Insider gossiping

Few tourists linger in Vientiane, heading for the rivers and mountains south and north. I am unusual in lurking here long enough to feel a ‘local’.  I've become an honorary member of the tiny ex-pat group which gathers in the afternoon at the public swimming pool and am greeted with friendly smiles by the elderly couple who ‘man’ what passes for a front desk, a jumble of old costumes, flip-flops, baskets of water for sale, the ubiquitous ice cream freezer…

I have learnt to move with the rhythms of the heat wave (which is following me through Asia, Hanoi was uniquely hot whilst I was there and the temperature shot up 10 degrees in Laos the day before I arrived), taking advantage of the dawn cool; staying inside either in a café or the guest house from noon for a few hours and then taking advantage of my proximity to the pool to swim with the regulars until 5pm when it finally cools down, the shops and markets spring into life as do I.

I’ve learnt to see past the dust and dirt and appreciate the unique quality of a ‘city’ where the people continue to live gently, slowly and peacefully despite the capitalist ‘invasion’.  My ex-pat friends tell me that whilst businesses, especially telecoms and motor manufacturers, are bringing jobs to the area, the predominately young staff are underpaid, working many years to achieve a career type wage.

The construction which goes on everywhere is, as I thought, never finished. As one project is abandoned, another is started on land next door.  The traditional Laos town houses with their communal terraces and toilets are still more common than concrete buildings. The fishing villages strung out past the city line are marooned behind a towering barricade when a mountain of rubble was dumped between them and the water to form a new ‘road’…the road was never finished. I cycled along this wide dirt track this morning staring down into villages coated in dust, watching people struggle to climb up the steep banks and then down again towards their boats and nets.

The loss of shade from the trees which originally lined the riverbank has made the wide promenade –even the finished walkway along the city banks-impossible to use for much of the day.  Such a shame. Thomas, an elderly Swiss gentleman who has lived here for 30 years, told me that whilst progress here is slow it is happening. There are benefits, he said, western goods are available here now, good restaurants and service, but the downside for him was mainly the pollution from the increasing traffic as a US type car is the dominant status symbol of the newly rich.

But despite this the people are so lovely here, like everywhere in Laos. Tonight I wandered through a temple with an enormous colourful marquee. It looked like a convention. Talking to a novice monk it turns out to be the beginning of a month long ‘wake’ for the senior monk who died a few days ago. Monks and worshippers gather every evening to pay their respects. A month!  The older and more respected the person, the longer the wake...luckily it was only 3 days in Luang Prabang given the noise levels!!

As the sun set I sat on a park bench having an impromptu manicure and pedicure from the Vietnamese ladies who cycle around plying for business, my feet were scrubbed with such vigor I could barely walk…and my nails have never been so even. Pity about the eyebrow, but it is growing back, thank god! And my hair is sprouting like cress, it must be the sun.

Tomorrow is my last day in Laos.  I’m thinking to cycle along the river at dawn in the clean air, admiring the lush greenery and posh villas on the Thai side opposite, gazing at the bright shining temples in the rising sunlight. Then I shall visit the markets for breakfast,  treat myself to a massage, spend the last of my money-cash goes so far here it is not worth changing it, a cup of coffee in Lewes is a massage/fruit shake with loose change left over in Laos-and say my goodbyes

Vientiane Vignettes

‘One falls in love with Laos at first feeling rather than at first sight’ writes Dervla Murphy in her book ‘One foot in Laos’ , a perfect phrase particularly relevant if Vientiane is the first and not, as in my case, the last view of the country.

Whilst I am learning to like the city, it is not a beautiful place in the rising heat, the dry river bed, dust from the construction work, smog from the exhaust fumes, mean a brown dirty colour settles on even the most colourful Wat or flowers.

International banks, motor manufactures, telecoms firms, etc, line the main streets with their impressive buildings, sending floods of uniformed workers out to the street stalls at 11.30 on the dot each day for their lunch and causing traffic gridlock at 4 pm when the day ends.

The roads are a nightmare, the drainage ditches are full of rubbish, holes like wells appear without warning, and the pavements are just an extension of the street anyway-no one has any road sense and will happily drive down the wrong way if they want to go into a shop on that side!

But the population itself has a charm as quirky as everywhere I’ve been, the food here is fantastic, the street life fascinating; I am a great fan of fresh sweet potato chips and sticky rice balls, chasing the mobile vendors through the throngs of high spending bankers and low end market stalls is entertaining if somewhat frustrating…

I can now see the city is a collection of villages centred on Wats, each with its own identity. Monks here are part of daily life, hopping into tuk tuks, eating in cafes, as everywhere in Laos. (A communist plan to suppress Buddhism was abandoned early on as it was simply ignored). The Wat grounds serve as public parks, especially at lunch time, where the shade is a bonus.

Having spent this morning at the national museum, very much a propaganda exercise for the LPDR, it is clear to me that Laos has not been homogenised, it remains a collection of ethnic groups, diverse social and cultural mixes. For centuries part of Siam, then colonised by the French, then consumed into the Vietnam War, the revolution drew on Ho Chi Minh’s Marxist beliefs in creating a Government which is now intent on promoting and developing itself.

