Laos Part 1-Vientiane and Phonsavanh

I haven't written at all until now about work, because really who wants to read about someone else's boring job? But in March ERM sent me to the People's Democratic Republic of Lao, or Laos as we know it. It was an unusual assignment to say the least, so I'm breaking with my heretofore reluctance to talk about work to give ya'll some of the highlights.

I have to admit to being more than a little apprehensive about the coming fortnight when I got on the plane in Perth. I was being sent to a mountainous region in Laos to basically act as a biological detective, figuring out as much as I could about the aquatic biology and habitat in the region as well as local fishing practices. Sounds like a peachy assignment right?

Maybe. The adventure and challenge aspects of it appealed to me but as I began my descent into Singapore for my first of two connections the reality of what I was about to attempt began to penetrate. First, there was the basic headache associated with getting there. You have to take three flights through three countries just to get to Vientiane, the Lao capital. Then it was another flight up to the mountains, a day's drive from the airport higher into the mountains, then another day's trek through higher mountains yet along a river where waterfalls have killed people as recently as last year, and that was just the first half of the trip. Suffice to say it was more than a walk around the corner, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

On the way from Singapore to Bangkok I had time to ponder the unknowns surrounding my assignment. I couldn't speak one word of the language. I had never met the people I was going to work with (and on whom I would be nearly completely dependent. We had no accomodations arranged in the outlying areas we would be visiting because tradition dictates that travellers arrange accomodations in each village with the village chief on arrival. Even if you wanted to arrange things ahead of time there is no reliable way of contacting some of these places from the outside, so it doesn't matter. I was also going to be doing biological field work in an area where I knew exactly zero about the local flora and fauna, so if my local contacts weren't hotshots the team's professional credibility would be on shaky ground. Speaking figuratively I wasn't going to be off the edge of the map, but I'd be be very close.

One the way from Bangkok to Vientiane I considered that ignorance might might be a good thing, because what I did know was more frightening than what I didn't. Laos has the dubious distinction of having been bombed more intensely per capita through history than any other country on Earth. It is wedged between Thailand, Cambodia, Myanmar (the former Burma), and Vietnam, and China isn't far to the north. All of its neighbors have at one point or another waged military campaigns in, over, or through Laos. A long history of home-grown conflict coupled with foreign interference on the southeast Asian penninsula by the USSR, China, French, and the US over two major wars has rendered unexploded ordinance shockingly common in Laos, and leftover bombs still kill people in the area I would be working in. I also knew that the Hmong ethnic group was active in the most remote village to which I would be traveling. They are armed and don't like the government very much, and we would have government officials with us.

Vientiane is a city with an identity crisis. Half of it is a crumbling relic of the fervent communist imperialism of the middle 1900's. This part looks as if an army of Soviet barracks builders with unlimited supplies of concrete built the entire city in about three weeks back in the 70's, then packed up and took off and nobody has even washed the buildings, let alone engage in any substantive maintenance since. It looks bad, and thanks to the open sewers on the roadside it smells worse. The other half is composed primarily of brightly colored, ornately decorated Buddhist temples which are cleaned fastidiously by the monks. The temples and monastaries are as vibrant as the rest of the city is dull, and far cleaner than the neighborhoods that surround them.

As you probably have gathered by now Vientiane lacks many of the conveniences you might expect to find in a western capital, but the place has no shortage of character. Laos' long history of foreign occupation means its capital has been home to expatriates from all over the world. As a result Vientiane has a surprisingly diverse selection of ethnic food, particulary along the Mekong riverfront. You can sit and have a German beer with a Chinese, French, Indian, or American-style dinner while overlooking a traditional Laotion food market against the backdrop of Thailand on the far shore. The fact that many of the same seats in the same food stalls that I and other consultants and travellers were in were occupied up until 20 0r 30 years ago mostly by spies and mercenaries only added to the mystique.

I'm also pleased to report that the omnipresent foreign influences in Vientiane do not appear to have overly diluted the indigenous Buddhist culture. You can't walk a block in any direction without encountering a shrine, temple, or monastery. Even though Laos is communist and fundamental communism officially discourages overt religious activity, monks in saffron robes walk the streets freely accepting alms. Ancient wooden bells chime from the temples throughout the day and monks chant prayers over loudspeakers from behind the monasterys' walls. Prayer flags are hung on the gates and fenceposts along main streets, and the temples and monastaries are open to the public during business hours. In a curious concession to modern culture, the monks have taken to chanting ancient prayers over bass-heavy beats from contemporary rap music. I guess the struggle to stay relevant is universal for religous orders around the world these days.

Some people are around, scurrying about on some errand or another, but Vientiane hardly feels like a national capital. Those people who are around get around mostly on teeny motorbikes or in a curious version of a taxi called a tuk-tuk. A tuk-tuk is best described as half motorbike, half wagon. It's got one front wheel and a bananna seat for the driver like a motorcycle, but the rear of the vehicle consists of two bench seats about four feet long over a pair of rear wheels. There is a tin roof over the back, and passengers climb in and out through the open back. You share the back with as many as eight other passengers and hold on to any handhold you can find for dear life. I would consider tuk-tuks absolute deathtraps except for the fact that I don't think they possess enough power to do any significant damage. Their engines only have one cylinder and the name comes from the tuk-tuk-tuk-sound they make as the single cylinder chugs them down the street.

I didn't have much time in Vientiane; my assingment was to have some brief meetings with government ministers and then get to the remote parts of the country where the real fun could begin. After a day of meetings and tuk-tuk rides, the next morning I caught a short flight to Phonsavanh. Phonsavanh is the gateway to Xieng Khouang province and rest of the wild part of northern Laos. It's the last place to get a decent meal or semi-warm shower. The pavement ends not far from the town's outskirts, and the bombs start showing up in earnest here. I saw them used as fence posts, signage, lanscaping elements of every description, and even support columns on the front of a building. At least the Laotians have a sense of humor about unexploded ordinance; in Phonsavanh two 500 lb bombs form the entrance of a restaurant appropriately named "Craters". After an uneventful evening in Phonsavanh, it was off to the untamed parts of Xieng Khouang the next morning.

Photos:

1. Gateway to a Buddhist temple in Vientiane.

2. Buddhist monks in Vientiane.

3. Dragon statue on the grounds of a monastary in Vientiane. Feeding the statue is supposed to bring good fortune; the little balls of rice visible on the statue's lower jaw have been left by observant Buddhists seeking divine favors.

4. Tuk-tuks.

5. Bombs decorating the entrance to a hotel in Phonsavanh.

6. More bombs in Phonsavanh. How many do you see here? I see six: one used as a sign, another as a picnic table with 2 benches (also made of bombs), one used as column supporting the roof of the front porch, and another just sitting out front.