Luang Prabang, Laos

Country #47, Laos!
Some fun facts about Laos; It is the most heavily bombed country (per capita) in the history of the world. Laos was bombed non-stop by the USA from 1964 to 1973 at a cost of nearly seven billion dollars. Over two million tons of high explosive rained down from bomber raids launched on average once every eight minutes. The tonnage exceeds all the raids launched by every side in Europe during the whole of World War II. The lethal barrage, which peaked in 1969, included an estimated 250 million submunitions, notably infamous anti-personnel "bombies". Slightly smaller than tennis balls, and sometimes painted bright yellow, bombies can attract curious children and may be mistaken for fruit. 30% of these landed intact, and children die every week from them some 36 years leater.
Bearing all this in mind, it would be understandable to receive some anti-American sentiment. When the French or Dutch complain about American foreign policy I resist the temptation to ask them if their grandpa ran or bicycled away when the SS rolled into his town. But to people from countries like Laos, Cambodia, I can't defend my countries actions.

The Nam Khan river

Lao people are reserved, laid-back, calm, polite, patient, graceful. They seem surprised that so many Westerners want to visit their country.

On a Friday night, you'll see Lao teenage boys on their mopeds, with their girlfriends on the back, sitting sidesaddle, texting away on their cell phones. Mopeds outnumber cars 10-1, and bicycles outnumber mopeds. The total volume of motorized traffic is minimal.

Laos is wonderfully cheap. I had fantastic Indian food at Nazim's each night for $4. A big beer Lao is only $1.50 An hour massage $6. A full day's tour $11.

Laos is one of the few remaining "Communist" countries. It's not really Communist, in that it has free trade and capitalism just like any other country, but it is still ruled by the same Lao People's Democratic Party" that has ruled it since the Vietnam war. There are no free elections, and no free press.

I exchanged dollars at the Lao Peoples Bank. Basically the equivalent of exchanging money directly with the government. In Myanmar the government offers an absurd exchange rate of 6 kyat to the dollar, less than 1% of the real exchange rate. What was the exchange rate offered by the Lao government? Exactly the daily rate published on the world currency exchange; 8,538 Kip for one dollar. I guess Laos wants dollars.

The first thing that greeted me upon checking into my room was a laminated copy of the Lao People's Democratic Republic Accommodation Regulations. Twelve rules were listed, and I'll share the most interesting/hilarious rules verbatim:

#1 Tourists have to your own accommodation at 2400 hrs (mid night)

#5 Do not any drugs, crambling, or bring both women and men which is not your own husband of wife into the room for making love.

#6 Do not allow domestic and international tourist bring prostitute and others into your accommodation to make sex movies in our room, it is restriction.

#11 If you do not follow this accommodation regulation, you will be fight based on Lao PDR law.

So, for those of you hoping to start up the Lao porn industry, or thinking of doing any "crambling", you best think again or you will be fight. (Fined?)

That Pathum

Wat Xieng Thong

Monks whitewashing the stairway up Phou Si

Laos makes everyone sleepy. The power was out to the whole town on Saturday from early in the morning till 3pm. Nothing to do but walk around town, have a Beer Lao, get a massage, and take a catnap.

Main street. No cars, few people. Sleepy Laos.

People really do wear these hats here.

In Laos I stopped haggling at the markets. In Thailand they quote you a price that is 50-100% higher than what they will accept and it's expected you will attempt to haggle it down. On a $10-$20 item, it's certainly worth the time to haggle, pretend to walk away, the whole bit. In Laos they quote you a price that is a hopeful 25%-50% above what they will accept. This opening price will likely be less than the price you'd negotiate after five minutes of haggling in Thailand. Things are so, so cheap here. Can you talk a Lao merchant down from $3.50 to $2.75 for the Beer Lao t-shirt you've been eyeing? Probably. Will you feel that same sense of victory by keeping an extra 75 cents out of the hands of a woman who makes three dollars a day? Probably not.

I bought a beautiful handmade lantern from this lady. I took some time in deciding which one I wanted, and she interpreted my hesitancy to lack of interest and dropped the price from $8 to $6 without a word from me. If I'd had more room in my backpack, I'd have bought ten of them.