Apparently it is common knowledge that corruption within the Government is rife; the army is self funded, so draws heavily on projects such as dams, mining, timber, at whatever cost to the land and its people. There is no voting system, no one seems sure who or why people are elected, a resigned sense of apathy allows the status quo.

Brad and Isabella who run the lovely little guest house tell me that with each passing year traffic increases, buildings go up, and yet nothing comes back into the city itself.  There is so much that is still unique here, the river front opposite Thailand, the quiet stillness of a capitol city that shuts down for three hours every day, the night markets, the streets of food stalls, the outdoor swimming pool near me which I love-and yet tonight, walking back with Heather from supper, we see ‘ladies of the night’ lurking outside hotels, the seedier side of a city open to abuse.

It is Heather’s last night, so we celebrated with a beer lao-my first and probably only-beer is cheaper here than a fruit shake, but I alas am not a big drinker and should sleep well tonight!

Beer o'clock

Bye Bye to Heather

Praying for Rain

The heat is rising, the river is dropping, the city is shrouded in dense smog. The only way to live comfortably in Vientiane at this time of year is to go out early and late and forget the middle part of the day.

So at first light Heather and I made our way to the Ho Pha Kaew museum opposite Wat Sisaket to wend our way around the centuries old curiosities now housed in this dusty building which was once a royal temple built to house the famed Emerald Buddha. There is a faded charm to this famed collection of religious art; we had no idea what was what though as signs in English are non existent in Laos.

There is a particular Buddha pose significant to Vientiane called ‘praying for rain’. Not apt for England, I realise, hence my not being able to resist posing with it!

Buddha - Praying for Rain

And then I had to pose with the guardian dragon just because Heather is a photographer and thought it would make a good pose!

Guardian Dragons

We set off on our bikes to follow what is left of the river, but by 11 am the smog was so bad it was hard to see, we had scarves as masks over our mouths and had to retreat to a shady café for refreshing fruit shakes; my dragon fruit one followed by an orange, apple, carrot and ginger revived me no end.

Vientiane is an odd place, full of bizarre sights. I’ve attached a photo of a parked beetle car with onions on the top and one of  the diverse modes of transport highlighting the ‘haves and have nots’-the London taxi cab is used by the posh Settha Palace hotel opposite the guest house and was picking up businessmen just alongside where we had parked our two bikes. Talk about them and us-though the driver gave me a cheery wave as he set off, he sees me every day from his lush gardens over the street.

VW Beetle with Onions

London Cab?

Fuelled by a deep fried yellow bean paste doughnut, sweet potato chips and dried tamarind (my comfort padding is returning, not a moment too soon, this country has never heard of cushions!) I left Heather to her massage and set off for the cheaper option to cool off in the heat, the public swimming pool.

Quiet in the week, the resemblance to the Pells pool is disconcerting, even more so when I found myself falling into conversation with a sprightly 70 something English lady who hails from Hastings and whose nephew lives in Swanborough.  Hearing an English voice is rare so we tend to turn towards the sound and yet again the accent was not only English but Sussex. A pleasant hour or so passed comparing notes about travelling-Valerie was off on the night bus, her energy put me to shame.

Fortunately my hair/missing eyebrow are returning, for this evening wandering down to the night markets I found myself chatting to a couple from Hove who are close friends with the owners of Lewes Emporium!!  Rather spooky to say the least as statistically this must be way over the odds?

The day ended on a high; in a ‘sundry shop’ covered in dust-as is everything, including me, I found a tub of Nivea! Yippee.  The local stuff does not do the job for my elephant hide skin. ..There are expensive products available at a massive premium in the pharmacies which are not in my budget plans, nivea hits the ‘dry’ spot perfectly.

Heat Haze

The heat is rising rapidly here. This morning sitting in the shady communal garden Brad decided on an impromptu Tai Chi class for those of us sipping coffee under the magnolia tree.  Even at 8.00 am , after the 15 minute slow deep breathing stretches, a fresh shower was in order!

Off with Heather to visit Wat Sisaket, an ancient temple where the cloisters are riddled with niches containing thousands of Buddha images. The sun rose rapidly so we made our way first to the river bank for a breeze and then into a café for not one but two fruit shakes, a mango one followed by a superb passion fruit drink.

Pause by the River for a welcome breeze

Mango shake

By noon we had to retreat to our respective abodes, my guest house and her hotel room, to relax with a book inside until the dense heat dispersed slightly.  In the later afternoon we cycled to Vientiane’s very own Arc de Triomphe-an incongruous sight rising above one of the central intersections.

Officially called Victory Monument (Patuxai) it’s a memorial to those who died in pre revolutionary wars, and was built in 1969 with cement donated by the USA for the construction of a new airport!

