Rollin' down the River

Luang Prabang exudes an enchanting character unlike any other I have experienced thus far in Southeast Asia. I love how the French colonial architecture has mixed with local design elements and nestled itself among golden temples, lush greenery and the waters of the Mekong and Khan rivers. The town is quite small and very quaint. I’m not the only Farang (foreigner) to fall in love with this place, as almost every other shop, restaurant or hotel is owned by a Westerner, but the place is not a tourist trap, it is still quintessentially Lao. Today, I set out with my guide to discover just exactly how Lao the area really is.

It was raining hard as we left the town, and my guide was concerned that we may have trouble getting down the road to the village. One phone call ahead to the village and his worries were moot because it wasn’t raining there. Turning off the main road, I quickly realized the source of his concerns. The road to the village was a narrow dirt road with many steep hills and sharp curves, and when I say “dirt road,” I don’t mean a North Carolina style dirt road paved with gravel, rather genuine dirt that when mixed with large quantities of water would turn into a slippery, muddy path of nastiness. Once at the village, we boarded one of the traditional long narrow wooden boats with a local fisherman for a short cruise down the river. We stopped at the various nets and bamboo traps along the way to check for the morning’s catch. On the other side of the river, we stopped for a demonstration of how the local Lao Lao rice whiskey is made.

The Lao Lao village was small and rural. There are no access roads, only the river. Chickens and dogs roamed freely around the village while young ladies wove silk and grandmothers tended their grandchildren. A petite middle-aged woman came out to welcome us and took us to the site of her Lao Lao production. She had already steamed some sticky rice in the morning to prepare for our visit. She washed the sticky rice repeatedly before draining it and mixing it with a rice derived yeast. Normally, they make the yeast themselves also using sticky rice, but during the rainy season, they cannot dry the rice because they have no drying machines. Once mixed with the yeast, the rice is added to a large pot for fermentation. After weeks of fermentation, the rice produces rice wine, which must then be distilled to make rice whiskey. Long stalks of bamboo are used to fuel the fire underneath the distillation barrel. The ends burn in the fire, and the stalks are pushed gradually deeper into the cinders as they burn away. A metal distillation funnel and a lid sealed with a cloth rim ensure that the rice whiskey makes it’s way into a clean jar through a cloth filter.

Following the demonstration, I bought a couple bottles and we moved on to some old caves downriver. Originally thought to be the home of a Naga (a mythical serpent), many animists used to make sacrifices in the caves. One of the local Kings decided to turn the cave into a sacred place for Buddhists as well, hoping to convert some of the local village people. Soon the caves were filled with Buddha statues. From as early as the 15th century, the Buddhas of varying size and shape peer tranquilly out towards the river. The hike up to the upper cave was long and exhausting, and the thick sticky air made the journey daunting. A wet sweaty mess, I survived and saw the place where my guide’s family and other villagers once hid during the war, side by side with centuries of Buddhist history.

Back at the village where we had boarded the fishing boat, my guide’s father, the former village chief, invited us for a traditional lunch in his home. We sat on the floor and enjoyed truly local fare. Chicken soup, minced pork and vegetables steamed in banana leaves, stir fried ‘morning glories’ (which upon googling, I just discovered are on the USDA’s “Federal Noxious Weed List” and the plants are illegal in the US…Mmmm…they were good though), fried river shrimp, bamboo shoots and hot chilies mixed with crab paste, all served with sticky rice. The food was delicious, especially the noxious weeds. I think my guide’s father was concerned at my single marital status because the lunch conversation seemed to revolve largely around weddings and marriage traditions.

After lunch, we went to a small village where we watched paper being made from mulberry bark, and then proceeded to a silk weaving village. The silk weaving village was a real treat because it was truly off the beaten track. We drove down another even more treacherous mud road as far as we could, walked across a rather rickety bamboo bridge, and then wandered down the path through the village to the silk weaving center. The women there demonstrated how the silk is dyed using natural products, as well as some of the long weaving process. One young lady was working impressively fast at a rather difficult pattern of silk. The owner of the center said that this particular girl earns as much as $6 USD per day because she is able to finish more weaving every day.

Tired after a long day of exploration, I took an afternoon nap before heading out for a walk around the night market and finding some dinner. I ate at a small restaurant called Arisai, which was excellent. The owner was a Lao gentleman who moved to Paris in 1975 when the communists took over. “Now we are able to come back.” he told me, and come back he did. His restaurant was elegant with a definite French flavor.

