[i]Sabaidee![/i]

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Luang Namtha, Laos

September 5, 2006

Sean: Our trip to the frontier of the Chinese hinterlands - converging on its border with Laos - entailed a lengthy couple of bus trips. For two days we passed through mountainous countryside and a few decent urban centers - the last being the small (by Chinese standards) city of Mohan. Nothing too interesting, but I was still surprised at the size considering its remote, boondocks location - even the far-flung corners of the world’s most populous country are well populated. So as we bid goodbye to the friendly border guards (“I hope you enjoyed China!”…they seriously said that) we were able to catch a little taxi that took us across the “no man’s land” to the town of Boten on the Lao side. After a three minute trek around a small mountain we were unceremoniously dropped off on the edge of the road next to a few lonely ramshackle, thatched roof buildings - the only sign of human activity in our vast field of vision.

Welcome to Laos.

This was a far cry from the bustling little city that’s literally just around the last bend behind us. We were then ushered over to a window on the side of one of the “buildings” by one of the guards who proceeded to not only stamp our passports, but also chat us up amiably about the best ways to travel around his country. His English was excellent and he was in a very talkative mood (I’m sure our arrival accounted for a large percentage of his excitement that day). When we were finished, he pointed down the road and instructed us to walk about five minutes to the bus station. We were assured that we couldn’t miss it as it was right next to the “highway”.

With each step away from the border we futilely scanned the area for this mythical repository of public transport. Everywhere we looked we couldn’t see anything that could even be remotely called a “station” filled with things called “busses”. But as we got closer to another thatched roof edifice - I can really only adequately describe it as a gazebo - surrounded by a few bedraggled mini-pickup trucks, we had to assume we were in the right place. There really was no other sign of humanity in any direction.

So we moseyed up to the dry-erase board and scanned the meager offerings of conveyance to…well…anywhere. We chose the next thing smokin’ from this hip little outpost (good thing, too because it was the last bus of the day) and wound up at least a little closer to where we wanted to be.

Shannon: Sometimes it’s the countries that you have the least amount of expectations about that are the ones you really end up liking.

Laos doesn’t have any “big” tourist sights, no Angkor Wat-type attraction like its southern neighbor Cambodia; it doesn’t have the beaches or the famous food like its western neighbor Thailand; it doesn’t have the famous natural beauty, like Halong Bay in its eastern neighbor Vietnam; nor does it have any of the economic strength and renown culture of it’s northern neighbor China. Newly opened to tourists (1989) after many years of both external and internal conflict, it hardly sees any visitors - at least measured by other South East Asian nation standards - and its infrastructure is still somewhat in its infancy. So what’s to love about Laos? Well, actually...quite a lot.

Much like our former home in New Orleans, it takes a bit of time to see the magic. When we first popped over the border, converging on the small assembly of huts that is the border town of Boten, I wasn’t sure. Waiting at the “bus station” (Sean’s aforementioned gazebo) I was tired and a bit eager to get anywhere closer to civilization. When the driver finally finished his game of checkers and announced that a bus was leaving, I didn’t care that the town it was headed for wasn’t even our intended destination - at least it was going somewhere - and when the “bus” turned out to be benches in the back of a pickup truck, that didn’t matter either. It was forward movement, and the next town promised to have at least a place to stay the night.

It quickly became obvious that life was going to slow down in Laos, way down. There’s no use being in a hurry here because nothing moves very fast. And that’s part of its charm. Perhaps because they haven’t yet been jaded by hordes of tourists, people are still exceedingly friendly, smiling at you and calling out sabaidee (hello) whenever you pass by. It’s quite a change from the commercialism that is prevalent (and inevitable) in more developed countries.

