Land of the lotus eaters

"They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-Eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the Lotus-eaters without thinking further of their return."  - The Odyssey 

There is no denying that Vientiane was a sleepy town, but arriving in Luang Prabang felt like being sedated -- with a wonderful, stress-erasing, motivation-canceling sedative. It was lucky we had planned to have no plans for Laos and just go with the flow because, really, that was all we were capable of upon arrival. But let's rewind and start from the beginning, getting from Vientiane to Luang Prabang.

These watches were in nearly every market stall, and after a while
it was clear that this 'watch' is just as relevant in Luang Prabang
as any other.

1.16.12

We loaded up on snacks and, after some anxiety-inducing delays we were on our way on the VIP King of Bus to Luang Prabang. All in all, the eleven hour ride went by more quickly and easily than I expected, and it was more scenic than I'd dared hope. We spent most of the trip winding around mountains. The bumps and bends sometimes made it hard to sleep, but it was worth it to keep my eyes open. The verdure was muted under a dense coating of road dust, and made me feel like I was in an old photograph. We passed clumps of hill tribes that could have almost convinced me that I had been transported to Guatemala. The flora shifted from palm trees and rice fields to papaya groves to unknown deciduous trees. Sunset came in a striking, unbroken palate, and then the stars came. Believe it or not, I see the stars less often in Vietnam than I did in Houston or in the LA area. So, to see the stars from a mountaintop free of light pollution was a sparkling treat.

Riverside karsts accompanied us for a while

After finding a place to stay Kelly and I sought out a place to chill. We ended up at a restaurant across a river that is only accessible via bamboo bridge during the six months of dry season. Neither of us thought we were particularly hungry, but we were wooed by sindad, aka Lao hotpot, Lao BBQ, or Lao fondue. The waiters removed a ceramic tile from the center of our table, fit a pot of embers into the hole, and placed an unusual but ingenious contraption over it. Instead of a flat-bottomed pot, the center is domed up and slotted, creating an outer trench for broth and a dry center area for grilling. We received a kettle of broth; a plate of thinly sliced raw beef; a basket of noodles, cabbage, greens, eggs, and vegetables. Any dinner starting out with my receiving a platter of raw meat is off to a good start, and it was delicious. I topped it off with another new beer and for dessert we played a friendly game of scrabble.

Note the hotpot pot

Namkhong: I found out later that it is manufactured
by Heineken. And it tastes like it. 'Nuff said.

1.17.12
Having only recently arrived in Luang Prabang, we weren't fully under its spell yet, and managed to have a reasonably thorough first day despite getting started later than we intended. Our first stop was Phou Si, a hill and central landmark in the city. Near the base is Wat Pahouak, built in 1860 and now a UNESCO World Heritage site because of the murals inside depicting local history. At the top there is another wat and an overlook from which you can see the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers responsible for Luang Prabang's peninsular shape. On our way down the hill we passed an assortment of gold Buddha-related statues, a wat in a cave, and what is allegedly a stone imprint of Buddha's footprint (though, as the guidebook snidely commented, if it were real Buddha would have been the size of a brontosaurus).

The very top of the hill and wat

Cave wat

We spent the rest of the afternoon admiring wats strewn across the north side of town. While they may come to look more or less the same after a few dozen photographs, let me assure you that each one had its own unique and intriguing qualities, even if I can no longer remember most of their names.

Mesmerizing gilded entrance at one wat

Tree of life mosaic at another wat's rear

I took a refreshment break on my own and ended up having a very meaningful time. As I begin to think about my post-Vietnam travels, one of my concerns has been whether I can hold up on my own. During this break I met a fascinating expat and, more importantly, proved to myself that I am capable of striking up easy and interesting conversation with someone I don't know. I also browsed a Lao/English dictionary and extracted a few words whose specificity intrigued or amused me.

• bom kuay - to ripen bananas
• pao mon - to blow magically
• pao ya - to blow medically on a patient's ill part
• puad pai bun - to wish ardently to go to the festival
• pen none - to have worms
• pen tum - pimply
• bal - talk in sleep
• bon - to blow bubbles

This seems like a good time for a brief segue into the language, which makes Vietnamese seem easy by comparison. For starters, Lao has its own alphabet, and transliterations into our writing system are wildly inconsistent. In its alphabet (which is technically an abugida), from what I understand, the main characters are all consonants, and special vowel-indicating markings are placed in the vicinity (above, below, to the left or right) of these characters. There are around 50 different vowels and consonants, and there are six tones. Sounds fun, right? Nevertheless, with the expat's help we managed to expand our Lao abilities to include numbers, 'how much', 'beautiful', 'delicious', and 'very'. It's surprising how well these few words can serve you, and how well received they are. Kelly, a fellow linguist, and I were delighted to learn that in addition to using the word for 'very', you can just repeat the word you want to intensify (a language feature called reduplication).

Anyway, on with the day. More wats. Lazing at a riverside cafe. Snacking on Lao sausage at the same bamboo bridge place from the night before. Then we went looking for dinner. One of my favorite moments of the day came around this time. It was already quite dark when a group of teen monks passed us, but one wished us a 'good morning' (something we were repeatedly wished no matter the time of day). Kelly quickly replied, 'no, good evening.' Without batting an eye the monk called back, 'no, good morning tomorrow!'

