony, the French gave Preah Vihear to Thailand, which took over the temple in 1958. An outraged King Sihanouk protested to the World Court, who awarded it back to Cambodia in 1962. But the worst period of conflict here was just beginning. 

When the Khmer Rouge took overran Cambodia, some of that war's last shots were fired here. Government troops held out in the temple longer than anywhere else against the communists. While the capital of Phnom Penh fell to the Khmer Rouge on April 17, 1975, the Cambodian Army Lieutenant in charge of Preah Vihear continued to defended for days after, including an attack on April 21. They held it another 2 days, until this ancient hill also fell to the communists.

Surrounding me at the base of the long temple steps, is a small rebuilt market. I walk past one table selling meat, it has pigs feet, and a pigs head for sale. A group of ducks are on adjacent grass, preening themselves. Most of the shops here were destroyed by the fighting with the Thais. The rebuilt stalls are now tables under umbrellas and temporary shelters. The Thais still claim that this market land where I’m standing is actually Thai territory. Never mind that the temple steps are only a few steps away, or that the current unused border post is even farther away towards Thailand. A blue sign in the temple reaffirms Cambodia’s claim. “Preah Vihear is Our Temple”. Another says, “Determination to protect Preah Vihear forever”. Even more serious, are the many signs all around the area, warning of landmines.

The front line: rolls of razor wire cover the border crossing stairway to Thailand

Here back in 1979, there were even more landmines here, and they were killing civilians, not soldiers. Back then masses of Cambodian refugees were fleeing across the border, and the Thai dictator Kriangsak Chomanan decided that Thailand had enough refugees, and he ordered the forced return of 42,000 refugees back at the border here. Thai soldiers shot some refugees during their return, and pushed some refugees over nearby cliffs. Thousands more died as they were forced to cross the deadly minefields surrounding the temple. Between 3,000 – 10,000 refugees died. 

Thailand was never held to account for this crime against humanity, and there is no historical marker to remember the dead. It remains one of the most horrific cases of forced repatriation in world history.

I shuffle around the market, getting curious looks, as I’m the only foreign visitor here today. Three lady vendors are seated chatting, with one of their sons wandering nearby. A few Cambodian soldiers walk about the stalls, but they don’t earn enough money to buy anything. The marketplace gets few customers now. With no Thai tourists, the vendors are struggling to get by.

I buy some crackers at a stall, my weak attempt to support the local economy. I ask how much, and the Khmer vendor answers, “20 Baht.”

She wants Thai Baht? The border with Thailand has been closed since the fighting here, and she thinks that I have Thai money. Strange.

Stepping away from the market, I walk right into the conflict zone.

Here there are many trenches, fox holes and military bunkers dug into the earth. Rolls of razor wire are laid in front of them. A Cambodian flag flies from a small flagpole, sitting almost at the line of control. A lone soldier stands atop a bunker, looking for any encroaching Thai soldiers. Beyond the razor wire is thick brush; somewhere beyond is the Thai Army, staring back at us. All the land surrounding me is in dispute. There are sandbags everywhere, with the trenches stretched both directions. It looks as though the Cambodians are getting ready to fight World War I.

A Khmer soldier and local boy in the market

“Hallo! Hallo!” I hear, and I spot a soldier waving me towards him. I’m invited into a primitive shelter.

I find 5 Cambodian soldiers inside; one who speaks a smattering of English seems to be a Non-Commisioned Officer. He offers me beer. This is the liveliest group of people I’ve seen up at the temple yet, they are joking and drinking. Their commander has joined them; he’s a Captain. He’s the drunkest of all, and  
it’s only 10:30 in the morning. The Cambodian Army is not known for its discipline.

He offers me what looks like homemade wine in a clear bottle with no label. I decline the offer. I don’t want to offend their hospitality, but I consider it an extremely bad idea to drink with drunk soldiers, that have loaded guns.

I leave the shelter, and walk back along the trench towards the temple. It’s a relaxed mood here, as opposed to the bunkers and machine gun nests I saw on the road coming up. Most soldiers here are not carrying their weapons. Some in the bunkers are lounging in hammocks, right next to their loaded machine guns.