I had to run up the seven flights of stairs for a view of the city in the late afternoon sun as, like much of Laos, opening hours are erratic and the staff wanted to go home….but it was worth it to see the city without the heat haze which settles like a mist between 12-3pm. As the pics show, I was not looking my best at the top! But the view down over the towering pillars was great –not one for those with vertigo-and seeing the sun set through the bizarre monument was impressive.

View from the top of Victory Monument

Sunset at theVictory Monument aka Arc de Triomphe

An early supper in a street café near the guest house; fried mixed vegetables, crispy yellow noodles with vegetables and a dragon fruit shake-although veggie options are rare, I have found that the endlessly helpful staff will ask around until someone with English appears, and then here the dishes can be made without meat as it is added last-and the kitchen is right in front of me so I know that’s true! It’s odd to see the food freshly prepared inches away from the table but equally very reassuring to see the fresh fruit and vegetables painstakingly prepared. High quality, huge quantity and low prices, it’s cheaper to eat out than to eat in here.

Vientiane Views

Monday morning daybreak as the rising sun streams through the windows of the guest house, I am now so used to waking at dawn I no longer notice it.

I am getting my bearings in Vientiane and feel comfortable in this family run guest house. I am cutting costs as hotels here are expensive, this is one up from a hostel so its not a true backpackers budget dive, I have a bit of space, air/con, a fuzzy TV with bbc, a shower which works and even a little table to type on, there is even free water, hot and cold, though its three floors down to reception-more steps!!

I felt much disorientated on first arriving here. The bus journey was tiring-I now read in my guide book that ‘Bus journeys can be protracted, uncomfortable affairs, with your space invaded by being sick into plastic bags whilst caged chickens squawk in your ear. Your bus will most probably break down and you’ll be forced to sit on the outskirts of a forest ……………’  Never a truer world.

My book also tells me this is known as the most laid back capitol in the world. Exactly my thoughts. Expecting a capitol city to be at least vaguely city like, it has taken me two days to realise this is, um, well, a collection of disparate streets, though with a wonderful river front and superb wats and markets to explore.

It must be the only capitol you can cycle comfortably, meandering around alleys, along boulevards from the French era, around the market stalls, in and out of the Wats.
Here too though building work is underway everywhere, the Canadian owner here tells me that in the 8 years he has been here the traffic (what traffic?) has increased enormously and he fears for the future of the gentle, slow, people.

Vientiane is a melting pot of ethnicities, the pace of life belongs to the country but the people who live here come from so many cultures and societies-there are at least 132 different ethnic groups, a high percentage are Thai, the Buddhism is aligned with animism very obviously. The communist government apparently has suppressed Buddhism but the monks are very visible; here men will study as a novice monk for three years or so as if it was ‘national service’ to achieve mature manhood.

The city heat is oppressive, especially after the cooler air in Vang Vieng-30 degrees rather than 35/40 here. Yesterday I cycled with my mate Heather to Pha That Luang-see pic- the most important national monument in Laos and a favourite trip for visiting monks; there we were, two elderly white women, and hundreds of orange clad monks. And then I went on a swimming pool foray. Turns out there is a public pool bearing a remarkable resemblance to the Pells pool in Lewes less than a five minute walk from the guest house.  So I fetched the cossie, found a wooden sun lounge without too many holes, shared a shady tree, swam, ate spiced fruit and ice cream, and chilled out!

Last night we met up for supper and again for breakfast this morning, cycling off before the heat becomes impossible. The trip became one of iced coffee and markets. The first iced coffee (breakfast) was at the morning market, sitting at a stall watching rice sellers and hustle and bustle of the traders.

Rice Sellers in the morning market

Coffee break #1

 A Wat or two later, another iced coffee was called for.  This time we paid three times the price, but for three very good reasons-four if you count the newspaper. One; the clean bathroom, two; air conditioning; three; this café, Makphet, is part of a chain which gives training and a career for former street children…a good cause, and four, the newspaper! And in fairness, as you can see from the pic, a gorgeous coffee.

Coffee break #2

This afternoon I went on a solitary bike ride along the Mekong River leaving Heather to her massage. The water levels are so low you can virtually walk to Thailand, and the fishing villages below the raised road/promenade continue untouched by progress.

Fishing village

Thailand across the river

And this evening…yes, I did the aerobics class!  The instructor leaps onto the table and switches on the loudspeakers the moment the sun has set-people come and go but attendance is impressive. By the time the hour was up it was dark and I was exhausted. I guess I should sleep well tonight!

Vientiane

Yesterday passed in a blur; up at dawn for a last breakfast gazing in awe at the limestone cliffs of Vang Vieng from my beloved bamboo river hut before a pick up in a pick up truck for the bus station.

In typical Laos fashion, the bus was an hour late leaving. A posher version that the one down from Luang Prabang, a double decker with curtains and reclaining seats, was probably not the best vehicle for the twisty, windy road up and over the mountain range. Needless to say progress was slow, the engine overheated at one stage so we pulled into a roadside shack to wait it out-the smell of burning tyres from the braking was filling the interior making everyone feel rather queasy, so getting out for a while no bad thing!

