Now, Customs & Immigration is never much fun - certainly in Africa it is a nightmare of to-ing and fro-ing, queuing, forms, and, if you're unlucky, a bit of bribery and corruption. My abiding memory of Beitbridge on the SA-Zimbabwe border is of 8-hour waits in 45° heat. Airports are, of course, marginally better - if only because of the wait time (I think a regular 8-hour wait at Heathrow would probably bring down the government) - but train borders have got to be the best. You get off the train with about 20 other people, you wander over to a counter for your stamp, and then you get back on your train, or a new one of a different nationality. Either way, it's a matter of minutes - sometimes you don't even leave your seat.
Of course, the Law of Sod dictates that should you actually express this delight, something bad will happen. And so it was that the friend I was travelling with needed a visa for Thailand, was not a seasoned traveller, didn't think to get a multiple entry visa, and on departure from Thailand was told she couldn't re-enter the country from Laos at the train station without a pre-arranged visa. As it was a weekend and we were rushing off north to Luang Prabang, and therefore had no convenient access to the Thai embassy, I agreed for ease to forgo the train and to take a bus from Vientiane (Laos) to Nong Khai (Thailand), where we would rejoin the train to Bangkok. On our return from Luang Prabang, therefore, we made our way to the main bus station to board a rather grubby commuter bus, over-grandly named the International Thailand-Laos Express. It took 20 minutes to reach the exit point; we complete Laos formalities, then approached the Friendship Bridge where we waited for the train we should have been on to cross, before driving over - barely noticing the changeover of sides, were it not for the warning sign.
Of course, the Law of Sod dictates that should you actually express this delight, something bad will happen. And so it was that the friend I was travelling with needed a visa for Thailand, was not a seasoned traveller, didn't think to get a multiple entry visa, and on departure from Thailand was told she couldn't re-enter the country from Laos at the train station without a pre-arranged visa. As it was a weekend and we were rushing off north to Luang Prabang, and therefore had no convenient access to the Thai embassy, I agreed for ease to forgo the train and to take a bus from Vientiane (Laos) to Nong Khai (Thailand), where we would rejoin the train to Bangkok. On our return from Luang Prabang, therefore, we made our way to the main bus station to board a rather grubby commuter bus, over-grandly named the International Thailand-Laos Express. It took 20 minutes to reach the exit point; we complete Laos formalities, then approached the Friendship Bridge where we waited for the train we should have been on to cross, before driving over - barely noticing the changeover of sides, were it not for the warning sign.
On the other side of the Mekong, we stopped again for Thai immigration, and while I waited in one queue, my friend went off to arrange her Visa On Arrival. I was back on the bus when she cam across the parking lot, with, I swear it, terror hanging above her head in a black cloud. They were refusing to let her through. Our train tickets to the southern border, proof of accommodation in Malaysia, and a two-year work visa weren't enough to convince the Thais that she'd be leaving the country, and they refused her application for a visa. Obviously another Small Man in a Small Job. I got off to try to help, but the next minute, the conductress from the bus was dumping our bags on the tarmac, shouting "No waiting for visa! Only permit! You get back on bus NOW or we leave!" The first and only unpleasant Lao I have ever met in my life (and I fear that I told her as much...) Not sure what to do, I was torn between abandoning a woman who'd never really travelled before, at a remote-ish Asian border post, and abandoning my long-planned journey - we needed to get to the train station within the next hour if we were to be in Bangkok for the next train - it was a row of shaky dominoes, and I'll admit to a slight frustration that it was in jeopardy through no fault of mine.
The un-Lao lady was still speaking in capital letters, and getting shriller by the second, when a man came up and took charge. I said "She needs to be at Nong Khai train station in one hour." He said, "No problem, see you there." I allowed myself to be bundled back onto the bus with my rucksack, and the last I saw of my friend was as the bus left the carpark: hurrying around the corner of a distant building behind a large Thai man who had already taken control of her cumbersome suitcase. That was also the moment I remembered that we'd been delayed getting to the airport that morning because she'd left her bankcard in the ATM, and now had very little cash (and no Thai baht) with her. Yes, I know - I can't believe I left her there either... But it was done, and there was nothing I could change. I got to the train station and sat down to wait.
Back at the border, my friend was told she'd need to buy a plane ticket before she'd be given a a visa. The man who'd offered to help took her to a small shop about ten metres from the customs official's desk, where a woman charged her USD10 to print out a fake ticket from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur for the next day. The official barely glanced at it, stamped her passport and turned away.
Ten minutes before the train left Nong Khai Station, my friend arrived on the platform. And the line of dominoes remained standing.
The train journey itself was rather dull in comparison - just more endless beauty, small villages, wetlands and temples. Ah, the shame.
The only downer was our restaurant attendant, who was touting for business all evening. The menu had a small notice at the bottom: "If you receive overpriced or ungentle service, please call -". I didn't call, but I was tempted at 5am when he started to pace the corridors, calling out loudly in very whiny Thai, "BREAKFAST TIME!"
The un-Lao lady was still speaking in capital letters, and getting shriller by the second, when a man came up and took charge. I said "She needs to be at Nong Khai train station in one hour." He said, "No problem, see you there." I allowed myself to be bundled back onto the bus with my rucksack, and the last I saw of my friend was as the bus left the carpark: hurrying around the corner of a distant building behind a large Thai man who had already taken control of her cumbersome suitcase. That was also the moment I remembered that we'd been delayed getting to the airport that morning because she'd left her bankcard in the ATM, and now had very little cash (and no Thai baht) with her. Yes, I know - I can't believe I left her there either... But it was done, and there was nothing I could change. I got to the train station and sat down to wait.
Back at the border, my friend was told she'd need to buy a plane ticket before she'd be given a a visa. The man who'd offered to help took her to a small shop about ten metres from the customs official's desk, where a woman charged her USD10 to print out a fake ticket from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur for the next day. The official barely glanced at it, stamped her passport and turned away.
Ten minutes before the train left Nong Khai Station, my friend arrived on the platform. And the line of dominoes remained standing.
The train journey itself was rather dull in comparison - just more endless beauty, small villages, wetlands and temples. Ah, the shame.
The only downer was our restaurant attendant, who was touting for business all evening. The menu had a small notice at the bottom: "If you receive overpriced or ungentle service, please call -". I didn't call, but I was tempted at 5am when he started to pace the corridors, calling out loudly in very whiny Thai, "BREAKFAST TIME!"
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