Nearing the temple, I go to what used to be the border crossing. Before the shooting started, Thai Buddhists were allowed to cross the border to visit the temple, without a passport or visa. But that’s over; now rolls and rolls of razor wire are rolled all the way up the border crossing steps. A young Khmer in a straw hat shuffles around in front of me, staring at the barbed wire. Perhaps he works in the market. The razor wire ends at the now closed gates, marked simply “IN” and “OUT”. There will be no Thai tourists crossing this border today, or for a long time into the foreseeable future.

Up the hill, not 150 yards away, is a shelter that is now an armed Thai bunker. Long dark sandbags line the front. The interior is dark, so I don’t see any Thai soldiers. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there though, they are probably watching me right now.

As I turn to walk back, I pass one of the frontline Khmer bunkers. Leaning against the wall is a handheld rocket propelled grenade launcher, and five rockets, all ready for trouble.

I sincerely hope that those rockets will never be fired. There have been too many senseless deaths at this temple already.

I head for the temple. At least there are no weapons in there.

*NOTE* There has been fighting at Preah Vihear several times over the years since this visit to the temple. Sadly, the conflict continues. 

SHAKEDOWN AT THE BORDER OF RICHES

This faux 'Tropicana' casino is on the Thai - Cambodian border

I'm in the far east of Thailand, right on the border with Cambodia. I've only left Cambodia an hour ago, on what is known as a 'visa run'. Since my Cambodia visa is running out, I came here only long enough to cross the border to get a new passport stamp. Now that  I have it, I'm free to return to Khmer land. I'm in Thai territory only long enough to get a lunch of tom yam soup.

Finishing lunch, I walk back towards the border post. Passing souvenir shops, I get my Thai exit stamp at immigration, and I'm back on Cambodian land in the northwestern border town of Poipet. And yet, I'm not officially back in Cambodia at all. I'm in a strange 'no man's land', and it's filled with casinos! 

I once saw another Cambodian town dominated by casinos called Bavet,  but the setup  here is different. In Poipet the Cambodians built casinos packed tightly together, pushed almost up to the Thai border post. As I walk out of Thai immigration, the Cambodian immigration post is way out further beyond the casinos, almost a quarter mile down the road. Ingeniously, this allows Thai gamblers to walk onto Cambodian soil, gamble their money away, and then walk back to Thailand without having to get a Cambodian visa or passport stamp! This whole stretch of casinos, is basically a legal no man's land. Since you have no arrival stamp while you gamble in Poipet, you are not officially here!

I'm leaving Thai territory

Long before there were casinos here, there were periods when this was a no man's land due to armed conflict. There has been more than one gun battle fought along this border between the armies of Thailand and the Khmer Rouge. Even before then, there had been a standoff in Poipet between King Sihanouk's army and Thailand, as land dividing the two neighbors was in dispute. 

Some lands remain contested, but at least here in Poipet, both sides are content (at least for now) to let the only invaders be gamblers and tourists. Poipet is so oriented towards Thai gamblers, that the most accepted currency in town is the Thai Baht!

I don't fell like emptying my wallet today, so I pass by all the casinos, and walk into Cambodian immigration to get my visa. 

I pay the required US $20 in cash, and hand over my visa to the border policemen. Once it's processed, they refuse to give it back. I soon realize this is a shakedown; the two corrupt policemen behind the counter are trying to overcharge me for the visa! They are asking for double the price, demanding the extra money in Thai Baht. 

A strange strip of casinos stretches between the Thai and Cambodian border posts

I persistently repeat, again and again, that I don’t have any Thai Baht. After a few minutes of this back and forth argument, and with a growing line of impatient travelers behind me, the two corrupt border agents finally give up. 

They grudgingly return my passport. I walk back into Cambodia, and break into a smile over my small victory. 

I didn’t tell them that my extra money is in US dollars!

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.  

'FRIENDSHIP BRIDGE' CONNECTS OLD ENEMIES

'Friendship Bridge' crossing the Mekong River, from Laos to Thailand

“You! You –You –You !”

