THE TEMPLE, THE HILL AND THE OLD RUSSIAN GUN

Climbers reaching the peak are rewarded with a view of the old capital and the Khan River

Today the skies are mostly clear, so I head back into the downtown of the old capital of Laos, Luang Prabang. On my way I find a coffee cart, so I stop to buy a mocha coffee shake. At 6,000 kip, it only costs me around US $.70. It’s delicious, and I slurp it down quickly as I walk away. Then I get to the bottom of the shake, and something gets stuck in the straw. 

It’s a rubber band!

Oh well, I don’t think the coffee vendor put that in there intentionally. Or did she charge me extra for it?

Tossing what’s left of it in a bin, I continue to Chomsy Hill, near the royal palace. Today I’ll climb it. I get winded as I head up the numerous red brick stairs, since this is the highest point of Luang Prabang. It’s a tiring climb, and after pausing at different levels on the way I reach the top step, number 228. I’m thankful I didn’t have to deal with anything dangerous on this climb, unlike that mishap that I had back on Marble Mountain in Vietnam. 

A young lady shaking sticks in a cup, a Buddhist ritual

There’s not a lot of room atop Chomsy Hill’s peak, but there is a small temple. Since I’m sweating from the climb, I wonder if ascending this hill is a type of Buddhist pilgrimage. 

I look through the window of the tiny temple, and two young Lao women are within praying in front of a small altar. Burning incense is in the air; one young lady is shaking a can of sticks between her hands. Resembling chop sticks with writing on them, these are Buddhist fortune sticks. The young lady shakes the canister up and down at an angle repeatedly, until one stick falls out onto the temple floor. This stick will be taken to a monk, who will interpret the stick’s message as her fortune. Each stick can also be matched to a longer written fortune, to be taken along for reference. 

Beyond the temple is the highest point of Chomsy Hill, the golden Phousi Stupa. It looks familiar, much like the immense golden stupa that I saw in Vientiane, though smaller. But the view from here is far better. As a pair of butterflies flit by me, I walk around the stupa and get a panoramic view of Luang Prabang. With fewer clouds today, I can see for miles. 

The golden Phousi Stupa adorns the peak

To one side is the Khan River and the approach to the airport. Without tall buildings, most of the cityscape is thankfully blanketed with old trees. The highest structure in view is another golden temple off in the distant hills. 

From the other side of the stupa I look down on the old colonial town, with the Mekong River and many mountain chains beyond it. It’s very tough terrain, I can only see one dirt road beyond the river that heads into the rugged mountains. Anyone hardy enough to cross the many miles beyond those peaks will find an important boundary. There is the center of the ‘Golden Triangle’, where the borders of Laos, Myanmar (Burma) and Thailand meet. Further beyond in that direction: China. Laos may be poor, but it does have its strategic places. 

I’m grateful for the excellent view, but today it’s blazing hot up here. I’m still overheated from my ascent, so I find a bench to sit in the shade. Taking a seat, I’m startled to find I’m sharing the bench with two tiny birds, inhabiting an equally tiny bamboo cage. This may seem a strange place for caged birds, but a vendor is selling them up here to the Buddhist faithful. One way a Buddhist can earn merit at a temple, is to buy caged birds, and release them back into the wild. Of course this only encourages the vendors to go back out into the wild and trap more birds, to be used for the same purpose. But it works for the Buddhists. 

Almost on cue, a Laotian Airlines plane swoops nearby in the valley, straight across from me at eye level, at the same altitude. As the plane’s engines blare, the birds hop around and chirp excitedly from within their cage. They want to fly too. 

Russian anti-aircraft gun mount on temple hill

Not long after, a Buddhist woman who bought the birds returns to retrieve them. Soon the bamboo bars are pried apart, and the feathered ones are set free. They quickly dart into the air, landing in nearby trees. I hope that they won’t be re-captured, and have to go through this all over again. 

Feeling sufficiently cooled, I walk to the other side of the temple ridge. Beyond a flagpole flying the Laotian flag, I find something completely unexpected. The communists have been up here too, and they left behind the remains of an old Soviet 23mm anti-aircraft emplacement. The gun itself has been removed, leaving the base and the mount behind. 

I wonder to myself, why on earth was this placed here next to a temple? Probably because this hilltop has an excellent view overlooking the valley, facing the approach to the airport. Perhaps this old Russian weapon was brought up here in the post-war 1980's, when Pathet Lao communists were worried about conflict with Thailand. 

