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.

Burning Santa Claus

The new year of 2005 began for us in Kochi (or Cochin) in the southern state of Kerala. The fort city on an island was founded as a result of European colonialism in the 16th century. The town, two bridges away from the mainland, is made up of a diverse mix of Portuguese, Dutch and British architecture. Chinese fishing nets line the western shore. Jew Town, with its small population of Jewish Indians is famous for it's operating synagogue and spice markets. Hindu temples and mosques dot the island. Each of these different neighborhoods co-exists next to each other within an area of nine square kilometer that makes up the island. This town is a melting pot, a microcosm of interwoven cultures created over the course of history.

We arrived in Kochi two days after the Sumatra earthquake and tsunami. The damages in Ernakulam (the mainland town) and Kochi were minimal, though the island of Vypeen just north saw several people swept away by killer waves. Everywhere, people were mourning the tragedy that was still unfolding. While hotels and shops were operating normally, ferries connecting the island to the mainland were halted and no fishing boats took to the seas. People were taking all precautions where the ocean was concerned, afraid of recurring high waves. The annual New Years carnival was cancelled in an act of respect for the recent events. As a result, Kochi became a quiet town with only a handful of tourists. The local community tried to keep a cheerful attitude, laughing off the possibility of a "second tsunami," saying, "We're safe here. Don't worry, just relax and enjoy Kochi!"

The sea breeze doesn't blow through town much, and the air hangs thick, hot and humid. The mosquitoes begin buzzing around our lower limbs as dusk falls away to night. But the multicultural atmosphere and creative environment that promote various art forms contribute in making Kochi a vibrant place to visit. Several cafes promote local artists in their attached gallery space, showing a range of paintings, prints and sculpture. The traditional Kathakali Dance of Kerala is performed nightly at locations around town, one of the best being the Kerala Kathakali Center, which also stages Indian classical music and other traditional dance forms.

We rang in the New Year by attending a Kathakali performance, with all proceeds donated to tsunami relief efforts. Kathakali is a dance-drama, with possible beginnings as early as the 2nd century AD. The path leading to the theater has been swept and cleansed with water. Rangavalli patterns have been drawn with white powder on the damp earth and adorned with flowers. Incense wafts through the air and takes over our sense of smell as we arrive. Oil lamps sit on the right, left and center of the stage while more incense streams into the air, intensifying the sacred feeling all around us. The oil lamps are set alight and the performance begins as dancers and musicians enter the stage. The performace radiates with trance-like heated and tense energy and we soon find ourselves engulfed in a state of enthusiastic appreciation.

After the performance, we wait for midnight. The town is quiet, almost deserted when local Christians start to gather at Saint Francis Church with bibles in hand. The cathedral was established in 1503, when a Portuguese expedition led by Pedro Alvarez Cabral landed here. It's said to be the oldest church built by Europeans in India. We enter and choose a pew at the back of the lofty room, sitting quietly, absorbing the quiet, peaceful atmosphere and saying our own silent prayers for the New Year.

One of the common ways of celebrating the New Year in Kerala is to burn an effigy of Santa Claus. The day before the straw man is made, dressed in red and white with a Santa mask and hat completing the ensemble. As midnight approaches, neighbors gather around the Santas scattered around the town. We join a group gathering behind Saint Francis Church while the sounds of hymns echo from inside the cathedral. At the stroke of midnight, instead of a giant ball dropping from Times Square, the locals took flame to Santa's beard. Santa soon went up in smoke. Firecrackers and Atom Bombs exploded from within his belly while a crowd of neighbors, men passing on motorbikes, and western tourists surrounded the madness, all yelling joyous wishes for the New Year ahead.

After Santa exploded and burned, everyone exchanged Happy New Year greetings, hugs and kisses among each other, happy and smiling, just like any New Year's Eve party we would have attended back home. The mysteriously rising energy of the Kathakali Dance, the solemn hymns flowing out of Saint Francis Cathedral, and the comical display of Santa Burning Man found their way into our unique New Year celebration in Kochi and lead us into 2005 in high spirits.

