The time: approaching sunset. The place: an old railway bridge across a river in southern Laos. The paradox: No train has passed through here in more than 50 years.
Today, the multiple-arched, aqueduct-like bridge mostly sees foot traffic, as well as the odd bicycle or water buffalo. And around this time of the day it hosts sunset gazers, providing the perfect vantage point for photography. At nearby riverside cafés on the island of Don Khone, you can quaff a Beer Lao and contemplate the sun silhouetting the coconut palms.
Ten years ago, this border region was considered very dangerous because of insurgency in nearby Cambodia. Today, the biggest hazard is falling coconuts. Coconut palms proliferate through this alluring region, known as Siphandon — Lao for “4,000 Islands.”
Swollen by tributaries, the Mekong here reaches its greatest width — 14 kilometres — splitting up to create a maze of channels and islets. The number of islets varies with the water level and the optimistic figure of 4,000 probably includes sandbars that appear during the dry season. Flooded forests in this vicinity form important spawning grounds for many kinds of fish that are a source of protein for the locals.
The railway bridge would not look out of place in a small town in France, and that's not surprising, since it was built by the French and is a relic of their colonial presence. In the early 20th century, the French completed five kilometres of railway track across two islands here — the only line built in Laos — so cargo could bypass treacherous falls and rapids on the Mekong and reach, or be retrieved from, boats that would come up the river from Cambodia. But shipping on the Mekong was only possible seasonally when the water level was high enough for large boats, and eventually a road replaced the river as a trade route. Over time, most of the railway track here was ripped up by local villagers for use in their own backyard construction projects. A rusted French locomotive lies abandoned near the railway bridge, along with a dilapidated customs house.
In recent years, Siphandon has witnessed a new “colonization,” this time by backpackers, who are in some ways similar to the French — young, rich, indolent and badly dressed. Siphandon is a backpacker hot spot: Many come here expecting to spend a few days and often end up staying for a week or more, unaware of the passing of time as one sunset blurs into the next.
In Siphandon, nobody is in a rush to do anything, with lots of siesta time in between tending water buffalo or chickens, or milling rice, or fishing. The French colonists described this laid-back style thus: “The Vietnamese plant the rice, the Cambodians watch it grow, and the Laotians listen to it grow.”
One of the main draws of Laos is in fact its bo pen nhang (never mind, take it easy) attitude. Thais from Bangkok come to Laos on holidays to learn the art of slowing down. Westerners come to learn the art of doing nothing, which the Laotians seem to have perfected.
