Arrested in Laos | A Darker Side of Vang Vieng

It was late. The air was still warm and muggy from the heat of the day. It was that kind of oppressive heat that has an unmistakable density to it and only slightly lightens after the sun sets. Barefoot – we were sullenly seated at a long and callous bench table. There were five us; three Brits and us two Americans. Sitting in a chair nearby was a guy casually watching a sitcom that none of us could understand.

There was an uncomfortable silence between us. No one had anything to say much less share an exchange of glances. Aside from the foreign conversations coming from the muffled television the only other sound we heard was the whirring of a shabby ceiling fan with wilted fan blades overhead.

It was well past midnight, and we were in the Vang Vieng police station.

Our arrival and first experiences of Laos were far different than the circumstances we now found ourself in. The trip and journey into Laos was one I was so excited for. We took something called the ‘slow-boat’ from Northern Thailand down the Mekong River into Luang Prabang, Laos. The two-day journey was an incredible experience and another story altogether.

Vang Vieng was our second stop in Laos. For many years Vang Vieng has been known to backpackers as a must hit party spot. One of the more popular activities there is inner-tubing down the river. Tales of the epic river parties have traveled far beyond Laotian borders; both good and bad stories. The good – from backpackers who got wild and crazy floating down the river drinking copious amounts of cheap booze and indulging in the widely accessible other ‘party-favors.’ The bad – from news reports of broken-hearted and angry family members whose loved ones met unfortunate ends while partying on the river. There are far too many terrible accounts of rope swings that ended in far too shallow of waters, alcohol poisoning and drownings. 

We came to Vang Vieng for a few reasons…

• • it is a natural place to stop between Luang Prabang and Vientiane,
  • we were curious to see it for ourselves,
  • possibly to take a cautious inner-tube float down the river,
  • and we heard it was an excellent place to take a hot air balloon ride.

We arrived there late in the afternoon. It is a modest little town with a small urban core surrounded by rice farming. The layout is most irregular with some dirt streets and seldom tangential intersections. It was quiet too. No signs of the party atmosphere we had read from others. We found a hostel off the main drag to call home for the next couple days.

In the hostel, we ended up meeting several the other guests and formed some new friendships. Most notably, were a group of three British travelers we connected with. After dinner together, on our second evening, we all planned to visit one of the nearby bars in town. 

There were probably a dozen bars that lined the main thoroughfare near our hostel. We knew nothing about them and chose one with an inviting and cozy looking atmosphere. Lao Lao Friend bar is where we ended up. From the outside, we were greeted by signs blatantly suggesting patrons could purchase marijuana and even hallucinogenic mushrooms there. It was a bit unbelievable and I partly thought it to be a joke. However the skunky aroma permeating out onto the street was a tell-tale for what was available inside.

The decor of the bar looked much like the inside of an old hippy head shop. A Poster of Bob Marley was plastered prominently on the wall behind the bar, Jamaican flags hung from the ceiling, and colorful psychedelic artwork lit by blacklight adorned the walls.

We found a vacant spot towards the back of the pub where the five of us could all sit together. The sitting area was a sizable carpeted platform raised a couple feet off the ground. The space covered with pillows to sit on. The platform was sectioned off into private sitting areas with a table in the middle. We scored a cozy little spot all to ourselves.

A server came by to greet us and hand out some menus. I looked over the double-sided sticky laminated menu. One side was the drinks, and the backside… well that was dedicated to the plethora of additional ‘party-favors’ available. I was taken aback, surely this was no joke. Their menu included Marijuana, Mushrooms, and Opium each available in at least three different ways.

To start, we all ordered a tall Lao Beer and then discussed the other options. By the time the server returned, with our cold brews, we had all agreed on sharing two joints (of marijuana) between us. 

It felt strange to order joints from a bar, but with the blatant signs out front and the unmistakable aroma wafting out onto the streets, it led me to believe this was just something that the town accepted and/or chose to look the other way.

We enjoyed our time and shared countless laughs. Around midnight the bartender told everyone he was closing up and we all had to get out. It felt early to end the night, and we heard others in the bar expressing their displeasure with being told they had to wrap it up. 

We had taken our time smoking the joints and were not even halfway through the second when the bartender made his closing call. Rather than trashing it and letting it go to waste we agreed to snuff it out and take it with us. Maybe to finish later.

