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Savannakhet was truly the big sister city to Thakek, following the same grid road plan and decked with the same double-wide promenades and riverfront vendors as that dusty little by water. There are no less than two bus stations there, and a Chinese market of some repute, as we were to discover later. Riding a couple of bikes rented from the forlorn guesthouse we found, Savannakhet has the feel evoked by a Merchant/Ivory film glorifying the French colonial days in Africa, and even its name is oddly suggestive of some sweltering place other than SouthEast Asia. The one and two-story buildings seem to crouch below their wide, corrugated eaves, dripping sheaves of ancient paint like sweat to the dirt roads abutting them. It is a place that takes some time and a certain appreciation for things that move very slowly and make little sound. It is, like much of Lao itself, a shadow city, a study in decomposition and procrastination meant for nobody and edifying to few.

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