Crossing the river. Can we all say paradise?

This dinner featured chicken laap (a sort of spicy and refreshing meat salad, emphasis on meat), buffalo orlahm (a stew with many herbs and spicy wood), an accompaniment of sticky rice, and two new beers.

Laap and sticky rice. No orlahm photo, apparently

By an unexpected series of events and introductions, we ended up finding our way to an implausible bowling alley full of foreigners because it is the only place open past the local midnight curfew.

1.18.12
By Wednesday, Luang Prabang insouciance had officially set in. We started at Ok Pop Tok, a nearby weaving village, where we took a quick tour that explained everything from the silkworms' diets to the dying process to the weaving. It was a beautiful, Mekong-adjacent place. We felt compelled to sit a while and try the silk worm poo tea. While we sipped and sunned, a group of women finished their half-day weaving class and their exuberance convinced us to set aside our intentions to visit a waterfall and sign up to weave the next day. At this point, spending four hours sitting would fit right in with the rest of our itinerary.

A rainbow of natural dyes

A loom. I think I'd cramp my brain trying to figure out how to set up all of the
threads myself.

Silk worm poo tea tastes just like normal tea.

On our way out I spotted a flier for Project Space, an art space featuring traditional and contemporary Lao art. As soon as I walked in it felt right. It smelled like art (and that's a good smell). The ground floor had quilt-like wall hangings made by a woman inspired by her shaman-husband's visions. The next floor had several small collections, including some shadow puppets and many related preparatory drawings, as well as the winning entries of a local photography contest. The very top floor was a rooftop terrace with an incredible view of the city. Naturally, we sat and drank in the peacefulness.

Shadow puppets

View from the top

Our next stop was Haw Kham, the royal palace, which is now preserved as a museum. Naturally, there was a splendiferous wat on the palace grounds. Though all of the members of the royal family had pretty awesome names, the late King Sisavangvong's was my favorite to say. No photos were allowed inside the palace. The public area was an opulent red and gold mosaiced display, making the high-ceilinged but white-walled living spaces seem spartan by contrast. The garage around the back housed the royal family's car collection, almost exclusively courtesy of annual gifts from the US government. A humanizing touch was the gallery of photos and brief biographies of the many royal chauffeurs.

Wat with the ever-popular and fascinating naga motif on the railing

Inside the wat

By now we were starving and more than ready to enjoy some street food noodle soup. I had to note that the buzzing flies and utensils of dubious cleanliness were more inviting than offputting. The soup itself was nothing to write home about, but a cautious dose of maroon sludge (chili sauce) gave it the kick it initially lacked.

1.19.12
Our weaving class forced us out of bed early, and we were on our way to Ok Pop Tok at 8am. We were greeted with bael fruit tea before getting down to business. We chose our silks, had a go at spooling the skeins, and then started weaving.

The skein is spread onto a turning contraption

Guiding the bright blue silk onto the spool

It was slow going at first. You hold the shuttle in your right hand, pressing down on the right pedal with your foot as you pass the shuttle through to the left. You take the shuttle in your left hand, switch your foot over the left pedal, give the weaving a good whack with the beater to get the rows tight, and then repeat the process in the opposite direction. Again and again. Then it was time to add the pattern. First it was just a matter of changing the color every four pass-throughs, but then it got complicated. There are threads at the top that are woven into the loom threads (yeah, my knowledge of weaving vocab is pretty lacking) just like the pattern you want woven into your fabric. You use the woven threads to separate the loom threads according to the pattern, drive in a plank to keep the necessary loom threads raised and lowered, and then pass the shuttle through. That probably didn't make much sense, so you can try reading Ok Pop Tok's more articulate but also more jargon-heavy descriptions on the enlargements of these two pictures:

If that still doesn't help, try watching this video. It didn't really make sense to me until I did it, but afterward I had a much better appreciation of the process when I watched the women who work there. Below, watch me go! This is near the end, when I'd made it through the pattern section and was just sliding the shuttle back and forth. It felt so much easier this time around. Meanwhile, the women who do this for a living put my pace to shame. 

 It was pretty amazing to watch a piece of fabric form before my very eyes. In the morning I had a heap of string. By noon it was a creation.

Me, my tutor, and my masterpiece

We capped off the experience with lunch. Kelly and I shared kaipen, seasoned 'Mekong weed' aka algae, with a dipping sauce of jaew bong, a chili sauce whose notable ingredient is water buffalo skin. My main dish was pork wrapped in lemongrass and then fried. The lemongrass dominated the flavor and texture at first, but after I got used to it it was perfectly enjoyable.
 

And then it was time to go. Time to go back to reality. Our trip back home during Tet season felt a lot like traveling on Thanksgiving weekend, complete with crowded airports and delayed flights, but eventually we made it home. It's never really possible to see everything there is to see in a given place, and I didn't even see everything I could have seen if I had woken up at seven and charged my way through a guidebook's checklist. Still, my experience was richer for it. I think it's a testament to a place that makes you feel like you have unfinished business when you leave, rather than making you feel like you 'got it done.' I saw a lot in Laos; I sat a lot in Laos, and I'd be happy to go back one day and do more of both.

“Most of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting.” – Robert Thomas Allen