"Down a Lazy River", or "Over the River and through the [Border Post]"

Funky border crossings are all to the good. This was funky. Line up at a small building near the river. Nice Thai lady stamps passport. "Are you taking any Buddha figures out of Thailand?"

Walk down a sandy bank to a group of longtail boats. Pay the equivalent of a $1.20 and take the short trip across. Walk up a sandy bank in Laos to a small building near the river. Fill out a few forms, pay some cash (only US dollars accepted) and get a thirty day visa. Stand in two more lines where Lao officials look at forms and visa and make a mark. I think the whole thing took less time than a normal line at passport control at Kennedy airport.

I then invested another $1.20 to buy or rent or whatever a cushion. This was a smart thing to do.

I have been worried about the boat trip happening. I worked out a number of senarios, ranging from no-one believes in the boat and there will only be a handful on it (good) to there is no boat (bad). Someplace in between, though towards bad, was an over backed boat. I think we had more than 80 crammed onto our boat. Standard seating was a two person narrow straight backed wooden bench not attached to the deck. About half our crowd sat on the floor. After three hours, we pulled over to the side of the river at a hamlet for a supply of beer and potato chips. These were mainly consumed by the floor sitting passengers, to their increasingly good spirits. The first day we set off a little after 10 AM and tied up at Pat Beng, a small village that seems to live for (and from) the nightly boat, at 5:30 PM. By the time we got to Pat Beng I was pretty tired and really loathing my luggage. It sort of works as a backpack for very short walks, but is really a wheel bag. It weighs approximately 3 tonnes. Pat Beng was my fourth sandy hill of the day with the cursed thing, and some acrobatics were added to the fun: you got to walk a gang plank of something less than 8 inches in width to get on and off the boat; and you were asked take off and put on your shoes at the ship edge of the gang plank, with a crowd around you and no place to put the bag down. I expect anyone who likes Buster Keaton films would have enjoyed watching me.

The cold shower was welcome. The guest house manager said with some pride that the village had gotten electricity about 6 weeks earlier. That was good news. It did not make the water hot.

During dinner, which was actually good, I chatted with other ship passengers and shared my meal with a new, very persistent friend.

Back in a boat (somewhat confusingly, a different boat) for a 9 AM departure. We made it to Luang Prabang about 6 PM. The new boat had some car seats in the back. I, out of fear that the car seats used a TDI foam, stuck with the wood benches.

So, two days on a boat? It was not comfortable. I think I liked it. I would have hated it before 7 weeks of travel had numbed me a bit. The river is pretty empty. The type of boat I was on seems the norm for the river, whether for people or goods. I probably saw a couple of dozen moving on the river over the two days. Every so often a speed boat would rocket by. The pilots, would be the term, generally wore motorcycle helmets. This made me glad of my little two person bench. Somewhat less often, we would pass a speed boat. Our boat was 90% tourists. It did occasionally pull over to drop off a person or get or deliver some goods. Once a motorized canoe came along side to collect a passenger while we continued on our way. The rest of the time was watching the river, or the shore. There were lots, like hundreds, of people panning for gold in the river. I understand this to be seasonal, when the river level is low. I did not hear anyone yell "eureka" or anything I took for its Lao equivalent. Kids splashed some. Older people more modestly bathed. There were very few villages. This was a nice trip and would drive me wild with bordom in any typical to me state of mind.

But, I wanted to do it and I did.

Luang Prabang has been a World Heritage Site for over 15 years. My vote is it richly deserves the recognition.

My first morning I got out for the 6:00 AM giving of alms to Monks. I like historic sites. I like historic sites even more if they are still being used for their original purpose. I think that puts me very close to being a voyeur of a sort. This day made that uncomfortably clear.

When I got to a prime Monk spotting spot, I saw that a stretch of sidewalk was lined with steamed rice baskets, each of which had a folded devotional shoulder scarf on its lid. A few minutes later two minivans of western tourists arrived, and disgorged their occupants. These folk lined up behind baskets and donned the scarfs.

And then the Monks started coming in their barefoot lines. Each Monk got a dollup of rice as alms from each tourist's basket, by hand, into his offering bowl. And a good number of other tourists were uncomfortably close, looking for that perfect picture angle. But there I was, and I took pictures. So perhaps I shouldn't be too preachy here. And the Lao people giving alms looked wonderful.

Luang Prabang's big hitter building comples is Wat Xieng Thong. There is a better distance shot up a bit where I start talking about Luang Prang. For me, the shiny mirrors used as mosaic got top honors. Apparently you can do quite a bit with some mirror.
There was of course more Monk spotting. Most of the Monks are teenagers doing it for a while. It is pretty clear that this is the best educational opportunity available to them. The ciriculum appears, at least in some cases, to include very secular subjects. I met one one Monk studing business management. Many of the Monks were out for English practice. Beyond study, meditation and prayer, the young Monks get put to work cleaning and, at odd times, making a racket. With very good cheer.

