"I was lost in Laos....."
Hello Everybody,
Tuesday 15th
This morning Jo and I had breakfast in a small open-fronted cafe. On our table was a red and white chequered table-cloth. We had warm baguettes with butter, apricot jam and a dense cup of continental strength coffee. We looked out over a road where people on mopeds and push-bikes rode on the right hand side of the road. Because of the already scorching sunshine, motorcycling women held umbrellas in their left hand to shield themselves from the morning sun. To top it all off, the "Last Waltz" was being sung in French over the cafe's loud-speakers. A very Parisian scene, you might think, but we're now in Luang Prabang, Laos.
Luang Prabang is a beautiful sight from the green hills; a red roofed peninsular town with the wide and swollen Mekong gliding slowly by. It's the rainy season here, so the showers frequently punctuate, what can be, very hot days indeed. The temperature can reach about 40 degrees centigrade in the middle of the day. Although we're relatively well adjusted to the heat now, we still have to take the occasional afternoon nap to re-charge our sight-seeing batteries. The previous French occupants have left a legacy, not only of food and culture, but also amazing architecture. Many buildings could have been lifted from the French countryside and placed here like dolls houses. White washed, red tiled 'Auberge' with green shutters and doors, (they even have the little blue and white plaques over the door way!), lie in tree fringed gardens alongside traditional Laos teak houses. The main street, in the 'Old Town', is lined with the afore-mentioned cafes and restaurants. In the evening these are filled travelers, many who appear to be middle class and generally white, discussing the days excursion to a cave or waterfall. The whole place has a surreal but relaxing feel and has been described by a fellow traveller of ours as 'Chic'. Moreover, the scene is made even more surreal by the presence of bright orange robed-monks wandering around the town on their way to the numerous gold leaf-laden temples(wats) in the area.
UNESCO has designated Luang Prabang 'World Heritage Site', (I looked on the UNESCO web-site for an explanation of this title but got lost in the wordy pages). I'm not sure exactly what that means for the people of Luang Prabang but the conservation of the beautiful buildings and streets here is already evident. The colonial architecture is being lovingly and proudly restored and will hopefully not be smothered in ten storey hotels thanks to UNESCO management, (No more buildings over three storey's are to be built in L.P.) If only this had happened in India where the colonial past is decaying or being swallowed up by concrete and functional practicality.
Friday 18th
Yesterday Jo and I shared a mini pick-up with a lone British traveller by the name of David. He's an ex-Head Teacher, on a three week trip in S.E.Asia and is VERY well travelled. We wanted to visit the local grave of French explorer/writer, Henri Mouhot (1826-1861). He's credited for'discovering' Angkor Wat in Cambodia(where we will be arriving on 25th June). A short taxi drive over terracotta mud roads, with mist topped mountains beyond, took us to the humble burial site. The white painted monument stood amongst deep foliage near a quickly moving part of the river. It seemed a rather fitting place for the resting place of an explorer.
As we left the site it began to rain. As it's the wet season, rain here is HEAVY and the country roads soon turn into streams of thick brown gravy. Because of the weather, we decided to visit a local weaving village where, we were told, we could watch people working on traditional silk and cotton looms. We left the taxi behind and went into a simple one-storey building with shutters over the windows. Inside, women of all ages(From 15 to 60?) sat cross legged on 2ft high wooden platforms, fringing the room. Various raised plinths were at the centre of the space and were covered with hundreds of folded weaves which they proceeded to unroll before us in a sort of Mexican wave as we walked around the room. From one woman to the next, each would request us to look at their handy-work. As you can imagine, I particularly found this up-setting and in order to ease my panic I decided to stop at one person and try to blank out everyone else. The beautiful fabrics (about 1.5m long and 0.5m wide ), came in hues of oranges, browns, blues blacks and reds. I could see these had been painstakingly hand-woven on traditional looms. They obviously represented days of labour. I managed to 'Escape' by purchasing four beautiful pieces from two women and . The price of each piece worked out at a wage of about 1 US$ a day; at that price I just didn't have the heart to barter.
The whole experience wasn't too pleasurable but the souvenirs are beautiful. As we've previously discovered on this trip, being a 'tourist' often carries a huge responsibility, regardless of our rationalisations. We could have walked in and out of that room without purchasing a thing. But we felt compelled not to. Not only are we here to expand our experience. We bear have to make sure we pay our way by contributing to the local economy and creating further demand. This will sustain the experience resulting in local profit and a sustainable experience for future visitors. In a funny way UNESCO seems to be doing the same thing.
http://www.visit-laos.com/where/luangprabang/
http://www.unesco.org
Later today we fly to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. Be in touch again soon.
xgregandjox
Friday, June 18, 2004
Friday, June 04, 2004
Moonlight and Motorbike Madness...
