Laos
Border post to Laos
Before we crossed the Mekong, we forgot to clear Thai customs. We therefore had to pay a small fine on our return to Thailand.
We boarded a long dugout canoe with a motor and crossed the Mekong. The river was wide at this point. On the other bank, we climbed up the steep bank and were amazed when we saw the customs house - it looked like a simple garden shed.
At the counter was a very tall man, I estimate almost two meters, well dressed in a suit and tie, light hair, reddish face - clearly a European.
I gave the customs officer my passport. He looked at it and stamped it. At that moment, the tall European said to me in almost accent-free Swiss German: "Oh, I see you're from Switzerland."
An Englishman who speaks Swiss German
I replied in surprise: "You too?" He laughed and said: "No, I'm English. My name is Higgins." He showed us his English passport. I asked: "But then why do you speak Swiss German so well?" He replied: "I worked in Zurich for many years. Now I'm the director of BP in Laos."
He asked us how we wanted to get to Vientiane. We said we would try to hitchhike. He just said: "That's not necessary. My chauffeur is waiting for me down on the shore with the car. You can go with me."
Of course we gladly said yes. We climbed back down the bank and there was a large American car with a driver. The driver opened the trunk so that we could put our rucksacks in.
During the trip, he gave us valuable tips: where to change money at a good rate, where to eat good steaks with Parisian bread (at "Le Club des Officiers Français" - there were no more French people there, but the name had stuck) and he also recommended a good, cheap hotel from the colonial era. The building had slanted shutters, everything was white - I felt like I was in the movie "Casablanca". Our room even had an anteroom, practically a small suite.
Not far from the hotel, he recommended a hardware store where we could exchange money. The exchange rate there was much better than at the bank. You should wait until there were no other customers in the store.
The men who remain silent Laos, Thailand, Australia, Bolivia 1973-1975
I was never perfect at it, but I always stuck to the rule of not asking too many questions.
In Vientiane, as the airplanes thundered low over the government palace outside and the shots rang out, we ran into the first best little restaurant. "Le Bar du Mekong". The old Swiss man from Geneva, who had come to Laos before 1933, remained completely calm. He just said: "This is nothing. It was worse in 1960." Nothing more. No war stories, no explanations. And I didn't probe any further.
At the border post we met an Englishman who suddenly spoke Swiss German and said he worked for British Petroleum. There was something different about him. In Australia, we met Bruno Scrobogna, who had served in the German Wehrmacht and later in the French Foreign Legion - but he never said a single word about this time. Bruno has made many films and written many books about the Aborigines, including one about the "Dreamtime".
There were a few others like them during my almost three years on the road. They all had one thing in common: they had a hell of a lot of life experience. You could feel it immediately. Tough faces, calm eyes, few words. I learned a lot from them, simply by listening and keeping my mouth shut.
The man we met in Tea Tree had a face like tanned leather, tanned, I wouldn't have dared to ask him his age, he didn't talk to anyone in the pub, only when he ordered beer, this man showed us a gold nugget almost the size of his hand, he lived with his Aboriginal wife in a very old car that he always parked behind the pub, and told us many unpleasant stories about how the immigrants had treated the Aborigines. Once, when he showed us his piece of gold, I asked him if he wasn't afraid that we would steal it from him, he looked at me and said very quietly, (he always spoke quietly) no he wasn't afraid, I had honest eyes.
I wanted to see the world, the people, the reality - not just the beautiful side. What others do is their business. Everyone is responsible for their own life. I realized that again and again on the road.
These men have shown me that some chapters in life are better left closed. Their silence was not a rejection. It was their protection - and perhaps a little bit of mine too.
Instead of asking a lot of questions, I just had a beer with them and listened. Sometimes silence is worth a thousand words. And sometimes that's when you learn the most.
Luang Prabang and the Pak Ou Caves
Our big wish was to travel on to Luang Prabang to visit the famous Pak Ou caves. As we couldn't get there by bus, we bought a plane ticket. Flights were very cheap at the time because they were subsidized by the government.
