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ripped off!

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

by Someone Who Is Now Wiser
Luang Prabang, Laos

How do you know if someone is bona fide or if they’re ripping you off? Short answer is you don’t! Especially if you are in a hurry.

As we were racing up the hill at Houay Sai, our landing point in Laos, and the place from which the slowboat would leave in quarter of an hour, a lady called out, offering us boat tickets. She assures you there will be time to get to the boat pier and she will organise a tuktuk taxi. You don’t have time to see if there are any other options and you don’t even know where the pier is. So you negotiate a price. We paid 8,500baht, which sounds a lot of money in any currency, because it is a lot of money! (NZ$425) We hoped it wasn’t a scam; all we would have had to show for our gullibility would have been ten tiny luminous green stickers declaring SLOW BOAT.
Near the pier everyone had to hand in their passports to be taken for a police check. Having already been checked three times since arriving, this seemed somewhat excessive, but it was obvious we were going nowhere without completing this formality, and so everyone reluctantly, uncomfortably parted with their documents. At least we were all in the same metaphorical boat. And soon we were all in the same literal boat too, with our safely returned passports and a real ticket.
As we were settling ourselves onto the benches, a lady came on board with a small problem. According to her records we had underpaid. That much we understood. After some discussion and pointing at lists and showing of receipt (which actually had no amount written on it – we hadn’t thought to check it!), it became apparent we had been overcharged!!!! At this point the lady disappeared, and with her, the small problem.

Fast forward to the end of the first day.
Darkness has just fallen and you’re still standing at the river’s edge with five children and eight bags. Rach has gone on ahead to nab a room before the boat empties completely and there are no cheap rooms left in “town”. Two guys grab a backpack each and you tell them not to. They are most insistent and you do not fancy wrestling the bags off their backs. Besides, you fleetingly think perhaps you had seen them on the boat and they are part of the service. If the day had been shorter, you might have been thinking more clearly, you might have recognised them for what they were. But for the moment you don’t mind the help up the hill. However, these guys hang around after dropping the bags, they just won’t leave. Their body language and gesturing indicate they expect to be paid. Duh, of course they do! What was I thinking? Nothing….
“How much did you agree to pay them?” Rachael asks.
“Nothing. I told them not to pick up anything, but I couldn’t stop them”
They demand more money than we are carrying! We settle on a much lower, but still excessive, price. They will eat well for a few days!

Fast forward another day. Same time, same darkness falling, another new place.
We hadn’t copied out a map of Luang Prabang, so we were at the mercy of a tuktuk driver to take us to the guest house we had made a tentative booking at. “Vanvisa guest house, yes… very far, no can walk!” he stated, sadly shaking his head. All we could do was believe him. Let’s just say he was paid handsomely for a less than 1km ride! It took longer to load our packs on top of the tuktuk than the trip itself! And that included having to stop so that the father who was hanging off the back like a monkey keeping an eye on the bags up top, could run back up the road to retrieve a shoe that had flown off the foot of a hissy-fitting-ER2!
Ripped off.

It was looking to us like we were not going to enjoy Laos (oh yes, add to the rip-offs of the previous two days the fact that the guesthouse had put its prices up and our dollar had fallen making our stay double what we had budgetted)…….then we went looking for dinner options. It all looked pricey. We finally settled on an outdoor riverside eatery opposite an expensive restaurant. Imagine our delight upon discovering the waiters carrying our plates of curry out from the restaurant!! And at a quarter of the price of eating inside! Things started looking up……

mighty mekong

Saturday, November 22nd, 2008

By Rach, who ordinarily is not fond of boats, and was happy you could see land at all times

 

Jungle-covered hills rise up from the river. Crops of sweetcorn march in straight lines down to her edge. A reddish-brown ribbon stretches along the trees wherever a road winds through the jungle, occasionally releasing a red dust cloud behind a motorbike. Vines compete with banana palms and tall straight large-leaved trees to cover every spot of hillside not cultivated or cleared for an infrequent hut.
The river itself has amazing rocks poking up through the surface. They look as if they’ve been thrown down in a fit of anger by the gods and landed sideways. Massive white sanddunes line one bank, while directly opposite pinkish brown sand provides a home for vegetables to grow in. The water alternates between millpond flat and swirling eddies with white-water-rapid-like whirlpools. It’s brown. Dull. Murky.

