Bussing around Laos

Tha Khaek, Savannahkhet, and Champasak

Sitting for hours in the same position, objects wedged into your side, pop music blaring from overhead speakers may not sound like the best way to travel, but it is an unforgettable experience, and months later, my winter vacation in Laos is still fresh in my mind.

Laos has an extensive bus network whose efficiency rivals Japan's — buses leave on the dot and, barring unforeseen incidents, like a burst tire, arrive on time. From the capital, Vientiane, bus routes arc across the country like rainbows, and depending on the destination you can choose local, express, overnight buses. The fares are low, a fraction of the fares in Japan, but without the comfort. When the seats are filled, people sit on plastic stools in the aisle, and on 'bathroom' breaks everyone runs into the bushes. Buses in Laos truly transport: they carry anything a Laotian needs moved — items fill the aisles, racks, roofs, and cracks.

I saw a dining set swaying on a top heavy bus, I heard chickens cheep on two bus rides, and I sat with my feet on rice sacks, my backpack on my lap, more times than

I want to remember.

My first bus ride was from Vientiane to Tha Khaek, a tiny city south of Vientiane that receives few tourists. I went in search of warmth — it was winter — and limestone caves. I was buoyed by excitement and the six hours hemmed in by my backpack, the rice sack, and fellow passenger went smoothly. I arrived just as the dis- comfort was crossing the threshold from dull to painful.

Downtown Tha Khaek is a strip along the Mekong from where you can see Thailand's thicket of bright lights across the river. There is a temple nearby, but the main attractions are the limestone caves dotting the pristine mountains free of all touristy paraphernalia. Driving around you see only pure Laos life, the occasional local on a motorcycle, houses on stilts, and a tiny roadside market. It's a taste of — as I imagine it — old Laos. The rest of the country is not that quiet or as free of tourists as people make it out to be.

To see the caves I teamed up with a fellow traveler and hired a tuk-tuk. There are about six accessible caves and a swimming spot, and our tuk-tuk driver took us around, hooking us up with guides where necessary. We were the only foreigners in the area that day and the only people in some of the caves we visited.

Most of the caves have yet to be explored. The myste- rious "Buddha Cave", full of Buddha figures large and small, was discovered in 2004 by a Laotian man in search of bats for dinner and is now a shrine run by him. No- body is sure how or why the Buddha figures got there, but with their enigmatic faces crowded inside are intriguing.

From Tha Khaek to Savannahkhet the bus ride with a large man and his possessions crammed into me was uncomfortable, but for only three hours, a breeze. I gazed out the window at the scenery: villages, greenery, and dust. A larger city, Savannahkhet gets more tourists than Tha Khaek but less than the bustling Vientiane. The city is charming with some vibrant colonial buildings and friendly people.

A few kilometers from the city is That Ing Hang, the second most sacred temple in Laos after Wat Phu Champasak, an Angkor-era temple ruin. Few tourists go there but it is worth a visit. An angular, tiered structure of black stone with odd embellishments, it looks Gothic, and set in a wide weed courtyard lined with rows of golden Buddhas on two sides and crows flying overhead, it has a gripping, haunted atmosphere. I stayed an hour at the temple watching the few Laotians pray, wondering when the apparition would appear and spirit someone away. Then, I wandered over to the camera friendly village next door and took some shots of the colorful houses, the palm-tree fringed lake, and the buffaloes in the fields.

My next destination was Champasak, and from Savannahkhet I took the predawn bus to Pakse where I transferred to another vehicle headed there. Halfway into our journey the bus stopped on a side-street, and girls selling chicken and eggs on sticks besieged us and invaded the bus. High drama, they distracted me from the ache in my legs from being stuck in place with my feet on rice sacks. At every stop in a village or town, vendors of all kinds had crowded the windows in hopes of selling their wares. This, however, was the first time they'd boarded. The bus trundled down a sidestreet in search of a gas station, the vendors with us, cheer- fully shaking their chickens and eggs in our face from the aisle. Once the tank was full they were dropped off along the way and we proceeded undisturbed to Pakse.

Bordered by the Mekong and mountains, Champasak is beautiful, relaxed, and friendly. Children smile and yell "Sabaidee" (hello), hens and ducks patrol the streets, and dogs laze on porches. Champasak stretches across one sealed road, which sees little traffic. Parallel to it on the other side is a dirt path, fields, buffaloes, and more hens and ducks. It's a lovely walk, especially at sunset when peoples' spirits lighten and children play outside. The scant restaurants, guesthouses, and stores flank the main road towards the beginning. Follow it six kilometers down and you come to Wat Phu Champasak, the Angkor-era temple ruin, Champasak's claim to fame. There is not much of the temple left, but at the foot of a mountain and trees all around, a visit to the rubble is a nice excursion. I rented a bike and cycled there waving back to the children. One little girl edged close as I passed, hand out for a high five.

You can also visit Wat Phu Thawanaram, the oldest active temple in Champasak. It's eight kilometers south of town down a path along the river. A scenic bike ride it’s water got on one side and trees on the other, to the colorful building, but the main attraction is the stunning emeraldgreen rice fields across from it. Women crouch and work the tree-lined fields and buffalo graze nearby, the rural South-East Asian postcard. I walked along the fields, returning the "Sabaidees" and waves.

I could have stayed a week in Champasak's friendly languor, but I had a deadline and after a few days I embarked on a grueling three-day schedule of up-in-the dark, six- to eight-hour bus rides a day.

Of course, I could have easily afforded the airfare and just flown there, but it wouldn't have been as memorable.

Text & photos: Umber Qureshi