Published on May 23, 2005

I was in Nong Khai on the way to a visa run in Laos. A friend from the US who was visiting Thailand accompanied me, and we had one night to spare in Nong Khai. As anyone who has ever been to Nong Khai can attest, there's not a lot to do.

The front desk at our hotel had a flyer touting “Sunset Cruise with Dinner on the Mekong River”. The boat departs at 5.30pm and returns about an hour later. While not thrilling, it sounded pleasant enough.

We arrived about 5.15pm, boarded, sat down, perused the menu and promptly ordered. Within just a few minutes we were enjoying a cold beer and soon after received ample portions of decent food.

Sure enough, exactly at 5.30pm, the boat’s diesel engine turned over, making an annoying racket and filling the evening air with the stench of diesel fumes. This was compounded by the fact that we weren’t moving, meaning that diners were receiving complementary diesel fumes with their meals.

There were only a handful of passengers on the 15-metre boat, with tables and chairs for about 25 people. Despite the fumes the passengers relaxed, drank, and chatted while watching the orange sun slowly sink behind the horizon. It was now 5.50pm, our food and second large bottle of Singha was nearly gone, and the sun was just about touching the horizon. The passengers had already taken their photos.

My friend and I decided that it wasn’t really a cruise, just simulation. Since we had already eaten and seen the best of the evening sun, we asked for our bill so we could leave, but the waitress assured us that departure time was just a moment away.

And sure enough, right at the stroke of six, the answer appeared: A bus pulled up to the pier and 20 tourists excitedly boarded the boat. Finally we were ready to go!

As if timed especially for the group leaving the dock, the sun disappeared for the night behind a row of clouds hugging the horizon. So much for the sunset. Perhaps we could call it a moonlight cruise.

The boat chugged along the Mekong for about 100 metres and began a turn in order to make its way upriver. Suddenly it ground to a halt. It had managed to land itseld on a sandbar.

It was near the end of the dry season and sandbars hide just below the surface. The captain revved the old engine, determined to power off the sandbar. The noise from the engine increased, though not nearly at the same rate as the diesel fumes, which had joined forces with the now three large bottles of Singha to cause one of the earliest hangovers one could get. After 20 minutes of this, the passengers began taking bets on what time we would be free of the sandbar, with some beating we would need to wait until the rainy season.

With engines screaming and fumes billowing, passengers had nothing to do except drink, choke and laugh at the predicament.

The boredom and a headache made me long for terra firma.

I politely suggested to the captain that since we were only 100 meters from the dock and people on the dock were watching, and laughing at us, if someone were to come out with a longtail boat they could bring five people at a time back to the dock.

This would lighten the ship and lift it off the sandbar. The light bulb over his head immediately lit up brighter than the sun that had long since set, and in a minute he was barking instructions into a mobile phone.

After taking 10 people to the dock (“guys with the biggest beer-bellies first”), the boat churned off the sandbar and cruised back to the safety of the dock. The cruise was finished; they had returned at the appointed hour. A total of 200 metres traveled; a couple million units of carbon dioxide inhaled; and a few passengers got a brief view of a sunset.

To add insult to injury, we were charged for the food and beer and “cruise”. Next time I want to take a cruise on the Mekong, I'll wait for rainy season. The rain clouds may obscure the sun, but at least we'll be moving.

Mike Smith

Special to The Nation

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