Hello Everyone,
One evening in Sangklabhuri Jo and I were privaledged to witness the Buddhist festival of 'Visakha Puja'. It is one of the most important days for Buddhists because, they believe that, on this day the Lord Buddha was born, attained enlightenment, and died. All three of these significant events fell on the same day. It falls on the full moon of the sixth month of the lunar year, coinciding with our visit to the area.
A woman in our guesthouse prepared a bouquet of flowers, incense sticks and a beeswax candle for both Jo and me. When the sun had set, Jo and I walked over the long foot bridges to the other side of the lake. The moon was already full and rising quickly in the dark blue sky. Myanmar(Burmese) Mon and Karen peoples live in this area of Sangklabhuri and we were washed along to the local Buddhist Mon Temple by men and women wearing ceremonial sarongs and sashes. Teenagers whooshed past on motorbikes with as many as four passengers. And children laughed at us when we replied to their questions of "How are you?" and "What is your name?". The head monk would be arriving at the Temple at around 8:30pm to bless the ceremony and give teachings. We stood at the base of a 10 foot concrete lion with red lights for eyes, one of two identical creatures guarding the entrance to the holy building. The atmosphere was growing and the motorcycling youth began arriving in their droves, (not too early of course to look un-cool). They were fascinatingly dressed in their best black t-shirts, drainpipe jeans and converse trainers. The logos were familiar to us; Linkin Park, Nirvana, The Exploited, Dead Kennedy's. All western and mostly alternative music. I wondered if the boys had ever heard a song by The Damned or the Clash?
The main-man monk, bald and dressed in orange robes appeared from a shiny and new black pick-up truck, complete with blacked out windows and chrome bull bars. He appeared frail and quite young and slowly made his way up the stairs where he sat at a half way point and gave a teaching sitting down. Occasionally people would wai, (Hold hands in prayer and nod) at his commanding and this went on for about ten minutes. Jo and I were wondering what we would have to do with our bundles and a kind local man, (dressed in a Lacoste golf shirt and with a daughter and son-in-law living in Switzerland, whom he regularly visits to pick mushrooms and climb mountains), filled us in on what to do. All became clear at the end of the teaching. Everyone moved toward the covered walkway near to where we were standing, a path there encircled the temple. Lighting the candles and jos sticks, people began to walk around the path in a clockwise direction. We joined in and were swept along the circular corridor, surrounded by teenagers and children clutching their lighted offerings. It was so exciting and we had no means of escape, other than to go around the full three times. We were lucky to come out without being burnt. We were laughing hysterically with everyone and were nearly separated on several occasions. Each rotation, three in all, took about three minutes to complete. At the end of the final rotation everyone raced to place their candle on the edges of walkways and walls at the entrance to the building. We placed ours alongside the others and enjoyed the sight as we walked away into the night.
We'd had a wonderful evening and enjoyed walking home by moonlight, watching lightning illuminate white cauliflower shaped clouds on the distant horizon. Magic.
Love
xgregandjox
P.S.
In Sangklabhuri we stayed at the Burmese Inn. The guesthouse overlooks over the Khao Laem Lake and the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. The friendly and helpful Austrian owner reminded me of the keyboard player from 70's band 'Sparks'. There's a photo of the lake and the bridge at this address: http://www.geocities.com/burmeseinn/sangkhlaburi.html.
Hello Everyone,
One evening in Sangklabhuri Jo and I were privaledged to witness the Buddhist festival of 'Visakha Puja'. It is one of the most important days for Buddhists because, they believe that, on this day the Lord Buddha was born, attained enlightenment, and died. All three of these significant events fell on the same day. It falls on the full moon of the sixth month of the lunar year, coinciding with our visit to the area.