One of the quirky things, though, about traveling here is the money situation: there is only one ATM in the entire country (that should tell you something about how developed the tourism industry is). Every other country we’ve visited - even in little touristed Syria - it has never been a problem to obtain money out of ATM’s. Except in Laos. Sean and I read about this before entering the country, so we were prepared for this rather unusual situation. We had some extra currency stashed for emergencies and brought in some extra yuan from China, which we actually managed to change at a pretty good rate. But for those not as well prepared, banks will give you a cash advance from your credit card for a small commission. They wouldn’t want you to run out of money, after all…

Another thing about Laos money - the currency is a bit unstable, so there are actually 3 currencies in daily use in the country: Thai baht, US dollars and Lao kips. Many places will quote prices in dollars or baht, and most will take all three. There’s only one problem with carrying kip: finding pockets big enough to stash your huge wads of cash. The largest bill that Laos has is a 20,000 kip note, the equivalent of $2. And you only get those if you change money at the banks. Most other places only have 10,000 kip notes ($1) or even worse - 2,000 kip notes ($0.20). When we first changed a bit of yuan at the border - even though it was the equivalent of less than $20 - we got a pretty impressive pile of currency in exchange. But it’s misleading: with pockets bursting, you feel like you should be good for weeks without having to change more money. But alas, even in a cheap country like Laos, a bunch of $0.20 bills don’t get you very far.

Luang Prabang, Laos

September 6, 2006

Sean: Getting to Luang Prabang, while empirically not thrilling, was memorable because of the state of the roads. Not being mass transport masochists, we opted to take the slow route and traveled the combined 240 miles (or so) of dizzying, windy mountainous roads in two and half days. This tortuous distance was completed in about 18 hours of travel. I couldn’t help feeling a little queasy on each leg as the busses swayed back and forth, up and down the narrow mountain roads. What a sense of relief it was every time we stopped.

Shannon: Being from a western nation, you get pretty used to covering mileage quickly. To be averaging about 13 miles per hour in small, crowded minibuses is a new form of traveling torture. Not that we haven’t been crammed like sardines into a minibus before, or moved at a snail’s pace down poorly improved roads, or even been jostled about moving through windy mountainous terrain in other countries. But it’s been rare to find all three at once (Guatemala is the only other country that springs to mind). You would think that after all this time we would be able to find the zen-like relaxation that these slow movements could inspire; sadly, after all this time our patience has actually decreased for these epic-long journeys. But you have to take the good with the bad. Tourism dollars improves the roads and increases the services, but it also brings with it more commercialism, touts and hassle.

Sean: But Luang Prabang was worth the effort to get here. It’s Laos’ most touristy city for good reasons. While the colonial architecture would never rival Antigua, Guatemala, the French have definitely left their mark on this part of the country. The older portion of town is on a peninsula at the confluence of two rivers (the Mekong and the Khan) and is gridded by main streets connecting narrow alleys. The place is also famous for the density of wats (monasteries) so there are monks everywhere with their bald heads and bright orange togas.

Shannon: It’s partly the concentration of wats that gives Luang Prabang it’s faded haven’t-moved-on-from-the last-century atmosphere. Everything seems to be in a state of flux - beautifully gilt temple roofs can be seen over crumbling plaster walls and restored colonial edifices sit right next to lackluster wood buildings. It’s a mixed bag. As Sean pointed out, it doesn’t have the sort of architectural consistency to make it a visual stunner, but what it lacks in that department it makes up with its laid-back ambiance. With no building over 3 stories tall and streets that are equally shared by scooters, pedestrians and small truck-taxis, it seems very manageable right off the bat and only improves as you spend more time here.

Within the confines of this small city, 32 of the 66 historic temples that were built before the era of French control are still active monasteries used by monks and novices. Combined with the newer wats that have been built since, there is no shortage of religious architecture or adherents. 60% of Lao people are Theravada Buddhists (one of the major “types” of Buddhism) and the connection to their faith is perhaps more visible here than in other countries we’ve visited. For example, one important tenet of their beliefs is the giving of alms: in accordance with their monastic vows, monks are forbidden from growing their own food and therefore depend on the community to provide sustenance to them. So everyday at dawn, monks in their bright tangerine-colored robes line up with their alms bowls as the people in their community place foodstuffs within to provide for that day’s nutritional needs. The community, in turn, benefits from the monk’s religious service and care. When you think about it, it’s a nice symbiotic relationship, a bit more personal than passing ‘round the offering plate at a once-a-week service.