The bus chugged into the outer limits of Vientiane two hours late and then dropped us not in the centre, as per the ticket, but at the northern bus station 20 kms away, forcing us into tuk tuks for the transfer to the centre. A revolt by the more experienced passengers meant the transfer price dropped from 50,000 to 10,000 kip for the 30 minute bumpy rattle into the capital city-which at first sight looks like a ghost town about the size of Brighton, the small capitol for a small country.

My guest house is family run and delightfully friendly. Watching the sun set over the Mekong River over Thailand on the opposite bank is fascinating. Everyone gathers for the sunset parade, the aerobics classes take place on the river bank as night falls and the temperature drops and the night market lines the street.

Evening Aerobics

Sunset over Thailand from the Laos side of the Mekong

I did do the ‘wat’ tour today, as you can see from the pics-more details to follow when I can work out which one was what! Supper of Pho noodle soup with vegetables and fresh rice vegetable spring rolls washed down with guava juice has made me sleepy and ready for bed, so more blogging when my eyes will stay open!

The Golden Wat

Blue Lagoon Beauty

An impulse moment this morning meant I found myself on the back of motorbike again, heading off the dirt tracks for the famous Blue Lagoon. This was not the original plan. I have now been in Vang Vieng long enough to know that it is well nigh impossible to cycle in comfort so set off on foot to explore the nearby caves.

Padding along through the riverbank villages, a local family stopped to chat, seeing an opportunity to offer a lift (helmet included). Now I knew and they knew that this was not official, as the only formal service here is by tuk tuk, but it takes so long to get anywhere here given the terrain, so after much negotiation a price was fixed for the return journey and on I hopped.

Luckily I made it both ways without mishap and it was worth the impulse. I won’t hire a motorbike to drive myself as the town is full of walking wounded/or broke due to costs incurred, but the tuk tuks are just too expensive for one person!

The Blue Lagoon is actually the pool at the foot of Phu Kham cave; full of carp fish which swim around you in the turquoise waters.  The cave itself is 200 metres steep rock climbing but I don’t like to be beaten, clambering up without putting too much strain on the makeshift bamboo rails!  But once inside and crawling through the hole, the cavern opens out to reveal the Sleeping Golden Buddha dating from the 11th century, surrounded by glimmering limestone stalactites.

Sleeping Golden Buddha

By the time I’d arrived back here at the riverside hut I was brown with mud dust, caked from head to foot from the ride. A swim and a sit down was not enough, a massage was required!

This too turned out to be not as expected. The traditional Laos massage is not standard across the country as it depends on the ancestry of the masseur. A high proportion of the population are Thai. So this afternoon I had the full works Thai style. Everything was stretched, pulled, pummelled, trodden on, kneaded….my head was yanked back so far at one point I thought it was about to be disconnected. I can now see bruises on my arms and legs from the pressure! Will it help the stiffness? In fairness, I feel more limber this evening despite the bruising.

In dire need of sit down, I staggered into the nearest beauty salon to have a manicure (£1, honestly, with polish, and my nails were ragged from the rock climbing, swimming) where again the family were Thai, the nail technician being a truly gorgeous lady boy. Bless him/her, he asked my age, and when I replied he looked genuinely stunned and said I was ‘beautiful’ –a balm to the soul as much as the massage was balm to the body!

Off tomorrow on the bus for Vientiane; I shall be sorry to leave Vang Vieng. There are very few tourists/backpackers here at present as the river levels are too low for tubing/kayaking; there is a laid back ‘vibe’ here, between noon and 3pm nothing moves, the slow pace of life has seeped into me sweeping away the English rush  and allowing me to relax into a contemplative peace. For however long it lasts, thank you Vang Vieng!

Sunset by the River

Missing, one eyebrow, reward for finder!

Salutary tale for those who follow-do not have eyebrows ‘shave or pull off’ in Laos. Now, when it is too late, I know that the practise here is to take off the whole brow, using make up to draw a line. Because normally here eyebrows are thicker than western styles, so the only reason to be ‘plucked’ is to go bare ready for a special make up.

So when I tracked down a beauty salon and asked for waxing, off came the left eyebrow! In one fell ‘strip’.. At which point I got slightly hysterical. The therapist was genuinely upset, trying to draw it back on with a pencil. She realised it was not what I wanted, but neither of us were sure what to do!

The salon next door (another front door opened to reveal another therapist, wax bowl in hand) had the added bonus of a girl who knew a girl who knew a boy who spoke English, who was duly summoned.  At which point the truth was revealed. No one’s fault, but I was/am missing one eyebrow.

By now a crowd had gathered and much discussion took place literally over my head. The new therapist set about my right eyebrow with barber’s razors, seriously, and tiny scissors. I’d given up and resigned myself to looking a prat so was beyond caring.
Fortunately the bizarre implements did work, my right side is as shapely as post an English salon. Shame about the left.

