Loud, excited tourists crowded the Golden Triangle to finally appreciate its history with their eyes. The huge river that drew the border line of the three counties was filled with boats. Burma was on the left, Laos on the right and Thailand at the bottom, with China up the river. Each of the boats displayed different colorful flags to identify their country of origin.
During the 19th to 20th centuries, the people of China had become addicted to the opium the West was selling to them. This addiction spread like a plague down south to the three neighboring countries, Burma, Thailand, and Laos. The Golden Triangle had become the major export center for all the opium addicts in Southeast Asia.
The seven of us hired a massive boat meant for 40 people, went down to the river and got in. The engine started and we chugged off up the river. The refreshing cool breeze brushed against our skin with little sprinkles of brown river water dashing on our cheeks. I stretched out my hand from the side of the boat and felt the cool water going through my fingers. I watched the water splash along the side of the boat that was making multiple ripples in the murky river.
Since Burma was closed off for fascinated tourists, we went to visit the border of Laos. We got off the boat and paid money for our visit. As we looked around we surprisingly saw tons of whiskey bottles with snakes and scorpions in them being sold along the dirt road. Some of them had coiled dead snakes that were biting on their own tails; some snakes were biting on the scorpions. From what i heard it is thought to be some kind of medicine for different illnesses.We moved away from these interesting peculiarities and walked further on.
Other items that populated the small market place were handbags and vintage Chinese artifacts. The purpose of many of the objects was hard to make out but I could figure out that some of the objects were opium smoking containers of many sizes.
When we started heading back we saw little children, no more than five years old, begging for money. As we went further on, more and more children appeared like a swarm; all of them saying something that I assumed must mean “Give me some money, please”. I was startled to see a tiny girl, herself no more than a baby, carrying a crying infant tied to her back. She was trying to settle the baby by giving him Coca Cola. Once in awhile a compassionate tourist who felt sorry for this mass of children would pop a couple of coins in their empty coke cans. I carefully watched them with empathy and saw how they put the little money they got into a separate bag they were carrying. This, it seemed to me, was a good technique to make it look like each little child had not received any money at all.
We got back on the boat and headed back to Thailand. During the homebound journey, as the boat spluttered up the river I reflected on all that I had seen that day. I marveled at the differences I experienced between Laos and my home in Thailand. Loas, filled with poverty and jobless people compared to Thailand with a lush growing economy. How could crossing a river produce such differences in economy, culture and language?