Laos is a poor country. One expat told us sixty percent of its national budget comes from foreign aid. The government has been described as "practical communism" ( in the Lonely Planet guidebook). It allows religion (with restrictions) and a fair amount of private ownership. "Practical," however, does not imply efficient. We also heard that the government is notoriously corrupt.

We got our first taste of corruption on the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong from Nong Khai, Thailand to Laos. The bridge is only the second over the Mekong. And it's the only one between Thailand Laos. Previously all crossing was by ferry. We were anticipating riding over the bridge into Laos.

Unfortunately Laos's thick communist bureaucracy hasn't figured out the idea of a bridge. Four years after it was finished they still treat the bridge like a ferry. They wouldn't allow us to ride our bikes across. Instead we had to cram them and all our stuff onto a government-run shuttle bus. The bus carried us less than two kilometers. A ferry would have been far more convenient.

Laos customs took a long time. I had to show my passport four or five times. But no one gave us any trouble or even asked many questions.

In Laos people drive on the right instead of the left. At the Laos end of the bridge they have a cross-over with a traffic signal. This is the first time I have ever seen traffic change sides in an overland crossing. I had no problem changing back to the right side of the road. (Other than the Philippines, the last time we rode on the right was in Hawaii last October).

(Joan: Me neither. In fact, whenever we started riding in left-hand countries on roads with no traffic, I automatically swung to the right side until Eric or some truck chased me back).

Other than changing sides, the 20km ride to Vientiane wasn't too different from riding in Thailand, though the road was a little dusty and not as well paved. Also there were more people on bikes. The food stalls still had round concrete picnic tables and built-in checker boards. Kids still waved and yelled Hello. Now and then we heard a Bonjour!!

Lumber companies, concrete companies, a steel company and other industrial plants took advantage of the bridge and set up shop along this strip. So it wasn't exactly scenic. Lots of heavy trucks and overloaded "jumbos" (pickup trucks converted into passenger buses) passed us. We also saw strangely communist-looking full-size bus with big rivets all over the hood like rhinestones.

To my surprise, lots of billboards, and we passed many, advertised in English. We saw more English and Roman transliterations in Laos than we had seen in Thailand. I suppose this is because Laos was once a French colony, while Thailand was never anyone's colony (just overrun a million times by the Burmese, Chinese and Japanese).

Entering Vientiane was underwhelming. I had expected a Communist capitol would have big monuments and impressive large buildings dedicated to the "People's Struggle" or something. Vientiane does have some of these things but not the way we entered town. Instead our road just got busier and dustier. We had no idea we were in the city center until we noticed a sign for our hotel, the Asian Pavilion. (The hotel is featured in a Jean LeCarre novel. We never read the novel but that's a big part of why we wanted to stay there).

Despite the dusty streets and disappointing entrance, maybe partly because of it, Vientiane grew on us. Unlike Bangkok, Vientiane is small and easy to get around. It also has lots of good restaurants and services because it has a large expat population. We ate excellent Indian, French, Italian and Lao food. All our favorite restaurants were within a few blocks of our hotel.

Our first full day in Vientiane was full of nothing but great news. We had asked my mom and dad to ship our tent, stove, cook set and Thermarests to us at "Post Restante" (general delivery). We figured we might need them in Laos and would need them in China for sure. I was worried about getting them. Our guidebook said incoming mail was iffy. If the package didn't come, we would have serious problems preparing for China. I wondered how long we would wait before we decided to give up and figure something out.

Amazingly the package was waiting for us and didn't take long to retrieve. The postal workers were amazingly friendly and happy. One woman was inspecting a very large outgoing package, mostly full of weavings, when she suddenly screamed. Everyone turned and looked. She thought she had seen a giant bug. It was actually just a piece of material. Everyone laughed for a full 30 seconds.

Actually, one man didn't laugh. He was sitting upright at a desk in the back wearing a classic third world uniform--so tight it could almost be painted on. It had a distinctive greenish-reddish color (Joan: folks, Eric is partly colorblind) that says "Red Army" to me. I never saw him look up from his paperwork. He was a caricature of a Communist bureaucrat. Thankfully we didn't deal with him.

The box was packed with a newspaper and as I cleared it away I noticed a big picture of someone that looked like me. I grabbed it. It was me! The story I had emailed to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette over seven weeks earlier had finally run. It was about my experiences cycling around the world with a French Horn. The postal workers were impressed when I showed them the picture of me in the paper.

What a day. Not only had our package arrived, my story had run and my photo was plastered all over my hometown paper! I like imagining my friends having their morning coffee at work and spilling it on their laps when they opened the paper. I like the idea of my friends in the brass quintet I used to play in, and even my high school teachers, reading it. I wrote the story strictly for the money, but the fame was even better.

More good news. We checked email and a friend who had seen my Post-Gazette story wanted me to write for their magazine, at much better pay. Also, my sister Katy said she had found some photos we thought were missing.

We celebrated with a big dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town. We had a huge, three-course meal and a carafe of wine--all for $8.50 each.

Next: hanging out in Vientiane

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