On June 26, 2013, the new Luang Prabang airport quietly came into operation. And just like that, the old LPQ was no more.
The new airport, which for years has been speculated upon, talked about and greatly anticipated, opened without ceremony. There was no memo to the hotels or front page news in Vientiane Times. Suddenly – it was open – and unsurprisingly, word spread through town as swiftly as the smell of burning buffalo shit. Any happening in this sleepy town is exciting news.
There are several benefits to the facelift. The new runway means LPQ can handle larger aircrafts. For the small business owner, more people equals more business. The hospitality industry in Luang Prabang is salivating for flights from bigger, wealthier markets. The new passenger terminal will also mean a better arrival experience for guests (which will result in happier guests).
But while the new airport was badly needed and long overdue, the closure of the old terminal is the end of an era. The building formerly known as LPQ gave travellers quite an introduction to Luang Prabang and Laos P.D.R.
First, the precarious yet impressive landing: flopping down on a scrubby field in the middle of the mountains. Passengers would climb out of the plane and blink in the sudden rush of sunlight, the blast of superheated air radiating from the tarmac. Then it was a jaunty walk across the pavement to the terminal, a charmingly dilapidated time-warp from the 1960’s.
In a single cramped room there was a three-booth process of visa application, fee and passport control manned by non-communicative uniformed entities that seemed to take Theravada Buddhism’s teachings of cooled emotions and silence to heart. There was a tiny counter to fill out forms and haphazard ropes for corralling in the pen. The layout (or rather, lack of layout) caused a delightful hive of chaos, confusion and clusterfuck.
Once tourists did manage to get their visa and passport stamp, it took two steps to reach the squeaky luggage carousel not much bigger than the cashier conveyor belt at Costco. People seemed puzzled when they exited the airport. That’s it? Instead of being greeted by a throng of touts and taxis and tuk-tuks, an experience common in Southeast Asia, sleepy drivers and guides drooped in pews of formica chairs shaded by a giant awning, the name sign for the person they are to fetch hidden under their crossed arms.
I loved the yellowed formica chairs, the retro decor and signage, the indifferent and bored staff. I loved the fact that the money exchange counter was open between the hours of never and never. I loved that I could bypass the taxi stand by walking out a few meters to tuk-tuks parked in the shade of the trees (the driver sometimes asleep in his hammock). There were no electronic updates, just a poster of the schedule. I’d see the plane arrive and through a doorway, watch my visitor walk across the tarmac and go through Immigration. I was able to pounce on them as soon as they got their passport stamped.
I passed the ol’ LPQ the other day on my way to the new airport – they are only a baseball outfielder’s throw away from each other. I felt the pang of nostalgia. Though it had only been a few weeks, it looked long abandoned, the facade lonely, weedy and crumbling.
When my taxi driver approached the new airport terminal, a glassy monstrosity in a sea of hot pavement, I sighed and remarked, “Baw nam” – ugly.
“No, no,” he insisted. “Beautiful, beautiful. Big, nice.”
He had every right to believe that. It’s big and shiny and air-conditioned, with automatic sliding doors (!!!). It’s now easily the largest building in Luang Prabang. LPQ is an admirable feat for a town with no traffic lights and no building over four stories tall. It symbolizes convenience, prosperity and success, something the people of Laos deserve to aspire to but something falangs think ruins their Disneyland.
But as someone pointed out to me, the building may be new but the staff are the same. It’s true. It’ll be the same indifferent service. Customs and Immigration will somnambulate through the motions. The money exchange desk will open if they feel like it. They’ve even plunked the wooden taxi stand from the old building into the new arrivals hall. It’s wonderfully dated and out of place, and the sight brought a big smile to my face. Perhaps new LPQ is different but same-same.
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