The scorpion and the bamboo hut

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Our boat for the journey up to Nong Khiaw. You can see the captain/mechanic trying to fix the propellor on the left.


Eager to discover how Laos could possibly get any more sleepy than we’d found in Luang Prabang and Vientiane, we decided to take a break from it all and head upriver to the remote town of Muang Ngoi Neua.

We’d been promised a memorable six hour journey to the intermediate town of Nong Khiaw, and it was certainly epic – in all senses of the word. The boat was shaped like a javelin, a craft about two metres wide and 15 long, with two rows of child-size wooden seats down each side and a dozen of us on board. And just like its javelin equivalent, it had no cushions. Six hours is a long time to be sitting on a tiny wooden stool with your knees pressed against your chest. It’s particularly long when it turns out the journey actually takes ten hours, travelling all morning, all afternoon, and arriving in the dark!

Even if somewhat of a test of our endurance, the journey was stunning. As we headed upstream along the Mekong and then the Nam Ou rivers, we passed villagers with fishermen out on their narrow canoe-like boats, and towering karst limestone cliffs, which dominate the landscape. I’ve never really travelled a long way on a river before, but it’s interesting to see how much the surface changes as you travel along, from calm quiet waters one second to choppy rapids the next, presumably as the depth decreases, causing the water to run much faster. Although it’s dry season, we were surprised at the speed of the river, with the upstream journey at times an alarming struggle for our small boat. On a couple of occasions the river had narrowed and with the engine going at full throttle we were only just able to keep going forward, us shouting words of encouragement as the pilot tried to find the right line between the slower running water at the edge and not running us aground or into the overhanging greenery.

We’d initially been hoping to make our onward journey the same day, but it became apparent that was not to be, as we soon had to stop for repairs to a broken propellor. After an hour of our captain turning mechanic and running around in just his underpants to everyone’s amusement, we set off again, with the delay meaning we were still going as the sun set and it got dark. Given the boat lacked lights, this was a bit more of a challenge, but we finally made it with the moon to guide us, in spite of the well-meaning attempts of an American woman who got her torch out and proceeded to accidentally shine it in the captain’s eyes, eliminating any night sight he’d picked up. We later found out that some delay befalls the boat every day – everyone we’d spoken to had a journey of at least 10 hours, so they’re quite used to it, although we’re not entirely sure why they don’t have a spare light just in case!

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The scorpion in the sink. The plug hole was huge, honest!


After a stopover in Nong Khiaw, we took a quick (well, 90 mins was quick compared to the previous day!) boat journey to the village of Muang Ngoi Neua. It’s brilliantly remote, with no mains electricity or roads, so you have to get there on water. Although not free of tourists – the one street is lined with guest houses – it was a great place to chill out and practice our hammock skills in idyllic rural surroundings. Most of the places are pretty rustic – small stilt bungalows with weaved bamboo walls and floorboards on the floor. On our first night, we found the place we were staying a little too rustic for our liking; we woke to find a small scorpion in the sink. We thought the thing was dead, an assumption that Laura to her horror discovered to be false while in the bathroom – with the door locked from the outside! Yes, I was the the one that locked that door (although with Laura’s agreement), and yes I did feel pretty bad about it! As we were scrabbling to set Dr Butler free from her scorpion prison, i suddenly remembered a less-than-helpful ‘fact’ I’d picked up from a recent Indiana Jones film – it’s the little scorpions that are the most deadly! Fortunately, it didn’t get her. Panic over, we quickly relocated to somewhere nicer on the riverfront, and we were a little more careful about wandering around barefoot after that!

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Huge leaves, or tiny hands?

One day we went trekking to see some nearby villages. The trip took us through forests of green bamboo and lines of mysterious tall trees. You could for a moment believe this was a land of giants, with the greenery soaring to the sky above, and humongous leaves carpeting the floor below. Perhaps this is where those huge Buddha footprints came from? We plodded on through valleys of dry rice paddies, their wispy yellow stalks wavering in the wind like wheat, creating a beautiful picture against the sky and green mountains.

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The village and rice paddies

The village we stopped in for lunch comprised entirely of bamboo stilt houses – in a design we’ve seen elsewhere in Laos, each wooden stilt of the house rests on a large boulder for foundations, making it look like the whole place could be shifted horizontally with a shove. We didn’t try!

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A stilt house in the village. Note the boulders under the stilts.

Since there’s no electricity supply, people who need it rely either on diesel generators for a few hours a day (which is how they light the town we were staying in), or they use little dynamos suspended in the river nearby. We wandered across the paddies to take a look, following the telltale sign of the rustic-style electricity pylons, not great grey monstrosities, but instead sticks of bamboo with a bit of black bell wire running between them. Simple but effective!

