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Listening to the Rice Grow in Laos
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Seth Familian
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Mar 27, 2002 00:09 PST
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A good friend once told me that a saying pervades Indochina: "The
Vietnamese plant the rice, the Khmer watch the rice, and the Lao listen
to the rice grow." Though I can't claim authorship of this incredibly
apt saying nor can I say that I'm one of the exclusive few who know of
it (since my friend subsequently printed it at the top of the "Laos"
section in Let's Go Southeast Asia), I can at least attest to its
accuracy, as well as tell you all a bit about how I've listened to the
rice grow for the past two weeks in Laos.
Imagine a country lush with rolling green jungle-laden hills interrupted
only by vast expanses of farmed plain and immense, sheer and dramatic
limestone cliffs; a country where you travel by hanging on to the back
of a Songthew (a modified pickup truck semi-covered and lined with
benches), watching the world blur by and the giant red/orange disc of
the sun sink beneath the darkening hills; a country where the people, as
heavily bombed as they were and as impoverished as they are, still smile
and wave excitedly as you wander by; a country where market workers stop
you and invite you into their celebrations, asking you to sing songs and
in turn share sips of beer; a country where even in the biggest city the
feel is sleepy and slow, and people truly are listening to the rice
grow.
I began my journey through Laos at its northern border with Thailand,
crossing from the Thai town of Chiang Khong to the Lao town of Houie Xay
via a small longtail boat (there is no bridge in the North that connects
the two countries) packed with travelers, locals, and a heap of
backpacks. We then changed boats and boarded a 'Slow Boat' that, for
the next two days, would carry us down the vast Mekong river and into
Laos' religious and cultural capital, Luang Prabang.
Though I had only intended to spend a few days in Luang Prabang, time
quickly slid by as I found myself fascinated with the city and all it
had to offer. Hundreds of Wats, some ancient and burned out, others
glittering and new, dot the unique landscape of this hilly,
river-bounded town. A giant Wat stands atop the equally giant mountain
that sits directly in the city center and creates a magical and somewhat
surreal setting for the city--especially at night when the Wat glows
golden from its lights. The signature saffron robes of Buddhist monks
punctuate nearly every street and open space with their distinctive
color, and generate a sense of peace and tranquility that pervades the
city. And throughout the morning and afternoon, markets buzz and bustle
with activity as the murky brown waters of the Mekong slowly roll by,
setting the true pace for the day.
Luang Prabang was incredible not only for what it as a city had to
offer, but for the natural wonders that surrounded it as well. Within
just a few minutes' drive from the city proper, I could explore immense
caves nestled in the hills that surround the city and giant waterfalls
that cascade emerald green water into limestone swimming holes. The
waterfalls were in fact so incredible that I returned a second day with
friends to explore other parts and climb to the top for an incredible
view.
From Luang Prabang I and a few friends headed south to Vang Vieng, a
much smaller town set within a much more dramatic landscape. Giant and
sheer limestone walls sit just on the other side of the river from Vang
Vieng and tower over the small town that has recently become a hub for
adventure travelers and people just looking to relax and enjoy an
incredible setting. From Vang Vieng I got my fill of whitewater
kayaking, cave exploring, and jumping from ridiculously tall trees into
beautiful teal blue lagoons, as well as truly amazing sunsets that
dipped just behind the giant limestone cliffs.
After a few days in Vang Vieng I embarked upon the travel adventure of
the month and continued further south to a lake just outside of
Vientienne, the capital of Laos. Though the lake was only supposedly an
hour or two away from Vang Vieng, we (I and two friends) required three
different trucks to ulitmately get us to the lake, and one of the trucks
was so full that I and a guitarist friend ended up sitting on the roof,
occasionally dodging tree branches that grazed the bags heaped in front
of us. We took the opportunity to turn the situation into an impromptu
jam session, and so my friend played guitar and I sang all the way to
the next town, catching the attention (and smiles) of the locals whose
homes and villages lined the highway.
Once we finally arrived at the lake I quickly realized why so many of my
friends had recommended it to me: not only was it totally off the beaten
path and inhabited by far more locals than travelers (which was not
quite the case for Vang Vieng), but the lake itself, which was the
result of a river dam erected a few decades ago, contains a surreal and
beautiful landscape. Because the land that is now submerged by the lake
used to be heavily logged, bare tree trunks still stick out in groves in
the shallower parts of the lake, and tiny islands--peaks of the
typically rolling and hilly Lao landscape--dot the otherwise
uninterrupted and glassy surface of the water.
We hired a boat and rode around the lake for a few hours the following
day, and even though our trusty longtail boat motor kept breaking down,
we nonetheless had a fantastic time, swimming, exploring, marveling, and
of course, listening to the rice grow on the nearby banks.
From the lake I made my way to the capital city of Vientienne, from
where I now write to all of you. I'm only in Vientienne until tomorrow,
at which point I cross back into Thailand and head north to Chiang Mai,
where I plan to spend the next two weeks and celebrate the Thai New Year
in mid-April. (The New Year festival is supposed to be particularly
good in Chiang Mai, which is known for its three-day-long water festival
designed to beat the scorching April heat and where Westerners tend to
be fairly regular targets :)
So in any case, I hope this note finds all of you well, and until my
next round of adventures, waterfights, and songthew-riding, take care!
much love from Laos,
Seth
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