An eye brow pencil was handed over free for good will, so for £3 –seems to be the going rate for anything body wise-I will just have to remember not to turn my left side to the camera/people etc until hair grows back and, for the first time in many years, wear make up!!  Bother. What with my very short hair and my lop sided face I could audition for a children’s cartoon character.

Feeling and looking rather silly, I furiously cycled off into the hills, completely forgetting that once out of this three road town the beaten tracks become rutted dirt paths, strewn with large stones and even larger holes.  I bumped and ground my way through a quarry, past Buddhist cemeteries hidden in the bamboo grass, past duck ponds and rice paddies, many now darkened post burn (the air quality here is getting worse as more farmers are burning off), eventually coming to a halt in a small village high in the hills.

Here I was at once the object of much attention. Young kids on motorbikes zoomed over, surrounding me with stares and laughter. I was paranoid it was the eyebrows, but it seems more than not many tourists come this far, as I was greeted with kindness and a free, albeit dusty, bottle of Pepsi, sat on a wooden bench and asked to wave to babies, take photos of people and eat Laos griddle sausages –I managed to politely refuse the last request.

Gingerly making my way back down into the valley floor with sore muscles and a sunburnt nose to add to my ridiculous looks, I had to sit on my little balcony for a while nursing my woes.

Back onto the bike and up to the market for forage and then down winding tracks until I found a bend in the river where the locals make it their own. Here as often in Laos the two sides of the country were working alongside each other on the water; kayaks and tourist long boats plied the river while local fisherwomen bend double catching baskets of fish with their hands, men gathered wood, others used long poles to knock down the overhanging fruit trees, cows were herded down to drink, as the sun went down many people came down to bath, stripping off before dunking themselves in the all purpose waters.

I spent a pleasant hour with the fisherwomen being taught how to catch the fish hiding under the rocks (impossible, and my back is killing me, how do these women do this for hours on end every day!) while the passing tourists gave me odd glances. The women were lovely, keen to share food and drink as well as fishing tips, completely ignoring the incomers drifting downriver near by. As before, I sense with foreboding that progress will soon overtake this gentle nation.

Traditional Fisherwomen

This evening I met up with Heather for supper, a delicious shared meal of fried tofu in red curry paste and green tofu curry with steamed rice. Nothing happens in a hurry here, the family who run the well regarded local place overlooking the river take their time, but the food was superb. Finding good veggie food isn’t always easy –though there is a trendy organic café now on the ‘high street’ at inflated prices-but this meal was fantastic and very cheap, less than £1.50 with too much to finish. Worth the wait.

Time to relax

Vang Vieng has many dimensions. Originally fishing and farming village tucked into a bend in the river protected by the high limestone rocks, its claim to fame in recent years has been for tubing/kayaking on the backpacking trail.  It is still very small; guest houses snake along the river side and at the intersection of the three streets is ‘hippie’ junction where the above is organised, but so far few bars and few shops.

The locals go about their business in the main completely ignoring the visiting tourists. So from my bamboo balcony I look down into the river and watch them fishing, wading waist high swishing nets and then flicking them inside out, placing any catch carefully in the baskets tied around their waists.

Seaweed is gathered continually and taken ashore to the opposite bank smoke rises from the village houses, cattle and horses roam the towpath, nothing much happens here really! There is a trade building up offering tourist boat rides-this evening one such long tailed canoe went past with two monks in the passenger seats, taking photos and obviously enjoying their trip!

The traumatic white knuckle bus ride and the inadvertent excitement of yesterdays caving escapade, plus hours bumping on gravel/mud tracks on a non-mountain bike, have taken their toll. I am somewhat sore.

So today, Wednesday, after a long leisurely breakfast gazing at the shafts of sunlight crisscrossing the cliff face, I wandered over the bridge to the villages which dot the paddy fields and into the dark forest edges at the bottom of the sheer walls.

The main danger here is from herds of oxen, luckily equipped with bells so I could jump into a dusty ditch in plenty of time! Walking under the shade of high bamboo groves into dense undergrowth lined with flowers, hearing cattle jingling, for a moment I could have been in a Swiss valley!

My little balcony is perfect for sitting and reading. I love the buzz of cities but the beauty of this peaceful valley is an oasis of calm. It is a balm to the soul to just relax. I’m not one for tubing or kayaking-and apparently the river is too low at present anyway so the backpackers are less in evidence than usual-so I have the perfect excuse to do nothing but sit/swim in the little pool/drink ice coffee/enjoy the view.

There is another single woman here ‘of a certain age’, also married with children, so we have become friends. There are less mature travellers here and it’s rare to find a fellow solo traveller like myself, with a family back home, most I meet are on a voyage of self discovery rather than just discovery. We spend hours watching the river life and the changing sunlight/sunsets comparing family tales and discussing our own independent ways.

I am  now the proud possessor of very short hair! My crop had sprouted in the heat, if you turned me upside down I would have functioned as a floor mop, so I pottered about this evening peering into doorways until  I saw one opening into a local beauty salon, where the young girl motioned me in and welded shaver and scissors to good effect. £3-stunning value!