I hear this sharp and repetitious voice calling out to me from behind. Wondering what all the fuss is about, I turn to see a uniformed soldier quickly approaching. 

Uh – oh. 

Fortunately, he’s unarmed, but the look on his youthful face tells me that he means business. I realize now that I’ve somehow wandered into a restricted area. Oops.

I’m in the village of Tha Na Leng, a half hour from Vientiane. I hadn’t walked into a secret military base, or a government compound. The restricted area that I had walked into, was simply beneath a bridge. But this is not your average bridge. 

It’s not my fault really; there was no sign posted warning me not to enter this grassy area by the Mekong River. Well, I didn't see any ‘No Trespassing’ signs in English anyway. There was a hand written Laotian sign back at the gate where I entered, but that could have said ‘Joe’s Restaurant’ for all I knew. The gate was wide open, with no guards in sight.

Since this young soldier’s English is limited, he merely points back towards the gate. I get his meaning, and he escorts me back out to the road.  Having been turned away from my original vantage point, I walk go looking for another bridge view. I find a path through an overgrown lot, and soon I’m back at the Mekong's edge. Further upriver, my view of the bridge here is even better. 

Flapping in the wind above the bridge, is the flag of Laos. Flying above on the far side, is the flag of Thailand. This is the ‘Friendship Bridge’. Stretching far across the Mekong, this is the busiest and most important border crossing that connects these two Asian countries. 

Oops, sorry soldier, I didn't know I'm not supposed to be down here... 

The relationship that Laos has had with Thailand is a complicated one. On the one hand, Laotians remember that Thailand destroyed Vientiane in the 19th century, and dominated Laos for years afterwards. Laotians still distrust the Thais to this day. On the other hand, Thailand is the largest foreign investor in Laos, and one of its biggest trading partners. That’s easy to see here, simply by watching the freight trucks that drive back and forth across this bridge. 

As far as bridges go, the Friendship Bridge is impressive in both length and height. It’s not just that the Mekong is a half a mile wide here; beyond that the bridge stretches even further. Beginning over in Thailand, the bridge slopes upwards, enabling it to reach high over the mighty river. Though this is the rainy season and the river is high, the gap still leaves plenty of room beneath for large riverboats, though I don’t see any. When the bridge reaches the Laos side, it descends gradually onto a ramp leading to customs and immigration.

Built with the help of foreign donors, the Friendship Bridge opened in 1994, and it’s symbolic of the improving relations, and increasing trade between Laos and Thailand. Good relations increased further, and Laos entered ASEAN in 1997, bringing it into a more open relationship with it’s regional neighbors. 

As I look at the steel structure, I can make out four people high above crossing the bridge on foot from Nong Kai, the city on the Thai side. That’s a very long walk for a border crossing. From one immigration point to the other, the whole crossing is close to two miles. Crossing the Mekong here nowadays is a safe affair, but for Laotians it was not always so easy. Back in the days after the communist takeover in the 1970’s, crossing the Mekong from Laos to Thailand was very dangerous indeed. 

When Laos turned communist in 1975, this border with Thailand became a new cold war dividing line. On the Laotian side, the communists could not afford to build their own Berlin Wall like the East Germans did, so they relied on the natural border of the Mekong. This became part of what was called, 'The Bamboo Wall’. 

After the communist takeover, private businesses were closed, property was confiscated, and freedoms declined. Most Laotians with money or education fled the country. This included thousands of businessmen, landowners, teachers, and government workers. The iron fisted policies of the communism created a brain drain. A great deal of wealth left with these migrants, and the economy collapsed. In those years, 10% of all Laotians fled as refugees. With so many departing Laos, numerous refugee camps sprang up across the river in Thailand. Back in the late 70’s and 80’s, the refugee camp across from here in Nong Kai was one of the largest. Pathet Lao patrol boats cruised the Mekong, searching for refugees attempting to escape. Many made it safely across to Nong Kai, while others weren’t so lucky. 

