A Friday in Laos

I have never considered myself a travel photographer. It may be a strange thing to hear from someone in the West (as you most likely are reading this), as most of my images are from the East. But the East is vast. When I photograph Thailand, or Japan, it is with the eye of someone deeply immersed in their histories and culture. Even my time in Italy and Romania, or the subjects I choose when in the UK all center around a shared Roman history. That said, even though I was born and live in Thailand, I do consider myself British, and there is no denying that impacts my worldview. Why the preamble? Because today I am going to bring you some images from what they call the Peoples Democratic Republic of Laos, a country that flies the hammer and sickle.

The main reason I chose Laos is not related to glass, but a far deeper relation to why I photograph. Right now Thailand is seeing violence on three borders. Cambodia has been shelling 50KM into the province of Sisaket, displacing thousands, and killing more civilians and children than any country should be proud of. Western media has twisted the conflict into a David vs Goliath scenario, but the truth remains that Cambodia is provoking retaliation in the hope of Western interference. In the South there is extremist insurgency. The North? Friction with both the Junta and rebels in Myanmar, with heinous human trafficking rife along the border. I was in Sisaket only last year documenting the Durian plantations and saw the struggles the people there had with low crop yields already. I did not want to exoticise their suffering from this conflict. I chose instead to cross into Laos via the Friendship Bridge in Nong Khai in a hope to promote unity in this time of uncertainty.

We started off on Thursday, with the intent of photographing the border town of Nong Khai to contrast with Vientiane. Not apples to apples as Vientiane is the capital city of Laos, and location wise it lies opposite the bank of Mueang Si Chiang Mai. However, Nong Khai town is where the Friendship Bridge to Laos is located. I have never been to Laos as an adult outside of one flyover and that was quite frankly enough Laos for me. I am often struck by the thought that if I was born just 150KM North, how different life would look. The bridge itself is just over a kilometer long, to give you an idea of how vast the Mekong really is. Much like the Nile in Egypt, the Mekong has nurtured civilization for millennia, with the UNESCO site of Ban Chiang (100Km away, likely closer once due to terrain shift) dating pottery back to 1,500 BC and bone even further. This is approximately the same period as Rameses II of Egypt. Yet somehow Thailand is still reduced to tourist spots and nightclubs.

Nong Khai was the same as it always was, people were hiding in the shade and only after the sun dropped did preparation for the daily night market (that extends the length of the boardwalk) begin in earnest. Samlor (three wheeled tuk-tuk like vehicles) drivers were sleeping in the shade, and with the Asawann mall complex within throwing distance, much of the local commerce has slowed. Even at high watermark, fishermen were not to be seen in the heat of the day. Later, runners, cyclists, couples and families emerged to enjoy the cooler hours. Much of Thailand revolves around food, to the point that the Thai informal greeting is “Have you eaten yet?” As someone who grew up in the UK and inherited my father’s constitution, much of the offerings are far beyond what I am brave enough to try but seeing the enjoyment of people in these markets is always a treat. In the UK people tend to leave the house with a raincoat and dour expression. Most people here enjoy life no matter how much or little they have, and few are camera shy. It is one of the things I truly love about Thailand.

I embarked on this trip with my partner Dao, and luckily she speaks Lao or at least a Northeastern Thai dialect that is close enough to conversate. I speak Thai well, but Laos is not a language I can grasp. Conversations in the language often sound like arguments compared to the softness of Thai. Before I begin to describe our entry to Laos, I want to contrast it with something more apples to apples and that is Bangkok, there is always a sense of scale when arriving. You are instantly greeted with a skyline of towers upon towers, cars, bikes, roads, highways, malls, shops and relentless noise. Arriving in Vientiane could not be more opposite. After passing through immigration, we paid 20B (80 cents) for the bus across the bridge, old Heisei-era Hino units donated from Japan for the PDR. On the other side of the bridge, we paid another 20B to Laos immigration for the entry stamp and found ourselves surrounded by hawkers, with a giant casino to the left, and a market and two benches (which made up the bus terminal) to the right. We opted to do the trip without GPS or mobile data, partly from stubbornness and roaming fees, partly for the adventure. Buses to the central station in Vientiane depart every half-hour and at the hour. We jumped on and enjoyed a 40min ride through what would be considered “minimal” scenery even in rural Thailand through a shattered windshield.

Upon arriving the scenery did not get much less minimal, with wide open areas and a lot of ongoing construction. There were towers dotted around, and a whole section of French colonial buildings. But mostly it was hasty breeze block buildings. The Laotian people seemed far less afraid of the sun, likely out of pure necessity. There was little to no shade outside of cloth parasols that the market vendors erected. We saw a temple off in the distance and made our way towards it, passing market stalls that splintered from side streets. We passed the one and only convenience store we would come across, stocked with Thai produce. Yes, in Laos even convenience stores are the exception, not the rule.  We found that the temple we had seen was under construction, and the site had been taken over by workmen who likely lived on the grounds during construction. I have never once in my life felt unsafe, and unsafe is not a word I would use to describe this feeling, rather aware and uneasy. I could chalk this up to unfamiliarity, but it was more than that, and this is something Thailand needs to be aware of should they ease restrictions on Laos in search of a workforce to combat the declining birthrate. We passed through the grounds and found ourselves at the Patuxai, a giant commemorative arch that showed the first signs of touristic life.

Across from the arch were a few cafés in prefab buildings. We entered to cool down and got talking with the barista, a girl in her twenties. She asked where we were from and seemed glad to hear that we had come for the day from Udon Thani, stating that the café was a Thai franchise. Udon being the nearest large city to Laos and often seeing retail tourism. The girl affirmed this and told us she would often go to Udon and make use of the mall and night market. I am often frustrated that I need to get much of my photographic equipment from Bangkok, but to need to leave your country to “shop” puts this into perspective. We finished our loop of Vientiane by making our way to the riverfront, and then back to the bus terminal for the final bus of the day at 17:30. There really was very little in Laos, and the girl in the café seemed like a normal person (who enjoyed shopping and travelling), but there was an undercurrent. It seemed like a tougher place without a doubt, the camera was not as loved, and the people seemed less communal. Take what I say with a pinch of salt as I spent only half a day in Vientiane, and half my life exploring the length and breadth of Thailand. Seeing the hammer and sickle fly on every street corner did not fill me with optimism either.

I was left rather saddened by what I saw over the bridge. Laos was much like Isaan in many ways, and that was the saddening part. Vientiane is the capital of Laos, Isaan is the Thai outback. Yet the construction I saw was numerous, and my hopes are that the people of Laos will continue to find a way forward. I am unsure if I will return, but I am glad that I crossed the Friendship Bridge even if it was the return crossing that gave relief. It also makes me wonder what life must be like on the Korean border, or in Germany when the wall still stood. As I write this I am left with the question “How can life and our prospects be so different just one kilometre apart?”

DRobertsPhoto works in partnership with ZEISS and Angelbird Technologies.