At the airport, we were amazed when we suddenly saw our friend Mr. Higgins again. He was also flying to Luang Prabang - with an old DC-6 and equally old pilots. As soon as we were seated in the plane, Mr. Higgins called out to us to join him in the back. He was sitting in "first class" (which was at the back of the plane). He was holding a bottle of champagne and was not alone - he had two companions with him.
We went to the back and were each given a glass of champagne. He was clearly delighted and gave us a tip: there was an "Alliance Française" in Luang Prabang that organized a lecture every evening. Afterwards there was always wine and bread rolls as a snack. Of course, we didn't want to miss out on that. We sat there dutifully during the lecture and then tucked into the wine and sandwiches. Both were really good.
Swiss Red Cross Mission
For health reasons, we visited the Swiss Red Cross mission. By chance, we were able to see a doctor and two helpers supplying the Pathet Lao army with medicines. There we also met two nurses who looked after our little "Bobos". Pleasant ladies, a little older than us.
In search of the Pak Ou caves
On another day, we went in search of the caves. We walked along the banks of the Mekong for a while and eventually found the place where a boat took people to the caves. It wasn't a tourist attraction back then - the boatman only made the trip from time to time. We decided to come back another day.
On the way back to the center, we suddenly heard loud noises and music.
Wedding celebration in Luang Prabang
We approached and were promptly invited to a wedding celebration. We were offered a local schnapps. It was loud, there was singing and a large parachute was stretched over the branches of a tree to protect us from the sun. We were immediately invited to join in.
The competition was simple: whoever could put the most small red peppers in their mouth and chew them won. Rolf took part. All the participants ended up with a bright red head - and the winner was, of all people, the groom. I can no longer say how much water was drunk afterwards.
We tried again later to get to the Pak Ou caves - unfortunately again bad luck. The boat owner wasn't there again. So we ended our stay in Laos. We flew back to Vientiane and crossed the Mekong again in the dugout canoe.
Evening at the "Club des Officiers Français
One evening we went to the club. After weeks of Asian food (which we never despised), we enjoyed an "Entrecôte Parisienne" with chips, green beans and real Parisian bread at very reasonable prices. An unparalleled pleasure!
We also visited the Buddha Park (Phra That Luang? - you probably meant "Bude Park" = Buddha Park) and the Patuxai.
While walking through the city, we suddenly came across a round square with a large fountain in the middle, surrounded by French colonial-style houses with round arches. At first we thought: "This can't be true - we're not in the south of France!" But no, we really were in Laos. The country was divided at the time: The Pathet Lao ruled large parts of the country, while the cities were still controlled by the official government.
Military coup in Vientiane
While walking around, we noticed that many small military planes were flying very low over the city and attacking the government palace. There were also many military vehicles with soldiers on them. We also saw many tall men walking around with radios - I assume they were American "advisors."
The shopkeepers hurriedly began to roll down the shutters. Shots were fired. We ran into a side street and saw a sign for "Le Bar du Mekong". Let's go inside! The old European immediately closed his shutter.
When we had recovered from the initial shock, I saw a huge poster of the Matterhorn on the wall and next to it car signs with "GE" - meaning Geneva. Five European senior citizens were sitting at the bar. The owner, a very old man who dressed like a Laotian, asked us what we would like to drink. Everything was on offer today.
We got talking - with him and the other gentlemen, Swiss and French, who had all lived in this country for 50 years. None of them were thinking of returning to Europe.
The owner shouted something to a woman in the local language. A little later, fresh bread rolls arrived. First we had a beer, then we were offered a really strong drink. It was pretty unreal - there was shooting and explosions outside, and we were sitting comfortably at the bar.
After the situation had calmed down a bit, we walked back to the hotel at a fast pace. Not out of fear, but simply out of caution.
We would have loved to have traveled to the "Plaine des Jarres" (Plain of the Stone Jars). There are over 2000 huge megalithic jars there, which were probably created between 500 BC and 500 AD. Unfortunately, the area was occupied by the Pathet Lao at the time and impossible for us to reach.