Immigration arrivals and departures are processed here on the Laotian side. Shopping anyone??

I recall the words that a refugee named Truong said to me in America back in the 1980’s. “If you go to Laos,” he said bluntly, “they shoot you.” Truong was a Hmong refugee, resettled in America. He’d spent years in Nong Kai, after escaping across the Mekong. More than a few refugees had been shot, and died on the river as they attempted to escape the communists back in those difficult years.

Most Laotian refugees in Thailand have since found asylum in third countries. While most conflict ended, some refugee problems continue. In recent years small groups of Hmong have been forcibly returned to Laos against their will. There are still an undetermined number of refugees in Thailand today. Since Thailand already had its own Hmong minority before the war, exact numbers are difficult to tabulate. More than 100 Hmong are being held in a Nong Kai detention center, while a few thousand more still live in refugee camps. Other undocumented refugees are still in hiding in Thailand, living under the radar. 

Here at Friendship Bridge, Laotians heading over to live in Thailand these days are mainly economic migrants. With more prosperity in Thailand, plenty of poor Laotians move there to work, both legally and illegally. Crossing for these migrants is now peaceful and orderly, and the military and police presence is greatly reduced. Looking around, I don’t see any patrols, armed police are few, and even the soldier I encountered earlier was armed only with a radio. Most conflict today, is over smuggling. Some contraband is hidden in cargo crossing the Friendship Bridge. With such a long unguarded riverbank, other goods are brought across by boat. But this is not without hazards. There are still reports of Laotian militia firing at boats on the Mekong after dark. 

Across on the Thai side, I see an old abandoned riverboat beached on the riverbank. Except for that old boat, everything else on the Thai side looks newer, and far more prosperous than in Laos. Thai houses are larger, more modern, and more numerous. The difference in numbers isn’t surprising, since the population of Thailand is nearly 10 times that of Laos. 

Here on the Laotian side, is another imposing feature. Just upriver from me, enormous red and white power transmission towers rise high into the sky. You wouldn’t expect these in a country where many villages still don’t have electricity. These must be the tallest electrical towers in all of Laos. They reach from one side of the Mekong all the way across to the other. These lines provide one of the country’s top exports: hydroelectric power. Sent through these lines to power hungry Thailand, Laotian hydropower is fueling factories in the Thai northeast. These days, Laos is sending electric power to Nong Kai, rather than refugees. 

I’ll see more of the country’s controversial hydroelectric dams, and more on the plight of Hmong refugees, as I continue my journey north. 

CROSSING FROM VIETNAM INTO LAOS

A massive arch marks Vietnam's side of the border

It’s a simple white line. A simple, yet very important marker. Only inches across on this short two lane bridge, the white line is painted perpendicular to the road’s center line. I step across the line.

I’ve just left Vietnam, and crossed into Laos.

Having finished my time in northern Vietnam, I've doubled back to Dong Ha near the old DMZ. Hopping into a van this morning, I headed west on Highway 9 to Lao Bao, reaching the frontier with Laos. It’s fitting I'm entering Laos via road, since Laos is the only landlocked country in Southeast Asia.

Pausing right on the white border marker, I look down over the side of the bridge. On the map I’m carrying, this bridge is shown to cross over a river, but what is actually below me is a miniscule creek. It’s so narrow, that without a bridge I could cross it with one step. That’s not surprising; the Laos - Vietnam border has never been very difficult to cross, going in either direction. This gave the US military fits during the war, as they were unable to stop communist troops and weapons from infiltrating across this very border.

This smaller (and cheaper) arch marks the Laotian side

I continue walking the road between border posts, pulling my wheeled suitcase behind as I head towards immigration. A welcoming arch looms over the road that reads, “Lao people Democratic Republic”. I notice that the arch that I already passed through over on the Vietnamese side, is far larger and grander looking than this smaller one. Perhaps that’s a subtle attempt at intimidation by the Vietnamese.

Passing through the arch, I notice an odd choice of artwork painted on the wall of the interior: a dinosaur! It looks like a brontosaurus, standing in front of a big Buddhist monument. Buddhism is an ancient religion to be sure, but it certainly didn’t reach back to the age of the dinosaurs.

