Million Elephants, White Parasol

We find ourselves at yet another World Heritage site. The entire town of Luang Prabang, in northern Laos, is the UNESCO site. The promotion of the town as "the foremost tourist showplace in Laos" had us worried. We prayed that the quiet beauty found throughout Laos wouldn't be overrun by the town’s UNESCO status. To our relief, it has kept its culture and charm intact.

Luang Prabang was established as the central city of the Thai-Lao tribe as early as the 8th century. The location witnessed the birth of the first Lao kingdom, called Lan Xang Hom Khao, which translates to "Million Elephants, White Parasol," in 1353. The royal palace and its status as the central city remained through several kingdoms, until the socialist revolution in 1975. The old temples that had been built in the 14th century were thankfully spared and allowed to exist under the socialist rule. Foreign support and investment, mostly French, began promoting tourism here in the 80's, and the World Heritage seal of approval was given to the entire city in 1995. Today Luang Prabang is a peaceful, prosperous town, locked in a time warp of its ancient and colonial past.

The town is located at a point where the Nam Kahn River merges into the Mekong and is surrounded by a calming mountainous setting. Traces of ancient Buddhist worship remain in the region, not only in the form of over 80 temples, but also inside several caves along the rivers that are mysteriously filled with idols and images of Buddha. The presence of the many different minority tribes living in Northern Laos infuses the town with a rich culture and artistry as their livelihood is made from producing their traditional crafts for the (mainly) tourist market: silk and cotton dying, weaving, needlework, hand woven baskets, handmade saa (mulberry bark) paper and many more.

As such, this is a shopping paradise. Stylish boutiques and craft shops line the main street, sitting along side of sophisticated restaurants, clubs and galleries. The night market comes to life just before sunset, and is filled with stall after stall of handicrafts ranging from paper products to appliqué blankets. We see how much each and every purchase means to these tribeswomen, especially the first sale of the day, which they consider "lucky, lucky".

The sound of monks chanting begins soon after the temples close their doors for the evenings, echoing through the streets of the quiet neighborhoods as if the chants are the official theme song of this ancient town. The young monks we meet during the daytime are eager to practice their English and learn about western cultures. Their friendly conversations and quick smiles are in contrast to their solemn expressions displayed on their faces during morning alms throughout the neighborhoods.

Looking back over the past month in Laos, we reflect on a series of positive discoveries, similar to our impressions of Myanmar. It is interesting to observe that rather "difficult" governments lead both nations. Be it militaristic junta or socialist leadership, these governments have done their best to keep their countrymen out of the loop and often in dire poverty. Amazingly, the people and their cultures remain resilient and able to attract both tourist and investor alike. In Luang Prabang, the quiet, slumbering gracefulness and its historic surroundings continue to enchant just about everyone who visits here.

The Inviting Path

Once in a while, I get fixated with a view that might not mean much to anyone else. This time, I find my eyes captivated by a simple daily scene. I look at it every day for a week, and never grow tired of its beauty. We are staying on an organic farm in a small village about 4 kilometers outside the town of Vang Vieng, Laos. The farm sits serenely on the banks of the Nam Song River, flowing clean and fresh into the larger Mekong. Across the river to the west soars a scenic cliff, rugged and rocky, with dense foliage tangling into its nooks and crannies.

As I sit silently in the wooden hut at the farm, sipping a cold glass of refreshing organic mulberry tea, I can't take my eyes from the view. I continue to stare across the river at the tall, majestic tree that spreads its healthy boughs outwards, catching the light on its bright green leaves, and casting a welcome shadow in the scorching sun. Its roots grow wild over and under the soil, firmly grasping the riverbank, drinking in the clean water that nourishes its every fiber.

A well-worn dirt path leads from the steep riverbank and disappears behind the tree. From where I sit, the evening sun shines from the west, blinding my sight with the twinkling reflections of its bright light against the waves of the river. I have decided to call this path "the inviting path" despite the fact that it leads only a short distance to a small patch of farmland that lay between the river and the towering cliff.

From the same spot, I can watch the villagers bathe in the river. They come twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening. The days are hot, and by mid-afternoon, before the unofficial bath time, village children come and play in the river, riding the quick current, their giggles and laughter escaping in their innocent pleasure. Farmers with hoes on their shoulder commute between their village and the farmland, crossing the river on foot. In the evenings, just before sunset, the pebble-filled sand banks become crowded with villagers who employ the water for their daily needs. Mothers wash their laundry; wash their babies; older children wash up through play; young women wash themselves with graceful modesty, careful to cover themselves with their sarongs.

Travelers pass through the guesthouse, stopping for a cold drink or an organic meal, and are mesmerized by the view as well. They quietly observe the daily ritual as if in a meditative state. Some join the villagers in washing and play. The sun sets early behind the rocky cliff, and we appreciate the cool afterglow it leaves behind.

There is no need to go to town. Tubing down the Nam Song can be an attractive option, but instead we stay on the farm, and cool ourselves in the shallow spots of the river, as it washes its cooling water over us. Once sun has set, a grand chorus of crickets and frogs begins their song, and we settle into an evening of conversation with other travelers.