This town has a way of feeling both exotic and comfortable at the same time. The Lao people are very friendly, and they have taken the best of their colonial history and blended it seamlessly with their local culture and heritage like a fine woven silk of overlapping patterns and colors. On one side of the street you may have people enjoying sticky rice and steamed fish while fresh croissants and pain du chocolat are being served on the other. The sophistication of a French town met by the peaceful country existence of the people just a short way down the Mekong. I’m both surprised and delighted by what I have discovered here.

Morning on Phou Si Mountain

It’s only 7AM, and I’ve already given alms to about 300 Buddhist monks and climbed Phou Si Mountain (just for comedic value, ph does not make an F sound in Lao). Pulling my camera out of the bag to take some photos of the monks, the lens immediately fogged over thanks to the incredible humidity. The sun had just finished rising as I knelt by the side of the road with my basket of sticky rice. The monks began to file past like an army of faithful draped in bright orange robes, each carrying a pot for collecting food. Locals and foreigners alike dropped sticky rice, candies and cookies in pot after pot as the monks and novices whizzed by.

Side by side with the more fortunate people giving alms were children and adults from poorer families also kneeling with baskets in front of them. As the monks passed by, they would drop some of their alms into the baskets of the poor people. It was a full cycle of giving occurring in a matter of seconds out on the hot moist streets of Luang Prabang.

My hands were unaccustomed to gathering the small clumps of sticky rice, so I was moving too slow for many of the monks. Knowing that there were many more waiting behind them and they had already collected plenty, several of the monks would pass by me without receiving anything when I wasn’t moving fast enough. Although I was giving more generous portions of rice than the locals, I was much more conservative than most of the foreigners. Eventually, however, my rice did run out, so I waited for a line of monks to pass before I rose to take some photos.

Not realizing that she was purchasing rice from a street vendor, an inappropriately dressed Dutch woman was dropping sticky rice into the monk’s pots by the fist full. When she got up to leave, she was followed by the women who had been shoveling rice in front of her for the last hour. Not having negotiated a price for the alms, she was suddenly confronted with a hard round of negotiating.

With most of the monks having passed by, we hopped into the van and drove to the foot of Phou Si Mountain. It’s not a monolithic mountain, but in the heat and humidity, trekking up the hundreds of steps was challenging. Along the way, I passed a large black scorpion hanging out by the side of the path. I was relieved to see that he had as little interest in me as I did in him. At the top of the mountain, I was faced with beautiful views over the city settled between the Mekong and Khan rivers. Fog was rolling between the mountains as the sun slowly melted it away. We walked around the stupa and past the monastery, where more people were presenting alms to the city monk. Over the top and back down the other side, covered in sweat, our morning on Phou si was over.

No More Virgins in Chiang Mai

“Passenger Stephen George please come to the service counter.” I thought maybe the announcement had something to do with making sure my luggage was transferred from my Dubai flight to my connecting flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, but the news was a little less mundane. The Thai Airways staff had received a message at the gate requesting that they notify me that my flight from Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang in 4 days had been cancelled. I think the gate staffed were pleasantly surprised and somewhat relieved at how well I took the news. I took the phone number for Lao Airlines in Chiang Mai and thanked them for letting me know. Why should I get upset? I’m on vacation.

I made it to Chiang Mai where I was met by a compact, energy-filled, young lady who was to be my tour guide for the next couple days. For those of you that have met my friend Uzma (Hi Uzma!), Gina is the Thai version. Her smile and her bubbly personality were contagious, and I think I spent most of my time with her laughing. Having not slept much since I left Doha, I was a little tired and chose to take a long nap at the hotel when we arrived. Gina returned in the evening to take me to a local khantoke dance performance and dinner.

I had a very large and enjoyable dinner of chicken soup, yellow curry with pork, crispy noodles with tamarind, fried chicken with herbs, fried bananas, chili paste with tomatoes, chili paste with eggplant, sticky rice, steamed rice, fresh cucumbers and long beans, stir-fried mixed vegetables, and fresh fruit with sweet rice cakes for dessert. Gina thought it would be best that I sit on the floor to have a real local experience, and once I saw the “tables”, I completely agreed with her decision. The tables still didn’t have seats, they just brought you and the food a bit higher. By the time the dance performance was starting though, my right leg had gone completely numb. I was trying so hard to follow local etiquette and keep my feet behind me to prevent pointing the soles of my feet at someone (a sign of disrespect in Thailand), but I was beginning to worry that my leg might fall off from lack of circulation. I managed to maneuver into a more comfortable position without offending anyone. On the way back to the hotel, Gina mentioned that she hoped it would not rain in the morning. She explained a local ritual to prevent rain that involves having a virgin place an upside down stalk of lemongrass into the ground. "Problem is, impossible to find virgin now!"