Waiting to clear customs along this border highway crossing, are long lines of trucks. Unlike the straight trucks I saw in northern Vietnam near the Chinese border, these are Russian made Kamaz trucks. To the other side of the road, is an even longer line of American flat bed tractor trailers, also waiting to clear customs. I’m surprised to see US made trucks here in this remote place, though they aren’t American owned, the trucking company is Vietnamese.

With all these heavy vehicles parked and idle, the only freight I actually see moving between these two nations is a two wheeled cart bearing produce. The cart is powered not by horse, but by a Vietnamese woman in sandals, who pulls it slowly behind her across the frontier. I’m amazed at her strength, she has to be pulling five times her own weight. After watching her, I’m not going to complain about pulling my insignificant suitcase.

Under the Laotian arch, a painting of... a brontosaurus??

A local woman pulls a heavy cart across the border

This border crossing was once on an ancient trade route connecting Laos and Vietnam. During the war there was little ‘official’ trade at this crossing due to heavy bombing, but in the past decade it has been regaining its prominence. The new bridge, the arches, and the border buildings have all been constructed in the past few years, as trade and tourism have gradually been revived.

After getting my passport stamped, I look for my way into the nearest town, but there are no buses or taxis waiting. A motorcycle driver approaches offering to take me into town, but only for an extortionate fee! I don’t feel like being ripped off today, and I don’t want to try balancing my suitcase on the back of a small motorbike either. Since it isn’t far and it’s still morning, I continue on down the road pulling my suitcase on wheels. Done with my border crossing, I head for the Laotian border town of Densavan, where I will take a hike on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

THE VIETNAM - CHINA BORDER

Rugged mountains line the border of Vietnam and China

I’m where few tourists venture: in the far north of Vietnam, way beyond Hanoi. Trudging up a hill I pass a line of trucks, idle as they await loads of commercial cargo. Hammocks hang from the undercarriage beneath a parked truck. With hours to kill, two drivers are sleeping in the shade, their sandals on the curb beside them. Continuing, I walk towards the pass ahead. The air is thin up here; this region is full of rugged mountains. On both sides of this roadway, green mountain ridges reach for the skies.

Walking past a guard post I reach a roadside building, where a stray dog shuffles around meekly. Just ahead, a red and white gate post has been lowered down across the road, blocking passage from both directions. A sign next to me says, “Passport Control Exit”. 

I can go no farther. Beyond that barrier, is the People’s Republic of China. 

2 drivers sleep in hammocks beneath their truck at border

This quiet crossing is ‘Friendship Pass’, near Dong Dang, a border town in the extreme north of Vietnam. Back in 1979 this pass was anything but friendly, when the Red Army of China poured south across this border crossing, in a punitive invasion of their former communist ally. Vietnam and their mammoth northern neighbor had renewed their centuries old rivalry. Unknown to the western public, firefights along this mountainous border had already begun to erupt as early as 1974, before Vietnam’s war in the south had even ended. From then on, confrontations across this border increased.

Tensions also grew between the two over Vietnam’s opression of their ethnic Chinese minority. Hundreds of thousands of ethnic Chinese fled Vietnam as refugees. Many that had been forced from their villages in the north, passed through this border as they fled to China. 


The final act that infuriated the Chinese government, was Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia, caused by the Khmer Rouge’s massacre of Vietnamese civilians in the south. As murderous as the Khmer Rouge were, they were still China's allies. As Deng Xiaoping himself said, China wouldn't allow Vietnam, “to go swashbuckling in Laos, Cambodia, or even in the Chinese border areas.” Deng warned that

Vietnamese soldier in Lang Son '79 (Photo:Vtn archive)

China was going, “to teach Vietnam a lesson.”

That lesson was to be taught by the Chinese Army, which sent 200,000 troops into Vietnam. They pushed southward all across the rugged border. This pass was the most strategic invasion point, since Hanoi is less than 100 miles away down the highway.

