246. | The nameless Chinese city and the motorbike

I was in China last week.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I was in the Golden Triangle Special Economic Zone.

Let me tell you how this happened.

But I will tell you in advance that I had to experience more exciting events than the city before I got to the point where I had something to look at.

A sudden outing on impulse

I spent my last day in Houayxay, the Laotian city with a name, when I remembered that I wanted to go to the Chinese city with no name.

It promised to be a special experience to visit, and it is only an hour’s motorbike ride from where I live.

So after lunch I set off to rent a motorbike. I was waiting to be able to ride a bit again. And here I was again on the right side of the road! After 6 months of driving on the left, this also seemed strange.

The most difficult motorbike rental of my life

The thing is that Houayxay is truly a transit town. After one, maximum two days, all faces are lost, because people just come and go. Except for me, of course, who – in my opinion – spent a Guinness record time with my two weeks in that town, which even the locals say is small and has nothing in it.

The consequence of this transit is that there are no motorbike rental places. Apparently, I’m very used to being able to rent one on every corner, because I searched here for days in vain, asked several people, but I couldn’t find one and they didn’t understand what I was looking for.

My host said that there was a place. Since I couldn’t find one based on what he said, he accompanied me. To the Gibbon Experience office. Where it was written next to the entrance that motorbikes are available for rent. This was the fourth time I’d been to this office, and it would be a shame to deny that it’s typical of me not to have noticed this sign.

There are four electric motorbikes available for rent. Due to the distance, this type would not have been good, but I didn’t have to make a decision because all the motorbikes were on the streets that day.

However, I received the information that you can rent them at the port. This sounded good because I arrived just 10 minutes before from the port, where I bought my boat ticket for the next day.

So I went back to the port. Where I have also been several times, but – I swear – I didn’t see a single motorbike rental place. So I looked around the port with great enthusiasm, but I couldn’t find any trace of it.

However, there were many motorbikes parked in one of the parking lots, and a few people next to them, I thought, they only know where and how I can be happy today.

Only one of them spoke English, he said yes, there is a place, he will show it to me, but now – as I can see – they are playing petanque, so please wait a bit. I waited for the end of the match, then I left them, but he just pointed in a direction, I thought, now I can do it on my own.

Well, it didn’t work. However, I experienced again that when you finally find out where a specific place is, you can be surprised that the shopkeepers and cafe employees working 100-200 meters away have never even heard of the fact that you can rent a motorbike almost next to them.

Since there was no other option, I went back to the players, then I asked the guy to hold my hand and be kind enough to show me where I can rent a motorbike.

He took me to his brother’s.

We discussed the price on the way. The conversation went like this:

– And how much would you like to pay for the motorbike?
– Honestly? Nothing.

I laughed at this, and so did he, if I remember correctly, but maybe we weren’t on the same frequency. I thought I’d get closer to the next frequency with a Q&A.

– How much does the motorbike cost for a day?
– 800,000 KIP.
– Well, I don’t want to take it for 24 hours, 5 hours will be enough, so I’ll give you 300,000 for it.
– That’s not enough, I’ll give you 400 BHT for it.

I should note here that 400 BHT is 270,000 KIP, right, the connection is clear. I said OK, and to be generous, I said that I would not pay in BHT, but in KIP and that I would not give him 270,000, but 300,000. I felt my offer was generous based on the above, but then he thought differently:

– Give me 350,000 KIP and we will be good.

I was a little confused that my first offer was not enough, so he said a smaller number, which I generously added, so we got exactly where I had said at first, but we added to that.

Of course, we hit each other’s palms and arrived at the little guy.

Who seemed reluctant to rent the vehicle.

I clearly explained where I wanted to go. About 60 km there, a little wandering around the city and back. It wasn’t a big deal, but the guy was really sucking his teeth. I had a feeling that he imagined it as me renting the motorbike for 350,000 and not using it.