Vang Vieng

Yesterday’s six hour roller coaster endurance test meant I did not fully appreciate how gorgeous this place was until this morning, when I drew back the curtains on my riverfront bamboo hut and saw the stunning cliffs opposite.

Real coffee for breakfast! Even better. What a fantastic start to the day. Plus fresh pineapple or papaya juice, fruit, baguette with home made tamarind jam and a choice of omelette.  There was one minor downside; it was only 7.30pm. Bamboo walls have no sound or light protection; dawn chorus alarm call.

Breakfast by the River

Watching the sun climb above the peaks shifting the black shadows to shades of grey was worth the early start; staying on the waterfront in a rickety stilt hut means mosquitoes/noise/not many mod cons but the view is superb.

View from Hotel just after Sunrise

Keen to explore outside the three streets which make up the town itself, I hired a bike.  Logic should have told me that if there are only three streets everything else would be a rutted track. Ouch. More ouch! I can barely sit down tonight.

 Having as usual failed to read the guide book by sheer luck I made it first to one of the biggest caves in the network lining the cliff faces, Tam Chang. It’s been lived in during the centuries by villagers, especially during the war; with its 300 step high entrance (more steps!)  There are openings in the rock which provide a panoramic view of the river, town, rice paddies, across the valley to the distant mountain ranges.

Honeycombed with stalactites and stalagmites the limestone formations are mesmerising; the interior refreshingly cool. Many caverns house Buddha sculptures, not just a legacy of the past but also present, as the caves are all said to be inhabited by spirits.

Back for a refreshing dip in the pool followed by a siesta under a shady tree watching the silver fish glint in the water, local children on canoes pulling up alongside offering fruit to buy.

This afternoon I gingerly negotiated the wooden bridge over the river to discover more. Following a dirt track across the paddy fields I saw a sign to another cave where I found out the hard way, literally, that not reading the guide book is not always the best idea…this cave was rock climbing only without the ropes. The guide (of which more later) gave me a head torch and pushed me in before I could back out!

I slithered, twisted, slipped, clung onto rock edges, caught sight of bats hanging above my head, bizarre patterns in the stone walls, water poured down onto my head as I crawled along. My torch illuminated the most enormous cave spider which precipated my very fast descent into the pool at the bottom!  At this point I rebelled. The water is icy cold/dark/disappeared after a few yards under the rock face/down a slippery slope. I refused to swim on the grounds that I’d already risked life and limb and really did not want to drown.

Back finally on dry land, my ‘guide’ demanded a very large tip. As I’d already paid for the entrance and had not asked for a guide anyway, I would not pay the amount asked for, though I was going to tip, had he not insisted. The ruder he got, the angrier I got. His friends appeared on motorbikes to find out what was happening and started to laugh at him for being harangued by a manic English woman. Eventually he backed down and I cycled off at a fast pace, not daring to look back.

Tonight I saw the evening sunset from the balcony where breakfast is served. As you can see from the photo, I’m sunburnt, exhausted and exhilarated. And absolutely shattered!

Watching....

the Sunset

Up the mountain, down the mountain, up the mountain…

Laos buses are very similar to Indian ones. I had booked a ‘VIP’ bus, so had the extra luxury of air/con and windows. Other than that, there’s not much difference. The horrendous mountain corkscrew road is obviously to be endured regardless, but for 7 hours in this heat the extra £1 was worth getting whatever comfort is available.

This high rise twister of a trip was not for the faint hearted. Or anyone suffering from motion sickness. I’d already had one hairy ride before we even chugged out of the bus station. The promised pick up did not appear this morning so I had to make an angry phone call to the ticket agent; a tuk tuk driver was duly dispatched with profuse apologies and drove as fast as I’ve ever seen one go to get me there in time!

Bus Station in the early morning mist

Luckily I don’t a) scare easily, though there were a few sharp intake of breath moments and b) don’t get motion sickness so was able to enjoy the spectacular scenery as much as was possible. The road was only one vehicle wide and turned continuously throwing us about the seat without respite. Up we struggled into the clouds, ears popped, down we went into the sun, up again we slowly crawled up another peak, down again inches from hundreds of feet drops into the ravine below.

The Main Road!

Views from the bus

Two hours later we finally stopped for 10 minutes in a shack with a set of eastern style disgusting loos which they had the cheek to charge for! Then off we set again for another two hours. By this time many of my fellow passengers had lost the will to live. I was exhausted from the bumping, jerking and grinding and the novelty of the view had worn off slightly!

Lunch (provided with the ticket) came at last 4 hours into the journey, I have never been so pleased to see a hot bowl of plain noodle soup, I was starving. Another two hours and the scenery changed to green rice paddies. The towering stone peaks which line the river bank at VangVieng came into view.

I’m currently recovering in a little riverside room which is mosquito central. As the floor and walls are bamboo there’s no way of keeping them out, so it’s into the net tonight. From first sight this stunning town looks amazing, it’s also a party town for backpackers, as I’m preparing for bed I can hear everyone else heading out, alas the spirit is willing but the body is exhausted!