I woke early one morning to witness this for myself (Sean, uncharacteristically languid in the morning hours, slumbered on). Not sure exactly how this would work, I kept a respectful distance from where many women were busily setting out large wicker baskets on the sidewalk on the main street near our guesthouse. Shortly thereafter, a line of monks turned the corner from the nearest street and approached single-file. The women, kneeling on the sidewalk, then placed the offerings in their bowl as they filed past. I had expected the monks to continue down the main street, anticipating that they would find more offerings further down. But instead, they merely rounded the block and continued on their way down another street back towards their wat. I’m not sure if other offerings were in store for them down that other street, but it hit home to me how small and connected the individual communities are that make up Luang Prabang. As I lingered in the area, I saw other lines of monks appear further down the main avenue, and as I had just witnessed, they collected their alms only from the area in the immediate vicinity of the temple they belonged to (with each temple being only a few blocks apart). It made me realize what a personal association the people involved have towards one another: far from doing this out of any religious obligation or sense of duty, these people were literally feeding their neighbors. And in turn, these monks aren’t ministering to some amorphous community of people, but again, towards their neighbors. Somehow the interdependence of it made it seem very comforting.


September 10, 2006

Shannon: Yesterday was my birthday so Sean surprised me with a special treat: a day long Lao cooking class. Cooking is something that I really enjoy, and since it’s been a fair while since I’ve had the opportunity to break out a pot or pan, it really was a delight.

As it is low tourist season in Laos right now, the school didn’t have any other students, so that meant that the class - normally for up to 8 people - was held just for the two of us. This equated to having all three instructors (2 cooks and one helper) to ourselves for some very personal instruction. The morning started off at the market, where one of the cooks (Leng) showed us around the food stalls, explaining all the odd fruits, vegetables and spices while Neng and Zhong shopped for the ingredients that we would need for the day. I was especially glad to have someone there to explain the foods - while many were familiar, some definitely were not - and to have the opportunity to ask questions about their uses in Lao cooking.

After our trip to the market, which was thankfully held in a covered enclosure as it was raining profusely, we retreated to the small bungalow where the classes are held. With the door and windows thrown open wide, and the rain keeping a steady beat on the roof above us, we settled in for a great day of cooking. Leng and Neng first cooked two dishes - a typical Luang Prabang salad and a fried rice noodle dish - and then Sean and I repeated them at our own workstation. Once completed, we ate our finely crafted dishes for lunch on the outdoor patio. After chatting with the owner, Ruth, we retired back to the kitchen for our afternoon class. Neng and Leng next took turns demonstrating three more dishes, which we sampled and then chose two to cook ourselves. It was a bit of a struggle to choose between the excellent dishes, but we settled on cooking a wonderful cold meat salad and another spicy vegetable dish. After another short respite for a spot of tea, they then showed us two more dishes, plus how to make our own chili paste and how to cook Lao sticky rice. After all that, Sean and I chose another dish to make (a yummy eggplant in coconut sauce) then settled down for a feast, eating the remainder of our day’s labors. The entire class consisted of the demonstration of 7 dishes (5 of which we then cooked ourselves) plus chili paste and rice, eating those dishes over two meals (lunch and dinner), a trip to the local market and an afternoon spent chatting with some locals. All-in-all, it was extremely worthwhile and a great birthday present.

Sean: The cooking class was excellent and I would give it a hearty recommendation. Not only was it fun to do something a little different but the food was tasty and full of new flavor combinations. Shannon really was in her element displaying skills that surprised even Leng and Neng. Since those kitchen talents are nothing short of amazing, any additional “arrows in her quiver” will only benefit me in the future (woohoo!).

In between meals we shot the breeze with the owner, an outspoken, middle-aged Australian lady whose house is just across the narrow lane from where we were being taught the intricacies of Lao cuisine. Not only does she own the small cooking school, but also “the best restaurant in Luang Prabang” (if she did humbly say so herself) just up the road. She was nice and even when she proceeded to blame the Americans for just about every ill that has befallen the modern world, I held my tongue (well, Shannon - being able to read me like an open book - managed the conversation and kept me out of hot water).