They talked a lot among themselves, which was good to listen to, but now I’m lying. I asked the English-speaking brother twice if there was a problem? No, nothing, but they talked among themselves unwaveringly, and the teeth-sucking and deliberation about which motorbike should be the victim were over.

Both available machines showed a strong correlation with the general picture of industrial waste. If until now I had imagined that the Thai and Indonesian motorbikes were not in good condition and that I should be worried, this thought was quickly swept away by a wave of the Mekong.

Finally, the decision was made. I managed to choose the better of the two, because I deserve it.

And then came the warnings and instructions.

– Don’t go too fast.
– I don’t like going fast. I’ll be as careful as in a china shop.
– Stop every twenty kilometers, because if the car overheats, it will stop.
– I’ll stop after every 15 kilometers, just let me go.
– If I park, don’t leave the car in the sun, because it will be hot.
– I swear, I’ll park on the east side of the skyscrapers, but I’ll start anyway.
– Don’t leave the helmet in the bike, take it with me.
– Of course, I also thought about buying a few cucumbers. It will be great to walk around with a helmet on my arm, at least I’ll have somewhere to put the vegetables. Can I go?
– It needs gas too.
– That surprised me. I thought I would just sit on it and it would go by itself. God, I will fill it up when I finally get to go.
– Let me take a picture of the scratches on the bike.

There were about 136 scratches on this bike, and there was no smooth surface anywhere. I told the guy that I would videotape it around, that seemed like a better solution.

They asked me if I would leave my passport there as a pledge. I had always avoided this before, but this time I didn’t have much cash with me and I would have already left, so I agreed.

– Let’s take a picture of me standing in front of the bike and holding my open passport in my hand.
– Father God. I was hoping that they only wanted to take a picture of me from the front and only in clothes, because this rental was starting to get really uncomfortable. If there had been an alternative, I would have left them there like that dog shitting.

So, my celebrity photo is ready. In the meantime, I accidentally knocked the helmet off the motorcycle. The air froze for a moment. I was close to apologizing for my existence, and the young guy – I think – to calling it quits.

Since the photo was taken, I thought that as the culmination of a successful deal, I would ask if they didn’t have a phone holder for the motorcycle. I had a similar question in Koh Samui, when one of the motorcycles didn’t have this device, and the guy immediately installed one in 36.5 seconds. Well, it wasn’t like that here. The guy said that if I wanted to take a picture, I should stop and we’re done.

I didn’t explain to him any further that I was about to travel 60 kilometers on an unknown road in a completely foreign country, I wasn’t thinking about capturing butterflies, but about transportation. Anyway, I thought, I’ll look in my pocket often, the map will fit there too.

Finally, I was able to jump into the seat and quickly left them and my passport there so I wouldn’t have to do any more exercise before I could leave.

I’m not saying the bike was a piece of junk, but it was strongly converging towards that.

I would have asked the guy afterwards what he meant when he told me not to go fast. Because the speedometer on the bike didn’t work. Maybe he meant that I was so routine that I knew when I was going more than 50 km/h.

It would have been a funny question to ask how I would solve the mandatory engine cooling stops every 20 kilometers, because the odometer didn’t work either.

On the way home, it turned out that the lights weren’t working either. So, on the way home, I wouldn’t have been able to see the speed and distance even if the instruments happened to be working.

I rushed to the gas station, where a guy served me with an Om on the back of his neck that looked like the Om on my hand. We immediately entered into a spiritual community, he was very kind, he even made me forget the inconveniences I had experienced in the previous 15 minutes.

For 100,000 KIP, the tank was full.

By the time I reached my destination, half of the gas was gone. From this – brilliantly – I concluded that half of the gas would be enough for the return trip.

I made a big mistake!

There are three things on the motorcycle dashboard, two of which have already been found to be non-functional. I don’t know what kind of optimism fueled me when I thought the gas gauge was working.