Luang Prabang's other vibe is Indochine colonial. I was here once before, I think in 1996, and I remember seeing a young couple coming from a guest house with a baby in a stroller, which they plowed through unpaved roads. All past. Everything has been carefully prepared to please tourists. The hotels go from the guest house to chic little boutique hotels with eye popping prices. The list of nice Asian and French restaurants is long. The wine flows, and its drinkers spend days in spas recooperating. Even the back alleys are transformed with brick paths and flowering trees.

Get a little way from town and things spice up a bit. I crossed some bridges that were fun, but not ready for baby's in strollers.

And I did the other basic things to be done: visiting a cave with retired Buddhas and to balance things, stopping (as required by the tourist path) at "Whiskey Village" en route, which tries hard to sell fairly villinous rice whiskey. I went to the waterfalls

which were pleasant to watch, hard to climb up to and scary to climb down from. I then released a couple of birds at a local temple which is supposed to be good for one's Buddhist soul. I understand the birds are trained to return at supper time to their owners home for another chance to help some buyer along the path. Mine flew out of the basket when I'd pried open a gap and glewed themselves to a nearby tree, quite nicely staying together. I don't know what happened next. And there were more temples, and markets, and dance performances and museums, and weaving villages and boat rides. And, and, and. Ok, one of the museums calls for comment. The French built a home for the King of Luang Prabang. Come the revolution the King was out and it now houses a museum, though one providing a rather sypothetic view of the Royal family. Among its oddities is a state gift from the US of a model of the Lunar Modual.

On the subject of the Royal family, a statue of the last King, in pretty bombastic bronze, stands on the grounds. It is dated 1975, after the Royal family was exiled to live in caves in the north of Laos, if my data is right, and was made in the USSR. There must be some odd story here but I know not what it is.

I left Luang Prabang but not comforts. I hired a car and driver for the next two days. Day one was a six hour drive through what must be stunning mountains to Phonsavan and the Plain of Jars. The smoke from the north had found its was south with vigor, so the views were more implied than seen.

We did go through a bunch of little villages, Hmong and Khmu according to the driver. The Hmong had been encouraged to come down from the mountains and settle by the road by the government. Perhaps relevant, perhaps not, Hmong continued a guerrilla war against the communist government of Laos for years.

We also stopped at a silk production facility, which included really interesting hand looming and far less fun to look at silk worms. I think silk worm are unattractive, even for worms. To further lessen their allure, these worms were asleep. Perhaps they were dead. Another visitor poked one a couple of times and declared that they felt like worms (?).

The Plain of Jars is a scattering of hundreds of 3000 year old giant

stone jars. I'm the thing between the jars. A few have lids, more were blown up during the Secret War in Laos. Archeoligical record is thin. Probably they played a role in burials. The local legend is that a king used them for serving rice whiskey to his victorious troops. No archeological support, but a better story.

That night I went through a bitterly cold town and saw a couple exhibits on the American bombing in Laos during the Vietnam War era. Setting aside politics and balancing of issues, the images and the stories are horrifying. Particularly wrenching is that 20,000 have died in Laos since the war ended from coming in contact with unexploded ordinance. That is out of a population of around 6 million. Hugely depressing.

Well, up the next day, glad to have a sweater to wear. The cold weather had cleared out some of the smoke. Next stop was the capital, Vientiane. We stopped to see a few things of interest, including a market selling, well I don't quite know what this is. But it was wild, it is dead and it is for sale.

The next break on the road was stranger yet, the backpackers' rest stop of Van Vieng. It is a sort of cute Fort Lauderdale at spring break, in modest scale, with beautiful mountains. Folks were drinking, and tubing, and drinking. It was 1 PM. A guy at least 10 years older than me was dancing with two attractive western women. We drove on.

Vientiane is a small city along a currently dusty Mekong. It has two great monuments. The first is the That Luang. Rebuilt by the French in the 1930's, it is said to be built on earlier monuments with a history of many hundreds of years. The day I was there it had a good crowd of devotees, slowing walking around it, most holding exactly three marigolds, three sticks of insence and two small orange candles. It was very nice.It also came with a youthful bird-for-release salesman. I passed. Belated avian flue stuff.

The other great monument is so unattractive that, in lieu of a picture, I show you the official sign attached to it.

Perhaps the prettiest site in Vientiane is Wat Si Saket. I think it is the only truly old temple in the city, others being rebuilt after some travail or another. Si Saket is now a museum and holds a lovely collection of several thousand Buddha images, most tiny figures set into the wall of the gallery surrounding the main worship hall. And Vientian has its share of faded French colonial buildings and an odd assosortment of Soviet and Thai architecture. I have also been propositioned by prostitutes or their friends/managers more than any time since I was in Moscow in the early '90's. Appropo nothing at all.

Perhaps more edifyingly, I have seen two places that sort of once held Bangkok's Emerald Buddha (you may recall my interest to find another such place in the Northern Thai city of Chiang Rai).