Time passes in a dreamlike manner, and before long days flow into a week. Not even books are necessary, as long as we have the "inviting path" within our view, laughing children, the sound of the river and the clean, fresh energy of the organic farm where the plants speak through the beams of the waxing moon. It's no surprise that we stay longer than expected.

The Capitol Town

There is one thing for certain: Vientiane is unlike any other capitol of any country we have visited. A Lao woman fluent in English asked us, "What's the word to describe this town?" 'Sleepy' is what came to mind. If the capitol is a sleepy town of half a million people, then the rest of Laos with a total of 6 million must be half asleep (as we experienced in southern Laos) in a pleasantly comfortable sort of way. Laos has had its share of destructive and chaotic events during the past few decades, but today the capitol is deceivingly peaceful and in order. We can find no trace of tension anywhere in our observations so far.

In the mornings, citizens gather at Talat Sao, the central sprawling market that provides a kaleidoscope of goods for sale. They chat together on neighborhood street corners and balconies of their houses later in the day. They love to watch TV, catching up on Thai and Chinese dramas and Thai pop music programs. At night, teens hang out drinking fruit shakes, while adults eat and drink at the many food stalls, playing checkers on homemade game boards with soda and beer caps as the game pieces.

While there are limited attractions for tourists in Vientiane, the city has its own charm. It's a relaxing place set amongst tree-lined boulevards with dozens of temples tucked in between a mixture of architectural styles ranging from Lao, Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, French, US and Soviet influences. To the southwest the city hugs the Mekong River that creates the natural border with Thailand.

Vientiane lacks the hassles we've found elsewhere. I normally have a fit with the endless touting of aggressive taxi or tuk tuk drivers, but not here. When I say no, smiling and shaking my head, they smile back and ask "Something?" I didn't know what this "something" was at first, but soon learned that it's their way of saying, "Do you want some ganja?" They take our "no, thanks" very well; they smile, without forcing the issue, and just go back to laying around in the back of their tuk tuk.

The availability of good food sets Vientiane apart from southern Laos. Thanks, in part, to the fact that the locals have retained the bakery skills imported during the colonial era, you can find excellent breads and baguettes here. A large sandwich with a distinctly Lao flavor – fresh vegetables with French dressing or soy sauce, cheese and patÈ – is delicious and cheap. Add to the mix the full-bodied Lao coffee, the chocolate croissants, the Chinese dumplings and the sophisticated European foods and you can see why we were in heaven.

Spas with herbal steam bath and massage are popping up in the city center alongside upscale shops selling the best of Lao crafts: weaving, embroidery, baskets and other traditional arts. Many of these products are produced by Hmong and other minority tribes in the north and the popularity of these products to the tourist market offer them an opportunity for increased income. The products are crafted with skill into gorgeous pieces that exhibit various geometric patterns, textures and vibrant colors.

The unique qualities of this city can be marked by other elements as well. The sheer lack of vehicles around the city gives it a casual and laid back air. Even on the major roads in the city center, the ease of crossing the street or intersection is a pleasure. We laugh about the lack of traffic jams at rush hour.

There is a sense of relaxed vacancy and the sleepiness of a small town in some other country at the center of Vientiane. Pha That Luang is the heart of Lao spirituality and the symbol of their national identity. Despite the fact that it's most visited site by tourists, there were only a handful there when we visited.

It's a small city compared to other capitols in the world, but Vientiane, too, is on its way to changing and modernizing. As Laos continues to open to the outside world, Vientiane is an interesting place to watch it struggle with its communist past coming face to face with the capitalist future. I think back to what a traveler once told me, "Laos is what Thailand might have been a few decades ago." Indeed, a Thai executive at a major bank said to me, "Laos is so nice that I would love to travel in a place like that."

Flow Of The River

Floating on a tube in Mekong while soaking up the sun is one of the outrageously relaxing things you can do around Si Phan Don (meaning "Four Thousand Islands") in southern Laos. The current can be tricky at some spots, but the flow of water is mostly slow, providing a perfect place to space out and relax your brain. This island, Don Det, is composed of traditional stilted houses and bungalow guesthouses along the waterfront, with the accompanying few huts of restaurants. That's about all there is here, and that's the beauty of this area, if you know what to do with the time at hand.

It was nearly five months ago when we first saw this same river upstream, in the mountains of Yunnan Province in China. The surging rapids cut and rush through deep mountains, including Tiger Leaping Gorge near Lijian. Its flow becomes a jade green hue by the time it reaches the plains of Laos. The Mekong River is wide, even during this dry season and flows ever so slowly in the eyes of a beholder. Here in Si Phan Don, there are countless islands scattered about the vast width of the river, and converge in dramatic waterfalls where fishermen cast nets into the frothy depths.

The Mekong River supports wildlife and the lives of countless Lao people (one third of Lao population lives along the river) in many ways. Locals benefit from fishing and irrigation for farm use. In recent years the river and the islands have become a popular destination for Western and Japanese backpackers and travelers. Billed as a care-free, relaxing spot, tourism has started to bring in foreign currency, though still minor compared to already developed places in the northern region. Visitors are mostly young backpackers in their 20's and 30's, who enjoy an environment without electricity and where no souvenir shops can be seen.

