If you're going to start a whirlwind tour of Southeast Asia, there are worse places to start than Laos, which won
Best Tourist Destination Award for 2013 from the European Council on Tourism and Trade. (Of course, this distinction is a bit dubious, considering Syria won the award in 2007, and we don't plan on visiting there any time soon.) Our travels kept us alongside the
Mekong River, used throughout the 19th and 20th centuries for various conflicts, including the French conquests to form
Indochina.
The name of our first stop,
Vientiane, comes from a Buddhist language and means "city of sandalwood," but the Romanization and pronunciation has a French flair. Indeed, the Laotian capital mixes Continental and communist attitudes. Competing aerobics classes, strange variations of
Zumba and
Jazzercise perhaps, offered for free along the riverfront displayed a dedication toward a fit and unified citizenry, so much so that even some dogs got in on the action (left). Laotians are also obviously devoted to their leaders, as demonstrated by the statue of
Chao Anouvong, the last king of Laos, also along the water (right); his stance is said to reflect a commander motivating his troops, even though he is not in warrior garb.
The tourist market along the Mekong was nice, but much more interesting was the
Ban Anou night market, where mostly locals go to grab a midnight nibble or stock up on foodstuffs for the upcoming day or week. TJ and I sampled lots of snacks on sticks (left), including pork belly and liver. We dared to get a bag of seasoned silkworms; we ate two of the grubby pods, made weird faces, then gave the rest of the fully-paid-for bag back to the vendor. To finish off, we got half a duck to go for less than a dollar; the fowl monger quickly grabbed a bird off a hook and expertly chopped it up right before our eyes (right).
Visiting markets in Southeast Asia is as obligatory as visiting temples. In Vientiane, you can't throw a rock without hitting a wat. We took a short walk down the street, across from the more popular
Wat Si Saket, to
Haw Phra Kaew, a former temple now housing an art museum full of Buddhas in all shapes and forms (left). There, I first spied the distinct orange robe of a monk, complete with a typical black umbrella, climbing the steps of the wooden and stone structure (right).
A couple days later, we visited more wats, this time ones with a view. In Luang Prabang, we passed a footprint of Buddha then statues of him at
Wat Tham Phou Si (left) before ascending to
Wat Chom Si, whose position on the peak of
Mount Phou Si provided an excellent visit of the Mekong below (right).
In
Luang Prabang, the Mekong merges with the
Nam Khan River, creating a peninsula full of ancient temples and colonial buildings that is recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site. In Vientiane, the view from the boring and broken concrete sidewalks along the Mekong is to a non-descript village across the river in Thailand, but in Luang Prabang, the view is through shady and leafy palm trees (left) to neverending lush and green hills on the other side (right).
One day, we took a ferry across the Mekong to
Xieng Men, a small village in those hills. The ferry ride itself was a trip. The family affair included the money-collecting mother, the wheel-wielding father, the rope-mooring son, and, for good measure, two mascot dogs, one of which slept peacefully right under the chains of the steering column.
A few minutes of walking beyond the village led us to true countryside, with stitled houses perched above endless rice paddies and other gardens (left). Despite the mid-day heat, many villagers, all donning wide-brimmed hats and loose-legged pants, were out in the muck, tending to their fields (right).
This is true farm country, where animals are given full rights to roam the land. Chickens abounded, but we also saw goats muching their way through the brush (left) and water buffalo blocking absolutely no vehicles on the road (right). Thank goodness their neck bells warned us to make the slight detour around them.
