29/01/03: Catch bus to Vientiane and pick up passports. Cross the border into Nong Khai and book
into Mut Mee Guesthouse; to a bar with L and meet O.
30/01/03: Breakfast and then
explore town with L. Buy T-shirt from market for 40 Baht. Drink at Mut Mee with
usual crowd, plus ‘Poppy’ and some Dutch girl; on to a bar.
31/01/03: Ride bikes to Sala
Kaew Ku with Welsh L & K and marvel at the genius of Luang Pu
Bunleva Suirat. Tea at Mut Mee, and then catch the overnight train back to
Bangkok.
Nong Khai: town of the wild
frontier. Actually it’s rather quiet, but compared to Vientiane, staring back at us
from the opposing banks of the Mekong, it’s a riot. Maybe it’s just the stories
I've heard, but there’s a sense of violence about the place, a feeling that the
simplest faux pas will not be forgiven easily. Or maybe it’s just the cold
showers, or the belligerent mosquitoes. Even the Beer Chang seems uptight compared to the Beer Lao I’ve been drinking of late.
But
do not despair, for Nong Khai possesses a strange jewel that I’ll struggle
to find the likes of ever again. Sala Kaew Ku is a bizarre collection of
concrete follies on a massive scale. Hindu deities collude with every different
form of Buddha you can think of. There are serpents, giant frogs, skeletons and
strange symbols. In the centre, a mausoleum with graphic depictions of the
demise of Luang Pu Bunleua Surirat, the late, crazed genius responsible for this
place. You can make out his body beneath a glass dome; it’s been there since he
died in 1996.
Despite my hangover, part of me thought we should have
caught an earlier bus. The journey to Vientiane itself was not a problem – the
local transport had already proved itself to be fairly reliable – but we had to collect our passports and then make a dash for the last
permitted border crossing of the day. It wouldn’t be a complete disaster if we
missed this because we knew our way around Vientiane and where to find
accommodation, but we’d made arrangements to stay at the same place as L, Welsh
L & K, a guesthouse they rated very highly, which puts on yoga classes. On
top of all that, I hoped we might be able to make a final visit to the Scandinavian
Bakery.
But time was not my primary
concern. I had never felt entirely comfortable about surrendering our passports
for transportation back to Vientiane. It wasn’t so much foul play that concerned me, so much the possibility of human or administrative error. When
we turned up at what appeared to be a derelict passport office it looked as if
my worst fears might be realised. The doors were open but there was
nobody home and little sign of activity. Perhaps we had the wrong building?
We double checked the address and the surrounding street signage. No, this was definitely
the right building. 20 minutes’ worth of panic later, a member of staff walked
in off the street to inform us that the passport office had been closed for
lunch – no matter about the doors being left unlocked. Our passports secured,
we met up with L, had lunch at the Scandinavian Bakery and then hailed a taxi to
take us to the border, which seemed a lot farther outside of town than I remembered.
First impressions of Mut Mee Guesthouse are good. It
overlooks the Mekong, faces Vientiane, the rooms have a certain charm, and the riverside
garden is a delight. And yet I can let go of the feeling that I’d rather be back in Laos.
Before we parted company in
Luang Prabang, the congenial M (Mk.2) had said something that struck a chord:
that on any given travel it took him at least a month to get into his groove. Until
such time had passed he’d find the whole thing quite stressful, but something he
had to put up with as a matter of course. It had taken at least that long for
me, and, without even realising it, I’d finally found my groove in Laos. But I
wasn’t in Laos anymore (which I didn’t feel was haunted, despite the many bombs
the USA dumped there during the course of the Vietnam War) and I could feel the
attendant stress I by now associated with Thailand slowly edging its way in.
When L asks anyone if they
would like to accompany her to meet some friends for a drink in town I jump at
the chance. I am the only person that does: my partner is tired, and Welsh L & K fancy a break too. The bar in question overlooks the river,
so the quickest way there is to follow the waterfront; only a gloomy, empty market
stands in our way. A maze of corrugated iron, it isn’t the route I would have
taken, but I assume L knows what she’s doing. All is well until we come across
a dog guarding its territory. Formed like a ripped Doberman Pincher, it just
sits there waiting for us to make our move. L reckons the best approach is to
simply walk straight passed it. I
feebly suggest that we retrace our steps and go back around the houses, but L
assures me that this would add an extra 15 minutes to our journey. My pride
ensures I acquiesce.
