East is West

Laos and Cambodia

July/August 1990

The splendor of Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

Are you stressed, overworked, nervous, and tense? Come to Vientiane, the capital of Laos, where life not so much laid-back, as supine!

Checking in at Bangkok airport for the Lao Aviation flight to Vientiane, I was asked if I wanted smoking or non-smoking, aisle or window. Boarding the Soviet-built, twin-engine prop jet, my intention was row three, but the whole first six rows were stacked to the ceiling with our luggage and cargo. The flight turned out to be a sit-anywhere situation, with only half the available seats occupied.

The landing gear dropped down while we were still over Thailand as the aircraft crossed the Mekong River on approach to landing at Vientiane, Laos. Vientiane, the country’s capital, is said to have a population of 350,000, which is about ten percent of the total population, but seems like a sleepy village instead of a nation’s capital.

My room at the Lane Xang Hotel faced the Mekong, with a sweeping view of Thailand on the opposite side. The room was air-conditioned. The hardwood floor was highly polished, and the room and bathroom clean. The refrigerator was stocked with Fanta, Pepsi, and a mini-bar setup; no surprise as there is a Pepsi bottling factory on the outskirts of Vientiane. The big, pink Guy Laroche towels, embossed with Lane Xang Hotel, were a surprise. From the mini-bar a pint-sized bottle of Johnnie Walker was U.S.$7.50, a Coke $1.00, a Pepsi 50 cents and a Lao Beer $1.40; and Heineken beer $1.45. Bottled drinking water was free. Behind the hotel was a decent swimming pool and a mini-zoo with a couple of monkeys, a bear, and a lone crocodile. It was a strange feeling to walk through the lobby or sit in the dining room with not a Japanese tour group in sight. No the Japanese had not yet discovered Laos or Cambodia.

We dined on a set lunch and dinner menu that included a salad or soup,, a pasta course or similar, and a main course of port, chicken, or steak, followed by a choice of papaya or pineapple – the fruits, fresh, or course. Then came coffee or tea. The first evening a few of us dined at Le Souriya, a restaurant noted for its continental cuisine and extremely pleasant ambience. The meal cost U.S.$16, including the Bulgarian wine.

Payment for an item was sometimes calculated in a very strange manner. For example, I drank two cans of Heineken beer for dinner. The bill was U.S.$3.00 and 20 Thai bath. The actual cost was $1.60 each can. They accept the U.S. dollar or Thai bath everywhere in Laos, but only in bills. For anything under a dollar, they go to the next closest amount in bath bills, making for a strange payment combination of U.S. dollars and the Thai bath to make purchases. The Laotian currency is the “kip.” You may of course use kip, but the dollar is preferred. As the exchange rate is $1 to 750 kip, one would need a bag just to carry kip for shopping, as bills in everyday use are only in denominations of 10, 20 and 50 kip.

Angkor Thom, a few miles from Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

The Laotians are a charming people: gentle, courteous, and easygoing. Never once , did I see anyone hurry, much less run. Even when traveling, they ride their Hondas or bicycles at a leisurely pace, making a speed limit unnecessary. One can see friends riding Hondas side by side while carrying on a conversation in a quite unhurried manner.

Sightseeing in Vientiane is limited to a few wats (temples) that the Thais did not destroy during their invasion in 1828. Most impressive is Wat Sisaket, with its 60,000 Buddhas, and Wat Phrakeo, now called the Hophakeo Museum, which formerly housed the great Emerald Buddha now displayed in Bangkok. In the center of Vientiane stands the Monument des Morts, Vientiane’s Arc de Triomphe, an Oriental baroque monstrosity sometimes dubbed the “Vertical Runway” since it was constructed partly from cement originally earmarked for extension of the airport.

