The last few days in Thailand’s Phrao were full of people time in a wide range of settings. A few more coffee-teaching classes, lots of English conversations, meeting the parents of a village kids’ outreach program, a farewell dinner last night, and then a quick breakkie coffee this morning with two of the church leads. It was a really lovely, very full week; and if I was able to be a blessing to the Phrao community to a small extent of the blessing they were to me, that’ll be great.
I was on the road this morning after the breakkie/coffee meeting at around 9am. I followed my Google-Maps-inspired nose towards Laos’ capital. Billed as a 14 hour ride, I knew it would be a couple of days on the road, and I just let Google choose what appeared to be the most direct route. Getting at least past the Tha-Laos was priority, as I was aware of several possible hiccups. A few days up my sleeve before the China Embassy visa appointment seemed sensible, given that the timeframes from there are quite tight to the start of the group tour through China. And those timeframes will be immovable and unforgiving.
But back to the hiccups. The first major issue struck right as I arrived at the border post. And this was a bonus problem not even on my “possible hiccups” list! My eVisa quite clearly listed 7 possible entry points, and I’d let Google lead me to a post (probably should call it an “outpost”) that wasn’t on that list. It was something of an own goal, as I should have checked those listed posts more carefully. Oh isn’t hindsight a glorious thing!
This was no time to smile and charm my way out of the situation, as the issue was with both the Thai and Laos side of the border. The only real response was to get back on the bike and ride another two hours to the nearest post that was able to process my eVisa. Sigh.
I spent a moment grumbling to myself that it’ll add half a day or more of travel time after landing me in wrong corner of Laos. But sitting just now over the first steak-and-veggies meal I’ve had since West Timor, I’ve realised that it simply does not matter in the least. I need to be in the capital before Monday, and now that the border crossing is behind me I actually have time to kill. Or to more precisely time to explore. So in fact coming the long way around is actually a far better approach! Yay for happy accidents.
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. The two hour ride to the right border post was uneventful, and after a moment deciding whether a motorbike belonged in the “truck”, “bus” or “car” lane I parked to find no one home in my chosen immigration booth. That was sorted quickly enough by crossing to the truck lane (hmmm), and then the official wanted paperwork that for a few despondent moments I thought I couldn’t provide. Maybe my “there’s going to be problems here” mindset was creating problems. Anyway, I was ready to just roll with punches and figured that one way or the other my bike and I would find our way to somewhere to spend – it was just a question of which country we’d wake up in tomorrow! But that wasn’t the moment that would spit me out back into Thailand, as I eventually remembered where I’d stowed the required papers, and produced as demanded.
So Thai Immigration was no real concern, but Thai Customs was still to come. Here was the first of the anticipated hiccups. And right on queue… they threw a polite wobbly at the bike’s “Carnet de Passage” (think “Passport” for vehicles). I had discovered the hard way that Thailand doesn’t do the Carnet, although managed to charm my way into getting it signed on the way into the country anyway. The official who eventually signed it on my way in kept on saying ad nauseam that “I was importing illegally” and “might be in a lot of trouble”. Well today that theory was put to the test.
Unsurprisingly my Customs official scratched her chin for a bit and then called in her boss. Unsurprisingly the boss scratched her chin for a bit, too… and then phoned a friend. Meanwhile half a dozen other vehicles came and went, and I sat waiting while they pondered and percolated and postulated. I was already stamped out of Thailand in my own passport, so it would be a bit of a nuisance to be turned back now for bike paperwork irregularities.
In the end, just as I’d hoped, they just told me to “go!” with a slightly crabby off-hand wave – I suspect they decided it would be too much hard work to process as an attempted illegal export. I tried a little lamely – and only once – to ask them to sign the CPD so the incomplete paperwork didn’t cause me issues in Laos (and elsewhere). But when they flatly refused I felt the wise choice was to beat a hasty retreat before they backtracked on letting me through in the first place.
The strangest sensation followed. Although I have now crossed a couple of land borders and am kind of getting the hang of it, this crossing came with an added quirky figure of eight that took me from riding on Thailand’s left side of the road to riding on the Laos right-hand side. Being in control of a vehicle on “the wrong side” of the road is a first for me. I’m only a few kilometres into that experience as I write, but going ok so far. I will confess to a little concern that I might forget, and plough into oncoming traffic as I pull out at the lights somewhere. I can only hope not.
My first right-hand riding took me across one of the Thai-Laos “Friendship Bridges”, and then rolled into Laos inbound Immigration and Customs. I swear these places are not designed by actual people. There couldn’t possibly be a person on the planet who thinks the design is sensible. They’re confusing, convoluted, and even when someone gives good directions, there’s generally a snakes-and-ladders and terrible process to get from start to finish.
Even though I was on an eVisa, I still had to write the whole thing out by hand again on another form. Who could possibly say why. Oh well.
“That’ll be 40 Baht” (just a bit less than Au$2), the Customs official then said. “Oh,” I said, “I’ve already paid for the eVisa!” I was playing dumb, and you probably don’t need me to tell you that 40 Baht was destined for his pocket. Although the amount was trivial, bribes and under-the-table payments just aren’t in my “book of rules”. “It is an ‘after 4pm processing fee’,” he then claimed.