A woman in our guesthouse prepared a bouquet of flowers, incense sticks and a beeswax candle for both Jo and me. When the sun had set, Jo and I walked over the long foot bridges to the other side of the lake. The moon was already full and rising quickly in the dark blue sky. Myanmar(Burmese) Mon and Karen peoples live in this area of Sangklabhuri and we were washed along to the local Buddhist Mon Temple by men and women wearing ceremonial sarongs and sashes. Teenagers whooshed past on motorbikes with as many as four passengers. And children laughed at us when we replied to their questions of "How are you?" and "What is your name?". The head monk would be arriving at the Temple at around 8:30pm to bless the ceremony and give teachings. We stood at the base of a 10 foot concrete lion with red lights for eyes, one of two identical creatures guarding the entrance to the holy building. The atmosphere was growing and the motorcycling youth began arriving in their droves, (not too early of course to look un-cool). They were fascinatingly dressed in their best black t-shirts, drainpipe jeans and converse trainers. The logos were familiar to us; Linkin Park, Nirvana, The Exploited, Dead Kennedy's. All western and mostly alternative music. I wondered if the boys had ever heard a song by The Damned or the Clash?
The main-man monk, bald and dressed in orange robes appeared from a shiny and new black pick-up truck, complete with blacked out windows and chrome bull bars. He appeared frail and quite young and slowly made his way up the stairs where he sat at a half way point and gave a teaching sitting down. Occasionally people would wai, (Hold hands in prayer and nod) at his commanding and this went on for about ten minutes. Jo and I were wondering what we would have to do with our bundles and a kind local man, (dressed in a Lacoste golf shirt and with a daughter and son-in-law living in Switzerland, whom he regularly visits to pick mushrooms and climb mountains), filled us in on what to do. All became clear at the end of the teaching. Everyone moved toward the covered walkway near to where we were standing, a path there encircled the temple. Lighting the candles and jos sticks, people began to walk around the path in a clockwise direction. We joined in and were swept along the circular corridor, surrounded by teenagers and children clutching their lighted offerings. It was so exciting and we had no means of escape, other than to go around the full three times. We were lucky to come out without being burnt. We were laughing hysterically with everyone and were nearly separated on several occasions. Each rotation, three in all, took about three minutes to complete. At the end of the final rotation everyone raced to place their candle on the edges of walkways and walls at the entrance to the building. We placed ours alongside the others and enjoyed the sight as we walked away into the night.
We'd had a wonderful evening and enjoyed walking home by moonlight, watching lightning illuminate white cauliflower shaped clouds on the distant horizon. Magic.
Love
xgregandjox
P.S.
In Sangklabhuri we stayed at the Burmese Inn. The guesthouse overlooks over the Khao Laem Lake and the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. The friendly and helpful Austrian owner reminded me of the keyboard player from 70's band 'Sparks'. There's a photo of the lake and the bridge at this address: http://www.geocities.com/burmeseinn/sangkhlaburi.html.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Thailand-Part Two. Bridge on the River Kwae...
Hello Everyone,
I am writing this e-mail in an air conditioned, brightly lit room containing 16 bang-up to date computers in the small town of Sangkhlaburi, Northern Thailand. This might not seem remarkable to you, but this sleepy town is a tiny wooden housed affair populated by Thai, Burmese and Laos peoples who seem very laid back and appear outwardly, un-interested in technology, (except for the ubiquitous ownership of brand new 110cc motorcycles and immaculate pick-ups). It's a Buddhist holiday today and it's already really hot. Outside the double glazed entrance doors, people pass by with silver sun umbrellas on their way to the market. Teenagers are playing computer games all around us. Occasionally, I hear "Fire in the Hole" and sporadic gunshot along with the constant plink' of electronic piano is coming from the more sedate on-line games...Surreal.
We're north of Kanchanaburi where we stayed for a couple of days. You might recognise the name as being the place along the 'Death Railway'(built by the to carry freight between Japanese occupied Burma and Thailand), where the famous bridge crosses the river Kwai or Kwae as it's correctly known. It's a moving sight when you first see it, especially as we hadn't yet seen the film, of the same name, from start to finish, (and still haven't). The bridge is concrete and steel, I'd imagined it to be wood. The scale of it makes it easy to imagine men building it by hand.
The town end of the bridge, is populated with cheap and nasty souvenir shops and a trashy museum someone has hastily put together to profit from visitors. Within the museum were poorly executed plaster models of G-string clad allied soldiers and dusty glass cabinets containing run-down, postwar motorcycles and ephemera often painted with the word "Japanese'. Quite insulting to anyone who actually helped construct the railway, I should imagine. Strangely, the museum also contained a gallery of paintings of Miss Thailand Pageant contestants, complete with original dresses worn in the contest. The 'official museum is at the other end of the town and is a more sensitive affair. Opened by a former Japanese soldier, now a Buddhist monk, there are some moving photographs and accounts that more suitably described the horrible conditions. What we learnt was that 30,000 British, 28,000 Dutch and thousands of Australian and New Zealand soldiers died in the construction of the railway. The photos we saw were pitiful, and the accounts of the soldiers were humbling. Proud men being made to live and work in horrrendous conditions working for a cause that wasn't their own. We also learnt that over 100,000 estimated Thai, Burmese and Indian and people also died. Nowhere in the town is a there a memorial to them...
