SE Asia 2014 Day 16


Advertisement
Laos' flag
Asia » Laos » West » Luang Prabang
November 20th 2014
Published: November 26th 2014
Edit Blog Post

Breakfast at the resort. There is definitely a bug circulating with our group. We have lost another couple of people this morning, and the truth is that i am dealing with some gastro-intestinal issues myself.

We are off on the bus for a full day of touring. On the road, I notice that national flags are everywhere, but they are always displayed in pairs: the Laotian flag and the hammer and sickle flag. Seng tells me that the law requires the flag of the communist party to always be flown with the national flag.

Our first stop is Wat Xieng Thong. This is a temple and series of complementary buildings, originally constructed in 1560, that distinguish themselves by their colourful glass and ceramic mosaics, as well as stunning gold leaf-covered engravings. The morning sun catches reflections everywhere, producing scintillating sparks that seem to fly from the roofs and walls. We watch workmen painstakingly applying gold leaf to the massive doors of one pagoda. Inside is a massive funeral chariot that was used for royal funerals. The sheer manpower involved in creating and maintaining the intricate designs in all these buildings is mind-boggling.

We now embark on a long journey of 2 hours in the van to the Kuangsi Waterfall Park. Even though this is the main, in fact only road between Luang Prabang and the capital Vientiane, it is small, narrow and winding, with several rough stretches that bring the van down to 2nd gear. We cross three or four bridges of wooden construction over an iron framework that look alarmingly fragile.

When we reach Kuangsi, we alight and check out the shops that have sprung up to serve the tourist trade Then we enter the park on foot. The pathway is packed earth but quite walkable. We cross several bridges over gurgling streams. The first thing we come upon is the Bear Rescue Centre. Exhibits depict the gruesome practice of keeping bears captive in small cages in order to harvest bile from their gall bladders to satisfy the demand from China and elsewhere. Bears that have been rescued from this painful and degrading situation have found a home here, and we observe them sleeping and ambling about.

We continue walking, always climbing, until we reach the main stream that flows through this area. It offers us a series of extraordinarily charming cascades and basins as it careens down the mountain. The water is a deep turquoise colour, the result of dissolved calcium. We keep climbing, following the stream. Around every bend, a new cascade with its own special charm awaits us.

Finally ahead lies the main event: the river plunges from a sheer precipice some 400 m high. It is a gorgeous feast for the eyes. A bridge spans this final basin and spray fills the air.

After absorbing this arresting sight, we have lunch beside the water. The crunchy chicken dish (crunchy from shredded grilled coconut and lemon grass) seems to be a fan favourite.

Next we have the opportunity to swim. Several of the basins we previously passed have been cleared for swimming. Change facilities are even available. A few brave souls, including yours truly, brave the 18°C water. The current is quite strong in places and the rocks occasionally slippery. The calcium-rich water is velvety and only semi-transparent.

Having made my way back to shore, I gather up my dry clothes and head for the change house. However, my now wet feet react quite differently than my shoes to the earth near the water's edge and I take a spectacular flop onto my bum into the mud. My concern is keeping my clothes dry, so we end up with the amusing spectacle of helpful strangers trying to lift David up while I keep my hands full of clothes straight up in the air. My feet, unable to find any kind of firm footing in the slippery mud, are flailing like a cartoon character's, and my good Samaritans are yelling presumably helpful advice to me in a language I don't understand. My good wife, who (one might think) should be concerned and trying to help, is sitting on the bench where I left her, roaring with laughter, tears rolling down her face, unable even to speak. As if my embarrassment is not yet complete, one of our party just happens to have his camera handy, and he rapid-fire shoots the whole affair, trying his best not to shake the camera from merriment.

We retrace our steps back to the van and return to Luang Prabang. We stop at the Living Craft Centre on the shores of the Mekong. It is affiliated with Ock Pop Tok, an organization dedicated to giving local artists an fair opportunity to market their wares to a larger community. While Violet window-shops, I enjoy the sight of a dragon boat speeding by on the Mekong below, powered by the strong arms of young rowers who keep up a rhythmic chant to spur themselves on.

Our final stop of the day is Wat Visoun complex, built in 1513 and the oldest continuously operating temple in Luang Prabang. Buddhist monks live and learn here. Seng explains that there are three broad categories of monks: part-time (typically young lads who live at the monastery for a few days a week); long-stay (youth who have committed to stay several years, chiefly to get an education that would otherwise be denied them for financial reasons); and permanent monks, who have taken a life-time vow. Monks theoretically practise complete sexual abstinence, and, having once been a teenage boy myself, I wonder how they keep a lid on that teapot.

The temple building itself houses an immense collection of Buddhas. Seng gives us a quick lesson on the different types. The body posture, position of the hands, even the length of the fingers all have significance to the trained eye. Seng points out a collection of wooden "calling-for-rain" Buddhas, which apparently is a hallmark of the collection.

The Phu Si Temple, which we saw briefly at the night market yesterday, is perched on top of a substantial hill in the middle of the town. It is renowned for its view of the sunset. Only two of us, myself included, have enough stamina left for the climb. The rest of the group departs by bus for the resort. Seng accompanies the two of us through the first part of the ascent. Continuously climbing, we wend our way among private homes, again basically right through residents' daily lives, until we encounter the start of the 300 steps leading to the top of the hill. Our guide points out the way and carefully explains the route we are to take when we descend in order to reach the restaurant, called The House, where we will meet the rest of the group for supper.

The two of us set out alone. It's warm, of course, and we soon have a significant sweat going. The path snakes back and forth, and there are frequent rest stops that have small shrines and Buddhas of various sizes. It's not long before we're at the top. Lovely view of the city spread out below us. We can see the Nam Khan River meandering through town to join the Mekong to the north. Very clear from this vantage point why a town would grow here.

Quite a crowd has gathered at the west side to catch the sunset, and there's jockeying for position. Lucky for me, I'm the tallest there. However, it's overcast and the sunset is nothing spectacular.

My companion and I start the descent. It is now dark and the path is unlit. We are concentrating so hard on our footing that we end up taking a different path, and instead of ending up where'd we started, we arrive at the night market. That's ok, we say. We've been here before and we can figure out the way to the restaurant from here. So guess what? It's not long before we are lost.

First strategy is to ask a tuk-tuk driver. He's never heard of the place. Hmm. Well, we're fairly sure that the restaurant is beside the Mekong, so let's look there. No luck after walking for about 20 minutes. So we ask at a hotel–and they know the place! But it's a a good distance away, because we went in the wrong direction. Have to turn left, refind the night market, turn right and go to the west end of the market, turn left, go past another market, turn left again and walk some indeterminate distance. Can't miss it.

Anyway, long story short, we actually do find the restaurant. Seng is there looking anxious. "Why would you worry?" we ask. "Piece of cake." We have beaten the others by 15 minutes. The proprietor is Belgian and very friendly, and the food is tasty.

Back at the resort, we go to bed early because tomorrow we are attending the alms-gathering ceremony (Tak Bat) at the break of dawn. This is where the monks parade in single file down the main street of town, and residents offer them gifts of food and other items.

Advertisement



Tot: 0.174s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 8; qc: 57; dbt: 0.1283s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.2mb