Luang Prabang.. VangVieng, Laos

Luang Prabang..December 11- some days later

Although a fairly large town, Luang Prabang has a wonderful vibe and is a beautiful place to chill out for a while. We find a great little bungalow to stay in, totally isolated yet close to everything.

Our first two days here we submerse ourselves in weaving. Fascinated by traditional weaving techniques and dying processes, we decide to learn more. For two days we dye and weave. The days we have chosen are perfect. It is raining outside and we sit/ work the days away in a beautiful setting in open air workshops on the bank of the Mekong River. At the end of our time we have created our very own scarf each. Woven out of silk, our pieces are very passable and we both feel pretty chuffed!





As I sat and worked away with the dozen or so other women my mind wandered to all kinds of places. Reflection on the diversity of the lives of peoples across our world. Fascination with the incredible ingenuity of human kind and the creative talents of these women as they create the most intricate designs on their cloth; designs passed down from mother to child over generations, designs of great significance and power. Such cloth is passed on and treasured for the work and design that it holds. Other pieces are for everyday use/ wear.

And so I weave with love. The design I weave is that of the chicken foot or hook. It is a design of good fortune....I think of my boys as I weave. (Left foot through, right foot through..change colour..) The value of family and heritage is so important over here. Above all else is family. And so I weave with love!!! With each passing thread I feel amazing love and positive thoughts...and this incredible design opens up in front of me, hand dyed hand woven silk!

The two days of weaving brought us down to a wonderful pace to then cruise around Luang Prabang for the next, several?, days.

Situated in the centre of town is Pousie Hill. On top is a beautiful temple and the view from up here exposes the spectacular hills/mountains surrounding the area.

There are many temples in the town and every morning at sunrise the monks from the monasteries walk around town to collect alms. It’s a wonderful ‘parade’ and it seems like the whole town comes out with offerings. There are hundreds of monks and it is truly a spectacle. Their saffron robes somehow igniting the feeling of peace, they walk past us, as we squat on the sidewalk, we place rice and banana leaf wrapped sweets into their bowls.

 

The beauty of the monks seems to penetrate my soul...perhaps it’s not the monks themselves, but the lives they lead, their dedication to Buddha. In the markets you can buy artists images of monks with umbrellas....in real life they stroll the streets in the heat of the day shaded by these same umbrellas...visual treats abound...everywhere a picture, everywhere a story.

Riding bikes out of town again reveals the spectacular scenery. We are virtually in a bowl surrounded by remarkable mountains..It’s truly stunning, later reinforced with a sunset cruise on the Mekong.

 



There’s plenty to do and yet nothing to do.




We lounge by the river, eat, look at art works, and, in the evenings, take in the wonderful night markets. The women are amazing in their talent of needle work and textiles. The market is where they show off their works. Catering to the tourists, they’ve cleverly adapted their skills to include pencil cases, wallets, bags bedspreads lamps etc, all intricately stitched, appliquéd, embroidered or woven.

 

 

Frogs for sale.mmmm

Saying goodbye to Luang Prabang we head to the other end of the spectrum, Vang Vieng.

The bus trip is interrupted by a collision we have with a massive truck. We meet head to head on a corner, both trying to avoid each other, the truck scapes heavily along the bus shattering windows and generally scaring everyone. But, no one is hurt and we wait on the highway for several hours for the police to come. It becomes quite a social gathering for locals, who are also blocked from going anywhere till the road is cleared.




 The road winds through some of the most awesome mountain scenery. Huge limestone crags in wonderful shapes and sizes, the narrow road winds through them. The sighting of a not so lucky bus at the bottom of a ravine reminds us of the fragile finger of fate!

Arriving in the evening we book into the first place we come to. It’s right on the river, and seems central.

Ahh, Vang Vieng, where backpackers come to party! Where backpackers come to ‘Tube” down the river stopping along the way to drink, skull, drink, slide, swing hang into the water..And then drink some more. ..into the early hours of the morning.

We wake in the morning to the most glorious setting.. the mountains are just across the river and stretch out in front of us. The doofing went on into the early hours and it’s such a shame this incredible environment is stained with the insensitive tourism that goes on here.

I sound like a grump.... look its fun..... it’s just the insensitivities of drunken tourists, who decide it’s really cool to wander half naked through the streets abusing locals, that is not ok.