It was when she began to list the negative influences that tourism hath wrought on her current adopted land of residence that I really took umbrage. I was about to cut in and yell “hypocrite!” at the top of my lungs when the phone rang (just like in the movies) and so immeasurably preserved US/Aussie relations. For this lady, who owns a high-end (at least for this region) restaurant aimed at the tourist market, a cooking school (for tourists like us) and even buys and sells used paperpacks (English only, please) to tell me that tourism has done for Laos (I’m quoting) “more bad than good”, without recognizing her own complicity in the matter, is a complete crock (I’ll bet her bank account wouldn’t concur with her stance). I don’t doubt that in these last five years (since the real boom began) poor decisions have been made and some unintended negative consequences have arisen from the increase in foreign visitors, but tourism is an industry like shipbuilding or agriculture. If you want any industry in your town or country you are going to have to recognize that there are negatives associated with it, and hopefully try to minimize them, at the same time that you accept the tourist dollars and increased revenue that come with it. The harmful effects can be mitigated, but never completely eradicated. But it’s disingenuous to decry the tourism industry at the same time that you allow it to fund your lifestyle.

I have to commend Laos, though, in that they seem to have learned lessons from their much more heavily trodden neighbors. Everywhere we see bumper stickers decrying Sex tourism is a Crime, with a hotline number to call if suspicions are aroused - an obvious backlash to the reputation of Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam as epicenters of (at the least) The World’s Oldest Profession and (the worst) pedophilic tourism.

And even though this area of the globe will probably never be clean and sober, they’ve cracked down decently on much of the less-than-exceptional element’s rite of passage to treat this region as one large Amsterdam. There’s also a handy do’s and don’t’s guide to traveling in Laos that is full of wisdom encouraging us to dress conservatively (keep your bare shoulders and knees covered at all times) and not to touch monks (their rule, not mine).

So from my perspective, a two-week tourist, Laos seems to be doing a pretty good job managing this income stream. It’s not going to be perfect and the lowest denominator of my culture will be drawn here, but the only other option is a big “No Vacancy” hung across the border and then that doesn’t benefit anyone - especially you and me.

Shannon: Luang Prabang is an easy place to pass some time in: as we mentioned earlier, it has tons of Buddhist temples to visit, scenic waterfalls are located a short distance away in the surrounding countryside, cheap $3 massage places are everywhere and a nifty little night market is set up down the main street of town each evening. The only hard decision in the morning is where to go for a nice Lao coffee and a baguette.

In the past several days, we’ve visited some of the wats in town, though we’re trying to pace ourselves as we are very sure there will be more in our future. With sweeping upturned gables and a preponderance of gold-leaf encrusted surfaces, the typical Lao temple is a bit different than the Buddhist temples we saw in China. (In looking around the internet, I found a website that has some amazing interactive ‘panographies’ (360 degree images) of different World Heritage sites. For a look around one of the most famous temples in Luang Prabang, click here.)

One of the things that really interest me about some of the Buddhist temples are the fantastically painted figures and the stories behind them, as I know very little about the religion. Where the Four Heavenly Kings were prevalent in the temples in China and South Korea, they do not figure prominently here. Instead, one of the first images you see when walking up to many temples are these amazing multi-headed serpents. Indeed, these giant figures are often sculpted straight onto the side walls of the stairways leading up to the temples. These are known as naga, mythological serpent beings in both Hindu and Buddhist traditions. They are particularly revered in the areas around the Mekong River and in Laos especially, as they believe the naga are the protectors of Vientiane (and by extension, the entire country). The Lao people believe that naga live in the Mekong and so will often give a small offering to them before undertaking a boat trip. There are many stories associated with these mystical beings but the one that you see depicted in statues most often has to do with a naga-king named Mucalinda: It is said that while Buddha was meditating under the Bodhi tree, having just gained enlightenment, a tremendous storm began to brew. Seeing this, Mucalinda unfurled his enormous cobra-like hood and protected him from the rain. When the storm had cleared, Mucalinda assumed a human form, bowed before Buddha, and returned to his palace.