The next day, Gina and I, despite a little rain, went up to Doi Suthep, a local mountain crowned by an important Buddhist temple. The mountain is called Elephant mountain because the legend says that an elephant carried the remains of the King to the top of the mountain and then died itself. “Do you know why the elephant died?” Gina asked. “Try walking up the mountain and you’ll know,” she answered for me.

At the temple, I learned to always walk clockwise around the temples and how to pay respect to Buddha in the Thai style. When visiting the mountain, it is said you are allowed to make one wish, so I followed the tradition and wished away. There is also a very interesting tradition involving asking an elephant figurine any questions you might have. You first ask the elephant your question and then try to lift the figurine with your pinky (for men, ring finger for women). Then, you repeat your question, but ask the figurine to become heavier or lighter if the answer is yes. I tried it, and I liked my answer.

The day continued with visits to a Jade workshop, teak carving factory, silk weaving factory and a few more temples. When the tour ended, Gina asked if I would like to join her for the special Sunday “Walking Street”, a local market where they close down some of the main streets in town to allow vendors to set up their goods for sale. Together, we wandered around town a bit looking at all the cheap goods on offer. We stopped at a street stand to try some of the local noodles, which were fantastic; spicy and sweet, full of flavor, and right up my alley. After our spicy dinner, we grabbed some black jelly, a strange herbal gelatin made from the root of a Chinese herb that supposedly helps lower cholesterol. The jelly is shaved off a giant jiggling mass, placed in a bowl of crushed ice and topped with palm sugar. It was a perfect dessert.

Gina didn’t accompany me on Monday. Instead, I took an all day Thai cooking class. We went to the market in the morning and then prepared six different Thai dishes during the day, eating each one after we were done cooking that particular course. It was a fun class, and Thai food is a lot less complicated than I thought. During my first day in Chiang Mai, I had visited a tailor to have some new suits made for school since many events require formal business attire, so after the cooking class, I stopped by for my final fitting before they pack up the suits and ship them home. You have to love a place where you can get three bespoke suits made in two days and it costs the same as one suit at home. I polished off the day with a walk through the night market where I bought some tasteless t-shirts for gifts.

This morning, I packed up and went with Gina to the airport where we said our goodbyes. Boarding my Lao Airlines flight to Luang Prabang, I wasn’t the only one that found it amusing that we were flying a small Chinese-built propeller plane. Several of the young Western travelers whipped out their cameras and started posing in front of the plane. I had to practically fold myself in half to fit through the door of the plane, and I kept hitting my head on the overhead compartment doors that were a little less than overhead for me. At one point during the flight, people sitting towards the front started turning around with a look that screamed, “What’s that smell?” The smell was our inflight meal being passed out by the stewardess starting from the back. Despite the smell, I chomped right into the pork meatball sandwich. It wasn’t the best meal of my life, but it didn’t kill me.

There’s something delightfully old-fashioned about sleeping in a four-poster bed surrounded by a mosquito net blowing gently under the breeze of a ceiling fan (ok, so I have an AC unit too). I’m laying here getting ready to call it an early night here in Luang Prabang, and I have a very pleasant first impression of this town. The French colonists left their mark on this small town full of colonial era buildings, bakeries and coffee shops, yet the town has a distinctly Lao flair to it. I wandered up and down the main street of town this evening and visited the night market. The people here seem friendly and easy-going, and I think I’m falling in love with the overall atmosphere. It’s hot and sticky outside, but somehow that adds to the experience. I had dinner at a traditional Lao restaurant recommended by my guide here, and I’m not entirely sure what I ate, but I enjoyed it. I started with some fresh spring rolls and then moved on to a Luang Prabang Pork Casserole (really more of a hot pot type dish) with sticky rice. The spring rolls were very familiar, but I’m not sure I want to know which parts of the pig were in my pork casserole. There was a lot of indistinguishable gray and white minced meat, some of which I think were different organs, but even with my highest suspicions, not knowing for sure meant I was able to eat and enjoy. Tomorrow, I have an early start to my Lao adventure, so I’m off to eat my goodnight cream puff (Vive la France!) and drift off to sleep under my mosquito net.

A beautiful day in Chiang Mai

Squat and wish - guess Jessica is good for something!

Gina and I at the Yaang Come Village Hotel

My room at the Hotel Les 3 Nagas in Luang Prabang, Laos