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Turbines in the water

On the way back downstream, we stopped in Nong Khiaw to visit the local Than Pha Thok caves, home to the Luang Prabang provincial government during the war. Set high up and deep within the cliffs, the caves run for hundreds of metres, with areas for different sections of the administration. Next to the council chamber, there was a space labelled ‘Art Dept’; we had romantic visions of experts in oil and watercolour painting the scenes at war for posterity, until we realised that ‘art’ probably stood for ‘artillery’! Round the cliff, the two 10 year old guides we’d adopted took us to a second much more narrow opening, essentially a long tunnel running far into the rock, with chambers coming off it. With only our torches to light the way, we crawled through, not wanting to look too closely for the eight-legged inhabitants that were probably also enjoying the cool and dry inside. The space was used by the regional bank during the conflict, and it wasn’t hard to see why – the single narrow twisting passageway would have made it easy to defend, and there was plenty of space inside. It was claustrophobic enough though, and I can imagine it must have been pretty hellish during the war with bombers striking the hillside outside making everything shake. At one point, crouched on a rocky ledge, we switched off both our torches to see how dark it was, and our 10 year old assistants soon told us the answer through their squeals – scarily dark!

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Tham Pha Thok caves, home to the provincial government during the war

For the return journey to Luang Prabang we took the bus, a cramped three hour trip on a Sawngthaew. At one point, I counted 20 of us on the back, with 5 sacks of vegetables! With the wind rushing past us sitting on the open back of a pick-up and the lack of sun, we both actually felt cold for the first time in months. It reminded us that it is actually winter (I guess those back home might have noticed before now!), and time for us to head south to warmer climes for Christmas.

Simon

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Our transport home, a sawngthaew. There were 20 of us in there!

Legacies of the past

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Tree of life on the wall at Wat Xieng Thong


We took the sleeper bus to the northern town of Luang Prabang. Our departure was fairly typical of the laid back approach here. We were told to be at the hostel at 6pm for a bus leaving the town’s northern bus station at 7. Being new around here, we got there early. An hour later, at quarter to seven, our transport to take us to the bus station finally arrived – a Sawngthaew, converted pickup truck with a basic roof and two benches screwed to the floor. We were beginning worry about missing the imminent bus, but then we remembered – Laos time. Chill out! Our pickup spent the next thirty minutes spiralling through the streets of the tourist part of town collecting various other folks for the ride, each looking more panic stricken as 7pm came and then went. Pretty much full, we were certain this must be it, and we’d soon be finally off. We lurched round the corner, only to find the engine switched off, and ourselves one street away from where we’d started two hours before. The driver announced that we were waiting for two more passengers who were running late, and so we sat and waited. 7:30 came and went, and then the guy, looking increasingly worried himself, had a debate with the manager of the hostel we were parked outside, who then also came to assure us we were waiting for good reason – comically he told us the passengers holding us up weren’t even on our bus, instead heading south to Si Phan Don (we were going north, but it was from the same out-of-town bus station). At 7:45 two people finally showed up (it seemed they’d just casually gone out for a long dinner), piled into the front, and off we went. After another ten minute stop on the way, we eventually arrived at the bus station, alarmed at whether we’d be forced to sit on the roof, or if the bus would even still be there. We raced from our transport to the bus, only to find it empty. A sign on the front said Lurang Prabang 8:30pm. It seemed our 6pm pickup had been a little eager! We learnt our lesson, and will not be early again!

During the night we trundled our way through the dark countryside, stopping for various toilet breaks at nameless shacks in equally anonymous towns. At one point I opened my bleary eyes to find we were in a place apparently from the eighties – and I wasn’t actually dreaming! Everywhere one looked, there were bright white fluorescent strip lights in a strange Lao homage to bad taste and punk. They hung from lamp posts and took the place of floodlights illuminating temples. Every now and again we’d go past a lit up house, where I thought normal lightbulbs had been restored – only for us to see through the next window the distinct long white shape of glowing neon and have the 80s reconfirmed. In my dreamlike state, I half imagined seeing things to accompany the mood lighting: huge coloured hairstyles; ghetto blasters and graffiti; and worst of all, Margaret Thatcher in a shellsuit. Fortunately we woke up to find ourselves at dawn in Luang Prabang and not stuck in a nightmare of three decades ago!

