Buses, Bombs and Really Big Jars

From Vang Vieng we'd head backwards to Phonsavan in Northern Lao PDR. A visit to the Plain of Jars was a must... if we could only get there. We'd travelled all over Europe, Turkey and Thailand with transportation luck on our side, but Lao would put a sudden end to our green light coasting. Our bus ride out of Vang Vieng to Phonsavan was late due to technical problems. Three hours late. By dusk we'd be en route in our VIP air conditioned bus. An hour into our journey the bus broke down. The driving crew of four broke out their kitchen utensils to try and fix the problem. We'd be waiting in the dark of night for five hours before the engine was fixed. Finally we'd make it to Phonsavan bus station in the wee hours of the night. It was probably the most remote station we'd ever seen. Not a foreigner in sight let alone transportation. Not one lurking tuk tuk either. Walking around looking completely lost, one of the locals working the eating spot must have called one for us because a lone tuk tuk would eventually roll up. We had some mammoth jars to visit in the morning.

Over 500 jars, thought to be c.1,500 to 2,000 years old, dates that are still unclear, are scattered across a pin-cushione landscape known as the Plain of Jars. Averaging 272 lbs (600 kg), the jars are behemoth ranging from 3 to 10 ft (1-3 m) in height. The largest jar weighing 14 tonnes. Their origin and function remain a mystery, but Lao legend tells of giants that once lived there and an ancient king named Khun Cheung who built the jars to brew his own batch of lao lao rice wine. No scientific explanation as to how these jars found their way onto the plain, nor what purpose they served, exists. Archaeologists have come up with some inspirational theories, among them a claim declaring them brewery cauldrons. There is speculation that the plain was at the connection point of old Caravan Routes coming from India and the jars were simply unloaded here, but forgotten in time. Archaeologists and Historians are still baffled regarding their origin. No one knows for sure their precise age, who built them, or why and why they are all left at this plateau and nowhere else.

From the mid-1960s through the early 70s, the Plain of Jars was the scene of heavy fighting between the Pathet Lao and U.S.-backed troops. During the US forces' nine year bombing campaign of Lao, thousands of mines were dropped by plane in a vain attempt to close the Ho Chi Min Trail. What is less known is that the US systematically bombed northern Lao in a failed attempt the disrupt a Communist government takeover in Lao (achieved in 1975). Lao is the most bombed country in the world. Making light years of destruction, the Lao people have learned to embrace their balmy history. Old bomb shells now make decorative planter boxes.

 It has been estimated that over 2 million dollars' worth of bombs were dropped each day during those nine years. Each day over 70 people are killed or injured by anti-personnel mines. That's around one person every 15 minutes.

Before taking to the plains of Phase I, a very big warning sign welcomes you from MAG (Mines Advisory Group) warning you to stay within the marked areas. Small red and white stepping stones mark the sub-surfaces that have been cleared of all Unexploded Ordnance (UXO) and are safe to walk (white), and areas where only the surface has been cleared (red).  MAG's clearance of unexploded ordnance in Lao PDR means previously contaminated land can be used for agriculture, schools, access roads, bridges, irrigation canals, toilets and water supply. 127 UXO have been cleared from Phase I so far.

 http://www.maginternational.org/laopdr.

You know when you see an unattractive person and someone makes a comment about how they look like 10 miles of bad road.Well, we found that road in Phonsavan, Lao. We'd spend something like two hours in search of an abandoned Russian tanker motoring back and forth along the brutal terrain. When we complain about western bumpy street roads and pot holes, this was straight gravel, fractures and pot holes for miles.

The Limey

In the Tubing and Mr. Adventure's Colourful Cock Chase

In Chiang Mai we'd heard rumors of a magical place that played Friends and Family Guy episodes on repeat. I have never been that excited to see the familiar faces of Phoebe Bouffet or Peter Griffin and seeing them in the middle Laos was surreal. Famous for its happy menus and its tubing, Vang Vieng gets messy for Mr. and Mrs...and for the first time in my life I could have used a life jacket...or water wings.

Sticking out like socks and sandals, it was easy to spot the days tubers.  Worn off neon paint, head bands sporting some blasphemy, little to no clothing and the famous “In the Tubing” Vang Vieng, Laos tank. Heading into a bar that night we’d see a video someone had filmed of the day's tubing, swinging and slide rides. There looked to be a lot of catapulting and rag dolling through the air as well as a lot of drinking and good times.  Tubing four days straight and one guy hadn’t once made it to the finish line yet.  Someone else said that a tube wasn’t even really needed. The Mekong's spring waters were drying up leaving shallow waters low enough to wade from bar to bar. We found some slow boat friends from Luang Prabang and decided to meet the next morning for some tubing action. Little did we know that the day would leave some of us bruised, too "happy" to tube, chasing cocks and never making it to the finish line...not even close.  I actually think we ended up making it back to where our tuk-tuk originally dropped us off. We had been told that the drivers don’t drop you off at the very top of the tubing channel and charge you extra if you want to go there. Walking instead is possible... and interesting. You’ll have to trek through a cow farm and over some janky nail protruding ladders. Good thing we updated our tetanus.

We’d spot the twirly slide and made that our first stop. Instead of the friendly Sabaidee and the notorious offer of “something something?” we’d be greeted by a Laos guy with a bottle of lao lao fixed with a pump nozzle. We tilted our heads back and prayed that this “something something” would get us at least past noon. Then we spotted the famous zip-line water swing that had made it into the video clip we’d seen at the bar the night before. Hopping into the water and floating over to it in our tubes we’d get stuck find ourselves preoccupied here for hours. The getting there was memorable as it would nearly leave some of us toothless. Like bar street promoters, Lao boys hang out in front of their bar with a rope and buoy ready to lasso and toss out to potential partiers, towing you in.

Not only did the zip-line provide for much amusement, there was also the high board. As graceful as he tried to be, Morgan would end up with a ballooned out elephant elbow. No matter. Another bucket of lao-lao and it was go time. If you weren't zip-lining or high jumping you could indulge in the one of the best things...the fine art of people watching. Dancing on the bamboo mat dance floor or dressing up in hand crafted head bands sporting personalized phrases custom made by bar staff to you...I believe mine said "I have a dick". Morgan was too busy chasing a rooster around one bar’s back yard saying repeatedly  “What a colourful cock!” with arms t-rexed out in front like a little kid. 

Getting back in the water posed a slight problem. Like a little kid on her first day of swimming lessons, I'd have to be assisted into my tube. The shallow waters became far too deep and definitely drownable to those of us who'd partake in the happy brownies on offer as a welcome gift.

The Limey