September 11, 2006

Shannon: Today we took a short jaunt outside town to the Kuang Si waterfall, one of the many waterfalls in the area. We had originally planned to go with one of the tour companies in town, as hiring our own driver would have been the more expensive way to go. But while eating breakfast in one of the many restaurants along the main drag through town, we overheard an American telling another couple that he was trying to get a group together to defray costs. One thing led to another, and by the time we all met up a scant 40 minutes later, the group had ballooned to 13. As that’s just about the limit to how many people can fit in these truck-cum-taxi vehicles (well, 13 westerners can fit - but somehow when these small trucks are used as public transport “buses” drivers can somehow manage to cram about twice that many in), it turned out well.

After a bumpy ride out there, we spent our afternoon hiking up the side of the waterfall and then returning down to swim in the pools below. We also got to see some Asian bears and a tiger up close, as the park surrounding the waterfall has a few enclosures where these animals - which had been seized from poachers - now reside.

Vang Vieng, Laos

September 12, 2006

Sean: After another less than blissful 6-hours-to-travel-140-miles we’ve arrived at the dusty backwater of Vang Vieng. Besides mountain trekking, spelunking some caves and inner-tubing down the river, the town doesn’t offer much else except as an oasis on the road between Luang Prabang and Vientiane (the capital). It’s the kind of place littered with guesthouses and restaurants selling western food and showing episodes of “the Simpsons” continuously - not a bad place to stop for a day or two, but you wouldn’t want to plan your vacation around it.

Since we’ve seen caves galore and day-hiked numerous picturesque countrysides, we opted for inner-tubing as our outdoor recreation of choice. The owners took us and our huge truck tires up about 10 miles and dropped us off to tube down the quickly moving Song River.

Even though a continuous float down to town would only take about an hour, several entrepreneurial spirits have fashioned themselves as way stations along the route and made neat little rest stops (as if lazily drifting down a river necessitated frequent breaks). These were all rickety bamboo constructed compounds and they all had some sort of river adventure activity such as a rope swing, zip-line or just a jump-off perch from which to practice your ale fueled acrobatics.

Shannon: At seemingly each bend in the river, there was another of these rest stations, staffed by locals calling out “Beer Lao” as an enticement to get you out of the river and onto their rickety decks (handily, they would even throw out a long bamboo pole for you to grab onto and would pull you in, thereby eliminating any reason why you couldn’t stop). As it seemed the only proper way to do the trip, Sean and I made a few pit stops at these places to refresh ourselves with the local brew while chatting up other travelers. And you had to admire the entrepreneurial spirit of the owners of these riverside shanties: for the cost of a little bamboo shack and a lengthy piece of rope tied to a nearby tree - coupled with a stockpile of cheap beer and a bit of food - you’ve got yourself a good business. And it made for a fun afternoon.

As Sean said, Vang Vieng has garnered itself a reputation as being the place to stop when you’re on the road between Luang Prabang and Vientiane - and being a fairly small town, it’s consequently one of the few places we’ve seen so far where the ratio of foreigners to locals seems tipped in the westerners favor. For good or for bad, restaurants all over town have built raised platforms strewn with cushions where foreign sitcoms (“The Simpsons” and “Friends” seem to be the favorites) and movies are shown on big screens, the better for travelers to zone out while drinking banana shakes and eating off the “happy” menu. It’s not for everyone (as evidenced by the subtly disparaging characterization of the local “scene” described in our guidebook) but we’ve been on the road long enough not to judge too harshly: sometimes travelers want a bit of home.

After inner-tubing, we also took a walk in the rice fields surrounding the town. At this time of year, the rice is an amazing color of green - so vibrant you almost think it’s fake. Laos grows two kinds of rice: what they call “wet” rice, which is the same as the white rice we eat in America and “dry” rice, better known as glutinous or sticky rice in the west. Ranging in color from purple to white, it is usually served in small wicker containers with lids. To eat it, you break off a chunk of rice and roll it into a small ball, which you then dunk into the sauces of dishes that you’re eating. With a nice chewy texture, it’s become our new favorite carbohydrate.