Our main destination in Laos was Luang Prabang, a charming city of 50,000 hidden amid the folds of high, jungle-covered mountains. This is a place the French referred to as an earthly paradise. I had toured in Xishuangbanna in China’s southern Yunnan province, just near the Laotian border, three years earlier. This is within 160 kilometers (100 miles) iof Luang Prabang, so I knew of the scenic beauty and minority nationalities who inhabit this area. For two days I sat at Vientiane airport for four hours while waiting for the clouds over Luang Prabang to clear so our plane could make the required visual approach and landing, but the flight was not to go. The third day, there was no scheduled flight, and by the fourth day, it would have meant a stay of less than twenty-four hours. I was also concerned about missing the once-a-week Friday flight to Phnom Penh and Ankor Wat.

Lao Aviation operates only two antiquated, Soviet built turboprops carrying about thirty passengers, and two smaller, twin-engine aircraft with a capacity of about ten passengers. There isn’t very much activity at the airport in Vientiane other than the occasional arrival of one of these few aircraft. On one such arrival, we noticed the pilot get off carrying two large fresh fish about 60 centimeters (2 feet) in length. It seems the Lao Aviation schedules are so informal as to allow a bit of fishing between flights!

A check of the map showed a road to Luang Prabang, a distance of about 400 kilometers (248 miles),. As Luang Prabang is on the banks of the Mekong, I inquired about overland or ferry transportation.. Impossible. It was the rainy season, the road if not paved, and it would take about a week. Furthermore, there were rebels in the mountains who occasionally attacked the buses, truck, and ferries, so the only safe transportation to Luang Prabang was by air. Thus, despite our best efforts, it looked like a visit to Luang Prabang would not take place on this trip.

Early on the third day, therefore, we were off to visit the lake created by a dam built with cooperation of the United States, Japan and several European countries. En Route, we stopped at a salt-producing area. Water is poured into trays and boiled by the heat of a teak-wood fire. One family controls two of the trays, which produce about 30 kilograms (66 pounds) of salt per day. This is put into 10-kilogram (22-pound) plastic bags which are sold for about U.S.$.50 per bag. As the salt is not produced from sea water, it contains no iodine, making goiters a not-uncommon sight in Laos.

We drove toward the dam that supplies the Vientiane area with its electric power, of which eighty percent is exported across the Mekong to Thailand. The drive was a fascinating opportunity to look into the life of the Laotian peasant. A gas station was a 185-lite4r (50-gallon) barrel, with a hand-operated manual pump. At another place, a table of 1-liter (1-quart) Fanta or Pepsi bottles, filled with gas, was the gas station. The 1-liter size was just right for the motorbike owner.

You don’t like the weather? Just a moment, please! One moment we had brilliant sunshine and blue sky; next sunshine and a few puffy white clouds; then just puffy white clouds, and later a cloudburst of torrential rain coming straight down in buckets and bouncing off the pavement. Instantly along the road, new streams were created. The water ran red from the iron-rich soil.

Pineapples would thrive here, and indeed, we had pineapples offered to us at nearly every meal. We had lunch at an open roadside restaurant in a village, with sheets of water pouring off the roof. Looking across the street was like looking through Niagara Falls. Then, as though the valve had been quickly closed, the torrent stopped, and the sun was shining again. The cycle was beginning again.

The dam was only a few kilometers away, but as we took a turn upward off the paved road, it was obvious the microbus would never make it. The road was too soft and gooey from the heavy rains. We decided to attempt to hike the 3 kilometers (1.8 miles) to the lake. The red soil was slippery and stuck to the shoes. Hiking proved to be a treacherous ordeal, but looking back over our shoulders, we saw a truck attempting the climb. With a crew of able-bodied, young men pushing, it soon whizzed past. We waved, they waved, and the truck stopped. Would we like a ride? Sure. We hopped aboard, and were soon at the dock area. Slipping along the path, we made our way to the small boat which took us on a cruise around the man-made lake and dam.

We then began to hike back, fortunately again with good luck. A truck passed with a load of people aboard and a dead wild boar. They signaled that they would be happy to give us a lift. Again we hoisted ourselves aboard, and the truck slid through the muddy ruts back to our waiting microbus.

