The People's Democratic Republic of Laos, or Lao PDR as it is known locally, is famously laid-back. "Mellow", "languorous" and "timeless" are words often used to describe this sparsely populated country and they are undoubtedly true; even the currency is called ‘kip‘.
- Hover the mouse pointer over the images for captions -
 |
 |
 |
I arrived in Vientiane from Bangkok which offered up an immediate and striking contrast between the two neighbouring capital cities; if Bangkok slaps you around like a Hollywood trailer then Vientiane soothes you like an old-fashioned Western.
The first thing I noticed upon arrival was that the roads were virtually empty, an improbable phenomenon in Asia, and another is that there were very few people around; those that I did encounter tended to move imperceptibly, if at all.
Vientiane is a pleasant place with tree lined boulevards dotted with temples and monasteries and situated in a picturesque location by the Mekong river. The city was reduced to a heap of ruins by the Siamese in 1860 and subsequently abandoned for decades before being rebuilt by the French at the end of the 19C, bestowing it with the odd pocket of Gallic charm.
At the height of the American influence in the 1960s Vientiane was renowned for its opium dens and sex shows which is hard to believe looking at it now.
|
Laos‘s history offers many examples of it being stuck between powerful rivals fighting a wider conflict. In recent times it provided a battleground for the ideological war between America and Vietnam. Laos was neutral but that didn‘t stop plain-clothed soldiers and CIA agents being dispatched to fight what became known as The Secret War. It was reasoned that if Laos fell to Communism it would trigger a ‘domino effect’ across the whole region.
CIA agents included some unpleasant characters; the crazy colonel, Kurtz, played by Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now was based on a CIA chief in Laos who would pay his tribal recruits $1 for each pair of Communists ears they brought back (they're redder than non-Communist ears in case you were wondering). Ear purchases were funded by opium trafficking.
The statistics are worth mentioning because they are staggering; The Secret War began in the mid-60s and lasted for 9 years, during which time the US dropped 2,093,100 tonnes of bombs on Laos; the equivalent of 700kg for every man, woman and child, killing 1/6th of the population; a high price for a country supposedly not at war.
|
|
Laotians never held the same strong ideological or political beliefs as other surrounding nations and Communism was something they hadn’t really entertained. It was ironic therefore that the Pathet-Lao (a small band of Communist insurgents) subsequently seized power in 1974 as a direct consequence of the devastation visited on the country. In 1975 The Lao People's Revolutionary Party was declared the ruling party and remain in power to this day.
|
It is a welcome relief to stroll the streets in Vientiane, free from the retinue of pedlars, found in most SE Asian capitals, offering to unburden you of your money. “Bopenyang", meaning "no problem", is one of the country's ubiquitous words and even those directly reliant upon the tourist dollar will usually not persevere beyond a smile and perhaps the raising of an eyebrow.
The travel writer Norman Lewis remarked that: “It is considered ill-bred and irreligious in Laos to work more than is necessary. The accumulation of wealth which is not to be used for definite, approved purposes, causes a man to lose prestige among his neighbours, just as in the west, the process is reversed.” An interesting concept; they certainly seem at peace with themselves and it provides a relaxing atmosphere for the visitor.
I visited Laos in two parts, firstly with Robert for a little over a week and then with Sophie for just over 2 weeks. I visited the South with Robert and the North with Sophie. The tight time restrictions did mean that we were on the road a fair bit, and it is the road as there is just one sealed road running North and South.
Whilst in Vientiane we visited the national museum; other than an interesting array of grainy wartime images and some less interesting rusty weapons, the museum housed a variety of random paraphernalia that appeared to have no significant connection other than being exhibited in the same building. Offered for inspection in one display case was a decaying bag of cannabis, an artificial leg and a metal spoon; either there is a deeper meaning that eluded me or the curator has a reciprocal arrangement with the lost property department at British Rail.
There was a small area devoted to the revolutionary leader Kaysone including a few of his personal effects arranged around a makeshift shrine. Evidently his most treasured possessions had not been released by the family and the museum had to content itself with a coconut he apparently sipped from and an ashtray he had once used. Unfortunately photography was not allowed.
From Vientiane we headed to the 4000 islands in the very South of the country, close to the border with Cambodia. The 16hr bus ride was thoughtfully punctuated by a 4hr pre-dawn layover whilst a replacement vehicle was dispatched from our original starting point.
