Luang Prabang First Impressions

First Impressions: Descending from the clear blue of high altitude travel we slipped through a flat white cloud, into the soft aromatic smoke haze that is the dry season aura to this enchanted place.  Amazingly, for Asia, it is remote.  This little ancient town, graced with a stately, if modest palace and numerous gold encrusted Buddhist temples sits in a jumble of sudden hills.  When established as a Royal City in AD 698 it must have been the perfect 'hide away' for a reasonably powerful prince who wished to make his mark.  He founded the city on a strategic peninsular with the surging NamKhan River on one side and the huge Mekong River billowing its eddies of muddy flood for hundreds of kilometres - a great deterrent to an unexpected visit by a powerful Royal Dad seeking a demonstration of obedience and filial piety.  The new Royal Family prospered and Luang Prabang became the City of Gold in the Land of a Million Elephants.

Although long gone, the sense of Royalty somehow pervades this thriving city/town of Communist Laos.  The Royals invited the French in 1887 to protect them from thug militias from China.  Royalty, Prince Souphanouvong, the first President, led the Communist Revolution championed by the Moscow-backed Pathet (Nationalist) Lao.  (This royal role must have been a major dilemma for the soviet Politburo in Moscow which had a proven lethal attitude towards monarchy.)  Although there are strong memories of the Revolution's re-education camps which left so many of the 'educated and unconvinced' either dead or brain damaged, it's possible there was no other way the country could have shaken off its Royal feudalism and produced a near egalitarian society.

With the influence of China's leadership style - retaining Communism as the face of government and Capitalism as its engine - the Lao Communist party relaxed its hard line anti Western rhetoric and business is booming. The Lao flag hangs everywhere with the hammer and sickle beside it, especially prominent in every capitalist venture, like the building boom in guest houses.  Almost every private residence in the centre of LP has been or is being converted tolodging for tourists. In so many ways this is a dream time (for us and the Lao) as it will change dramatically when the Peoples Republic of China puts its fast railway through to Vientianne and beyond, probably to Singapore. The Lao will find themselves employees in their own businesses and Chinese entrepreneurs will think the dreamy, magical qualities of LP with its tree lined streets have little economic value and should be replaced with big hotels.

But right now the place is proud of itself.  On Friday (9/3/12 an astrologically auspicious day – 9 being a propitious number) this lovely town held a huge parade to celebrate winning for the 7^th time the award as the World’s most attractive and historically significant tourist destination. 

The parade formed up outside the Royal Palace with local dignitaries, visiting Senior (Communist) Party Members, every possible aspirational business owner, the Palace’s Orchestra, dressed in ancient costume and carrying its conche shell trumpets, antique drums, cymbals, rababs, wooden xylophones and semicircular braces of gongs.  Added to this were speeches in Lao and English (but not French! Which would have put the Gallic Nose out of joint considering the Frogs once saved the place from plundering hordes and continue to beautifully restore so much of it).  The parade was civil in purpose, but overwhelmingly devotional in intent.  It proceeded from the Palace to one of the many premier Buddhist Temples where the gifts from all participants were deposited. 

The gifts were as fascinating as anything else: carefully packaged saffron robes for the abbots carried in both hands by the most important dignitaries, tiered circular towers hung with paper money, and potted banana trees festooned with banknotes.  Also hundreds of school kids waving short sticks with banknotes attached like the little flag I waved at our very own brand new Queen Elizabeth when she came to visit in 1954... Oh! will these kids remember it with such poignancy?    

Mae Uak and BouaKham: two beautiful elephants

What a day! We’ve spent the day with elephants – and what’s more, training to be mahouts!

The Elephant Camp far surpassed our expectations. It was located on grassy banks high above the Nam Khan river, with views across to the amazingly rugged misty mountains beyond.  There were about 10 elephants, all of whom were in beautiful condition and beautifully cared for. When we arrived they were standing in the shade of their feed house quietly munching on sugar cane. Their dextrous (or should it be proboscous?) trunks could feel for the cane and snap it on the ground or in their mouths. Some picked up five or six canes to keep themselves going before setting out on their walk.

Our first activity was to learn to ride the elephant. We learned seven commands (but I don’t think any of the elephants responded to any of my attempts at giving commands!). Then we had to mount. This meant hanging on to the elephant’s ear, placing your right foot on her raised knee and then swinging your leg over her shoulder. You can imagine that I wasn’t adept at this. Luckily the mahout was sitting on her back and managed to haul me up! Then walking around the camp. Just a quiet turn. But when I slid down my legs were jelly, and I couldn’t hold the camera properly to take a photo of Jem, who, of course, swung effortlessly into position on the elephant’s neck.

Next we watched the villagers making paper out of .... yes! Elephant dung! What a surprise!

Then came the long march. This time we were privileged to sit in howdahs on the elephants’ backs. Thank heavens there was a bar to hang on to, as the elephants had to walk down an almost vertical slope to get down to the river. And then through the river. Careful step by careful step, the water shlushing past. To my dismay, the mahout then wanted us to swap places. He would sit in the howdah while Jeremy would ride her. Dear Bouakham, what a patient animal she was, never hurried, never unsure, never frisky, just quietly plodding along. OF course, Jem insisted that I should take a turn too. Goaded on by my ever-confident spouse I slipped into position and rode her home, through the river, up the bank, through the village. There were so many tempting branches to stop at, and a treat of a huge hunk of banana tree to much on offered by a helpful villager. Finally we made it back to the camp.