Transitioning from the noisy bar to the quiet streets was a surreal moment. Everything outside was eerily, still and silent. The only people out on the road were the ones now leaving the bar. There were no cars, motorbikes, or random people milling about. The chatter from those returning to their hostels was perfectly audile even without raised voices. There were just no other ambient sounds to drown them out. 

We walked back to our hostel together; quietly chatting amongst ourselves. The whole time I was preoccupied with the peculiar emptiness of the streets. I imagined this is what an imposed curfew would be like. It made me felt as though we shouldn’t be out on the streets at all. It was just odd.

Back at the hostel, the lights inside were dimmed for the evening. There were two people we had met earlier sitting outside, finishing a cigarette. None of us were ready to crawl into bed and fall asleep. We decided to sit out front at one of the tables and finish the remainder of the joint we brought back with us.

Now back at the hostel, the eeriness of the vacant evening streets began to fade. Maybe it was an artificial sense of security in being somewhere familiar that made me feel more comfortable. But, now I saw the environment lit by streetlight as peaceful.

We all took a seat around the table and lit up the joint. I passed it up on the first go-round. After the couple beers and first joint in the bar, I was feeling good and didn’t want to spoil it.

The first rotation was long and slow. In that time, I had settled into our new environment and changed my mind. I took a drag off the joint when it came around the second time.

After an exhale, I turned to the right to pass it on and was unexpectedly intercepted by a short middle-aged Laotian man. He was wearing an army green North Face type jacket. He abruptly took the joint from me and was joined by another Laotian man who seemingly came out of nowhere! They were awkward at first, but immediately put out the joint. The first guy brought the burnt end up to his nose to sniff it. They sputtered between themselves, and then the second guy smelled it as well.

We all froze. My stomach dropped, and I was overcome with a sickening feeling. We all understood what was going on here. These men were undoubtedly plain-clothed officers. They spoke to us in very limited English. Enough to confirm to us they were the police, and we were in trouble for smoking marijuana. I don’t remember us saying much of anything to them in that moment. Likely we were all frozen in fear and some heavy regret.

Their conjecture was we were all smoking marijuana. And, they believed we had more of it. They searched our pockets as well as the girl’s purses. Upon finding nothing, they seemed annoyed. They took what remained of the joint and put it into a plastic baggie and then into their pocket.

The silence on the street broke by the sound of a vehicle coming toward us. A small Toyota truck pulled up, and the two officers instructed us to get in. They were taking us to the police station. All five of us begrudgingly climbed into the truck bed.

As we rolled away from the hostel, a place of comfort and security only moments ago, I was flush with an overwhelming sense of dread. I was terrified of the unknown. Jessica and I locked eyes and spoke not a single word. I could feel her worry and concern. There was nothing we could do besides see how this would play out now.

Our ride was short in distance, but my perception of time felt that it was passing agonizingly slow. The whole trip there, my mind was overrun with fear of spending the night or longer in a Laotian jail. The thought of which was most dreadful.

The police station we arrived at was not what I was expecting. It was more like a small home than a police station. Its appearance did not stand out in any way from the neighboring buildings. But, there was a wall around the property with a police emblem embossed on a metal access gate.

One thing was for sure. We had crossed a threshold. On one side, our freedom and on the other… detainment.

Before entering the building, I mustered all the strength and confidence I had left to give Jessica a comforting hug. As if to assure her, we would be okay. In reality, I was confident of nothing in that moment.

We all removed our shoes, as instructed, and entered the police station. Beyond the doorway was a large, well lit, open room with ceiling fans spinning overhead. There was only one other person in the room we entered. He was reclined casually watching television. By the way, the other officers greeted him, with a subtle head nod, I assumed he was one as well. His presence there was odd, and I found it uncomfortable the way he looked us each up and down as we passed by. The two officers herded us over to a bench table where we sat. They told us to wait there while they went to speak with their boss.

We all sat in silence.     

The boss, aka captain, soon walked out. He was the first guy we saw dressed like an officer. He looked down from the shadow his hat cast over his face at us. He pointed to our British friend Alex and told him he had some questions for him. They walked away together, and we heard a door close behind them. 

There was something so eery about that. We all looked around at each other, still with no words. We were afraid. There is no other way to describe it. The unknown of what was going on behind that door was too much for my mind to bear. It began working overtime, trying to fill in the blanks. None of which were comforting thoughts.

The guy watching television leaned over towards us and spoke for the first time. He had to have picked up on our general uneasiness; it was all over our faces and body language. I imagine now that we probably looked somewhat pathetic and sheepish.