Last day in Luang Prabang

My last full day here in Luang Prabang which had to be started with a banana pancake. As you can see from the photo, it’s a mission to finish, but I always succeed, though the day I decided to wash it down with mango shake rather than lemon juice and coffee was a challenge!

Breakfast Banana Pancake

A morning saunter down the food market browsing; the first day here I had no idea what was what, but some packs do have English translations, so I’ve tried most things, all are fatty, salty, spicy or drenched in sugar, take your pick, either way not healthy but delicious, and my nails/hair/etc are growing so fast it’s ridiculous so the fat is obviously doing them a world of good.

I’ve sent pics of today’s lunch, fried mushroom strips, fried bamboo and crispy Mekong seaweed; the most powerful spice here is peanut so there is not an unpleasant aftertaste, I can just about kid myself I’m having a healthy diet!

There is one very famous temple here, Wat XiengThong, which is generally regarded as the most beautiful in Laos, so despite eschewing the wat round I decided I should see this one. It did warrant a viewing.

As you can see from the pics, the mosaic lined shrine walls are superb, and inside gold and silver lacquer paintings describe the holy tales. Here too were the old water channels suspended from the ceiling, lovingly reconstructed, they transport well water down to pour over the head of a Buddha, the sacred water is then captured and used to bless the faithful.

There’s also a rather moving ‘shed’ behind where disused mosaics and Buddha sculptures sit in solitude, away from the temple. ..poor things! So as well as a picture of me below on of the shrine walls, one of a silver embellished elephant with keen jewelled blue eyes which took my fancy, the last picture is of the Buddha’s no one wanted against a wall hidden in the dark, my personal ‘shrine’.

Time to try the famous Laos foot massage. Here this as, if not more, important as the full body version.  The minimum is an hour; spas offer 2-3 hour treatments. It’s a version of reflexology; the therapist massages, kneads and then uses wood implements to apply specific pressure points. Then the lower leg gets a good going over, stronger than the traditional massage, my calf muscles were literally screaming for mercy. And to finish; a complimentary neck and shoulder work-out which almost knocked me out! Total price; £3.50.

I staggered out of the cool dark wooden room into the bright afternoon sunlight and fell into the nearest coffee shop. For the first time since arriving in Laos I sat in a purpose built ‘tourist’ restaurant, paying double the street price for a ‘coffee shake’. But the shake was delicious and the bathroom was wonderful…worth paying the extra 70p for the drink. Normally I sit in shady riverfront cafes run by locals, and the bathroom is eastern style, often shared with the family so full of shower gel and toothbrushes, and minus sink. Here was running hot water, a mirror, wet face flannels-you have to be escorted in by the restaurant staff but I braved their bemused looks to go in twice, once before the drink and once after, just for the sheer joy of it!

The creamy milk shake did not assuage my hunger but a coconut crepe (yes, that was from a stall, I’m on a very tight budget!) hit the spot. One last sunset reverie and back to pack.
Tomorrow I head off on the bus to Vang Vieng.  Up, over and out of the valley I have grown to love and on to pastures new.

Paradise Lost??

Is it only a week ago I felt out of my depth in an unfamiliar valley where time has stood still? A magical mystery has unfolded of countryside here in the North barely touched by the west. Enveloped by kindness, I have seen a way of life as it would have once in Thailand, a life dominated by tradition, respect, religion and kinship.
I can ‘map’ the dirt tracks through the temples, past the markets, along the river banks, over the bridges ( and avoid the expensive tourist trap bend where prices double), chat comfortably with monks, women and men alike, play with children….

This morning, fuelled by the enormous fluffy banana ‘pancake’-it’s a waffle construction which defies description-I hired a bike again and set off out into the hills.

Winding my way along the communal gardens irrigated by drains and into the dusty villages, I stopped for a breather in a ‘wat’ where a novice monk seized the moment to practise his English-which was excellent. He was 3 years into his 7 year novice period, but not sure if he would continue-many drop out. I told him how beautiful his country was, and he told me his concerns that soon it would be spoilt “like Thailand” where he came from originally.

Current scene

Go up the road another kilometre, he said, and see the new buildings underway with Chinese and Korean funding. See the new brick built houses replacing the bamboo shacks. Understand how sad the Laos people are at this invasion. Young and old alike, he insisted, do not want this. Won’t it bring prosperity, I asked. “Not to us” he answered, “what do we need. We can keep clean in the river, we can grow our food, fish, graze our animals, work with the light. We do not want the western lifestyle”.  It is, he told me, Vietnamese immigrants coming to work in these hotels and ‘new towns’ , causing angry and resentment among Laotians.

Sign of things to come

I took the road he indicated, and sure enough there were the proposed new hotels, the signs advertising vacancies, the plans for a new town alongside advertising a gated community of high quality housing. See photos-anyone want a job!