When this border war began, some westerners could hardly contain their glee. Two major communist armies were at war, and they weren’t fighting the west, they were fighting each other! The Vietnamese Army had taken weapons given to them by China, and turned them back on the Chinese. Although both countries were communist, the rocky relationship between China and Vietnam has its roots from back before communism existed. In centuries past, China occupied and dominated Vietnam for nearly 1,000 years, until the Vietnamese finally forced them out to regain their independence in the 10th century. The two countries have never liked each other since. 

While Mao Tse Tung was alive, China was glad to supply Vietnam with weapons and aid during the war years, in order to take on the Americans. But it was

Chinese POW's captured in Vietnam '79 (Photo:Vtn archive)

really a relationship of convenience. After the US withdrew and Vietnam became friendly with the USSR, Sino-Viet relations quickly soured. Before long the old adversaries were fighting again. Initially having the edge in their invasion, the Chinese advanced south and laid siege to Lang Son, the provincial capital I passed through on my way here. After taking that city on the 17th day of the campaign, the Chinese surprisingly announced their mission 'completed', and that they were returning to China. As they retreated, they destroyed almost everything of use on Vietnamese territory. All bridges were blown, and village after village went up in flames. In nearby Dong Dang, just about every building in town was destroyed. 

Although material losses in Vietnam were high, the Chinese Army still got the worst of the fighting. China had underestimated the Vietnamese military; already experienced and battle hardened from fighting the US for years. The invading Chinese soldiers on the other hand, had little combat experience. Their last major invasion had been in 1950's Korea.

When the last Chinese tank retreated north across the border, the month long war was over. Both sides claimed victory. As both countries guarded their casualty numbers, a reliable count of those killed was never made public. Estimates ranged from 30,000 dead, to as high as 90,000. Most analysts believe that the casualties of the Chinese Army were far higher than the Vietnamese.

Whatever ‘lesson’ the Chinese wanted to teach the Vietnamese, it remained unlearned. Vietnam didn’t withdraw from Cambodia, and remained there for another decade. Vietnam’s oppression of their ethnic Chinese minority also continued, and 300,000 of them still live as refugees in China today. They are unlikely to return.

Lang Son 1979, destroyed in Chinese invasion(Photo:Vtn archive)

Lang Son today

As for this contested border, the fighting didn’t stop after Red Army troops crossed into China. Occasional firefights and artillery duels between the two angry neighbors continued across this border well into the 1980’s. Finally, as Vietnam withdrew its troops from Cambodia in the waning days of the cold war, the frontier finally quieted. 

Dong Dang border crossing; past red & white gate is China

Peace has been good to both countries, but China continues to be Vietnam's greatest fear. On my way here from Hanoi, our bus passed a couple Vietnamese army bases. I spotted two sets of anti-aircraft guns visible, and both were pointed north, towards China.

The simmering antagonism towards the Chinese continues. I once had a taxi driver in Hanoi, who told me that he liked Americans, but hated the Chinese. He said it would be good for the Vietnamese and the US to join up, and together win a war against China. Now there’s a scary thought.

Fortunately, these two old communist countries found capitalism more profitable than conflict, and relations are far improved. Friendship Pass is now the busiest border crossing between the two former foes, and trade between the two is booming, increasing year after year. There are even trains crossing Friendship Pass. Twice a week, a train boards in Hanoi and after clearing customs at this border, it continues all the way to Beijing. 

Trucks line up at border; Vietnam - China trade is booming

A major thorn in their bilateral relations has also been removed; defining where the border actually is. After 10 years of work, and with help from the Global Positioning System, demarcation of the border was finally completed in 2009.  The Sino -Viet border is finally defined and accepted by both sides.

This border has long been quiet, but Beijing and Hanoi still find land to argue over. Political rhetoric continues over possession of the Spratly and Paracel Islands, where Vietnam and China last fought each other out at sea in 1988. If there is ever another war in Vietnam, it will probably be with their powerful northern neighbor in a fight over undersea resources. 