Vientiane, Laos

September 14, 2006

Shannon: Any thoughts that there was anything remotely resembling a ‘metropolis’ in the entire country of Laos evaporated upon arriving in Vientiane today. Truly, this is the smallest capital city I’ve ever seen. No doubt, it is rather large by Lao standards, but that’s not exactly saying much. The term ‘quiet backwater’ certainly springs to mind.

Don’t think though that I am dismissing the town. This evening we decided to dine alfresco along the banks of the lazy Mekong, choosing a table from amongst the hundreds that vendors have lined up along the banks. From small portable “restaurants” they grill/sauté/or stir-fry anything you want while you sit at candle-topped plastic tables with only the soft sounds of other conversations wafting over you. With the sun setting, the river rolling by and a gentle breeze blowing, it is magical. For this reason alone, you could fall in love with the town.


September 16, 2006

Sean: Yesterday’s history lesson came from the Lao National Museum which starts out slowly - depicting the dinosaurs and early man (yawn! I just can’t muster any enthusiasm for quasi-arrowhead shaped pieces of flint and rocks that they assure me were the modern day equivalent of Craftsman tools) - but begins to pick up when the topic of occupation rears its ugly head. Between the Siamese (Thai), the French, the Japanese (and then back to the French) to our own hand at remaking the country’s image to - most recently - the Vietnamese, the Lao haven’t had a shortage of countries “helping” them govern themselves for the last few hundred years. The recent past is a little difficult to explain in a few short paragraphs, but the under-funded museum did its best by describing every enemy of the state as either the “American Imperialists” or the “American Imperialist’s Puppet” (a universal constant the world over is that it’s a safe bet to blame the Americans). Not that the actions of my country (especially in this region) have been especially altruistic and brimming with good will, but it does show that the winner gets to write the history books - if the US’s “representatives” had triumphed in the war here, then the museum would have been deriding the “North Vietnamese, Chinese and Soviet Puppets” instead.

Although the proxy war that was fought in this country never really happened because the Geneva Convention explicitly stipulated the neutrality of Laos and that would’ve meant that the North Vietnamese had violated the pact (where do you think the Ho Chi Minh Trail was?). In response, we allowed this conflict to spill over into this mountainous country and so weren’t going to publicize our exploits either. Our presence, sadly, is still being felt in the mind boggling amount of unexploded ordinance that litters the countryside. From the millions of tons of dropped bombs to the leftover grenades and mines to the forgotten artillery rounds, this country hasn’t completely left that chapter behind.

Shannon: It’s a complicated subject, and not one that is easily portrayed. I had my own problems trying to decipher the timeline laid out in the museum as I struggled to figure out just whose “puppets” were being referred to. One thing is certain: the Lao people took the brunt of everything. Even after the communist Lao People’s Democratic Republic (LPDR) was formed in 1975, up to 160,000 people were imprisoned for ‘political crimes’ or sent to reeducation camps, thousands were forced to flee to Thailand trying to escape the military campaigns by the government against it’s own citizens and internal conflict killed many more - this after having survived decades of war by outsiders.


September 17, 2006

Sean: There is nothing quite like tooling along on an underpowered scooter in a third world country, riding on unambiguously potholed and partially paved roads, that focuses your attention to a razor sharpness.

We decided to visit the Buddha Park outside of Vientiane for the afternoon but instead of hiring a taxi, opted for some self propelled autonomy and rented a 110cc “scooter”. Even though the rental guy spoke English well enough, the finer language nuances from a motorcycle snob (that’s me) showed through and we went a couple rounds like Abbot and Costello doing “Who’s on first”. I was asking for a scooter, but he keeps saying that they don’t have any, and I’m looking at around ten or so right behind him. We finally get it worked out that what I’m referring to as a scooter he calls a “motobike”.

potato, potahto

At only $5 per day, it doesn’t have to perform miracles, but it was great to have and anything with more power, on those roads, would’ve only gotten us in trouble - obviously because it took us an hour to travel the 15 miles to the park. It’s not that I couldn’t go any faster, it was just that the road conditions were that bad. The places with the “best” (truly my standards have lowered) asphalt are crowded and the less populated areas are nothing more than loosely graveled, rutted dirt. Compounding this is the fact that the little traffic present consists of vehicles and other scooters that have infinitely more practice than I do in these conditions. They also have some “spidey sense” when it comes to other drivers, as they don’t slow down much at blind intersections and will routinely pull out right in front of other people.