Mysterious Siberia

We're moving eastwards on the Eurasian continent. On June 29, our Trans-Siberian train left Moscow at 11:30pm for the 72 hour journey to Irkutsuk, where we arrived on July 3, at 9:30AM.

After meeting our driver, we continued east to the small town of Listvyanka on the shore of Lake Baikal, one hour away by car. Our lodging is located up a dirt road that stretches from the lakeshore into a lush valley. It's a log cabin that shares property with a few other homes, the Baikal Culture Center and an art gallery.

The valley itself has exploded with fresh green wild grass and wildflowers busting into purple, white, yellow, orange and pink blooms. The thick forest of pine and birch flank the valley floor and a small creek runs through the valley floor to the lake. The view from the cabin looks out to Lake Baikal, with it's surface shining cold blue. The opposite shore lies about 50 Kilometers beyond the rising mist of the lake.

Lake Baikal is huge. It holds about 20% of fresh water that exists on this planet. Its surface area is not so large, but its depth drops over 1,600 meters, making it the deepest lake in the world.

The lake hosts a unique set of wildlife including the fresh water Baikal seals who live mostly in the remote, northern part of the lake. Its water is crystal clear, and the rocky bottom can easily be seen. The lake has three distinct ways to purify itself: sponges, corpse-eating shrimp and a unique microorganism that all live in the waters. Unfortunately, many environmentally ignorant Russian tourists visiting this beautiful place mindlessly dispose of their trash on the shores.

As we walked the shoreline we felt the chilly wind blowing off of the lake. The water temperature stays below 15 degrees Celsius during the warmest season, and acts like an enormous water-operated cooler. It's easy to imagine how cold this area gets in winter, just by feeling the breeze coming off the lake in early summer. People told us that the lake freezes solid and that cars can be driven across in February and March.

The people's expressions are much softer here. It only takes seeing us twice for them to share their smiles with us. Our accommodations include breakfast, which is served at the neighbors' house next door. Each morning the grandmotherly woman welcomes us with a smile and serves us a large home-cooked meal. This gives us a sense of the true Russian hospitality. In her backyard is a wonderful vegetable garden, from which she picks lettuce and herbs for our morning meal. Potatoes take up the largest patch and tomatoes grow in the greenhouse along side the laundry hung to dry.

Another neighbor on our hosts' property is an older woman living with her grandchildren. We photographed her working in her potato patch and afterwards she invited us to her house to see her painting. During the long winters she transforms herself from farmer into artist, painting self-portraits and her surroundings in a Chagall-like style.

Unfortunately, the art gallery burned down this past spring. The property owner is busy building the new gallery. Paintings that survived the fire are now shown in a temporary building. I did not expect much out of artists who live so far away from art centers, yet once I stepped into the small room there were many wonderful discoveries. The imaginations of artists in Siberia are fabulously mysterious and surrealistic, sometimes even psychedelic. Their originality stretch out of their own fairy tales and are realized on canvas.

During this short stay by Lake Baikal, we believe that we have peeked into the beautiful natural surroundings and the mysterious lives of the Siberian people.

A Peek into the World of Art

A young, wealthy-looking gentleman caught our attention shortly after our EC train departed the Ostbahnhof station in Berlin, heading directly to Basel, Switzerland. He settled deeply into his reserved seat in front of us. He wore his hair slicked back, a shiny pair of glasses, a fresh stripe shirt, a dark green flannel sport jacket, and a leather-made business case. His watch was a Rolex chronograph. He seemed to be trying to shake off a cold or suffering from allergy, though, snorting and blowing his nose noisily. Then he was making frequent calls on his cell phone, talking loudly.

I nicked named this young, chubby, and noisy gentleman "Philippe". We joked that he might as well be one of those art dealers headed to The Art in Basel. As Philippe read the newspaper, he took a long time studying the latest Porsche 911 review, the sports section featuring the European Cup 2004, and the business section. We discovered that he was an art professional, only because I happened to witness him quickly reviewing letters from art galleries and spending a few short minutes browsing an art magazine. He then took up a tabloid paper filled with nude photos and gossip.