Today relations continue on a positive trend, and business ties between Vietnam and China have never been stronger. Perhaps the profits of peace will keep this border from ever heating up again. The Vietnamese have endured so many wars, over so many years. Hopefully they have embarked on something that they haven’t had in centuries: a long era of peace.

BUDDHIST HOSPITALITY IN A VIET CONG TEMPLE

A humble Buddhist temple in the Mekong Delta

It’s a peaceful evening, and I'm in one of those places I never expected to find myself. I’m up on a high hill, relaxing in a hammock, in a Buddhist temple complex.

I’m in the Mekong Delta border town of Chau Doc, and my friend Nga has brought me to this Buddhist temple, the smallest I’ve ever visited. It almost looks like more of a shrine. Although it has several altars, the whole temple is only as big as a two room house.

The temple is located high on a hill, in the border town of Chau Doc

Built in 1932, this minimalist temple is owned by a local Vietnamese family. Portrait photos of the owners in their senior years adorn the wall behind a shrine. Coming from a family of property, the father wears a bright blue, traditional silk outfit. He also has a big smile, which reveals he’s missing a few teeth. The mother on the other hand, looks stoic in her photo. She also has a shaved head. Perhaps she became a Buddhist nun later in life.

Years before, this married couple were both in the Viet Cong during the war, and this temple was a VC shelter. The family used to hide VC soldiers here. This was revealed to me by one of their sons, who was also a VC back then.

Behind a shrine are portraits of the owners, who are former Viet Cong

Looking at the temple, and at their families Buddhist beliefs, I’m reminded that not all Viet Cong were communists and atheists. Unlike the communist revolutionaries in China and Russia, many Viet Cong continued to practice their religion both during the war, and afterward. I’m also surprised that they would use a place of religious worship for a military purpose. Well, the VC family owned it, and still do.

“He my good friend,” Nga tells me of one of the Buddhist monks living up here now. She has known him for years, and wanted to come up for a  visit, so I tagged along. As I relax in the hammock, she chats away with her old friend, as he cooks us dinner in a cook shack adjacent to the temple.

Soon we’re enjoying a tasty dinner of fried rice. I’m aware that everything the monks need to live up here, including this rice, had to be carried up the mountain. Up here the temple sits alone, the rest of the high hillside is bare. There is no road reaching up to this temple, adding to the monks’ isolation. To be sure, the monastic life is not an easy one.

Our Buddhist monk hosts cook us a tasty fried rice dinner

As trying as life is up here, it used to be even more difficult for the monks. Nga relates one of the health hardships the monks faced in this temple. “For many years, everyone who tried to live up here,” she said, “they always get very sick.”

A series of monks lived at the temple, and for some reason they always became ill. One after another, they each had to leave the temple, descending into Chau Doc for treatment. The source of their illness was never understood.

Then one day a new monk moved in. “He saw big white snake,” Nga tells me. The monk saw the mysterious snake around the temple on a number of occasions, and took it for a sign.
Finally one day, the monk decided to speak to the snake. “He ask the snake if he could stay here,” Nga relays to me. The snake departed, and was never seen again. Since then, that monk has lived in this temple in good health, and still lives here to this day.

With our dinner over, and darkness surrounding the mountain, we say goodbye to our hospitable monk, and start our descent back into town. We make our way carefully down the steep path. With neither moonlight nor hand railings, it would be easy to fall in the dark. Fortunately I have a flashlight to show us the way. As we descend, I look down over Chau Doc. Few of the streets are lighted, and most of the town is enveloped in darkness. As I look beyond the town, there are even fewer lights. This darkened horizon to the west, is the land of Cambodia.

Night view of Chau Doc from the temple

For many that travel to Chau Doc, this town is their last stop on their way to the neighboring country. In fact, this border town is home to many ethnic Cambodians (Khmers). The next day as we drive out of town, I see many Khmers, easy to pick out with their red and white headscarves.

There was a time years ago, when Chau Doc and the entire Mekong Delta were part of the kingdom of Cambodia. There continues to be conflict and territorial disputes between Cambodia and Vietnam, as I’m about to see for myself. (Check this website soon for my next post...)