Visiting foreigners lay around sandy riverside beaches, float on inner tubes upon gentle streams, ride bicycles around the islands, read books, sit back and enjoy the sunset while sipping Beer Lao, or find themselves wrapped up in hammocks and dozing off. Some bungalow and restaurant businesses have petrol-driven generators, which operate from sunset to as late as 10PM. We found in-room lighting to be of nuisance, though, as tiny insects came in through the screens and flew around incessantly. Dim candlelight would have worked better.

A red ball of fire fades away into the far haze of dust and smoke of burning forest undergrowth and harvested farmland. The setting sun itself is not dramatic, without any bright colors or golden reflections. But the afterglow of sunset lingers on the sky in pinkish gray with the reflections of grass and the silhouette of locals gliding by on wooden boats, on the river's dark surface reflecting the sky.

The locals who provide bungalows and food services are also relaxed to say the least. An order of a dinner dish can take as long as two hours to arrive during busy dinnertime. With only few women in the kitchen struggling to cook everything from scratch over a charcoal fire, just three or four customers can cause panicky havoc in the kitchen. In some cases, your order might never arrive. Once we sat down in a family-run restaurant for dinner, ordering drinks and two dishes. Drinks came shortly, and we played a dice game for an hour or so. When the food didn't come, we asked them about our order. Our question met their blank expressions as they completely forgot our orders. And we were the only customers there.

Because of, not necessarily despite of, all the lack of conveniences of the modern world, we are finding the area charming and relaxing. Life is basic, simple and plentiful of time. While we feel a bit out of synch with how time passes here, this is not a bad place to just be. It doesn't take long to ease into the pace of Si Phan Don, where time flows like the flow of Mekong.

In A Sleepy Town

There isn't much going on in Champasak, Laos. This sleepy town sits quietly by the composed yet mighty Mekong River. Its one main street runs parallel to the river and is dotted with stilted traditional wooden houses, few French colonial villas, a handful of restaurants, guesthouses and shops for the locals. The World Heritage site, Wat Phu Champasak, is located about 8 kilometers (5 miles) from the center of town. The temple was built during the Angkor period with a road from it leading south to the grand temple Angkor Wat; but unlike the Cambodian temple, few tourists visit, and when they do, they don't stay long.

When we first arrived the children of the neighborhood looked at us and giggled, without any uncomfortable stares or demand for attention. Our eyes met in a playful dance and we immediately became friends. They were busy chasing the bugs that feed on the large mango tree growing in the middle of the backyard, overlooking the Mekong. As they slap the hanging branches with the bamboo pole small green insects fly from the tree. The kids all run around laughing and catching the small beetles that fly about. At first, I thought the kids were collecting them to keep in the plastic water bottles they carried with them. Instead, they tore off the hard outer-shell wings and popped them in their mouth, chewing with delight as if they were M&M's.

Other travelers have warned us before we visited Laos that the country was living a slow life and that the food was not tasty. We found that out first hand in Champasak, and eased into the place by playing with the children and settling into a good book. The food, as one Japanese backpacker put it, "tastes bad," and wasn't too inspired. Come to think of it, how many Lao restaurants do we know and frequent back home? I can't remember any off hand.

Bicycles and motorbikes pass occasionally, automobile less frequently. Other audible sounds are limited to crying babies, kids laughter, chickens and ducks, cicadas calling, long-tail boats' motors, and the sounds of rain and wind. The only sense of urgency we've felt since crossing the border into Laos was in the city of Pakse, when a young man rushed us into a sawngthaew (pickup truck where the back is covered and converted to two rows of bench seating, common transportation). Carrying our backpacks to his vehicle, he asked, "Where do you go?" Even that seems days ago.

Riding a rented motorbike to Wat Phu was a breeze, as there wasn't much traffic to look out for. To the west of the Mekong River harvested rice fields cover the valley in a landscape of golden yellow. The gradual slopes of the hills rise up into the blue and gray silhouette of mountains shimmering on hot hazy air. The temple sits on one of these slopes, mostly in ruin. Although predominantly a Buddhist temple, there are Hindu deities and symbols interwoven into the overall architecture. Carved in fading sandstone, the expressions on some deity figures are crafted in the Angkor style, with slightly smiling thick lips and cast down eyes. The Buddha statues are similar in face to those in Thailand. Where the site may lack in spectacular objects and views when compared to the awesome Angkor Wat, it offers a quiet introduction to the Angkor tradition.

Less than half a day was enough to visit Wat Phu and enjoy a leisurely ride back to town, leaving us more time to kill. "So what would we do now? Uh, I guess we can play with children, take a nap, or read" was what came to our minds. As I spend a few days here I am reminded that I am a "product of modern society", and that I lack in the skills of doing nothing, resting and totally relaxing. It's as if we are being tested on that capacity in a place where locals are known to think, "too much work is bad for your brain" and feel sorry for people who work too much and don't have fun. One point of advice on visiting Laos: bring many good books to read, and a yoga mat will help.