Pak Ou and Luang Prabang Rami, Donna, Lisa and I rose before six and walked up to Sisavangvong to watch a ritual that has probably been going on for 700 years. As dawn breaks, several hundred monks emerge from Wat Sene and other monasteries along the northern end of the street. In their orange robes, they gather against the grey walls of the wats before starting a procession towards the city centre. Every monk carries a baat, a black alms container in a basket, and along the way kneeling alms-givers place food into each baat. A ball of sticky rice here, a piece of fruit there, a biscuit, or perhaps a sweet. It is a moving ceremony, serene and harmonious, and conducted in total silence - apart from, if you listen really carefully, the soft padding
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