He asked how we ended up there. Neither Jess nor I responded, but one of our friends did and told him we were caught smoking outside our hostel. The response intentionally avoided mentioning what we were smoking.

He knew what was up, though. I had no doubt he knew why we were there. He attempted to reassure us that everything was going to be okay. He told us we would be sleeping comfortably in our beds later – if we just cooperated with the police that is. His statement was a false sense of comfort and felt very staged. It was a classic ‘good-cop’ line. My suspicion and skepticism about this guy rose. I mean, what was he even was doing here with us in the first place?

We all felt a sense of relief when we heard the door open and again and out walked Alex. The captain pointed out Tori who had been seated next to Alex and asked her to follow him back to the same office.

Once Alex sat back down, he relayed to us what happened and what they wanted. They wanted a written admission we smoked marijuana. That was it. They had him write it out and sign his name below the admission. He felt confident that this would all end up without us having to spend the night in jail or worse.

Sure that admission seemed like no big deal… maybe. But, my fear was what proceeded the admission. His confidence in us getting off easy was based on nothing. I knew he was only saying this to try and relax our nerves. 

Regardless, he was the first in the room, and he had provided the admission we had all smoked marijuana. Our only choice now was to be consistent in our admissions. I can’t express how much this unequivocally sucked! We were all in this together though. 

Tori came out of the office, and then the captain motioned for Tom to come back next. It seemed like the time interviewing us was getting shorter and shorter. Tom walked out in half the time Tori had been in there.

Then it was my turn…

Feeling less fearful and more frustrated over the whole situation, I followed the captain back into his office. Inside was a chair for me to sit on, the captains desk with a chair behind it, and the two policemen who had brought us in. The desk was empty. There wasn’t anything on the walls or even a single window in the office. The captain pulled a paper from his desk drawer with a pen. The sheet had written and signed admissions of smoking marijuana from the three who were in there before me.

It felt a bit dramatic. The captain could’ve had it just sitting on the desk when I walked in. It was clear he didn’t want to talk or ask me anything. He stated, he knew we were smoking marijuana cigarettes and my friends already admitted to it.

He instructed me to write out, “I smoked a marijuana cigarette outside the hostel.” I took a few moments to read the statements from the others. They had all written something similar.

I picked up the pen and then laid it back on the desk in soft protest. 

I asked, “what about the bar that we bought it from? They were openly advertising it on the street and proudly displaying it on their menus. How are they not also at fault if this is indeed illegal? They were openly selling and distributing it. Where I come from that is a far greater crime than smoking marijuana! Where was the bartender or owner? He should be here too!”

The captain grew noticeably irritated that I had not just followed his order. He retorted, “the bartender will be questioned and dealt with separately.” 

His answer was far too quick for me to believe it to be true. There was no winning this though. My opposition had gone about as far as it could go. He picked the pen back up from the desk and extended his hand towards mine with a raised eyebrow.

I had no other options before me. I took the pen and scribbled out the admission the captain demanded. Same as the others had. My signature, on the other hand, I made looked like ‘chicken-scratch.’ There was no way I was giving them a clear signature! My final act of defiance, I suppose.

I was taken back to sit at the table with our group. Jessica was the last of us to speak with the captain. I hated it! I didn’t want her to be alone in there with them, even for a second. I felt powerfulness to protect her.

She was in the office with them for awhile before rejoining us. I presumed she was giving them some difficulties as well. Jessica is not one to blindly accept anything. She will challenge the powers that be in the pursuit of a logical and just ends. Unfortunately, there was nothing sensible or just about what was going on with us that evening.

The captain left us sitting at the table as he walked back into his office and closed the door behind him. We sat together, mentally, and emotionally drained. Whatever ‘buzz’ we had was long gone and replaced now by acquiescence.

It wasn’t long before the captain and the other two officers returned. They told us the police chief would be there in the morning and they would discuss our situation with him. The chief would determine what our punishment would be. We were free to go back to our hostel and sleep there for the night. But, we were expected to return first thing in the morning to meet with the chief.

My mind’s eye caught a shimmer of hope and freedom. I immediately visualized going back to the hostel, packing up our stuff. Then, getting on the first bus out of Vang Vieng and ultimately out of Laos as soon as possible. Running seemed wholly rational, and I thought I had it all worked out in seconds. 

My cunning plans were shattered though with the captain’s next sentence…

“we will need you to turn over your passports and we will hold them until you return in the morning.”

F#ck! There goes my plan. But wait, I was prepared for this. Of course, I had our passports on me. However, I had one last ace in the hole. Or so I thought.