It has become one of those “rights of passage of the young backpacker”. You can order any drugs, incredibly cheap cocktails (by the bucket if so desired) special pizzas etc...I suppose it’s like Kuta 20 years ago. Sitting in the river with a beer watching the rope swingers was sort of cool, but the music coming from every bar at full volume whilst young kids try to “rope you in “ was a bit much!!

A supposed leisurely bike ride to a cave turned into a daylong bum bumping piece of agony. We decided to go along with a young man to a “quieter cave..not so far..” Bad mistake! It was f....king hours away in the hot sun on a dusty potholed gravel road....and I was not happy! In fact I was miserable, which really wasn’t very conducive to a pleasant experience. Ha-ha!

 When we got there, the cave certainly was spectacular, huge and filled with magical stalactites and mites. I couldn’t find any sense of humour when our guide turned off his light or played lost games....the ride home was just as torturous! Reece, with all his amazing patience lasted better than I and rewarded our guide with two long sleeve shirts. (a treasure for him as it would cover his paralysed arm and help him ‘not feel embarrassed”)...and all I’m worried about is my sore arse!......what can I say?

Exit to Vientiane......Axx

Luang Nam Tha December 8th.....

In Luang Nam Tha we hire push bikes and ride to a nearby village. It’s a Hmong village and they are celebrating their new year. The Hmong ethnic group are the most recent immigrants, having come from Burma Tibet and southern China in the last 150 years.

Traditional costumes abound and beautiful faces peek out shyly from underneath exquisite headwear. The village ‘square’ is set up with food stalls and a ‘side show alley”. The amusements consist of several “pop the balloon with a dart” games, of course Reece tries his luck...laughter abounds. There is also a small merry go round operated by a motor, with a fan which blows to propel it forward, assisted by a man powered push! Gorgeous children adorned in exquisite outfits line up for a ride on their favourite rusty steed.

Lines of children stand opposite one another and throw and catch a handmade material ball one handed. Their ages range from about 6 to 16....the older children tend to stand opposite their opposite sex...perhaps a bit of a courting and flirting gong on!

love those chicken feet!

 But ball games are the same all over the world and so are painful boys!! Here just like at home, if the young girls drop the ball there will be a group of boys ready and waiting to steal it and run off throwing it to friends whilst the girls run around trying to get it back!!....universal theme!

A tuk-tuk tour” takes us to several villages in the region. There are numerous ethnic groups in Laos and each village we visit is of a different ethnicity. We walk around and observe their lives, I feel somewhat uncomfortable with this approach, however as time goes on we involve ourselves with questions and interact with the help of our guide. The women are shy and we respect their space. We visit a school in each of the villages, classes where eager children sit taking in all there is on offer. The windows are wooden bars, no glass in any of these villages and the walls are of timber or bamboo. Unlike throughout Indonesia, uniform is not compulsory, so perhaps education is more accessible to many as they don’t have to afford a uniform. Most children go to school in primary school, after that some go on...I haven’t found out percentages. Its miles to the nearest high schools and up until 4 years ago there was only one university in Laos...no there’s three!

 

 High on top of a mountain, a road cut in by the government, we visit a hmong village so remote that I feel we are in Mongolia or something. Orange dust/dirt covers everything, filling every crack and crevice. The houses are raw, built from basic materials, they stand elevated from the dirt. There is a single well where people gather their water from.

It’s a very traditional life, Clothes, cooking building. They grow a bit of food although are subsidised from the government, who bring them rice once a month. Life is basic.

  

 

 Children roam around playing with one another and the ages of the tiny tots out playing on their own astounds me. We come across a group of 5, perhaps 3 year olds, at the top of a dusty mound, everything is dust...not a green bit in sight. They are poking and patting a buffalo who lies oblivious to their games. They seem so tiny...they look after each other....if one is crying a 4 or 5 year old comes to pick them up and comfort them. Young school age boys play spinning top, battling it out to try and knock off the others’ top.

Further along as we wend our way through the dusty ‘streets’, (there are no cars up here) we come across three women and a man sitting around a fire with the ‘kettle’ on. It’s the staff room of the school. We sit and have tea together. The ramshackle building behind is the school. The teachers here are brought in to teach the children. They talk of the difficulties teaching here because of language and cultural differences. It’s a challenging job. They sleep in a small hut together, they rarely go home....

.......A xx

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