The 4000 islands is a destination for those seeking relaxation; after experiencing a capital city that could pass for a faded spa town I knew I was in for a horizontal few days. In fact laying back was difficult to avoid due to the compelling ratio of 5 hammocks to one person. The hammocks were hanging invitingly around simple bamboo huts lining the slow moving river. Electricity has recently arrived to some islands and is available for 1hr each day; the only takers appearing to be tourists charging camera batteries.
It was certainly one of the most peaceful places I have visited (if I overlook the relentless self-flagellation in the war against mosquitoes). I have developed a mild dislike for mosquitoes; even when I kill one the satisfaction is tainted by the knowledge that I am probably contributing to a selection process that will yield un-swattable little bastards.
|
I cycled around the neighbouring islands and came across the remains of a French built bridge and railway, once part of a grand plan to create a Mekong highway from Tibet to the sea, which never came to fruition.
The river was warm and in the late afternoon we would drift with the current enjoying views of the Khong Hai mountains, which separate Laos from Cambodia. We took a sunset boat ride and noticed that the trees on some islands were bent at striking angles. Many of the islands are submerged during the wet season when the river swells to 30 times its size, moulding the vegetation into shapes that look bizarre on dry land.
|
This is also one of the few places in the world where you can see freshwater dolphins; in the absence of a whistle and a bucket of fish we only managed to glimpse the odd dorsal fin. Sadly there are just a handful of dolphins left as Cambodian fisherman persist in the use of dynamite and hand grenades. What’s wrong with a maggot and a nice cup of tea?
|
|
I left Robert gently swaying in a hammock and went off to meet Sophie. After a day in Vientiane we headed up to Vang Vieng. On the way we reminded ourselves that the guide book issued a firm warning against travelling between March and April due to it being ominously known as the ‘burning season’. The date was 30th March.
|
|
The ‘burning season’ does not involve tourists and large wicker men, thankfully, but does mean that the air is thick with smoke; most of the country is torched as part of a slash and burn system of agriculture. 80% of the population is engaged in subsistence farming and shifting cultivators clear over 100,000 hectares of forest annually. The government has issued a decree on forest preservation but the people seem blissfully unaware of this. On the positive side there were few tourists, although maybe we just couldn’t see them.
|
|
Vang Vieng is situated on a plateau surrounded by stunning karst limestone mountains. The surrounding landscape also boasts impressive caves, clear pools and waterfalls. The small town is a strange place; since it’s recent ’discovery’ it has become a haven for backpackers and they outnumber the locals in the high season, although it was much quieter when we were there it was noticeable that nearly every establishment was geared towards satisfying Western appetites: Pizzas, pancakes, Internet cafes, TV bars, etc.
|
The Laos government, more than any other in SE Asia, has earnestly tried to protect the country from the adverse effects of tourism and there are posters everywhere offering guidance to tourists on what is acceptable behaviour and what is not (don‘t put your feet on the table while you‘re smoking opium etc.).
Laws that have been introduced include a curfew for nightlife, a ban on karaoke bars and DJs and the decree that live entertainers must play at least 70% indigenous music (a frightening prospect for most countries). Although these laws are authoritarian they do appear to represent the sentiments of the people who are equally concerned about a hostile cultural takeover.
|
|
One of the main activities to try in Vang Vieng is tubing. As with many things undertaken whilst on holiday it is something that would not normally occur to you. Tubing involves wedging your backside into an inflated truck tyre and floating along the Nam Xong River. To make it a little more interesting there are tiny bars hugging the banks for you to quench your thirst during the exertion of prolonged floating. Some of these places are no more than a raised platform with a family selling bottles of Beer Lao and Lau-Lao (Lao‘s version of rice wine, made from fermented sticky rice).
|
|
Beer Lao is acclaimed as SE Asia‘s finest beer and rightly so. It is only a shame that it is hardly available to the outside world. It’s frustrating that, in England at least, the main representative of beers from this entire region is Tiger, which is poor by comparison; but then our main import from the next continent along is Fosters, so I shouldn't be surprised.
|
|
Other bars along the river are slightly more sophisticated with a hut and a sound system and most have a swinging rope or a zip line for you to try out your Tarzan or Indiana Jones impressions; there’s a vague sense of competition with the height of these and a Lau-Lao is most welcome to steady the nerves.
|
It’s difficult to actually complete the 4km route to town because of all the distractions along the way (and the very slow current in the dry season). Invariably you will have to scramble up a river bank before it gets dark, make your way to a path and wait for a taxi, soaking wet, a bit tipsy, holding an inflated truck tyre, feeling a bit of a plonker.