It all seems to work out, though.

After the death defying voyage aboard our single cylindered Honda Wave, the park was a neat diversion. Lots of concrete statues of Buddha and other Hindu gods littered the area and were all attractively photogenic in the late day sun. It was fairly cheesy, but you know that we enjoy that sort of thing.

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Photos

Offerings for Buddha
...just in case he pauses for a snack.

Shannon at Work
Brewing up some great plans for our adventures, no doubt.

The Other White Meat
These juicy morsels were being grilled up alongside some beatles and tiny crabs. We were told that once you remove the legs they make quite a tasty snack, but we passed on trying them.

A Fistful of Dollars
...or Lao kip

Sunset over the Mekong
View from atop the highest hill in Luang Prabang, Phu Si

Sala Pha Bang
A pavillion to hold one of Laos' most famous treasures, the Pha Bang. It is a 32 inch gold, silver and bronze statue of Buddha weighing 117 pounds.

Sean Chillin'
On our private balcony at the guesthouse in Luang Prabang. At a whopping $6/night, accommodation in Laos has been a very good value.

Waiting for Alms
Following the 1975 communist takeover, people were forbidden to give food to monks. This unpopular policy was recinded the next year and today the tradition continues.

Lao Coffee
Strong (you can see the silt clinging to the inside) and generally served with a dollop of sweetened condensed milk. You gotta love a nation that makes a decent cup of coffee.

Shannon and Leng at the Market
Perusing the different types of noodles on offer.

Chicken Laap
This national dish is a cold chicken salad spiced with lemongrass, mint, garlic and chilis.

The Lao Really Know How to Brew a Good Beer
Actually a pretty tasty beer and much better than anything we drank in China.

Snake Charm
Multi-headed naga outside a temple.

The Big Muddy
...the Mekong, that is.

Handy Chart
A simple reminder of how wars sometimes don't end just because you go home.

Pools below Kuang Si Waterfall
It was a beautifully hot day and after hiking up the falls, the water couldn't have felt better.

Wooden Bridges of Vang Vieng
Note the bar signs - you're never far from a beer Lao in this town

Elixir of the Gods
The Lao sweeten their coffee, ice tea and all sorts of yummy drinks with sweetened condensed milk.

Offering Stand
Each residence has one of these and they are constantly replenished. This one was at our hotel in Vientiane.

Pha That Luang
The Great Stupa in Vientiane

That Dam
The Black Stupa - legend has it that a seven-headed dragon dwells beneath this stupa which came to the aid of the people of Vientiane during the 1828 Siamese-Lao war. Some might point out that the people of Laos did not fare well in that war, but it's a nice story if you overlook that little bit.

Patuxai
Reminiscent of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, but never finished. The sign attached to the structure reads (and I quote): "From a closer distance, it appears even less impressive, like a monster of concrete."

Cosco-Cola
Is that what you call it when you buy it in bulk??

Comments

[Laurent & Virginia]

Kaixo (Sabaidee in Basque)
Glad to read that you loved Laos, it is always in our top three when people ask us what was our favorite country. Sean, you need to work on your tan and drink less Beer Lao. Shannon, you will have to give me some photography tips because your pics are worth the National Geographic interest. Warmest Regards from the now sedentary people. Agur (Good Bye in Basque)

[Disco stu2]

hey, i did the China Laos border a year ago and totally know what you're talkiing about!!!!

[Anne Yang]

Merci
Bonjour Sean&Shannon, Merci bcp pour vos photos, elles sont très jolies.