I find the gun mount’s supporting arm unlocked, and I give it a strong shove. The steel arm swoops around in a full circle, creaking loudly as it rotates. The mount isn’t level, so the arm continues to swoop back and forth like a swing, until it finally comes to a stop. 

The gun’s arm is aimed straight at the flagpole, and at the temple buildings behind it. 

How eerie.

Really, they ought to drag this old gun mount down from the temple peak, and recycle it for scrap. It doesn’t belong in such a peaceful place. 

Another view from atop Chomsy Hill facing the Mekong River, with mountain ridges beyond

BUDDHISM AND RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION IN LAOS

Buddhist monks by the Mekong River

It’s as though I’ve been transported back in time. 

I’m on an old stone stairway overlooking the Mekong, when a simple wooden boat pulls up to the riverbank below. It docks at the base of the long staircase, and four Buddhist monks step ashore, then begin ascending the steps. Their bright saffron orange robes stand out against the natural earthly colors of the surrounding landscape. Like all monks, their heads are completely shaved. These humble monks carry nothing, since they possess nothing. They are silent, and the only sound they make is the light slapping of their sandals as they rise the steps towards me. They pass by me quietly, then enter the monastery that is their home at the top of the hill. 

There is no hint of modern technology in what I’ve seen. This scene typifies the simple life that has existed in Buddhist monasteries of Laos for centuries. In this quiet town Buddhism is the dominant religion followed by Lowland Lao, the country’s largest ethnic group. The Lowland Lao are traditionally Theravada Buddhists, an early and traditional form of the religion.

As one of the world’s older religions, Buddhism predates Christianity. The religion is based on the idea that life is suffering. But by accepting this idea as fact, through Buddhism suffering can be avoided and happiness attained. Reincarnation is a central theme, and they believe that good deeds and charitable donations build merit for each to improve their position in their next life. 

Buddhism was first brought to Luang Prabang in the 13th or 14th century, making this town the spiritual center of Laos. It’s no wonder that I’ve walked by so many temples and shrines during my stay here. 

The old wooden temple of the Buddhist monastery

Visiting hours are over, so I come back another day. When I return, I climb the old steps and enter this revered place known as a wat, which is a monastery temple. The name of this particular Buddhist monastery is a mouthful: 
“Wat Xiengthongratsavoravihanh”. This aging complex was originally built way back in the 16th century on orders of the King. It’s one of the few wats in all of Luang Prabang that wasn’t destroyed over the centuries during various pre-colonial invasions. 

As opposed to the great stone temples that Southeast Asia is known for, this temple and most others in town are made of wood. Despite their lack of heavy stone, they are grand architectural structures. Looking up at the dark temple, curving, traditionally tiled rooftops slope over heavy wooden pillars. The tiles were at one time red, but have been heavily darkened from years of aging. Snakelike nagas emerge from the rooftop’s corners. These serpent-like figures are the only thing that looks threatening in the entire monastery. 

One of many elaborate mosaics decorates a temple building

Many buildings and shrines in this compound are adorned with mosaics, depicting life in old Luang Prabang. There are colorful scenes of men riding elephants, boats conducting trade, farmers working the rice fields, and of course monks conducting Buddhist rituals. 

As I approach the main temple, I can hear the unmistakeble sound of chanting. Reaching the door, I peer in to find an impressive sight. All of the wat’s monks, around 30 of them, are seated cross legged on the floor. They are chanting in unison. Facing them at the far end, is an immense, elevated golden statue of Buddha. Like the monks, it wears an orange robe across one its golden shoulders. Smaller Buddha statues and colorful flowers surround the tall icon. 

To the sides, six massive wooden pillars support the ceiling, with intricate gold detailing covering them from top to bottom. Each pillar has been fashioned from a single giant tree taken from the jungle. There are no windows here and lighting is dim, giving a somber feel to the scene. Since there are only monks inside, I decide to stay at the door and watch. This is Buddhist ritual as it has been for centuries.

Buddhist monks of all ages inside the temple

Buddhist monks renounce worldly pleasures, and theses men live a very basic life of study and meditation. For sustenance, they rely on donations from their neighbors. At dawn in Luang Prabang, gongs heard in the streets announce the approach of a procession of monks. Holding metal containers, they accept gifts of rice from Buddhists, who earn merit from their donations.

Looking over these chanting monks, they appear to be arranged by age. The oldest are seated in front, with the youngest in the back near me. Some of these novice monks look no older than 12. One way that families earn merit is by having their sons enter a wat, and most Lao males become a monk for at least a three month period. If they decide to become a monk for life, they may pursue the ultimate goal of 'nirvana', or enlightenment. 