Back in Vientiane, we were informed we had to change hotels. The Minister of Foreign Affairs from Japan, Mr. Nakayama, and his entourage would arrive the next day, so our last night would have to be spent in a different place. The following morning, I reluctantly packed for the move to the Ambassador Hotel. We knew the Lan Xang was the best in town and any others were unacceptable, but onto the minibus for the move we went. As we turned the corner leading to the Ambassador Hotel , there was a great groan from the group. The buildings behind the hotel sign looked as though there had been a bombing blitz the night before. They were simple concrete shells with all the windows and window frames gone, and the roff missing. And this was our hotel? It was a great relief to them see a stately, European style, four-storied building at the end of the drive. Formerly the mansion of a local tobacco baron, the Ambassador has fifteen air conditioned rooms and a most inviting lobby, spacious and clean.

The guide smiled as she handed me the key to my room. What a surprise I was about to get. As I was led to the room, I noted that the sign over the entrance read Vientiane Suite! It comprised a screened entry terrace for sitting in the evening, a large living area, a study area with a huge desk, and a sleeping area with a bed big enough for a while family! I measured the bed; it was nearly 3 meters (9 feet) wide!

I had insisted on going to the room alone, but the bellman came along anyway. I soon knew why. I not only needed someone to walk me through the operation of switches, but also a guide to show how the secret passage to the dressing area and bathroom operated. Along two walls and the width of the room were built-in wardrobes with ceiling-to-floor doors. It was through one of these doors that one passed to reach the dressing area and bath. In all there were fourteen of these wardrobes. Each, as well as the dressing room and bath, was 4 meters (14 feet) by 6 meters (20 feet). The living room and sleeping area were divided by ceiling-to-floor display cases of antiques, along with storage areas. I was so overwhelmed by the closets that I finally threw my shirt and slacks over the back of a chair!

The day began early with a 4:30am call, followed by breakfast at 5:30, and off to the airport at 6:00 for our 7:00 flight. I noticed that the guide suddenly became quite agitated and began looking at her watch nervously. The van was due soon, but it was a twenty-minute drive to the airport, so we were actually running a bit late. I asked her, since we were a bit late, if maybe she should give me the documents and visas for Cambodia, rather than at the airport where things would be rushed. The reply was mumbled. The documents had been forgotten. We would have to stop by the office to pick them up.

This would not normally be difficult, but I suspected, at 6:00am, the office would be locked. The van came and we rushed off to the office where the guide rattled the gate, awakening the lady with the keys, who moved in the casual Laotian manner. We met with success, however, and she returned with the package. We were on our way.

After a most casual check-in and cursory security check, we sat inn the departure area of the Vientiane airport and studied the Northwest Airlines posters on the wall, promoting the NWA World Perks program. We didn’t have Cambodian visas yet, as the embassy in Vientiane issues visas only on Friday and Saturday mornings. We had arrived on Saturday afternoon and were departing early Friday morning. I wasn’t sure that all was really going to be so casual upon our arrival in Phnom Penh, with only completed visa application forms with photos attached, and a U.S. passport. Yes, I had grounds for being a bit nervous.

Two ladies met us upon arrival and asked if we had visas. We gave our reply, and they laughed and said it was no problem. Laos may have been sleepy, but Phnom Penh bustled. Everyone was on the move aboard bicycles, Hondas, and the local-style taxi. This is a three-wheeled vehicle with the driver seated over the rear wheel to pedal, and the passenger riding in front in a seat between the two front wheels. It’s a kind of tricycle ridden back-to-front. The seat is intended for one passenger, though two or three pile in, but one passenger with boxes of goods for the market is much more normal. There are few cars and trucks.