Philippe was headed to Switzerland to attend Art Basel 2004, an annual art fair, which is the biggest and the most renouned in the world. The international event attracts prominent gallerists, artists, and most importantly, collectors from around the world. This event was one of the reasons for our visit to Basel.

As we observed Philippe over the seven-hour train trip, we had to wonder what type of art he was involved with, as his behavior was rather crude. Was he a collector, a gallerist? What type of art business was he involved with? We never found out, but we kept an eye out for him over the next several days.

After we arrived in Basel, we got a hint of what art means to the people and what it might be in their society. For example, the countries paper currency is decorated with portraits of artists and writers. Inside a tiny half-inch square they describe the significant achievement of the person in very small text. The only other example of currency depicting artists, that I know of, is one Japanese bill with Sohseki Natsume, a well known author, printed on it. Were there other examples in Europe before they adopted the Euro?

The overwhelming majority of the world's paper currency depicts the portraits of politicians, or those who have contributed to the counties establishment, independence and development of the nation, or war heroes who have defeated their enemies. A female artist, an author, and a music composer are featured here in Switzerland. Could this discovery lead us to glimpse as to how the Swiss position arts in their society?

We will stay in Switzerland for just a week, visiting The Art and then moving to Buchs to collaborate with a Swiss photographer/printmaker. As we discover more about the business of art, we expect to find many more Philippe's out there.

Catalunya!

Our travels in Europe have come to a mid-way point now, and we are in Berlin. Before we report on this fabulous city, we would like to have one more entry on Barcelona.

When visiting Barcelona, we were not necessarily visiting Spain, but Catalunya. To visitors the people of Barcelona speak Spanish, but to each other they speak Catalan, their native language. While I couldn’t understand what was being said on many local TV programs, I could tell they were definitely not speaking in Spanish.

We spent several days visiting and appreciating the sites this town had to offer. We loved Miro Museum and Museum of Comtemporary Art, Barcelona (MACBA). We stopped in to enjoy the local art galleries. Our favorite new art, however, was the graffiti painted on the many public walls throughout the city. It’s possibly the best mural/graffiti art we’ve seen anywhere in the world. Instead of making it a crime to paint in public, Barcelona offers artists public walls for artistic expression. How progressive, and as a result, the paintings offer insightful, thoughtful, and fun images throughout the city.

The local food consisted of a rich variation of fruit, vegetables, meat, cheese and, of course, an amazing selection of fish. To satisfy the sweet tooth, bakeries offered delicious pastries and croissants to go along with a cup of rich espresso.

During our stay, our initial naive and trivial awareness of the rich traditions of Catalunya grew day by day as we learned more about the history, traditions and culture that make up the strong Catalunya culture.

Our apartment in the Les Corts neighborhood was within walking distance of the Camp Nou Stadium. One evening, I made the last minute decision to take in a football game. It was a friendly match commemorating the retirement of Stoytchkov, the national hero of Bulgaria and a local hero to the people of Barcelona. A crowd of about fifteen thousand came out to say thanks and so-long to this great player. From 1991 to 1994 Stoytchkov played a leading role in bringing FC Barcelona to victory, claiming the Spanish Football League championship for a full 4 years. This was a dream for Catalunya and as a result the people of Barcelona will never forget Stoytchkov.

During the Franco era, the language of Catalan was prohibited. In defiance, the Catalunyans held classes in their native language at the FC Barcelona clubhouse. In thanks for their role in keeping the local culture intact, the football club continues to be well supported by both local football fans and those who don’t follow the game. The FC Barcelona team represents far more than football to the Catalunyan culture and carries with it political undertones.

Perhaps it is too forward for me to say “we weren’t in Spain” but it is certain that much of the cultural we experienced in Barcelona was Catalunya.

The Kröller-Müller Museum

This was the second time we visited the Kröller-Müller Museum. The first time was in the fall of 1995, on a quiet but rainy day. At that time, we enjoyed mainly the indoor exhibit and only a small part of the garden that stretches out for about a mile. We decided to spend most of the time outside this time, as we had mostly-sunny weather.