We also hired kayaks to explore the river which provided more manoeuvrability than the truck tyre and more amusement for the locals, as, being the dry season, we became stranded at almost every ‘rapid‘.
|
Along the way we witnessed people being transported back and forth in amphibious tractors and others busily harvesting the river weed, which is surprisingly tasty. As the afternoon faded, families came down to the river to carry out domestic chores, children played inexhaustibly and courting couples washed one another’s hair. Sorry, beginning to sound like the observations of a Victorian parson (a study of the Indo-Chinese peoples of the Mekong River by the Reverend Linus Linghorn).
We trekked to an underground river and then floated along in rubber rings (which we happened to be carrying); our guide began to sing beautifully in Lao. As we travelled deeper underground we turned our torches off and felt as though we were in a giant womb as the melodies echoed around the still cave in complete darkness.
|
|
A day’s bus ride from Vang Vieng took us to Luang Prabang, Laos’s famous royal city. It is stunningly beautiful; one of those rare places where you have to pinch yourself at regular intervals. UNESCO declared the 1000 year old mountain kingdom SE Asia’s best preserved traditional city and granted it World Heritage status, thereby eternally protecting it from the inane grins of Ronald McDonald and Colonel Saunders.
|
|
The town (city is a little generous with only 10,000 inhabitants) exudes timelessness and serenity without the contrived tweeness that is apparent in some Heritage sites. The cobbled streets and lanes are lined with French colonial buildings, art deco shop houses, ancient gold temples and Buddhist monasteries; all this is situated at the confluence of two great rivers (Mekong and Nam Khan) and is encircled by a verdant mountain range. Just add a decent Italian deli and it’d be a paradise.
|
|
With over 30 wats (a compound with a temple and monks' quarters) concentrated near the town centre the streets are ablaze with shiny pates, saffron robes and celibacy. Each morning processions of monks take to the streets like giant orange millipedes slowly walking along begging for food. The town’s inhabitants kneel on the pavement and place food in the monks’ begging bowls as they pass.
|
|
Buddhists believe it is meritorious to give food to a monk and the benefit to the monk is more tangible; this happy symbiosis has continued daily for over 1000 years. Most men become a monk at some stage in their life (don’t we know it!), it may only be for a week but it is often for longer. During that period they adhere to a strict regimen with only 2 meals a day; one at 6:30am and one at 11:00am.
|
|
The Communist government, like many of their contemporaries tried to abolish religion and shut down the Buddhist wats; akin to banning football in Brazil or gesticulating in Italy. This so incensed the people that the government relented but demanded that all monks study Das Kapital.
|
|
While in Laos we experienced the start of the New Year, called Pi Mai. The week long festivities grip the whole of SE Asia in a frenzy of celebration, centred mainly around water fights and drinking. This normally takes the form of hit squads of merry young men armed with buckets of ice-cold water looking to drench young women but failing that anyone they can find. It’s great fun for the first day or two, but by day 7 you have no dry clothes and no sense of humour. The first month of the Laos New Year is actually December but the festivities are delayed until April when the days are longer and the heat makes the soakings more bearable.
|
|
The New year also claims dozens of lives on the regions roads, mainly through drink related accidents and I’m sure buckets of ice-cold water in the faces of passing motorists chalk up a few.
|
|
We left Luang Prabang and headed North to Luang Namtha. If only it had been as painless as that sounds. I’ve had my share of terrible bus rides but this one bounds onto a podium for all-time worst. The bus, a sort of saloon version of a builder's van, was packed with narrow banks of seating; maximising capacity to the total exclusion of comfort. Casual observers watching us embarking would have imagined that it was a tardis, university students would have stood in awe and budding illegal immigrants would have shaken their heads and headed home. With perhaps 10% of one buttock in contact with a seat we were deemed to have settled in and off we went on our 11hr journey through the night.
|
The Dunkirk spirit rapidly evaporated once it became obvious that we were surrounded by half a dozen drunk teenagers. The drinking, smoking, singing, shouting and hawking of phlegm went on deep into the night and was only interrupted by an almighty thunderstorm that stopped the vehicle dead in its tracks. There was a short commotion in the darkness and piece by piece the soaking luggage was transferred from the roof to the only available space; that which existed above and around our ears. It was so predictable when the ignition key was finally turned and the engine coughed derisively.