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Wat Ho Pha Bang gleaming in gold

Another UNESCO world heritage site, Luang Prabang is famous for its historic mix of ageing French architecture and thirty temples, or Wats (the best being actually named ‘Wat That’). Like Vientiane, it sits on the banks of the Mekong – although without a huge flood plain in front, so the river runs right alongside the town, providing lots of spots for tranquil waterside eating and drinking. The climate in Laos has been overwhelmingly warm and sunny, hotter and more pleasant than Vietnam, without the repressive high humidity that we’ve experienced elsewhere. Above all, that means that the shade is a refreshingly cool sanctuary rather than more of the same sticky heat. We spent a good couple of days sampling the local culture – sights, food and of course drink – and soaking up the atmosphere.

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Mural in a Wat near the City Palace

Some of the Wats really are incredible, with shining brightly coloured detail both inside and out. A lot use coloured pieces of mirrored glass to great effect, the most memorable a tree of life on the outside wall of the town’s best known monastery, Wat Xieng Thong, and the seam of bright red and green between the golden pillars at the City Palace. Wat Ho Pha Bang, at the palace, has the most amazing room of gold – every single surface in this huge space has been painted with gold leaf creating a truly heavenly effect. Some interiors are also decorated with age-old (and largely unrestored) murals, but it’s the exteriors that really stuck – set against the bright blue sky, the colours across the city were a fabulous blend of dazzling golds and gleaming reds and greens.

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View from Phousi

We climbed Phousi, the large hill in the middle of town, and from the temple at the top were treated to a vista over the surrounding area, as well as slightly incongruously, an acclaimed Buddha footprint. Having read about its existence somewhere on the hill, in true sacred relic fashion I began to see Buddhas’ footsteps everywhere. There was the strange dent in that limestone, which Laura was skeptical about, but I could definitely see something. Then came the impression in the cement, unquestionably a set of toe marks. Ok, maybe Buddhas marginally pre-date cement, but people have seen the Virgin Mary in their toast, right?! When we finally came to the footprint, a dinosaur-sized mark in the rock, we knew we’d come to the right place. Sign saying ‘Buddha Footprint’? Tick! Temple built over sacred relic to protect it from the weather? Certainly! Monk on standby nearby to smile and assist with donations? Must be it! Having succeeded in our quest, we retreated down the hill to soak up the sunset.

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The Budda footprint

While we were in town, Luang Prabang played host to its acclaimed South East Asian Film Festival, with free open air screenings in the town square. Having had some of the local rice whisky, Lao Lao, to fire up our imagination, we settled in to watch a preview of ‘On Safer Ground’, a Swedish film about the first Laos youth football team coming to the international youth games in Stockholm last year. Although slightly shaky at first, we were impressed by it and ended up gripped, following the team through their successes and penalty shootouts. To complement the football, As a more serious theme it also attempts to educate the viewer about the problem of unexploded ordinance, which as I mentioned before is a big issue in Laos. The activism culminated in heralding the arrival of the 2008 convention banning cluster munitions, a genuinely landmark action with many signatories, including the UK. Poignantly for those across South East Asia affected by UXO, the treaty has however not been signed by the main culprit, the USA.

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The football stars of On Safer Ground


After the closing credits there was a special guest appearance from the football team in their bright red kit, to rapturous applause from the audience. The film festival then welcomed their special guest to the stage, who was an odd choice given the UXO theme and the country’s history. Especially here, we weren’t expecting to hear “We welcome the US Ambassador!” In fairness to the individual, he looked embarrassed, and just shook a few hands before disappearing quietly.

His appearance made me think of
both how far Laos and the US have come in repairing their relationship after the unthinkable atrocities of the sixties and seventies, but also how far the US still has to go – not just on the issue of clearing up what it left behind, but also in there being real words of action for the Ambassador to be able to tell the crowd they were going to finally ban cluster bombs instead of embarrassed silence. We might think of these as grotesque legacies from the past, but the reality is that the source of the problem has still not been stemmed, with cluster bombs in use in very recent conflicts. The final 48 hours of the 2006 Israeli bombardment of Lebanon left more than 1,000,000 unexploded submunitions in the farmland and villages there according to the UN; the British used Cluster Bombs in Basra during the Iraqi Conflict in 2003; and the US used them extensively, including in Fullujah. In all three of these situations the objective was to reclaim the towns from militants so that civilians could return; in each they returned to a deadly harvest of explosives. Having spent much of our time hoping for the preservation of relics from the past, this is one legacy we do not want to be kept for the future.

