This former French colony, separated from consumerist Thailand by the River Mekong, is an unspoiled oasis of forested misty peaks, placid lakes, and acres of emerald rice fields interrupted by golden spires of Buddhist monasteries – YOGINDER SIKAND A week in Bangkok and I was fed up. The madding rush of traffic-clogged streets, rampant consumerist frenzy in malls chock-a-block with products that malls the world over stock, hordes of tourists crowding every historic site, imploring pleas from painted dolls offering ‘massage’ and more, had worn me out completely. Even the magnificent Buddhist temples, each a work of art, were insufficient attraction. After visiting almost a dozen — which my guide insisted that no visitor to Bangkok dare miss — each one seemed to resemble the other. Little wonder a tourist billboard in an inconspicuous eatery grabbed my attention. It advertised forested peaks hidden behind clouds of mist, placid lakes skirted with quaint bamboo huts, verdant islets dotting an enormous river, acres of emerald rice fields stretching into the distant horizon interrupted by golden spires of Buddhist monasteries, and smiling people. Welcome to the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos, the poster announced. I was susceptible to temptation and yielded to it. Perfunctory research revealed that Laos is one of the world’s few remaining officially socialist countries, and therefore untouched by the ravages of mass tourism. With a population of less than 7.7 million, this former French colony is sandwiched between China in the north, Thailand to the west, Vietnam to the east and Cambodia in the south. It is one of the most verdant countries in the world, with forest covering 80 percent of its total land area. At Bangkok’s swank Hualampong railway station, I boarded a train to the border town of Nongkhai to the north, a comfortable overnight journey. From there it’s an hour by bus across the border to Vientiane, the admin capital of the Democratic Republic of Laos, a distance of just 45 km. The bus fare: the equivalent of a mere Rs.2,250. The border between Thailand and Laos at this point is the mighty River Mekong that flows from the highlands of south China into Laos, and merges with the sea in the Gulf of Siam. Crossing the mile-long Friendship Bridge that spans the Mekong, I entered Laos, and as we sped along the highway towards Vientiane, the sharp material contrast with Thailand came as a shock. Rundown metal and bamboo shacks and wooden houses on rickety stilts lined the road. Drab, depressing Soviet-style office blocks displayed faded signboards. Garbage lay in giant neglected heaps on street corners. Thirty minutes later we drove into Vientiane’s main bus station, set in the middle of a chaotic, but lively traditional market. Getting off, I changed some money and hailed a tuk-tuk — a roomier version of the Indian auto-rickshaw — to take me to the part of town that my guide-book recommended as suitable for foreign tourists. This part of town shores the River Mekong and boasts rows…
