Old Man River
June 23rd, 2006
We left Jinghong Monday morning, June 19, 2006. It was still dark outside as I packed my backpack at 7 a.m. (China is a very large country, but also a very centralized one. Since the central government recognizes just one time zone, the western provinces are often dark in the morning.)
We went through passport control and an officer performed a temperature scan on each of us to insure that none of us was sick. Our boat seated 52 passengers — there are 13 in our group — and carried a crew of seven (five sailors and two female attendants.) It featured a sunken passenger compartment surrounded by windows, as well as an open-air deck in the rear. Before we left, the crew came through to again check our passports.
The Mekong River is narrow and deep in China. The water is murky; the current is fast. It cuts through the hills leaving hard rock on the riverbanks. There’s no place for a person to stand, wade or bathe and few people live along the river. In fact, I saw no evidence of human life along the Mekong in China. No people. No boats. No homes. The jungle is amazingly lush.
The scenery changes as you move down river. The Mekong becomes shallower and much broader. A true riverbank evolves. In Burma and Laos, we occasionally saw even small villages. I saw hills that had been cleared of trees, presumably to make room for plantings, though I never saw a crop growing. (Environmentalists have warned of deforestation in Laos and Myanmar, though you don’t see evidence of it along this stretch of the Mekong. There are trees everywhere.) I saw water buffalo and goats several times but never a bird.
I was surprised to see so little river traffic. We saw only a handful of boats during our journey and we certainly didn’t see any “tourist” traffic. I was also surprised to see how few people live along the northern stretch of the Mekong, which is admittedly a pretty hostile environment.
(It’s hard to imagine that anyone will ever be able to build good roads into such forbidding territory. Then again, it’s been done before — in the United States. The land along the Mekong is similar to what you find in Appalachia, which is now fully accessible to the rest of the United States. The Chinese are building a highway in
south Yunnan Province.)
The Mekong has been dredged as far south as northern Thailand, but there are still many outcroppings of rock along the way. It takes an expert pilot to navigate the river. We spent ten hours on the river, moving quickly. (I’m told that our boat had a top speed of 40 knots, which seems very fast.) Our pilot knew the river well.
The Mekong is not yet fully navigable. Large ships are unable to make it from China to the South China Sea in Vietnam. Large ships must stop at Chiang Saen in northern Thailand. The Chinese government wants to dredge the river to make it deeper and to remove the rocks, which make navigating the river so difficult. Some people in the region are worried that the dredging could hurt the fish industry. Some nations are worried about extending China’s growing influence throughout the region. (China already has enormous influence over the life of the Mekong, since the river begins in China.)
Our tour guide convinced our boat captain to stop at a remote Laotian village along the river. I disembarked with other members of my group and began walking up a steep mud path to the village of Dong Moon. I glanced up the hill and saw a group of children looking at down at our group. I am sure they were confused by what they saw. At the top of the hill, I greeted the children with a wave and continued down a short dirt road to the center of the village.
The village encompassed about two dozen homes. It was well organized. I saw a hand-painted sign on the main road, which featured a map of the village. You could see clearly each family’s plot of land. The village had no electricity and no running water.
MAP OF DONG MOON
Laotian homes, like Dai homes, are built on stilts, with living quarters on the second floor. Each home has a small yard, enclosed by a small gate. I walked past a cow, tied to a fence, in the middle of the road. She seemed unconcerned by my presence.
The villagers seemed curious about our presence. Some were indifferent. One man looked a little unfriendly, though he said nothing. He just watched me walk down the road. I met a woman and some children and took their photos. I showed them the photos in the viewfinder of my camera, and they laughed insisting that I take more.
I started back to the boat. I spotted two little boys on the road, just outside the house with the “unfriendly man.” I knelt down and opened my backpack, which I had filled with American baseball caps. I gave each of the boys a hat and took their photos. I glanced toward their house and could see the “unfriendly man” smiling.
As I stood up, I saw the women whose picture I had taken. She walked toward me quickly with three small girls in tow. She let me know that the girls wanted hats, too.
I walked down the mud path to the boat. As I reached the landing, I looked back up the hill and could see the village children looking down. I had one more hat in my backpack, so I took it out and waved it to see if anyone wanted it. No one responded, so I put the hat on the ground and continued on my way. I looked back and saw a little boy scamper down the hill and grab it. He was wearing a Red Sox hat when I last saw him.
We arrived in Chiang Saen, Thailand, around 7 p.m, passing by a giant gold Buddha perched high above the river. (The Buddha and an adjacent attraction were built for tourists. They are not considered sacred and are not ancient.) The Buddha proudly announces Thailand’s prosperity to its poorer neighbors. Chiang Saen is in the heart of the Golden Triangle, a region encompassing a portion of three countries: Thailand, Burma and Laos.
On the dock, we saw young men unloading a ship from China carrying vegetables packed in white styrofoam boxes. Chinese farmers can sell the vegetables more cheaply than Thai farmers can grow them.
We drove to the Mekong River Lodge located in Golden Triangle Park, five miles north of Chiang Saen. The lodge is nestled in the hills with a view of the Mekong in the distance. It has 54 rooms (28 in the main building and 26 in 13 two-room bungalows) and a large conference hall. The Lodge is a bit off the beaten path. It’s a resting place for tourists who want to explore the people and sites of northern Thailand. There is no swimming pool. No golf course or tennis courts. No gym or sauna. There isn’t even a front desk, just a guardhouse. We appear to be the only guests.
The Lodge is built in a vaguely Thai style, though the rooms are decorated in what I call “European-Ikea.” They are clean, simple and an unadorned. There’s no wall art — and no warmth. (The hotel attracts a European clientele and the owner made no effort to evoke the spirit of Thailand.) The bathroom in our room has a toilet (that sings like a church organ when you flush it) and a urinal but no bathtub.
People in Chiang Saen are working to develop an eco-tourism industry, but it seems that flower has yet to blossom. A few miles away, Burmese authorities have opened a gambling casino, aiming for a different clientele. I’m told that the casino is empty most nights.
Entry Filed under: Freeman Fellowship
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