Later in the evening we entered a Thai vegetarian curry house. 'The Bridge on the River Kwai' was showing on the 32" T.V. We thought we'd stay and watch the film as we were in such an appropriate location; afterall, the area has received a lot of visitors due to the film's success. We were the only ones in the restaurant except for a female traveller from Costa Rica. We watched the 'stiff upper lip' treatment being displayed by Alec Guiness and his fellow soldiers. The Japanese seemed positively compassionate, contradicting we'd read earlier in the day and the conditions looked like a holiday camp at times. It all seemed rather 'tickety boo!' and fairly light hearted. The food proved to be wonderful, but the film proved to be too embarrassing to watch in such circumstances. The inaccuracies were too numerous to ignore. We left soon after finishing our meal. Sorry Alec Guiness.
Love
xgregandjox
Hello Everyone,
I am writing this e-mail in an air conditioned, brightly lit room containing 16 bang-up to date computers in the small town of Sangkhlaburi, Northern Thailand. This might not seem remarkable to you, but this sleepy town is a tiny wooden housed affair populated by Thai, Burmese and Laos peoples who seem very laid back and appear outwardly, un-interested in technology, (except for the ubiquitous ownership of brand new 110cc motorcycles and immaculate pick-ups). It's a Buddhist holiday today and it's already really hot. Outside the double glazed entrance doors, people pass by with silver sun umbrellas on their way to the market. Teenagers are playing computer games all around us. Occasionally, I hear "Fire in the Hole" and sporadic gunshot along with the constant plink' of electronic piano is coming from the more sedate on-line games...Surreal.
We're north of Kanchanaburi where we stayed for a couple of days. You might recognise the name as being the place along the 'Death Railway'(built by the to carry freight between Japanese occupied Burma and Thailand), where the famous bridge crosses the river Kwai or Kwae as it's correctly known. It's a moving sight when you first see it, especially as we hadn't yet seen the film, of the same name, from start to finish, (and still haven't). The bridge is concrete and steel, I'd imagined it to be wood. The scale of it makes it easy to imagine men building it by hand.
The town end of the bridge, is populated with cheap and nasty souvenir shops and a trashy museum someone has hastily put together to profit from visitors. Within the museum were poorly executed plaster models of G-string clad allied soldiers and dusty glass cabinets containing run-down, postwar motorcycles and ephemera often painted with the word "Japanese'. Quite insulting to anyone who actually helped construct the railway, I should imagine. Strangely, the museum also contained a gallery of paintings of Miss Thailand Pageant contestants, complete with original dresses worn in the contest. The 'official museum is at the other end of the town and is a more sensitive affair. Opened by a former Japanese soldier, now a Buddhist monk, there are some moving photographs and accounts that more suitably described the horrible conditions. What we learnt was that 30,000 British, 28,000 Dutch and thousands of Australian and New Zealand soldiers died in the construction of the railway. The photos we saw were pitiful, and the accounts of the soldiers were humbling. Proud men being made to live and work in horrrendous conditions working for a cause that wasn't their own. We also learnt that over 100,000 estimated Thai, Burmese and Indian and people also died. Nowhere in the town is a there a memorial to them...
Later in the evening we entered a Thai vegetarian curry house. 'The Bridge on the River Kwai' was showing on the 32" T.V. We thought we'd stay and watch the film as we were in such an appropriate location; afterall, the area has received a lot of visitors due to the film's success. We were the only ones in the restaurant except for a female traveller from Costa Rica. We watched the 'stiff upper lip' treatment being displayed by Alec Guiness and his fellow soldiers. The Japanese seemed positively compassionate, contradicting we'd read earlier in the day and the conditions looked like a holiday camp at times. It all seemed rather 'tickety boo!' and fairly light hearted. The food proved to be wonderful, but the film proved to be too embarrassing to watch in such circumstances. The inaccuracies were too numerous to ignore. We left soon after finishing our meal. Sorry Alec Guiness.
Love
xgregandjox
