Lovingly written and shared by Jackie M. Kleist...........

“One of the most scenic boat rides in Laos” the brochure claimed. “A tranquil and relaxing 6 hour ride down the Mekong; observe native bird and fish species in their natural habitat.” The five of us gazed around the tour agency office thoughtfully, trying to discern from the faded posters and piles of glossy pamphlets if the tour was worth two days and $12 (keeping in mind that a large pizza is less than $3.) “Let’s do it,” we agreed, and forked over the money, looking forward to our short and pleasant river journey.

We reunited with our three Israeli friends (Angel, Erez, and Helly) early the next morning, fueled with Lao coffee the color of motor oil and armed with baguettes (since Laos was once a French colony, French architecture and cooking are prevalent.) Anxious to begin our journey, we paced the boat dock, looking for Boat 25.

“That one looks good!” I pointed out a boat with cushioned car-style seats.
“Ooh that one has a bar and a restaurant” Erez gestured to another.
Most of the boats, though weathered, looked comfortable, and all featured comfortable looking seats, ample space for walking around, and a restroom. All of them, that is, except for one forlorn looking craft near the end of the dock. Our worst fears were confirmed; it was 25.
Climbing reluctantly aboard, we settled ourselves on the damp floor of the boat (so much for cushioned seats), which was canoe-sized and slowly filling with water. Various undergarments were hanging from the plywood roof above us, and our female driver motioned to us to “just brush those aside.”

“At least it’s only a six hour ride,” Helly smiled; “it’s 8:30am now, so we should be off here by 3:00.” We settled back on the mats, prepared for departure. All around us, more river-worthy vessels filled with older (and richer) tourists were swiftly departing the dock. The middle aged men and women, most wearing clean white tennis shoes and expensive sunglasses, smiled and waved happily at us as they pulled out of the dock, food, water, and bathrooms easily accessible.

Forty-five minutes later, we were still docked. “I wonder what we’re waiting for,” Angel commented. Our driver, who had made no attempts either to start the engine or recollect her underwear, was perched happily in the back of the boat, spitting sunflower seeds over the side. Suddenly, we spotted the reason for our delay. Six MORE tourists were making their way unsteadily over the rocks, descending towards our canoe.
A half hour later, all eleven of us had managed to wedge ourselves and our belongings into the boat, and we were finally headed down the Mekong, ready for some of that tranquility. Unfortunately, our boat motor was deafening- similar to a Blue Angel jet-making conversation more or less impossible. “LOOK AT THE WOMAN DOING LAUNDRY!” one of us would scream intermittently. “WHAT?” the others would answer. The woman driver spent much of her time crawling around in the boat (for no apparent reason,) forcing all passengers to try desperately to slide themselves and their luggage all out of her way. I suspect she was enjoying this immensely.

Not long after departure, however, the engine began to smoke, slowly sputtering to a stop and leaving us adrift in the middle of the Mekong. The driver, crawled once again towards the back of the boat, picked up a filthy plastic tube, and stuck one end into her mouth, attempting to siphon river water into the overheated engine. This was beginning to remind me of one of our infamous family vacations. After numerous attempts, the woman finally gave up and we pulled over to the side of the river.

A few hours later, (the engine had eventually been revived) the driver dropped us off on a sandbar along the side of the river “to use toilet.” As soon as all eleven passengers were off the boat, she sped off down the river, all of our luggage in tow. She turned around and waved one last time. (Fortunately, I was wearing the money belt-passports and credit cards safely tucked inside.) A group of small children were bathing in the river nearby as their mothers, heads wrapped in tribal cloth, did laundry. Does anyone take Visa?

Fortunately, the woman eventually returned with our luggage (apparently she had gone to visit a “friend” downriver), and, after a little more engine trouble, and SEVEN more hours in the boat, we arrived at the tribal village, ten hours after departure. Ears ringing, we staggered off the boat. I don’t know how much more tranquility I can take...

Aside from the boat journey, Laos has been wonderful. We attended a real Lao party (at a Buddhist temple, no less,) explored a couple caves, and helped teach village children English at an organic farm. Tomorrow it’s onto Hanoi, famous for boat trips to Halong Bay....