RovingMind: Drums Along The Mekong (#1 in Lao/Cambodia travel series)

Traditional drumming in Lao.

Well, here I am, Southeast Asia once again. My fourth time. I landed in Bangkok Sept. 24 and proceeded north by bus to the famous Golden Triangle region. Where northern Thailand, Laos and Myanmar (formerly known as Burma) all come together.

In decades past, the area produced a lot of poppies for opium, much of which eventually found its way into the veins of junkies in the Industrialized Nations. For this reason the area has been portrayed luridly in Hollywood films, with dark plots and lots of blood-spattered savagery.

However, it's turned out to be one my favorite parts of Thailand. The opium is mostly gone now, though a fair amount of locals still smoke the stuff.

Going north out of Chang Mai, the second largest city in Thailand and a favorite of tourists, you pass through valleys lined with stately green-clad mountains, past butterfly enclosures (for making silk), elephant corrals, snake and fish farms, and fields of corn, lots of corn. Topography-wise, it reminds me of the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

Your humble correspondent, in the back of the bus.

Rice fields along the way.

The scenery was great, especially when the bus topped out on hills clad with jungle, trees and hanging vines, but was it hot. So hot that sometimes the sap seemed to boil right out of me. Most locals sought shade in the afternoon and took naps, then re-emerged after sunset to shop, eat out or whatever.

Eventually I made it to Chiang Khong, a little border town along the Mekong River...as far as you can go in Thailand. It's sunset now and across the way, across the brown and swirly flow, drums are beating out time to tribal chanting. Probably the Hmong People, I'm told, who inhabit that part of Lao. They say that it's a different world over there, a different culture anyhow, and from where I stand this tranquil evening it certainly sounds it.

The riverfront at Chiang Khong.

Chiang Khong itself is the consummate border town -- a little rough around the edges but emanating an air of excitement and anticipation. Vehicles are spattered with mud or coated with reddish dirt. Many of the people are Thai, but many also are hill tribe, with crinkled, prune-like faces and brownish teeth from chewing betal nuts and various roots and herbs.

Into this mix, toss the few odd "felongs," which is what they call white foreigners or tourists, and you get an idea of Chiang Khong -- Boggie in a ball cap mingling with friendly natives in need of dental work. I found a nice place to stay and settled in for a few days.

A hill woman displaying her produce.

Maleewan, the Thai woman who manages the guest house I'm staying at, describes her job: "This is my mission -- to feed and house felongs. So they will not be hungry on the way to Lao."

Indeed, that's what she and her staff do -- their guesthouse is a way-station, a last stop going into the so-called People's Democratic Republic. In reality, Lao is Communist-run and has been since the fall of Saigon in 1975. Hardly a real Republic.

Loudspeakers across the river demonstrate this every morning: At 0500 they blare forth with rousing music and Commie-style propaganda, urging Laotians to rise up and go forth to labor for the betterment of the state, or some such thing. Kind of a comrade-worker alarm clock.

A lot of us at the guesthouse found this amusing -- except that the exhortations jolted us awake at 5 A.M., too. From all the way across the river!

The dining area at Baan Rimtaling Guesthouse.

Maleewan, of Baan Rimtaling.

By the way, a bunk in the dorm there goes for 100 Baht these days (about $3 U.S.). It's a little on the rough side, but the view of the Mekong is excellent and the house green curry is to die for. It's reasonably priced as well, as is the whole menu.

At 32 Baht to the dollar, you can figure it.

I was quite taken with Baan Rimtaling; the ambiance, the people staying there, the view of the river, etc., and would like to have lingered there longer. But I was on a mission, of sorts, to proceed downriver through three countries: Thailand, Lao and Cambodia. To accomplish such things, I've learned, sometimes you have to keep movin'.

As the drums beat on across the Mekong, Maleewan admonishes her cats: "Hey, you behave or I take you all to Lao." As for what they do with them over there, well, let's just say that most aren't kept as pets -- for long.

To explore these and other such rumors, in a day or so I head on over there myself. Will have details in my next report.