Phew. Lunch. Delicious. Views of the river and another elephant fording the water.

Then (how can I get out of this? I wondered) Bathing the elephants! We each clambered aboard our elephant. I told myself firmly that a happy mahout is a happy elephant, and tried to relax.If only there was something to hand on to apart from a few bristles. Mae Uak lumbered off to the path, leading the bunch. As she slowly solidly made her way down the bank, I tried to relax and lean back. The mahout gave me a reassuring pat on the back. And then we were standing at the water’s edge – and then walking right into the river, with Mae Uak slurping up great gulps of water with her trunk. And then Mae Uak lay down in the water. And I was supposed to scrub her. Not sure how, but I stayed on her neck as she submerged herself right under. Whoosh up came her trunk and sprayed out a fountain.

And then we slid off on to the bank, and waved the elephants good-bye as they forded the river again and set off into the jungle for their evening rest and forage.

What an amazing privilege to spend such a day with these calm and gentle animals.

For more photos check out: https://picasaweb.google.com/Goldenholm/GoldenholmMahouts?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCPTmm7P_sqrxwQE&feat=directlink

Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang has seeped into every pore of our being. It is such a gentle place with its quiet streets, graceful trees and bowers of blossom; the sound of monks chanting floating up through our open guest house window; the endless river traffic puttering up the Mekong river. The early mornings and late afternoons are best.

Every morning we climb to the top of Mt Phousi – a sudden rocky mountain in the centre of the peninsula which is the site for Luang Prabang. And from there we can see the scarlet orb of the sun coming up over the misty mountains and casting its burnished light across the Nam Khan River. The town is waking up below with the first bicycles and tuktuks circulating in the dusty streets, and the first shop keepers taking down the shutters. Looking the other way we can see down to the palm trees and gold spires of the Wats below, the palace in its gracious gardens and the Mekong itself meandering past sand banks and off into the hazy distance of Asia.

Although it is pleasantly cool now, the day promises to get warm. A couple rainstorms have washed away the thick smoke from slash and burn fires that pervaded the air, and now the air is fresh, and the air clear enough to see the jumble of mountains around the town.

The gentleness of the climate is matched by the deep sense of Buddhist calm. 400 monks process barefoot through the streets of the town every morning with their exquisitely wrought alms bowls. Early in the morning old people, and even some youngsters, come with their mats or tiny stools and wait for them beside the road. As the monks file past, the devotees place a small handful of sticky rice into the bowl of each monk. So doing, they seek merit, and the hope of a life a little closer to Nirvana next time around.

The gorgeous saffron robes of the monks glow  - and sometimes in surprising places. Three monks crossing the river in a longboat. Ohoh – the engine sputters and dies. Luckily they re-ignite it. Four monks squashed into a tuktuk bouncing their way through town. Half a dozen little novices – perhaps no more than 10 years old – striding along the crowded pavement on their way to school. In a school playground, a little saffron-clad novice plays soccer with his mates. Two monks ahead of us walking down the street, one with a brilliant turquoise shoulder bag, the other with a sunflower yellow cummerbund around his orange robes.

And there are constant festivals. It seems almost every weekend a different wat celebrates some festival or other. The temple grounds are covered with blue tarps, and the faithful gather to sit in mermaid pose with hands clasped in prayer outside the temple as the monks chant their blessings. There’s plenty of food involved for everyone (interesting to see the monks getting stuck into a good feed!), and fun and games for the children too.

Yesterday was Sin Day (Sin is an ancient Pali word meaning ‘religious day’ – don’t get confused with the English meaning) and so the Wat opposite marked the day at 4am and 4pm with a thunderous beating of gongs and clashing of cymbals. The young monks had to take it in turns to beat the drum, swapping seamlessly between drummers.  And this brilliant little ceremony is repeated 8 times a lunar month.

For more photos of Luang Prabang check out our Picasa Album at https://picasaweb.google.com/Goldenholm/JeremyandKateInLuangPrabang?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Sports Carnival at Souphanouvong

Today was the start of the Sports Carnival at Souphanouvong University. Of course I was barracking for the Faculty of Languages. We have an uphill battle as we're the smallest and newest Faculty with only 100 students so far, while the other faculties have about 900, so all things considered we did well. The girls' soccer team drew against the Economics, Tourism and Business girls, and the boys' ketaw team put up a fantastic fight.

Personally, though, I found it quite terrifying. Ketaw is a bit like volleyball but with a small rattan ball that must be kicked over the net. The agility of the players is astounding, and the potential for seriously pulling a muscle in a painful spot is alarming. The photo gives you a tiny inkling of it. anyway, I though Giles might like to introduce ketaw to after school care. If you Google 'rattan ball' you might find the rules!

It's great having Jeremy working at the University too. He's helping the lecturers in the Faculty of Agriculture put together research proposals. Of course, he's in his element - loving finding out more about agriculture here, and delving into research on rice blast and the like. It's hard to get him away from the Internet now he's discovered Google scholar. And we have PLENTY to talk about. He has located three sad little heifers, and tomorrow we have to go and buy a sickle so that he can find them some more to eat.