Simon

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Sunset over the Mekong River

Listening to the rice grow

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The Patuaxy, or Vertical Runway

Making our way into town on the back of a converted pickup truck after the journey from Hanoi, we could immediately tell we were going to love Laos. Vientiane is the capital city, but feels more like a sleepy village – the streets wonderfully quiet and absent of the chaos of motorbikes and honking horns we’ve come to accept elsewhere. There are pavements, giving it an air of sophistication, and no litter, which has plagued some of the places we’ve been. I could see Laura positively beaming as we passed various fountains on the way in to the centre – fountains which were actually filled with water and working, unlike most we’ve come across on our journey. The other immediately obvious thing are the temples, or wats, whose golden gleaming beauty and multi-headed serpents are unlike anything I’ve seen before. Being just over the border, I gather they’re quite Thai in style, very different to the Buddhist temples and stupas we saw in Tibet, even if their was some familiarity in seeing monks wandering around in their robes – now Guantanamo jumpsuit orange instead of the deep red of the Himalayan orders.

The speed dial here has been turned down to ‘laze’, echoing the Laos attitude that everything must have an element of fun to be worth doing, and reflecting the pace of life in a country that until the nineties apparently had no road connection to the world outside. Smiles are in abundance, and although certainly not naive about tourists (which are as common as those smiles), you don’t get the feeling people are after your money at every turn, which we’ve certainly had elsewhere. 60 kip (£5) for an en suite twin room at the Lao Youth Inn, an absolute bargain and our cheapest yet!

Escaping from the backpacker village that comprises some of the town centre, we went off seeking sights, and soon found ourselves with two very different snapshots of the national psyche.

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Sign at the Patuaxy

The Patuaxy, or ‘Arc de Triomphe’ sits in the middle of Vientiane’s central boulevard, a towering echo of the more famous Parisian monument. It’s huge, at seven stories high, and the views from the top formidable (once we’d passed through no less than four gift shops on the route). It’s also known as ‘The Vertical Runway’, as it was actually built using cement given by the American Aid programme in the sixties for the construction of a new runway at the airport! As we found out, Lao’s relationship with America became pretty loveless during this time, but this it was an interesting reminder of how aid can be diverted. The sign at the monument itself also has a touching imprint of Lao honesty and naivety about western notions of marketing. One hilarious sentence reads “From a closer distance, it appears even less impressive, like a monster of concrete”.

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Cluster bombs at COPE

Our other snapshot of Laos life was decidedly more sombre, with a visit to the local NGO COPE, the Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise, which works with those who have lost limbs. Going round their permanent exhibition, we learned about UXO, or UneXploded Ordinance – Lao has the grim title of being officially the most bombed country on the planet, with America’s ‘secret war’ in the country happening alongside the more public atrocities in Vietnam. A red dot in the picture below indicates each bombing sortie in a war that was being officially denied by the US – targeting the ‘Ho Chi Minh’ trail into Vietnam, as well as political targets in the ‘Plain of Jars’ in the north of the country. According to official US figures, 2,093,100 tons of ordinance were dropped over 580,944 sorties, equivalent to one B52 bomber every six minutes over the nine years of the war. Notwithstanding the civilian deaths from the campaign itself, 1/3 of the population became internal refugees, and the legacy of the cluster bombs dropped still kills one person in rural Laos daily. It’s believed that 30% of the submunitions didn’t go off, leaving millions of grenade-sized bombs scattered in the countryside. Tragically, in recent years the cost of scrap metal has risen, with many poverty-struck villagers and especially children now trying to make money harvesting the metal planted by war. Half of reported UXO accidents happen to those trying to salvage munitions. Despite the efforts of the UN and mine clearance organisations like MAG, at the present rate it will take another 200 years before Laos is clear of this horrific legacy from decades ago. And all this from a war that didn’t exist.

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Bombing in the war in Laos

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A Wat in Vientiane


Our final day in the capital was Lao National Day. In other places this might have been the time for parades, street parties and celebrations. In Laos, it apparently means it’s an even sleepier day than normal! Fortunately for us, it meant we had some time to see some more of the town’s
Wats, and then wander in the brilliant afternoon sunshine down to the Mekong river, where we met some monks strolling along the sandy bank. We had a lovely chat with them, inquisitive about our lives back home and what temples we worship in. We explained the ‘Christian Temples’ attended by some on Sundays – the concept of many being non-religious is always a tricky one – and also a little about our trip around Asia, particularly Tibet. Both aged 21, they were keen to practice their English and we had a great time – even if we weren’t able to get much out of them about their lives and whether their calm smiles of the street extend within the monastery walls.

Simon

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Our monk friends by the river