As everyone else pulled out their passports and surrendered them to the officers, I pulled out our color copies I had stashed in my bag. I handed the copies over and told them that was all I had on me and assured them they were real and current color copies. I persisted these should be sufficient.

They hardly entertained what I thought to be a very clever move. The only response they had was, “where is your actual passport?” Without waiting for an answer from me, they said, “we will drive you to your hostel or wherever you may be keeping them to get them for us.”

F#ck! I honestly thought it would work. Now I was left with a very awkward situation. My hand was in my bag clinching onto our passports, reluctant to give them up. How was I going to play this off now? I took a minute and took a breath. There was no way they were going to let Jessica or I out of their site without our passports in their hands. Defeated, I acted like I was rummaging through my bag and lo-and-behold presented our little blue booklets.

I avoided eye contact with the captain as I handed them over. But, I still heard his short, forceful nasal exhale as if to say, “yeah, that’s what I thought.”

We were finally free.

Well… somewhat at least. Stepping beyond the walls of that police station were the most grateful steps I had taken that day.

Surprisingly it was still dark out. I was partly expecting to be see at least the first beams of sunrise illuminating the horizon. It felt like we were there for an eternity. In reality, they had held us for just short of three hours.

Our spirits were higher as we walked back to the hostel. We were optimistic about our fate. Based on what though? I can’t say with much certainty — presumably our optimism born out of an innate need for self-soothing and comfort. 

In the back of my mind, though, I still felt detained, regardless of where we spent the time until the sun rose. The moment I forfeited my passport I may just as well have put on my own shackles and locked the jail cell door behind me.

 If it has never happened to you, and I hope it never does, having your passport seized by authorities of a foreign country is one of the most dreadful feelings you will ever experience. We were prisoners there until we got them back! 

In our room at the hostel, we were both very uneasy and worried. There would be no sleeping for us that night. We dealt with insomnia differently, though. Jessica went down a rabbit hole trying to find stories of others who had found themselves in similar situations in Laos. Surprisingly, she found many identical to ours and in the very city of Vang Vieng. All the stories she found, baring one, ended the same way… with a very hefty fine!

I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but stare blankly at the dark ceiling overhead. I was battling demons in my mind. I was angry at myself and disappointed I had let us get caught up in such a mess. I should have known better and not let my guard down. I was beating myself up for the decisions I made and/or the ones I made no protest to that landed us in this situation. If we got out of this, I pledged, in that dismally lit room, NEVER AGAIN!

I watched the sunrise out the window of our room with the same pair of eyes that had seen many sunrises before. This time I saw it differently than ever before though. I had sacrificed control of my own destiny by our actions and instead put it in the hands of some foreign authorities who cared very little for us, our feelings, or our plans for the future. Before that morning, I always viewed sunrises as a thing of optimism. Staring longingly into the morning rays, I saw it more as a symbol of freedom. That pure joy of watching a sunrise can be taken away so quickly with your freedom.

The hours passed dreadfully slow until the five us reunited and made the walk of shame back to the police station. I remember it looking very different than the first time. In the daylight, the building appeared much more official and authoritative.

We removed our shoes and reentered the building where a uniformed officer was waiting to greet us. It wasn’t a warm welcome by any means. He led us straight into the office that served as our interrogation room. There were five chairs there ready and waiting for us. We took our seats.

Moments later in walked an older distinguished-looking man in uniform, the chief of police.

He took his place behind the desk joined by three other officers in uniform. It felt crowded in that little office. He proceeded to act like he was reading over a report and looking at our written admissions. There was nothing he didn’t already know though he was merely going through the motions with us. It was obvious.

He spoke to us, “my officers tell me you were caught smoking marijuana and I see you have signed admissions of guilt here.” He continued, “in Laos is it is illegal to use marijuana, and we do not appreciate visitors coming here disrespecting our laws. We abide by a strict set of moral rules here in Laos and expect visitors to abide by them as well. We strongly look down upon this in our society, and I have no choice but to punish you for breaking our laws,” he paused.

This did not seem to be going well… We were all squirming in our chairs and hanging on his pause for our impending fate.

“I am going to give you all two options,” he continued. “The first, is we arrest you, detain you for up to five years in prison, and enforce a fine of up to a 40 million Kip. The second option is to pay a 5 million Kip fine to us today. You will be released, passports returned, and this will all go away like it never happened.” That was all he had to say. He then stared matter of factly at us from across the desk.