When I checked the gas level on the way home – stopped in the pitch darkness, by the light of the phone in my pocket, not in the phone holder – my heart had a minor arrhythmia attack. The gas gauge was at zero. And I was about 30 kilometers from my destination.

The gas stations along the road were of course already closed. This is socialism. There are no 24-hour gas stations here.

Finally, I stopped at a small garage, guessing that there would be gas. Interestingly, gas from a can is cheaper, the guy asked for 60,000 for a full tank. I simply didn’t feel it was fair to accept that, so I gave him 100,000 KIP and thanked him very much for his help. I was really grateful.

And I think he still wonders to this day whether all Europeans are stupid enough to drive around without gas at eight in the evening and pay almost twice as much for gas as he asked.

Now I almost sighed that I had told him everything about the misery surrounding the engine, but unfortunately we are not over the miracle horse yet.

Arriving at the border

I would love to say that the road proved that the steel steed brought what it needed, but I don’t want to lie.

Most of the road was crap, the engine was slow and loud. Everything rattled on it. Let’s just say, I put my headphones under my helmet, so in the end I rode off into the sunset smiling and full of metal.

Sometimes holding the phone in my left hand, sometimes scared of how the policeman I was facing would reward me at that moment.

Finally I arrived at the city I was heading for.

As soon as I saw the access road, I knew I was in trouble.

This city was built in the middle of nowhere. Laos. But under Chinese rule.

Passport control awaited me.

But my passport was left with the businessman of the year. I told him clearly where I was going, and he, knowing the context, asked for my passport. He must have thought that the Chinese border guards would let me in even without a passport, seeing his motorbike.

I don’t play poker, but now I put on that certain poker face and handed over my ID card with an unwavering look when the word passport was mentioned.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just me who knew with absolute certainty that this document wasn’t worth a damn here, the border guard knew it too. Seeing through the sieve, he repeated the word I really didn’t want to hear: passport!

I had to change tactics! I told him – trying to maintain the appearance of innocence – that the motorbike rental company had taken it. I was hoping that this would be reason enough to let me into an independent economic area. It didn’t prove to be a strong enough reason.

He said that unfortunately I couldn’t go in and the conversation was slowly coming to an end, he gestured that I could turn around on the other side of the road and even leave.

I had to change tactics! I told him that I only came here to go in now, can’t we just skip this little formality for once? To be on the safe side, I repeated the word Please! Please! a few times, blinking with apologetic eyes. It’s okay, I begged a little. There’s no shame in that, right?

Well, there’s no shame in that, but even though he didn’t express his disapproval, he wasn’t even moved, he started pointing to the other side again.

At that point I asked him if it wasn’t possible to resolve the matter exceptionally by showing me my passport on my phone. The ice was finally broken! He nodded! He compared the digital copy with my ID, so I respected it, he took it seriously and we were on our way to a solution.

He also asked for my visa, which I was able to show him on the phone.

Sure enough, he had discussed the whole story with a supervisor nearby. He also checked everything, I could see that we were going through moments of decision together, but no one had said yes yet.

After a few tense seconds, the supervisor put his hand on my shoulder, looked me seriously in the eye and said: Don’t make videos inside!

And with that I was able to leave.

Finally, inside the city!

The Golden Triangle Special Economic Zone. This is a zone in Laos, but heavily controlled by China, with its own rules and its own economic system. It is referred to as a gambling center (especially for Chinese tourists), often referred to as a gray zone (not entirely “transparent” operation).

A skyscraper-casino city in the middle of nowhere.

Arriving there, the first place I noticed was the street with the inscription China City.

I don’t know what it’s like to be in China. But I felt like I was really there. Chinese inscriptions, Chinese people, statues, lamps. Gates, houses, roofs familiar from movies. Chinese shrines on the street.

It was interesting to walk there. I felt different energies around me. I had heard stories from Laotian people in the past few weeks about the behavior of the Chinese in this country. Maybe this had something to do with the fact that I felt like a real outsider in this environment. I didn’t really feel a warm welcome to our city. No one smiled at me.