Job Adverts

I now understand why the family who take care of this guest house are Vietnamese. By dint of talking to the one woman who speaks broken English, I find out that she and her cousins (10 in all from Saigon through to Hanoi) came here for work. The building itself is owned by a wealthy Laos family, but they are now building a new upmarket hotel nearby and had advertised for live in staff here. Apparently the money is better than can be earned in Vietnam, so the family applied. Their living conditions are not brilliant-mattresses on the terrace and the balcony, a garage like structure at the rear here for cooking-they do a fantastic breakfast under the circumstances-and that’s it but she tells me they are happy as they can send money home.

To my western eyes, the appeal of running hot water (and a sink which holds it in!) a shower which works, electricity which stays on; sheets, cushions-oh I crave a comfy cushion and a clean bed- the lifestyle which wealthy tourists want and will bring with them, this may inevitably become desired commodities rather than, as currently perceived, wasteful and over pampered.

The communal outside lifestyle here will alter if/when new housing replaces the majority form of bamboo shacks. At present even in the purpose built brick structures like this one, open space is shared, the bedrooms opening onto long communal hallways, terraces and balconies.

I love sitting outside watching the street life below me, the women having their hair fixed in the front room opposite, the men drinking and playing cards, the children curled up asleep on the mattresses. I am greeted with friendly welcome now by the neighbours (I’m aware now that the Vietnamese family here keep themselves to themselves and are not integrated into the otherwise very open street community).

This afternoon post siesta I cycle into the main area for my first traditional Lao massage. 60,000 kip, less than a Costa coffee! Different again to Vietnam, India, Indonesia, Thailand, each country has their own style. Here the technique is through (provided) cotton clothes, a similar feel to a sports massage in England. The masseur found tender knots and kneaded them, instinctively understanding which spots were sore or overtight.  90 minutes of therapeutic bliss, plus a free jasmine tea. What more can a woman want.

Cycling back in the darkness along the river bank with the wind in my hair to the smells and sounds of the night time food vendors, I sense ‘at one’ with the peaceful tranquillity here.

Buddha Day

The first full moon after the Lunar New Year 14 days later is the day where devout Buddhists and followers (and me) assemble in the temples to honour their teachers, an annual event heralded by louder and longer prayer drums at 4am and continuing throughout the day with prayers and parades.

So tonight under the bright shining light of the milky white moon and under the shadow of the illuminated hilltop temple I was truly privileged to be allowed to join in the worship. Offered flowers and instructions by locals-this is the time to be happy and kind to strangers, though to me everyone is here anyway-I sat cross legged among the novice monks whilst the senior monk recited verses and chanted. Then we rose as one, holding flaming candles aloft, and followed the singing orange clad choirs around the temple walls, leaving offerings for Buddha along the way.

Tonight was what I came for, the moment that will stay with me for ever, the memory which overbalances the hardships, the stress, the fatigue. I shall never forget this evening.

I had no camera, nor did I want one, this was the time to watch, to sense, to savour and to remember.

There are pictures for today though, from the earlier part of the day-very early in fact as I started at dawn! I had booked to visit the Pak Si caves, centuries old caves now full of hundreds of Buddha statues left by worshippers over the years, and which can only be reached by river.

I had not known it was Buddha day when I booked, but this was no bad thing, as the drums which normally only last for about 10 minutes at 4am today were still continuing at 6am so I was awake anyway! Collected by tuk tuk in the chilly mountain dawn I clambered down into the ‘boat’ for the two hour trip.

‘Boat’ is not really accurate, although we did stay afloat. Three sections of previous crafts had been bolted together, each held two ancient bus seats nailed to the floor, with 6 of us on board we were inches from the rushing water. As you can see from the pictures, both boat and driver’s cockpit were very primitive…look carefully and you may spot the animal skulls hanging from the roof, and the glued on scooter mirror-not that he ever used it anyway.

The Landing Stage

Captain's cabin

The river is spectacularly low. The photos show how high the houses are in the wet season, now separated from the river by endless steps. During the dry season the villagers use the banks for temporary market gardens, living alongside their produce. Fishing farms appear on the sand banks, make shift communities live in the middle of the current on the protruding rocks.

Temporary Hut at the waters edge

Steps up the bank - its the Dry Season

This is not a journey for the faint hearted or anyone suffering motion sickness! The cave itself is also up yet more stairs carved into the rock face but worth the climb. Surprisingly moving to see hundreds of Buddha sculptures of diverse media from the size of my finger upwards, lined up in every crevice and pushed into every crack. Altars have appeared at ground level in the lower cave, as you can from the photo of me (in my newly purchased mossie protection trousers!) sitting exhausted on one!

Where's Buddha?

The boat ride back was exhilarating if exhausting! Luckily my habit of partaking in the customary siesta came in useful today as it gave me the stamina to engage with the evening parade, for which I am incredibly thankful.

And yes, Valentines Day is celebrated here too, so along with blossom offerings are red roses for love, a lucky coincidence which many young worshippers in the temple told me will make it a truly special year!