Bureaucrazy in Vientiane

I was first introduced to the People's Democratic Republic of Laos in 1994. I remembered reading this funny word 'Laos' in some newspaper. The headlines announced the arrest of Luis Roldan in Vientiane. This infamous fellow -former chief of the Spanish Guardia Civil- had been on the run since the authorities had found firm evidence of major embezzlement. His 10 months of delicious baguettes and exotic cocktails came to an end a humid morning of January.

I traced the steps of this modern villano from Luang Prabang to Vientiane. It's hard to imagine a better place to get lost than Laos - especially if you hold a fake Argentinian passport as Mr. Roldan did. While it is true that any white person will stick out in the countryside, Vientiane itself is a decent sized urban salad where Western business men and diplomats mix up with locals.

There is not much to see in this capital. Actually, I wish I could've saved one or two days of my three days there. But I couldn't. Bureaucracy wouldn't allow me. My mission was relatively simple: extend my visa for one week and get a new tourist visa for Thailand. I arrived to the first checkpoint -the immigration office- on Day 1 at 11:26. As I stepped in the office three young ladies came out to inform me that the office was closed until 1pm. This chunk of information didn't quite match the 'opening hours' board standing right behind them where it was clearly stated that the office should be open until 12. No worries, I'm on holidays, I thought. When they came back I was forwarded to four different desks until I finally found the right form. Completed and signed I proceeded to the payment: $17 including a $3 out of nowhere service fee. Apparently stamping a paper is more complicated in Laos than anywhere else in the world and for that reason my passport had to sleep at the immigration office until next morning. I thought I had learnt the lesson on my first day so I woke up even earlier on Day 2. I bicycled to the immigration office and collected my visa. After that I went to the bank where I took 2 million kip out of an ATM (n.b. it's funny when I think of the meaning of this sentence in Dutch: I took 2 million chickens out of an ATM in Laos). I exchanged half of my chickens into US dollars, for I knew I was going to need them for the Thai visa. I arrived to the embassy by 10am, well in time. Here another surprise, the Thai embassy wouldn't issue Thai visas (why would they?), instead I had to apply at the Thai consulate. It took me almost two hours to find it. I arrived at 11:52, 8 minutes to closing time. My hope was gone, they wouldn't let me in. Indeed a guard canceled my first attempt. Somehow I managed to sneak in three minutes later. Aware of the unfriendliness of local bureaucrats I grabbed the first (sample) form that I saw and filled it in with shaky-sweaty letters. A merciful secretary accepted my application form at 12:02 and invited me to pay. This was my last challenge for the day. The Thai consulate wouldn't accept US dollars (why would they?), instead I had to race to the nearest bank to convert a handful of chickens into Thai currency.

I spent that afternoon recovering from the stress at a water park - not the most relaxing place some would think, but undoubtedly refreshing. Next morning I picked up my passport, everything in order, au revoir Vientiane!

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La primera vez que oi hablar de Laos fue en 1994, en algun periodico. Para los que no lo recuerden fue en Laos donde se asedió al mas célebre profugo de la historia reciente de España: Luis Roldán. En realidad Luis Roldán se entregó a las autoridades en el aeropuerto de Bangkok tras 10 meses de fuga por, entre otros lugares, el norte de Laos. Aunque no esta del todo claro (hay quien piensa que Roldan nunca llegó a pisar suelo lao, siendo esta una version pactada con el entonces ministro de interior Juan Belloch) a mi me parecio interesante retrazar los pasos de este infausto personaje por suelo asiático. Por ello me propuse completar la primera mitad del tour: Luang Prabang - Vientiane - Bangkok - Carcel de Brieva (Ávila). Aparte de los restos de la cultura colonialista francesa (entiendase baguettes, croissants, 2CV y demas) no encontre nada interesante en la pequeña capital. Mis dias alli los pase de oficina en oficina y de embajada en embajada combatiendo la burocracia lao, la mas pesada que he conocido. Tras tres dias consegui lo que buscaba, extender mi visado una semana mas y un visado para Tailandia. Un bañito en un aquapark cercano, un granizado viendo el atardecer y listo para seguir mi camino.