Six hours of floating down the Mekong was preceded by four hours of preparations.
We had beaten the roosters at waking up! The goal had been to complete the 1.5km walk with packs on backs to immigration by opening time, 8am. Arriving at the office, we discovered we needed to walk another 2km! Where’s a tuktuk when you need one? Ferrying all the other tourists in town to the immigration queue ahead of you. That’s where.
Signing out of Thailand was easy; the official lived in the same lane we had been staying on and had seen us around and so stamped our passports without even sighting everyone – no other border crossing had been that simple.
Down to the river we scurried and piled all our bags and ourselves into a tiny, narrow canoe “ferry”. I think I might have been inclined to enjoy the ride more if Rob had not announced the rescue plan for if we went down! At least we weren’t wearing our packs like a girl in the next boat – apparently she was doomed to be dragged straight to the bottom. Comforting thoughts for one who doesn’t like being in water over her head.

On the Laos side there were twenty forms to fill in (literally) and US$310 to part with (glug). Everyone else was being charged an additional Saturday overtime fee, but we somehow managed to escape that one. Even if a sign says you should, don’t offer money that is not requested.
That only took a minute to type, but in reality the waiting lasted well over two hours, and as ER2 was having one of her more disagreeable mornings, it felt even longer in the blazing sun! Having been told there was only one boat and that it left at 10:30, we were not convinced we would be on the river that day, still being at immigration at 10:10. We raced up the hill, purchased boat tickets, waited for a tuktuk to take us to the pier, waited again at the pier for more formalities to be completed and finally tiptoed up the gangplank. Although we were among the last to board, we were fortunate to get some of the best seats right at the front of the boat away from the noisy smelly engine, and with a big space in between the seats to roll out a mat for the children to stretch out on.

The trip was very peaceful, chugging along at 23km/hr (yay for the GPS to tell us so!), a cooling breeze blowing through the hair, water lapping against the hull. Peaceful, that is, until….graunch. The engine sounded different, the water was swirling around madly and it took two men hanging off the steering wheel to keep the boat on course. All conversation on board ceased and collectively we held our breath, while a third crewman came running form the engine room shouting something unintelligible (to us). The three of them looked down the outside of the boat, exchanged some gesticulations and words, and Mr Engine Man returned to his post. We’ll never know what that was all about. By the second day, though, we will have worked out that the engine is quietened before entering the rough water and there are plenty of rocks just under the surface.

What does one say about six hours on wooden benches staring at scenery? It’s quiet, relaxing (when you stop worrying about losing someone over the edge), enjoyable, full of “look at that”s for the first few hours, scenery, scenery, scenery….when asked what the day’s favourite was, Mboy6 got in first with, “Going on the boat”, and Jboy12 was almost as quick with his, “Getting off the boat”. Neither of them were wrong!

 

The sun was setting as we pulled in to the pier (actually, that’s hardly the right word – the front of the boat was wedged against the sand and the gangplank was extended out over the water!), the last boat of the day to dock. By the time we were off the boat and had scaled the sand-dune, darkness had fallen.
Pak Beng is a little one street town rising straight up the hill from the river, existing, it would seem, entirely to service the boats, which are forced by darkness to spend the night there. It consists exclusively of eateries and guesthouses, the owners of which actively encourage you to give them business.
We find a bed, dinner and hit the sack. How can sitting on a boat all day doing nothing make you so tired?
At 10pm the entire town is plunged into instant and complete darkness as the generators are turned off. Our room is right on the road, but not  sound is heard all night. In fact, the town is eerily silent.

Escaping from our small dark room in the morning, we sit on the bench outside to eat steamed buns and bread rolls. A gaggle of locals descends on us and stops to stare. They are not a metre from us, following every mouthful! We eat, smile, share the first Lao words we have learnt and they keep staring!!!