The museum, located in the middle of the Hoge Veluwe National Park, has an outdoor sculpture garden that combines a forest on this flat land and artificial gardens. It occupies a surprisingly large area, but small enough to explore on foot, if you take time to do so. The sculptures and installation arts are fantastic.

While it’s fairly easy to find the sign stating the name of the piece, the artist and the creation year, some of the art was not so obvious to the eye.

You never know what will turn up in front of eyes. That makes it exciting to explore this garden. Sometimes a narrow path takes a visitor through bushes, just like hiking. Sculptures seem to be listening to all the birds in the forest and just waiting for visitors in odd places, such as on a branch of a tall tree, on the other side of a small hill, or in between the shades of trees. Walking through the Kröller-Müller sculpture garden is kind of like Easter egg hunting, and unexpected objects can suddenly appear in front of you at any time.

High school students on a class trip, and several tourist groups made the museum a busy place. Between the waves of people, there were moments when we could hear only birds with only the sculptures standing dark and shiny on the green lawn.

A Japanese man from one of the tour groups took out his watercolors and sketchbook and began to draw fast and furiously. The museum’s closing time and the departure of his bus were imminent. Though a bit rushed, he was in deep concentration to finish up his small painting. His wife was standing by him, looking vaguely toward the forest over the lawn. I sent him a message without sounds, “I hope just you and your wife can visit here again next time.”

An Amsterdam Weekend

What a weekend in this hopping city! Friday through Sunday just flew by like an arrow. The biggest joy for us was to see Tom Kee again after 6 years and have the whole weekend with him. He has launched a company, XWIRE, that creates an intelligent, fast and versatile WiFi router which is developed mainly by himself. He has been living here for 3 years, but now he is about to move back to the States.

There were two art exhibit events that we checked out during the weekend. On Saturday, we headed to West Amsterdam to the Kunstvlaai at Westergasfabrik, previously some kind of a water utility facility. There gathered “off the wall” local artists for a collective exhibit, consisting of a variation of innovative expressions to truly off the wall eye openers as well as crackups. An amazing thing was the big turnout of those who chose to spend a Saturday afternoon enjoying art. Old fashionable folks, young creative types, and families with baby strollers all seemed to be enjoying a peaceful time with art. Kind of like one summer day in Golden Gate Park or one of those San Francisco street festivals.

We got together with Tom for dinner and “walkabout” in a rather relaxing mode this evening, unlike our first night out on the town Friday that took us to jam-packed, smoky and extremely busy clubs like The Dolphins, Café Alto and Bull Dog, both just around the Leidse Plein neighborhood, with diverse nationalities of people whose languages that I could not even recognize. This evening (Saturday), Tom took us to an Indonesian restaurant, then to a couple of loungy clubs. Of course, the partying crowds started to move into those clubs as their first destination of the night, sometime around midnight.

On Sunday, we headed to Tom’s flat in the early afternoon. As we approached Leidse Plein, there was a horde of Ajax Amsterdam fans already starting the tailgate party for the day’s game. Several families were in the action as well, low-teen girls covering themselves with the Ajax flags with their mothers, or little boys with their fathers, both completely decked out in the team colors of red and white. Later we learned that it was definitely a game of significance --the Dutch Championship game. I captured the sounds of the crowd with my mic while walking through some tall-ass young dudes sucking on Heineken cans. The game was to start at 4PM. They had more than 2 hours of partying to do. The party would continue, as mighty Ajax won the game.

We set off to Kunst Rai with Tom and his friend Danielle, a cheerful Dutch photographer from just outside the city. The Kunst Rai is an annual main-stream art conference in a business-like convention center. The aforementioned Kunstvlaai mocked Kunst Rai for its stiff style, but speaking of off the wall, some of the artwork at Kunst Rai weren’t necessarily so different. Only the difference between the artists, besides those who are already well known and established, is whether they got luckily recognized by critics and galleries or not.

Arts everywhere. That’s what counts to us at the moment.

Tom started his trip to Taipei via Paris, by a bullet-train from Amsterdam the next morning at 4 AM. Good luck to you, Tom! And big thanks to everything you have done for us.