Buddhism was the official state religion for centuries, until Kaysone and the communists took over. Pushing toward the secular, they began discouraging the practice of many Buddhist traditions. Families were discouraged from sending their sons into wats, and it was forbidden to give rice or alms to the monks on their morning rounds. 

But the ethnic Lao identified with Buddhism far more than they did with the communists, and these restrictions lost them support from devout Buddhists. Fortunately these restrictions didn’t last; policies were relaxed in the 1980’s. By the 1990’s, government officials of the communist party were openly supporting Buddhism again, even taking part in Buddhist celebrations. Government meddling isn’t completely gone though. Most monks now receive some government indoctrination as part of their training. In the past half century, Communism in Laos has changed far more than Buddhism has.

Young monks pile into a truck in Luang Prabang, the country's spiritual capital

Although the communists' restrictions on Buddhists have lessened, these reforms have not extended to all faiths. Government repression has shifted from the Buddhists, to Protestants. Although a small minority in Laos, the government still fears the rise of Christian converts. 

According to a 2008 report from the US State Department, “Local officials have pressured minority Protestants to renounce their faith on threat of arrest or forceful eviction from their villages in Bolikhamsai, Houaphan, and Luang Namtha provinces. In some areas, Protestants have been forbidden to gather to worship.”

Threats of arrests sometimes lead to imprisonment. One example in the report refers to oppression in Bokeo: “The village had previously experienced problems, as in late 2005 when local officials destroyed an unapproved LEC church in Houaysay Noi Village and arrested six church leaders. One of the six died while in jail, and the other five were released in early 2006."

Although freedom of religion is supposed to be guaranteed in the current constitution of Laos, what actually happens in practice is something else. The communist government has made a peace with Buddhism, but they aren’t about to grant genuine religious freedom anytime soon. 

ICE CREAM SOLDIER FOUGHT FOR 2 ARMIES

The most cheerful ice cream salesman anywhere

He’s standing alone on a Luang Prabang street corner, and you might hear him before you see him. 

“Hello!” he calls out loudly to those walking by. “You want ice cream?” He speaks energetically through a plastic cone held up to his mouth, much like a cheerleader. His outspoken salesmanship is unusual for normally reserved Laotians. But the passing potential customers still turn him down. 

Undaunted, he cheerfully sends them positive wishes as they walk away. “I wish you good luck! I wish you happiness!” Short and thin, he’s the excitable type, with an infectious energy that most street vendors lack in Laos. His mismatched clothing is too big for his small stature. He has a full head of grey hair; despite his age he still has a youthful gleam. 

His name is Tay, and he doesn't peddle his product from an ice cream truck, or an ice cream cart for that matter. He sells his treats from a simple bicycle, with a small cooler strapped onto the back. With such a positive attitude, I knew that this senior ice cream salesman must have an interesting story to tell. He did. 

Tay is 74 now, but he’s not originally from Luang Prabang. He grew up in a village further north. As a youth in French colonial Laos there was little opportunity available, so he decided to join the military. 

“1952, I go to French Army,” he tells me. At that time the colonial years were waning, and Laos soon became independent. But the French Army's departure didn’t end Tay’s military career. 

A Royal Laotian Air Force T-28, taxis during the war (Photo: Wikipedia)

“French go back to Paris,” Tay continued. “1957, Americans come to Luang Prabang. I go to American Army.” 

Of course he wasn’t exactly in the U.S. Army, he was officially in the American supported Royal Laotian Army (RLA). Tay gestures across the Khan River towards Luang Prabang airport.  Back when the Americans were here, it was a major air base for both Laotian and American aircraft. Tay was based there.

“T-28 fly here,” Tay says, recalling the days when US made T-28s flew combat missions from the base. The T-28 Trojan was an old World War II propeller plane, refitted for combat use by Laotian pilots. He remembers the much faster US Air Force jets as well. F-104s and F-105s flew in from bases in Thailand, and circled overhead. 

In those years Tay already knew how to speak Laotian and French, and soon he picked up English too. So the military put his language skills to use, assigning him to communications. His rank rose to Sergeant. He frequently operated a radio while airborne, assisting the Royal Lao Air Force. 

This former military air base is now Luang Prabang's current airport

“I see my friend (below),” Tay said, while pantomiming how he would wave out the window to his army buddies, as their plane swooped down low over RLA ground troops. In those days Vietnamese infantry were pushing into Laos, and American air power joined together with Laotian government soldiers on the ground to push them back. 