This Buddha figure has resided in both Luang Prabang and in Vientaine. Both places burned down (not by the Thais, but by Chineses from Yunnan). Both places got rebuilt. Well, tomorrow I leave Laos, at least if all goes to plan. I'd thought to go from Laos directly to Cambodia, but that option seems to leave me in the wrong part of Cambodia with days to tough travel to straighten it out. So, it is back to Thailand, a third visit in one trip, to cut the corner through the country's North East provinces and hit Cambodia from a more practical angle.

I believe today to be the mid-point of this trip. Its all down hill from here.

Best regards,

Sam

Thailand, heading towards Laos

I left Chiang Rai mid-afternoon and took a bus to Chiang Saen, a Mekong river port town. Chiang Saen has a particularly complicated history as an on again off again capital of a Northern Thai kingdom, an important Burmese city for control of river traffic up into China, and a ruin following its recapture and forced desertion by the founding king of Bangkok. It was re inhabited in the late 19th century. It is nice and a bit sleepy.

It was late afternoon by the time I got into a hotel room. I rented a bicycle and pedaled a couple of miles to the base of a hill top temple. I find large numbers of stairs (here, 254 by my count, and then a reasonably long trail the rest of the way) strangely enticing. However, footwear etiquette is tricky. Shoes allowed or no? This evening I thought no (the sweepers were barefoot). And it feels kind of neat to run around barefoot. Thinking reverent thoughts, OK, when I got to the leaf covered trail I thought about snakes, then I thought about ringworm and other fun fungus, then I got to an area where construction was going on and thought about nails and other construction detritus, then I got to a hard covered oil splotched stretch and thought about whether I would ever get clean again. But, otherwise, thinking reverent thoughts I was rewarded with a view across the Mekong into Laos that would have been great on a clear day. I hadn't seen the sun clearly since leaving Bangkok. I think it is all agricultural fires. The place was nice. If the view wasn't the best there were good noises. A monk beating a gong. Thai music from a road house on the slope below. Scary creatures moving through the leaves on the trail.

Back at the bottom of the hill I looked around some newly built temples and the like and poked around a kind of closed for the night but accessible textile museum with about 20 looms with cloth in various states of completion.

I rode back to town, returned the bicycle, got a cold drink from a store and joined the local crowd on the steps leading to the Mekong. As dusk deepened I could see the temple I'd climbed to glowing gold with its lights through the haze.

Walking on a bit, I went to the big chedi and ruined temple in the middle of town. I had it to myself, save a couple of dogs. Very nice.

I struggled a bit finding a restaurant. The food carts looked fun but seemed a bit too much trouble for an non-Thai speaker farangi. I found an English menu, had my meal and returned to the hotel to find two tour group buses parked out front and luggage generally covering the lobby. Seemed a good night to hide, urr, spend in my room.

The next day, back on the bike and back up temple steps (390 by my count). This time shoes seemed permitted. I think. Anyway, I did.

Chiang Saen's monuments are plentiful, and range from old and decrepit to shiny and new, passing through well preserved and fully restored on the way. While the sky is murky the countryside looks very pretty, with traditional homes built on stilts (used when it is dry for storage and al fresco dining). So I saw the sights, went back to the textile museum to see the ladies hard at their looms and generally had a pleasant day around this lovely, historic town. And picked up some sore spots from the time on the bicycle.

Today I took the pick-up style shared taxi service 60 kilometers to Chiang Khong. This taxi was loaded with 20 people by the time we left, luggage on top. That is three in the cab, 15 in the two benches running down the bed of the truck and two more standing on the bumper hanging onto the back.

Chiang Khong lacks Chiang Saen's monuments, but it sits across the Mekong from Huay Xai, a Lao town with an open border crossing post. I hope it has a boat down the river to Luang Prabang. I have been hoping this for 11 days since I read an article in the Bangkok Post that the Mekong River is at all-time low water levels. The river certainly looks low. Chinese dams and global warming are both mentioned as the reason. In any event, the boats have not made their normal two day run to Luang Prabang for two weeks. But service is supposed to resume tomorrow. I hope.

Chiang Khong does have some temples and markets and interesting shops with Hill Tribe goods. Less commonly, it has a KMT (Chinese Nationalist) grave yard. After loosing to the Communists, some of the Nationalist army moved into Burma, then Laos and then Thailand. Elements of it ran opium in the Golden Triangle. There is a village not far from here where its decendents live. This is where a couple hundred are buried, facing China.

This is the nice policeman/taxi that drove me to it on the back of his patrol motorcycle. Then helped me find a gap in the fence. Then helped me climb in and out.

I got wounded on the way out. There was some barbed wire and my foot slipped while working my way between wires. No problem with the wires, but I ended up with a wood chip rammed under a toenail (this would have been a more authentic South East Asian experience had it been bamboo, but I try to remain true to the facts). The rest is not of much interest, except that the proprietor of the internet cafe I am writing from brought me some cotton balls, alcohol and a bandage. For which I am grateful.

So, this should be my last post from Thailand, boat schedules and water level permitting.

Best regards,

Sam