We had expected to stay at the new Hotel Cambodiana, but were instead taken to the Monorom Hotel, where we checked in. I have stayed in worse only once, the summer before in Badong, China. The others retuned to the lobby to inform the guide the rooms were not acceptable. They were smelly filthy, with sheets that obviously had not been changed since the last guests, and bathrooms crawling with filth. A telephone call by the guide ascertained that rooms were available a the new Hotel Cambodiana, but the agent had paid only for the Monorom. A quick vote determined that we would move and pay the difference. Like the first time checked into the newly opened Jianguo Hotel in Beijing, in the early days of China travel, the Hotel Cambodiana is an oasis in Phnom Penh. The rooms are over-sized, with two double beds in each room, cable TV, air conditioning, and large clean bathrooms with toilets that actually work. Ah, I knew the stay would be a delight!

Unlike inn other Asian countries, there are no elderly people walking the children or sitting in groups along the sidewalks or in parks in Phnom Penh. There are just no older people, none. They simply did not survive the disastrous Pol Pot regime. Our guide mentioned that her father had starved to death when there was lo little food available that he had eaten the leaves of the trees. The family, of course, had been separated on the day the Pol Pot forces emptied Phnom Penh, in a period of only a few hours in 1975. The city remained a ghost town until the population was able to return inn 1979. Recently, she had found her mother and heard of the father’s plight. She also learned that her two brothers had not survived.

We ate our meals outside our hotel in various restaurants. One called La Luna was complete with blasting disco music. We had breakfast one morning on a floating restaurant on a bank of the Mekong. If any of the meals could be said to be memorable, it would be based on how bad, not how good they were. We ate sparingly in Cambodia, unlike the heavy eating we did in Laos. Lunch and dinner were a shrimp dish, a chicken dish, and a soup, washed down with Heineken beer, Coke, 7-Up, and Pepsi, all at U.S.$1 per can.

On our second day we took an early flight to Siem Reap to see Angkor Wat. Security is tight. One does see soldiers carrying AK47 guns, but the scene both at the airport and Angkor Wat is quiet and peaceful. The ongoing guerrilla war is in areas further to the west. The flight is a short fifty minutes from Phnom Penh and I feared we would have a repeat of our Laos experience, but the Russian-built aircraft left right on schedule.

A little before 10:00 a.m., I caught from the bus window a glimpse of Angkor Wat through the trees ahead. I knew how the Frenchman, Henri Mouhot, must have felt in 18:60 as he hacked his way through the dense jungle, and totally unexpectedly, came upon Ankor Wat. This huge temple complex had been built in the ninth to twelfth centuries. It is not listed as one of the seven wonders of the world, without good reason. It is simply awe inspiring.

One does not describe Angkor Wat, one experiences it.

We first toured Ankor Thom, and as we strolled marveling through the grand temple, shots rang out in the distance. I asked the guide what it could be and he replied, “Oh, someone is shooting mosquitos!” I looked down, and at my feet was a shell casing in the asphalt. The war had been to Angkor. We climbed, looked, and wondered at it all. Luckily, Angkor Wat itself had not been touched by the war. At least Pol Pot seems to have had some sense not to tamper here.

We returned later in the evening to Phnom Penh to be surprised by the Sunday evening traffic. The streets were clogged with Hondas, bikes, and the pedal-taxis, as the locals returned from a Sunday in the countryside – the one pleasure most can enjoy. Children under the ages of three or four simply run naked. I even noticed several times one naked child carrying another naked child. Chickens and even pigs scavenge throughout the city. One morning I even noticed a sow waddling across a city park, only a block from the former Palace.

The last day we drove the 15 kilometers (9.3 miles) out of the city to the “Killing Fields.” Very little need be said. Nearly 9,000 skulls or skeletons have been found in the quiet country fields outside the city. How would you feel to walk among the mass graves where up to 450 are found in one hole and many human bones are scattered around? In the path where you walk are not one or two, but a sea of teeth and scraps of clothing. It is said that between two and three million Cambodians were killed by the Pol Pot forces, murdering even their families and friends. The silence says it all – Pol Pot.