“No problem, I’m happy to pay – I just need a receipt!” I responded cheerily, this time with the help of Google Translate. It was the official’s time to play dumb. He simply repeated himself. So did I. This went on for some time, with me trying a few wording variations on the same theme. All through Google Translate. I’ll pay all legitimate fees – and those come with genuine receipts. Eventually he got cross and simply waved me away. I was pleasantly surprised at this, at a little victory.
Next I had to take his paperwork to a second booth, where a lady finished the job. I’d love to know why it could possibly require two different people, but there you go. Anyway, the lady tried the same ploy. 200 Baht this time, for what Google translated as “renting a car”. When I explained that I am not going to rent a car, she insisted that the money was required for the bike anyway. I still don’t understand. But buoyed by my earlier success, I rinsed and repeated. She was a bit more persistent than her previous colleague, but in the end if she couldn’t give me a receipt she and I both knew I had her snookered. Two for two!
I walked away from that booth – I admit only under my breath and please don’t tell anyone – with a little bit of a swagger. It was a totally trivial thing, but nice to have come up against the power of an Immigration team and to have held my ground without getting squished. But more than feeling a bit smug, I actually also felt just quite sad. I suppose these officials are drastically under paid and may well live in poverty. Part of me wanted to first refuse the bribe but then give them a tip anyway. That would be just messy. And the unsanctioned charge is an abuse of power which just isn’t cool. The whole system is no doubt riddled with it, and the amounts will doubtless grow from trivial to substantial as the seniority or power increases. That corruption is tragic, and is one of the basic ingredients of nation-wide poverty. Sad.
Anyway a quick shout-out to my very seasoned traveller friend Richard for sharing the “sure I’ll pay, I just need a receipt” response over a coffee in Melbourne before I set off. Thanks! Wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to come up with that under pressure without your tip.
At this point I was now free to leave Thailand and enter Laos… but the bike’s paperwork was the final hurdle, and I wasn’t going anywhere without my GSA. With the unexpected challenges getting into Thailand on the Carnet, I’d done much more research on Laos. But despite the effort, had found no concrete indications at all of what the process or format was for Laos. So I took a deep breath as I approached the final counter. There was now a simple parking-lot style gate that separated my GSA from Laos. And she sat there a few inches from that gate, just looking at the other side of the gate wistfully. It was as if she was begging me to please just get at least this one right!
With all the messy and complicated build-up, you can imagine my exhaled relief when the young man on the other side of the glass asked for the Carnet, by its actual title. I seem to have a real knack of doing things the hardest way possible, so I was actually a little caught of guard that this last bit went according to the right script! And to put icing on the cake, he was unperturbed (or didn’t notice?) that Thailand hadn’t signed the Carnet on the way out. (I believe the rules say that should be a problem.)
So here I am in Laos! Thank you Thailand – it’s been a great couple of weeks. But I’m glad to move on. This is a road trip, not a holiday or even a mission trip. And a road trip with no road… well that would just be not much of anything.
With all the shenanigans I’ve crossed the border far too late tonight for wild camping. So I pointed my nose to the capital, and planned to find a hotel an hour or so’s ride towards that end. 15 minutes’ on from Customs I pulled over just to change the GoPro batteries. It only took a second, but in that brief moment a scooter pulled up beside me with one of the typical questions to which I’ve become so accustomed.
”Where you go?” Clearly a little bit of English, but it was going to be hard work to respond, with or without Google. So I simply opened the map and showed him where my GPS was taking me.
“Too far!” he said. “You go back!”
He showed me a photo of his own BMW GSA motorbike, and I think the intention was to tell me that being a “fellow biker” is why he’d pulled over. It is also fairly obvious, wherever I go, that I’m not “from around here”, because of the flags I’m flying, the luggage, the Australian number plate. So his intrigue isn’t surprising, and since he owns a similar bike I was prepared to let my guard down a little.
So I have let him convince me that riding on would be unwise. He turned around and has led me to a cheap local hotel, where I learned in a probably-10-word conversation that his name is Moses. From there he sped off to show me to a restaurant that he said caters mostly for “white people like you”. Then with a “ok if I go now?,” he disappeared. Super-strange. I actually can’t help wondering if Moses was in fact a Laotian angel who has just headed off some disaster that would have struck had I’d ridden on into the night.
Adding to that curious wondering, it started teeming down with rain not long after I got to the restaurant, and a couple of hours later still hasn’t taken a breather. I might be feeling very sorry for myself right about now if Moses hadn’t turned up and turned me back. However it came to be, I am thankful.
Now for the first time I’m really feeling like the “Myanmar problem” is properly put to bed. Riding around through China only became feasible a week(ish) ago when they dropped the the Covid vaccine requirement, and just at that same time I found a perfectly-timed tour that was prepared to squeeze me in a week after the booking cutoff. All at the same time as I learned that sea and air freight around Myanmar was ridiculously expensive. It is a confluence of positive eventualities that almost beggars belief! I am very thankful.
Now I’ll head back to that hotel, and see what the morning in Laos brings.
There’ll be some new drama I’m sure. But if not, where would the adventure be?
3 Comments
Thank you Moses. Thank you God
Moses, you biscuit!
Giddy Up – Dan.
U made it yay ✔️
Well done.
God’s devine providence.
Bless ya