So I just walked around this part of the city, admiring the unfamiliar shapes and quickly leaving the unfamiliar waters. Now a short walk was enough.

From there I went to a place that was a bit like Disneyland, a bit like a storybook. I saw buildings that strongly reminded me of the shapes and colors that I had the pleasure of seeing in Paris. I’m really talking about Disneyland.

I really liked what I saw there.

This part of the city was spread out on both sides of a river. But I think the river was artificial, like this whole city. Which has no name.

I thought the river, or maybe a lake, was artificial water because the water surface was completely still. But in this way it literally functioned as a mirror. It was an amazing sight, how the buildings doubled on the water.

And there was no one else there, so I had a movie-like feeling, walking through a deserted part of town as the only survivor, searching for the remaining ones.

It was colorful. Beautiful. A little surreal. I felt good in this part of town.

Finally, I visited one of the casinos.

It had been a while since I last flew. Almost two months ago. So it was good to recall the operation of the body scanner, the excitement of looking into my bag. Maybe they would find something I shouldn’t have brought with me. Luckily, my bottle of water didn’t seem dangerous.

The casino was a third world for me here. And in general, because I had never been to a casino before. Except for one time when we had fun at a small casino set up on site at a party for one of my friends.

Here, however, the word small disappeared. I saw lots of slot machines, roulette and card tables, those who said it was a mini Las Vegas weren’t lying. At least, it was how I had always imagined it based on my film experiences.

I just wandered around the tables. I watched others play. The poker face mentioned during passport control is a common phenomenon here. It was an experience to watch the chips change hands with relaxed movements, in the light of unwavering faces. The movements that show that no one cares about the direction of the chips, alongside the telltale flickering of the eyes, which shows that it does matter.

It was very strange that many people were smoking. It had been so strange before that someone would come towards me in a huge room with a cigarette in their mouth. Then the realization immediately hit me that I hadn’t seen anything like that in Europe for decades.

I was underdressed in my everyday clothes, which are visible in all my photographs. This gave me away that this was not my world. After a short tour, I left the building. I didn’t come to play, I just came to see.

It was a good experience.

Although I didn’t feel completely free in two out of three places, it was definitely worth coming here. This city was good to see once in my life. I won’t be a frequent visitor here, that’s for sure.

Getting home

I hopped on the motorbike and headed for the road.

I didn’t need a phone anymore, I found my way home without it.

Apart from the petrol fiasco, my journey was uneventful.

I still had to return the motorbike to its rightful owner.

I parked the motorbike where I had picked it up.

The owner came with my passport in his hand, but that didn’t mean we were saying goodbye.

He checked the helmet. I remembered that in Pai, in the village, there were a huge pile of helmets in the corner, one on top of the other. There was no helmet inspection there.

Then the guy got on the motorbike. He checked if it could be moved forward and backward. He started the motorbike. I was a little worried what would happen if it was warm after being stopped 50 seconds earlier and wouldn’t start. But it did.

He checked the indicators and the headlight. I thanked my wits that I hadn’t stolen the bulb from the headlight, contrary to my original plan.

After checking the brakes, he thanked me for returning the bike with an almost full tank instead of an empty one.

I’m kidding! He hadn’t even thought to mention that little detail.

Finally, he counted the scratches on all four sides.

He handed me back my passport, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes that the matter was over.

Only secretly and without looking at him did I dare to think that one of the speedometers might have shown me that I was going fast. I would never know, because – right – the speedometer wasn’t good on the bike. If I was going fast, he would know.

It was nice to walk after the long ride. It was nice to be back in Houayxay, where I felt good every moment.

Although it seems that my visit to Chinatown was not without its problems, I must admit that I enjoyed every moment of it. With all its motorbikes, border crossings and Chinatown oddities.

It was not a day I would repeat, but it was one I would never miss.