After an interminable wait, and not daring to look at Sophie who was enjoying a well-earned break from the demands of hospital life, it spluttered begrudgingly into action and we resumed our acquaintance with every indentation the road had to offer. By now the rain was lashing down and began pouring in through the badly fitted windows, soaking passengers on both sides.
A few hours later we were mercifully dumped, bewildered and hallucinating, outside a shop. In the pre-dawn gloom we crawled onto some wooden display tables and passed out, fully expecting to be purchased along with the other vegetables when the sun came up.
|
 |
 |
|
Luang Namtha is the trekking hub for Northern Laos and the main reason for going there is to explore the Nam Ha National Protected Area and certainly not the town itself; it was destroyed during the war and rebuilt in the 1970s; which I now realise was a worldwide period of inexplicable architectural aberration.
|
|
Over 30 ethnic tribes live in the Nam Ha National Protected Area which is an ecotourism project jointly established by UNESCO and the Laos government. The aim is to make tourism sustainable and minimise impact on the culture of local villages, although in truth it is virtually impossible to get away from the human zoo factor and signs saying ‘Please do not feed the locals’ don’t help.
|
|
We trekked for 3 days through thick smoke and burning hillsides enjoying spectacularly non-existent views but dining on delicious local produce (bamboo and rattan shoots became a firm favourite). When a bamboo forest burns it creates an incredible sound, like machine gun fire, as each of the bamboo’s sections explode in the flames.
|
Our guide loved telling jokes along the way, each one was interminably long, in broken English, and completely dependent on the punch line for laughs; the punch line in every case was a man fornicating with a buffalo.
We stayed overnight in a Lenten village which was a unique experience; although understandably there was a feeling of being tolerated rather than welcomed.
The Lenten were originally from Mongolia and their animist beliefs involve worshiping their ancestors and the spirits of village, sky, forest, earth, water and birds; and apparently, as recently happened, mistaking a naked tourist for an evil spirit and beating the hell out of him.
|
 |
 |
|
We shared the back of a local pick-up truck, generously referred to as a bus, and headed further North through some of the more remote parts of Laos, finally stopping in the far North West corner at a small town called Muang Sing. Muang Sing is in the heart of the Golden Triangle; the area between Myanmar, Laos and China where most of the world’s opium is grown.
|
Laos is (or was) the 3rd largest producer of opium (after Myanmar and Afghanistan) but the government has all but eradicated it in exchange for money from the US. In the government’s eagerness to claim the $80m incentive they didn’t prepare properly for the enormous social upheaval and economic hardship that removing the country’s largest cash crop would cause.
Mass relocation programmes were enforced and there has been only limited success with replacement cash crops. No attention was given to the fact that in many villages half the population was addicted to opium (twice the literacy rate).
|
|
Ironically countries such as Australia and India are allowed to grow opium legally for commercial pharmaceutical export whereas SE Asia’s poorest country is denied its biggest cash crop.
|
|
Opium has not been completely eradicated though; within minutes of our arrival, a benign old lady approached us, stuffed her hand down her top, raised a pendulous breast and produced a dirty bag of brown clods. “You smoke opium!”. The earnest expression and lack of inflection made it seem like an order. We still passed though.
|
|
Muang Sing is a beautiful place and we explored the area by bicycle enjoying the (very) misty mountain views. At night it was equally enchanting as the surrounding rice fields were dotted with little rattan huts that glowed orange from the small cooking fires inside.
|
Laos was an incredibly relaxing place and turns all notions of a frenetic SE Asia on its head. Surprisingly it is SE Asia’s poorest country as it does not feel that way, probably because most people appear quite content to live the same subsistence life they have done for centuries (except the opium farmers). As for me, I’m travelling up through Myanmar (Burma) next before reaching China. The journey is taking a little longer than anticipated...but can you blame me?
|
|
