By Lynley Capon
Travel Writer

VIENTIANE, Laos – Living in Thailand can mean crossing borders with monotonous regularity. My husband Peter and I needed new visas. We considered going to Singapore, Penang or Vientiane? Having been to Singapore and Malaysia several times, we chose Vientiane.

Obliged to return to Chiang Mai within a few days for a business meeting, we faced a tight schedule. Peter booked the tickets accordingly. We planned to take an overnight bus trip, submit our applications at the Thai embassy in Vientiane, pick up our visas the following afternoon and then return by bus and plane. It looked like a perfect plan.

On a Sunday, we boarded the first bus, noticing a mix of nationalities in the other seats. Our 12-hour ride allowed for little sleep. Using the toilet proved daunting too. The rollicking of the bus and the proximity of fellow travelers meant that once was enough. We appreciated a toilet stop on terra firma along the way.

At 8 a.m., we reached Udon Thani near the border. Until then, we’d had no food. Yet we went to find another bus to take us to Nong Khai, the Thai border town. For two hours and 40 kilometers, this second vehicle rattled and shook with frequent stops. When not napping, I recognized the fellow passengers who’d ridden with us from Chiang Mai.

At Nong Khai, we needed a tuk-tuk to the border. An eager driver nabbed us and our bags, directing us to his tuk-tuk. When we rejected his stated price, he looked crestfallen. Luckily, we bargained down to a reasonable 50-baht fare.

As the tuk-tuk struggled out of first gear, we looked at our watches and realized that reaching the Thai embassy in Vientiane by noon looked unlikely. A hint of panic gripped me.

On the way, the tuk-tuk driver stopped, asked us to get out and tried to renegotiate for a 900-baht fee. Friends had warned us of rip-off attempts on the Thai side of the border. Peter slapped a hand hard against his own thigh and shouted, “Take us to the border now.” Looking even more sullen, the tuk-tuk driver had no alternative. These farang refused to be duped.

At the border post, we again encountered familiar travelers. After filling in forms and waiting, we picked up our passports and passed through a gate into “no man’s land”. A helpful Japanese visitor asked me if we knew where to stay in Vientiane. Learning that we had no plans, he showed me a card of the guest house he favored.

Everyone climbed onto another bus to cross the Friendship Bridge (over the Mekong River) to the Laos border post. We walked through uneventfully, only to be accosted by taxi drivers wanting exorbitant prices to take us into Vientiane 19 kilometers away. Seasoned travelers among us led the way to a local bus. We squeezed on with the locals and rolled into the city at noon.

From the bus stop, we found a tuk-tuk and named the guest house mentioned by our Japanese friend. We were told it would be 80 baht or 30,000 kip. Peter calculated that 80 baht equaled only 20,000 kip so that’s what we paid. Using a currency so devalued can be incredibly complex. One Thai baht equals 250 kip. The smallest note we saw was 500 kip.

Once settled at the comfortable Siri 2 guest-house, we decided to visit the Thai embassy despite being hopelessly late. Walking in the hot sun, we covered a few kilometers along the main avenue with its huge replica of the Arc de Triomphe, a French monument. Traffic drove on the right, which was unusual for us, so we needed to remember to look left before crossing. Once, I checked right, stepped out and nearly was bowled over by a car.

At the embassy, we gathered information for our applications the next day. We’d need to wait until 1 p.m. on Wednesday to pick up the new visas. Our flight from Udon Thani had a 3:40 p.m. departure. We had little more than two hours for a return trip that had taken four in the other direction. I felt sure we’d miss the plane, but we decided to risk it.

Finally, after we did paperwork, photocopied our passports and had photos taken, it was time to eat. When walking, we’d noticed a Scandinavian Bakery café so we went there for wonderful coffee and delicious cake. That was my food for the day because the excitement and tension had drained my appetite. Peter found some nice rice and vegetables for his dinner, like Thai food.

On Tuesday morning, we had no time for breakfast and left at 8:30 for the embassy, there joining a queue of familiar people. By 10:30, we’d submitted the papers. Then at liberty until 1 p.m. the next day, we strolled about, soon finding a row of cafes with cheap food. We had a wonderful, big fruit salad with yoghurt and coffee. Then we rented bicycles nearby and spent a few hours in wheeled exploration.

Gazing across the Mekong River, we could see houses in Thailand. Many embassies and ambassador’s homes were situated near the river. When I aimed a camera at a huge security fence around the U.S. ambassador’s house, a guard rushed out, telling me “no photos”. Although Laos is a communist nation, there’s little visible evidence and many Buddhist temples and monks. The two ideals co-exist.

By Wednesday, we looked rather sunburned. We pedaled to the café where we’d had fruit and yoghurt and then returned the bikes. Next we headed for the embassy very early to lead the queue to pick up visas.

We’d spun a cunning plan. When exploring, we’d found a taxi stand and noticed the 300-baht cost for a taxi to the border. That might work. No bus would be fast enough for us.

As Peter waited for the embassy gates to open, I went to get a taxi. Everything ticked like clockwork. I arrived in the taxi, the gates opened, Peter went one way for our visas and I went another for our bags. We got into the taxi and headed for the border post.

There we submitted our departure cards. As we looked about, a Thai woman approached, asking if we wanted a taxi to Udon Thani airport. “We sure do,” we replied.

In advance, we’d discussed paying up to 1,000 baht for this trip. If we missed the plane, we’d lose 5,000 baht! Conveniently, the woman asked for 600 baht and soon guided us to the taxi. Then in air-conditioned comfort, we went quickly on our way as the driver hurtled along a wonderful road at about 130 kilometers-per-hour.

Reaching the airport at 2:35 p.m., we checked in, went to the boarding lounge, breathed huge sighs of relief and then had coffee and pastries at a little café. The plane boarded at 3:20 p.m. We’d made it with time to spare.

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