‘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!
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!
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| Beer o'clock |
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| Bye Bye to Heather |
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