The Bolovens Plateau and Pakse

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Pakse and Bolovens Plateau

A wake-up call at the execrable time of 4.45 am, and a short drive to the domestic terminal for a 6.30 am flight to Pakse. Everything is ready to go, except there is no-one to fly the plane. The ground staff smile knowingly as if the pilot oversleeps every morning. Eventually, at about 7:00, he saunters lazily across the tarmac and off we go on the other of the two Lao Airlines planes, landing about half an hour late at 8.15.

Our Pakse guide, Udon, checked us in at Champa Residence, a modestly characterful hotel in a new colonial-style house. Our stay here was to be a source of much amusement for us, mainly due to the willing staff who constantly watched us, ready to jump up and meet our every need - except that they understood practically no English other than "Yes…yes…yes" - a recipe for Fawlty Towers fiascos. Udon assured us that this was as good as it gets in Pakse, and it probably is.

A little after 9:00, we left by road for the Bolovens Plateau, a fertile agricultural area about 1,200 meters above sea level that the French earmarked for coffee, cardamom and rubber cultivation. Despite this, it is relatively sparsely populated, although there is a diverse ethnic mixture in the villages scattered around as a result of tribal displacement during the war. Because of its attractive natural beauty, it is an area that is being slowly opened up to tourism. Our first stop on the way up to the plateau was at a small rustic resort area being developed by a Lao/Thai/German joint venture. One of their efforts is a new ethnic minority museum - a number of houses of different tribal designs, and displaying implements specific to each tribe. Not usually my sort of place, but in this case, actually rather well done. Nearby, across a swaying bamboo and wire bridge, some quite beautiful low, horseshoe-shaped waterfalls poured over jet black volcanic rock. So perfect, it looked like it belonged in a theme park!

We stopped for a while at an affluent looking Katu village where women made and sold textiles, while their kids hung around looking incredibly photogenic. It was here, for the first time, that we noticed a few women or children with brown or almost blonde hair, and lighter coloured eyes. Udon told us that this was not uncommon around here, and indicated some mixing of American blood dating back to the Vietnam War.

Higher up, at Tad Lo on the Xe Set River are two more picturesque cascades in a rock-strewn setting where we relaxed for a while just soaking in the idyllic scene. Further up the valley, between the two falls, is the Tad Lo Resort where we had another passable Lao lunch watching a large group of kids playing in the river. Afterwards we walked through the forest up to the higher falls where the mini-bus picked us up. Some 20 km along a dirt road from here we stopped at a poor, but cheerful Alak village where wonderful, grubby children played among the pigs and chickens, while their elders husked rice, made kapok, or just sat around talking. Everyone seemed happy and reasonably well-fed, but one has to remember that life expectancy in these ethnic villages is around 40, that there is no health care regularly available, that in the rainy season malaria is a grim reaper of the children's lives, and that education is practically non-existent. If a village is lucky enough to be assigned a primary school teacher, the salary is US$20 a month, so one can imagine the very basic standard of teaching. There is no transport up here, so no chance whatsoever of secondary education for the kids, who are basically doomed to repeat their parents' cycle of subsistence living.

Not far away, we stopped at an Aleum village, similar, but with a feeling of even greater poverty, and a lassitude and bad health that was in the very air. Lisa and I visited many villages in Burma and saw nothing like this. Not even in India, or Kenya or anywhere else we had visited. In those places, at least there was some sort of government structure in place to cater to the rural population’s needs in terms of health care, education, transport - even if it was rudimentary, it existed. Here there was nothing. Zero. And little or no sign anybody is doing anything about any of these issues.

Looping back round towards Pakse the road started its gradual descent from the plateau, and we stopped at the magnificent Tad Fane waterfalls cascading 138 meters into a deep, vertical gorge running westwards from here into the Mekong. The falls are on the northern boundary of a vast national park that extends all the way to the Khmer border. It is a lovely spot, and we drank in the view and some coffee on a verandah perched on the rim of the gorge before haggling over coffee beans with an endearing little girl peddling her goods at the car park. Coffee and tea plantations are scattered all along the road here, between about 800 and 500 meters above sea level, and we stopped briefly at a small family-run estate. Lower down, below 500 meters, is durian country, and although it was too early in the season for the best fruit, Lisa introduced Darius and Alexanna to the pleasures of this tropical, custardy delight.

Back at Champa Residence, the willing staff were there to get us a drink, but we quickly realized we had better point rather than order, so we went into what passed as the bar and checked out the few assorted dusty bottles on the counter. Rami managed to track down a few fingers of Black Label hidden away at the back. Donna fancied a wine, but the faded labels of the bottles sitting in the 35 degree heat didn’t inspire much confidence, nor did the newer-looking box wine (where on earth did that come from?) sitting open on the counter. So she settled for a Cinzano, while I had a reliable Beer Lao, and Lisa - perhaps wisely - opted for tea. Our minds then turned to food. Udon had told us that morning that we could order anything from the menu, so we started to tell them what we wanted - steak, fries, etc - anything other than the spring rolls, watery soup, and stir fried vegetables that we seemed to have been eating at every meal. "Yes…yes…yes", they assured us at every order, but within five minutes of them taking away the menus, along came the spring rolls, watery soup, and stir fried vegetables! All we could do was laugh, and eat, and order another beer…

It is hard to describe just how hot and sticky it was these few evenings, and back in our rooms we cranked up the ancient air conditioners with little noticeable effect unless you actually stood on a chair right in front of them. Lisa and I ended up sleeping the wrong way round in the twin beds just to get our heads a few feet nearer the faint coolness.

Howard's Bolovens Plateau Gallery

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