I let out an audible exhale and turned to Jess. Our choice required very little thought. We were doing the math as quickly as possible in our head and realized it was about $600 (USD) — a small price to pay for our freedom. There was an end in sight now. Jessica asked for clarification regarding the fine to make sure we understood it correctly, “Is that fine for all of us together or each individually?”

He affirmed the fine would be required from each of us. He added instructions to where all the ATM’s were in the surrounding area and knew all too well what the maximum withdrawal amount was for the machines. He gave us two hours to get the money and return. 

We departed the police station. Jess and I separated from our friends knowing we couldn’t all use the same ATM’s. As it was, it ended up taking two different machines before we were able to withdraw to the total sum of $1,200 (USD).

Our pockets stuffed with Kips, we made our way back to the police station with plenty of time to spare. I laid the money out on the police chiefs desk and watched him count it out into six stacks. He put one in his pocket, handed one stack each to the three other officers with him and put the remaining two into the top desk drawer. I was in utter disbelief oh how blatantly he pocketed the money and distributed it to his fellow officers. I presumed the other two stacks were for the two officers who brought us in.

I withheld my frustration though it was boiling up inside me. I just wanted our passports and to be out of there.

They took their time getting them from the adjacent office. Even the chief of police held onto them for a while; thoroughly examining them page by page. He asked what we did for work back in the USA and had the boldness to ask how much money we made a year. I provided him with a nonsense answer that he displeasingly accepted. He handed our passports over with a sticky grip and made sure to make one last sharp eye to eye union with me.

I took our booklets to freedom and walked out the door without another word.

We headed back to our hostel, made it to our room, and collapsed into bed. We were both exhausted, completely drained from the ordeal. I think we slept until around 2:00 in the afternoon. The only thing I had on my mind was finding our way out of Vang Vieng. Fortunately, I was able to get it sorted out quite quickly through our hostel. The soonest we could be on our way to Vientiane would be the following morning. That would have to do.

Down in the communal area of the hostel, I tried, however unsuccessfully, to avoid having to talk explain what had happened to us. It seemed everyone knew and/or saw us being escorted away the night before. I explained it in as few words as possible. I think that everyone realized it was NOT something I was excited to talk about. I didn’t fault them for their curiosity, though. If the shoes were on the other feet, I would be the same way. I went out to get us something to eat. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since we last had any nourishment. We stayed in the confines of our room for the rest of the day. I was biding our time until the next sunrise.  

Our experience left us with two overarching feelings; shame and frustration. For me, the shame was overwhelming. It plagued me. Having to see all those familiar faces that wanted to know what happened only added to it. It was the type of shame I could feel on my skin like dried mud constricting my body. No shower could wash it away, though. It was going to take some time.

As the events replayed in my unruly mind, the shame was soon accompanied by frustration and anger. The details of what happened led me to feel more and more that we were taken advantage of and essentially extorted. The justice and law here were dirty – corrupt. 

That bar made no effort to hide anything. Instead, it is blatantly advertised. Anyone with at least three of five functioning senses knew there was marijuana and more available in that bar. 

Jessica ended up finding story after story, as she searched online, that lined up with our experience. It was clear law enforcement was cashing in on travelers. Even the bartender could have been in on it; likely the one who tipped the officers off that we had the unfinished joint with us when we left. All they did then was hang back and watch us; waiting for us to spark it up.

Regardless, we learned a hard and expensive lesson in Vang Vieng. One where we should have known better in the first place. I was just grateful to have it behind us now and eager to be on our way.

The next morning I was anxious to meet our bus to Vientiane. I skipped breakfast and chose instead to sit on the steps of our hostel with our backpacks. I couldn’t be more ready!

I spotted a very freshly washed and relatively new Range Rover making its way down the road. It wasn’t for us, that’s for sure! But, it stuck out on the streets of Vang Vieng.

When it got closer, and I could see the driver, to my bitter surprise, it was the very same chief of police. I had hoped never to see him again. He passed by without noticing me. “Business must be good,” I thought as I shook my head.

If you take anything away from our story let it be this… be careful out there! Don’t ever let yourself feel ‘too” comfortable in a situation. When you let your guard down and become vulnerable, you open the door to being taken advantage of. Always keep your head on a swivel and continuously be assessing your environment. Traveling to faraway new places is exciting, but in the end, you are a long way away from home. On that foreign soil, your rights are likely not the same as they are wherever you call home. 

Learn from our experience, and don’t let this happen to you!

Travel Safely, Friends!