To my relief the dog allows
us to pass. I cannot say whether or not it does so with much grace, because I
avoid eye contact in an effort to appear as nonchalant and unthreatening as
possible. The bar, when we arrive there, isn’t anything special but is pleasant
enough. We are there to meet an English girl and a Dutch girl who L met while teaching
in Nong Khai, some of her former Thai students, and O, and American chap who
somehow knows this lot. I feel like
I’m intruding on a reunion, but I like the students and I like O, who seems keen on having a bit of
a drink. I don’t get particularly drunk but the walk home back through the
empty market is a breeze.
We decide to spend a day in Nong Khai before catching a night
train the following evening, effectively allowing us two days to explore the
place. On the Thursday my partner and I amble into town. I’m after a pair of
shades to replace the ones I damaged at that bus station in Prachuap Khiri
Khan, which have since completely fallen apart. I don’t find any to suit, but I
do find a nice T-shirt at the local outdoor market – adorned with an image from the Ramayana – for the bargain price of 40 baht.
I'm a starting to like Nong Khai. Mut Mee’s grounds in particular are
proving the perfect environment in which to relax. Come the evening and everybody
seems to be hanging out: there’s myself, my partner, Welsh L & K, L, O, and those girls we met last night in that average bar. On top of all that, people
seem to be in the mood for drinking. I still feel like I’m intruding on this
group a little, but some of the anecdotes we’re treated to are quite startling.
It turns out that one of
their number is presently recuperating in a nearby hospital after receiving a
severe beating from the local 'mafia'. She (she!) became involved with a local lad, but that wasn’t the issue. In a bar where the foreign teachers from
the nearby English school readily mix with the locals, this English girl
intervened when some Thai guy got a bit rough with his girlfriend, who may or may not
have been one of the English girl’s students. In Thai society you're expected to mind your own business, but some of the foreign teachers couldn’t
help but get involved. This caused a a bit of a scene and forced the local lad who’d been
seeing the English girl to step in, which in turn caused a bigger scene. Ostensibly
the matter was resolved, but hell hath no fury like a Thai humiliated. Some
days later, the English girl and her local boyfriend were intercepted while out driving their scooter. She was beaten up. So was the young lad, and he also
had an eye gouged out for good measure. This was all second-hand news, and I can’t verify any of it, but apparently there is some sort of local Lao/Thai organised
crime thing going on, and these people don't mess about.
L also has an anecdote
concerning the in-house masseur (who, incidentally, bears an uncanny resemblance
to a young John Malkovich). Using the pretence of massage, she asserts he
persuaded her to take off all her clothes before proceeding to manipulate her
in a weird way. She’s at pains to point out that this wasn’t as blatantly indecent
as it sounds, but she felt violated nonetheless. Again, I cannot verify any of
this. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the spectre of John Malkovich’s face hanging
about the scene, I’d have filed this tale alongside the one about M (Mk.2)
being a bit 'creepy'.
Welsh L & K are taking me and my partner to the local
Buddha Park. The Buddha Park, or Sala
Kaew Ku as it is known locally, was the brainchild of an eccentric cove
named Luang Pu Bunleua Surirat. The story goes that sometime during the 1970s
Luang Pu was wandering the countryside when he suddenly stumbled into a ditch, only to find a preying monk at the bottom of it. This monk persuaded Laung Pu that it was his destiny to create statues of
Hindu and Buddhist deities. Completely untrained in the mixing of concrete, let
alone the infra-structuring of these giant sentinels, Luang Pu proved himself
to be very adept at this (I do not know whether or not the monk had been material
specific) and built a whole park of these things, first in Laos and then, to
escape the communist regime, in Nong Khai across the border.
And they really are a joy, if
a little bit bonkers. The craftsmanship is quite astonishing considering the
self-taught circumstances. Although Luang Pu died in 1996, his minions continue
building to this day, which allows a glimpse into the process involved. They
start off with a crude construction of bricks built up into the rough size and
shape of whatever form they’re assembling – it might be a 40ft seven-headed
serpent, a Buddha the size of a two storey house, a squat toad. Then twisted
metal is used to form the more intricate parts, and on top of this framework the
concrete is sculpted.
There’s an exodus headed for the capital. As well as
Welsh L & K and our American friend, L, we also have O and one of the faceless
extras from Mut Mee. This turns out to
be of real benefit because there’s been a mix-up with the train tickets and we
don’t have the beds we thought we’d booked; instead we’ve reclining leather
chairs. There are far more rudimentary versions somewhere on this train, so it
could be worse. Only L seems particularly bothered, citing a hitherto unspoken
about back condition as the cause of her consternation. She hobbles off in
search of an empty bed while the rest of us play cards and drink beer well into
the night, O now proving a most welcome addition to the team. I think I’m
probably the last to fall asleep, the soporific nature of booze finally getting
the better of me just around midnight.
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