Tay summed up all three eras of power here, in three short sentences: “In Luang Prabang, French responsible. Then America responsible. Then Lao responsible." 

When control of Luang Prabang shifted for the last time, it meant the end of Tay’s 23 year military career. When the communists took control of Luang Prabang in 1975, the RLA ceased to exist, and Tay was stripped of his military rank.  He was sent into the infamous 're-education' camps. Imprisoned far from his family, he won't talk about those years. But everyone knows conditions were bad in those prisons, and some prisoners died. Tay survived.

When he was finally released five years later, Tay made his way back to Luang Prabang. Barred from working any government job, he sold ice cream for a while. Then foreign tourists began returning to Luang Prabang, and his language skills served him again. 

“I go to travel with the tourists,” he says, describing his tour guide job. In those post-war years there weren’t any Americans visiting Laos, it was mostly French and other Europeans. To this day he still speaks French well, even better than his English.

The war veteran advertising his delicious ice cream

In 2004, he decided he was getting too old for the tour business, so he retired from it. But without any pension, he still needed an income. “I go sell ice cream again,” he explains, “because I’m poor.” 

As we’re chatting, a light rain starts to fall. Tay’s ice cream business is always slow during monsoon season. He’s looking forward to the dry season, when sales pick up during Luang Prabang’s annual festivals. 

I purchase one of the ice creams Tay has on offer. I’m a little leery of the quality, but after tasting its sweet coconut flavor, I have to admit that it was delicious. I give him a generous tip, although it seemed such an insignificant gesture. Tay had joined up with two powerful foreign armies, hoping to better himself, and provide for his family. Both of those armies departed. Both of them let him down. Rather than having the good army pension he deserved, he was imprisoned, and left in poverty. 

Still, like most Laotians, Tay’s life is not focused on money. He may not have much cash in his pocket, but he is rich in family. His four children are grown and married, and now he has grandchildren. 

As I shook his hand to depart, Tay said goodbye in his usual positive manner. “I wish you good luck, I wish you good health, and prosperity!”

I wish that I could give him all of those things. 

MEKONG RIVERFRONT AND OLD TOWN NIGHT MARKET

Laotian paddles traditional boat on Mekong River at Luang Prabang

This afternoon I'm strolling through the historical neighborhood of Luang Prabang, in the old capital of Laos. Walking downhill, I arrive at the famed Mekong River. Having been on it before, it's as though I’m reunited with an old friend. It doesn’t disappoint; I’m treated to another fantastic view. The majestic Mekong flows before me, and beyond it are ancient forest covered mountains. Since the sun has returned the colors are bright, and the intense green colors of the jungle blanketed hills really stand out. 

There are no tourists around this serene scene, so I find a walkway down from Khem Khong Street to the riverbank. There are no speedboats here, like everything else in Laos, movement on the river is slow. There’s no bridge either, any one crossing uses their own small boats, or takes the ferry. With the ferries docked, river traffic is light. The only sound is the putt-putt of one longtail boat chugging upriver.

Buddhist monk by Mekong River, opposite Luang Prabang. This side of river was once part of Thailand.

Far downriver is Vientiane,  but unlike in the south, the Mekong is not an international border here. The bank on the far side here is now Laotian territory, but it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when the land west of the Mekong was part of Thailand. That back and forth change of frontiers led to border battles further west in the 1980’s. But all is calm now; the far bank is now home to quiet ethnic minority villages.

I head further down the Khem Kong river road, behind the royal palace. This was once the royal pier, a miniature port where the world’s dignitaries arrived by boat for official visits with the king. Back before there was a decent road between here and Vientiane, the Mekong was the main highway of Laos. 

Long houseboats lined up on the riverbank

With the rise of roads in Laos, river traffic has dropped, but there are still some boats that carry passengers up and down the Mekong. This area has become a passenger port for journeys on the river. A whiteboard outside the booking house promotes a two day boat trip to Huay Xai, a town upriver bordering Thailand. It claims that the trip is by ‘VIP boat’. I let out a chuckle, since I spoke with some travelers that dispute that classification. They arrived in Luang Prabang on that same river route, and the boat they traveled in was far smaller than they expected.

“It was so crowded, full of cargo and passengers, there was little room to spare,” a young lady complained. “We only slept a little, and that was in hammocks.” Well, when those backpackers travel, they like the true local experience. They certainly got one. 