I was wondering if a second day on a boat could be any different to the first, other than being, as we had been warned, longer. I was to discover it could be – on two counts. Firstly, the boat was smaller. Secondly, we put more people on! We started off with 108 passengers plus a crew of three, which meant, in our opinion, the boat was full – every seat was taken and some of our family were sitting on the floor. As there were cushions on the seats, it seemed it might be more comfortable. But not for long. Soon we were stopping to pick up another three passengers and luggage. But that was nothing. At the next stop we took on at least a dozen 50kg sacks of rice, which were piled in the aisle, and when that was full, were laid out on the ground space we had claimed for the children when they had given up their seats to adults. Twenty or so people accompanied the rice, each with their own bag or two. The boat sank submerged (no, it wasn’t quite that bad) dipped lower in the water, but it was still not packed up. There was still a large metal box to be handed over the side, and not one, but two motorbikes to be strapped on the front. Only then were we ready for a now-slower pushing away from the sandy shore. I’m sure all the farang (white faced foreigners) were certain the boat was now full, but this taxi was to make two more stops before anyone would get off to lighten the load. Are you seeing the picture? There isn’t an inch of spare space anywhere. Bags are on the roof, in the aisles, under seats, on laps. People are perching atop the rice sacks and in each other’s laps. Whatever position you were in when the loading began, you will be in for the next few hours – if one person moves, everyone has to move! Do you recall which end of the boat we are at? The very front. Guess where the toilet is. The back! This, of course, necessitates clambering over aforementioned rice sacks, bags and people for anyone who can not “hold on” for nine hours!
But, believe it or not, this was not all bad. The boat now sat more securely in the water instead of bouncing about. And it made for much more of an adventure, although I’m sure after sitting cross-legged for hours with two kids in his lap, Rob would have settled for less adventure and more comfort! His only escape was to do the toilet-trip, and while he was gone one of the less considerate men we have met stretched out in his space and went to sleep for the rest of the trip!

Again, just as the sun was setting (and an awesome view it made across the river sinking down below the mountains), we pulled up to the riverbank for the last stop of the day. We breathed a prayer of thanks and relief. Another day to remember.

*chop*chop*

Friday, November 21st, 2008
from J14's journal

To prevent ourselves from looking like cavemen we sought out a local barber. This did not take too long as there was one not 50 metres away at the end ... [Continue reading this entry]

back to the future (groan)

Thursday, November 20th, 2008
by The Queen (that's what I feel like....read on....) We know exactly what is going to happen on 20 November 2551. Because we've already lived it. That was today's date in the Thai calendar. Interesting huh? So here's our future:   We're on holiday - ... [Continue reading this entry]

housekeeping

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

Actually that's one thing we are not doing much of. Even a complete overhaul of the packs takes less than an hour. Everyone over the age of six washes out their socks and undies in the handbasin each evening and ... [Continue reading this entry]

trekking: an adult’s perspective

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008
taken from Rachael's journal with Rob commenting in italics

trek 1st night

It was surreal to be standing there slightly above most of the Karen village looking down at the smoke curling ... [Continue reading this entry]

trekking: through the eyes of children

Monday, November 17th, 2008

 

If you were to read the children's journals, you would get the impression we did lots of eating. And that would not be altogether wrong, but neither would it be the complete picture. Immediately at ... [Continue reading this entry]

parenting in public

Sunday, November 16th, 2008

by Mama

When you read this we will be in the midst of our most public parenting adventure so far - spending three days and two nights with a group of people we don't know trekking through the hills around ... [Continue reading this entry]

in an elephant’s footsteps

Friday, November 14th, 2008
by Rachael Boy, that elephant had some stamina! With some holy relic of Buddha strapped to his back, off he went walking up the mountain - the place he stopped would be the site of a new temple. All I can ... [Continue reading this entry]

night market

Thursday, November 13th, 2008
by Rach

night market 3

Each evening as the sun sets over Chiang Mai the metal barrows that line the sides of the main street by day, looking like oversized rubbish skips, ... [Continue reading this entry]