I look down towards the river bank now, and there some passenger boats, but they are outnumbered by much larger craft. There are more than 20 blue houseboats, all lined up on the bank, one right after 

A family lives on this houseboat

another. This part of the shoreline has been transformed into a floating residential area. I’ve never seen houseboats like this before, long and narrow, most are more than 80 feet in length. This makes for affordable housing, in an exclusive neighborhood. These boats are docked next to the most expensive land in northern Laos, and their rent to dock here is  probably quite low. Some of these families seem to do well; a number of the rooftops are adorned with solar panels and satellite dishes. 

Still, this isn’t a very sanitary lifestyle. I see a few children playing about, and laundry is drying in the windows. The laundry water and the bath water both come from the river. Unfortunately the river is also the neighborhood toilet. 

Leaving the river I go to check out more of the town’s commerce, so I walk up the hill into the heart of this historic town. I notice Laotians walking into a market resembling a barn, and I follow them in. Inside is a market not for tourists, but for local folk. Booth after booth is selling cheap clothes, costume jewelry and pirated DVDs. 

Old basketball court is now a market

The ceiling is unusually high for a local market, and looking up, I notice familiar hoops hanging from each end. This barn-like building wasn’t originally a market at all, it was a basketball court. Given that basketball is an American game, I wonder if these old backboards were installed when pilots of the CIA's Air America used to be here during the war. Since most Laotians are fairly short, they don’t have much use for a game favoring tall people. At least they’re putting the building to good use with the market. Not to miss a place to display their merchandise, one vendor has hung her colorful t-shirts from the far hoop. 

Leaving the market, I turn onto the main street of the town’s old part, Sisavangvong. Passing the palace I visited earlier, I reach the best preserved section of town. There are French shophouses, cafés, popular restaurants, and stores selling works of local artisans. And yet, there is a distinct, un-Laotian feel to this street. Also occupying these old buildings are travel companies and internet cafés. The foreigners have invaded.  

Looking around, I see Laotians on Sisavangvong have been outnumbered by white foreigner tourists. Walking down the busy street, I hear German, French, Swedish, and various English accents. In 1995 Luang Prabang was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site, which helped to preserve the old French colonial houses. After the war Laos was a forbidden land for foreigners, but they have come back to Luang Prabang in droves. 

Passing one tour company, I pause to read the elaborate placard out front. It advertises elephant rides in the countryside, a favorite of foreign visitors. Ride an elephant for a couple hours, or all day. For those who want to spend even more time with the great Asian elephants, they advertise a mahout school for $140. In learning the mahouts ways, you are taught the basics to be an elephant driver, or handler. The introductory course takes three days. 

Local vendors set up for Night Market in Old Town Luang Prabang

Or if you prefer an old fashioned jungle trek like the colonial explorers used to do, you can take a four day elephant caravan into the Hongsa Forest. That will only set you back $800 a head. 

Walking on, another elephant tour company advertises this: “Three days trek to visit old opium fields”. 'Old' opium fields? Really? Are they saying that there aren’t any more new ones? 

I head back to the guest house to rest, but there's more coming in the evening. Sisavangvong is known for its night market, and I return later to check it out. 

This is actually my second time to the night market; I had seen it five years before. It was a unique night market back then, the street was closed to traffic, and each vendor had their wares laying out in the open on the roadside. There were no tables, their goods were laid out on the ground on top of colorful woven blankets. Each lady vendor had only a small light bulb to brighten their merchandise beneath the moonlight. 

Lady vendor smiles at customers in Luang Prabang Night Market

Many ethnic minority women came in from the countryside to sell their goods, some of them working with a baby still strapped on their back. There was a wide selection of Buddhist statues, incense and silver jewelry of traditional designs. The best wares were the hand woven fabrics and traditional clothing. These weren’t just cheap tourist souvenirs, this was real craftsmanship. Almost everything you could see was made by hand.

In the years since my last visit, I return to the night market to find it has expanded exponentially! There are now so many vendors here that they don’t just line the roadsides, they are crowded together out in the street. It'ss no longer open to the skies either, most vendors have erected pop-ups for the rainy season. They're all packed so tightly together on the road, that there isn’t much space to walk through. To make my way down the street through the pop-ups, I'm forced to duck up and down repeatedly like a target in an arcade game! 

2005: The Night Market before it became swamped with tourists

Having Luang Prabang declared a world heritage site has been a mixed blessing here. The old buildings have been preserved, that’s true, and business is booming. 

But I fear Luang Prabang’s old district has become a victim of its own success; its romantic allure is fading. The high season now has mobs of tourists here, with most businesses catering solely to foreigners. 

This historic street is losing the old world charm that made Luang Prabang a world heritage site in the first place.