The huge night market in Luang Prabang

Quiet back streets of lovely Luang Prabang

Like many places in Buddhist Asia, the monks walk the streets at dawn to collect alms from the laypeople. This tradition dates back a thousand years. There are so many monks in Luang Prabang, and the town is so picturesque, that this simple ceremony draws out every tourist in town. Some give alms like the locals. Most just snap pictures. Unfortunately, a few morons insist in getting right up in the monks faces for that perfect shot. There are signs around town asking for people to show some restraint and not interfere with this vital ritual. I took this shot from across the street. I witnessed a tour bus of Japanese with bright flash photography just a few feet from some monks. I was disgusted by the whole scene. Rich tourists with $800 cameras frantically snapping photos of penniless monks patiently receiving the only food they would get for the day is just wrong. I saw one sign on a shop window that put it best; "They are monks not monkeys. Do not treat them as if they are in a zoo. Please respect Lao traditions."

In the morning I went on a cool riverboat trip up the Mekong. For just $10 I got to ride in a thin long riverboat about 15 miles up the river to the Pak Ou caves, where a multitude of Buddha statues have been gathered for a long time. (One tour guide claims they are 4000 years old, which is a little bit off since Buddha was born only 2500 years ago.) At these caves were the usual vendors selling cold drinks and books. I'm passing by these kids selling bracelets, when suddenly I realize one of them has a giant rat on a string! I jumped back as the thing lunged toward me. The kids are trying to get me to do something with this ratlike creature, and I'm just trying to get away. I figured out that it was a mole, a big mole, and they wanted me to pay to set it free, just like with the sparrows in Chiang Mai. Note to Lao entrepreneurs; sparrows are cute, and Westerners want to free birds. Rodents are nasty, and we generally try to kill them.

It's hard to see it, but in the left side of this picture is a "working elephant" This elephant was on a tether and was moving logs for a man next to it. This is the first time I've ever seen an elephant not in a zoo. Laos has a few wild elephants, but they are dwindling fast and need better protection.

In the afternoon I took a trip south to the Kuang Si waterfall. For $4 I got a ride in a tuk-tuk 20 miles out of town and entry to a beautiful forest reserve with a waterfall and several swimming holes.

Little did we know it, but the Tuk-Tuk ride there would be the most exciting part of the trip.

The Lao New Year was just a few days away. New Year comes at the hottest part of the dry season, and it is customary for kids to throw water on anyone they can during the three day festival. Well, on the road to Kuang Si, the kids started early.

Someone must have told them, "Look kids, there's going to be loads of foreigners in open tuk-tuks coming this way from Luang Prabang. They are on their way to the waterfall, so they are already dressed in swimming attire. It's open season."

We never expected the first salvo. Five kids with buckets of water waiting behind a slow curve drenched the back part of the Tuk Tuk. Our truck was full with four Brits, two Swiss, and me.

The Swiss took the brunt of this one. We were shocked, and laughing. The next group of kids we were ready for. Everyone dove to the floor and avoided most of the deluge. The third group was the piece de resistance. These kids had a half dozen threatening with buckets on the left side of the road. We all dove to the right side of the tuk-tuk and faced away. Big mistake. Hiding behind a berm on the right side of the road were another half dozen kids with buckets.

I was blasted in the face by a couple gallons of water. Everyone was soaked. They got us, and they got us good.

This guy, Saeng, was on assignment to the waterfall to practice his English with any English speaking foreigner that would take the time to talk to him. His English needs a lot of work, but he told me that the next time I come to Luang Prabang he'll have opened a new restaurant.

The blurry figure in the center is me, a split second after letting go of the rope swing.

I hadn't jumped off a good rope swing in 15 years. I probably shouldn't have pumped 10 times though, cause my arms were pretty sore the next day.

On the way back from the waterfalls we stopped at a small Hmong village. This was certainly the poorest village I have ever seen. Handmade wooden huts, no electricity, no running water, sickly looking children. The sales pitch from the kids selling stuff had a bit of desperation here. Each girl was singing the same song, while displaying her hands toward the merchandise like some Laotian macarena. As you walked away from her table, the pitch and speed of the song would intensify. Finally I understood that the song they were all singing was in English and the only line was "You can buy some thing from me." I wanted to get out of this place cause these kids were breaking my heart. I bought ten bracelets from this girl, total cost $2. Her mom was pleased, but she doesn't look too happy.

Laos really does have a midnight curfew. Not that there's anything much to do after midnight anyway. Luang Prabang has only two real bars; Hive and Lao Lao Garden. I spent a couple nights hanging at Lao Lao Garden and got to know the owner, a young Lao enterpreneur named Sompon. He manages the business and has a German investor, they split the profits 50-50. Lao Lao Garden has to close at 11:30 so that everyone has time to get home before the curfew.

Sompon tells me that no one actually gets arrested for being out past curfew, least of all a foreigner. He also says there are two businesses that the government allows to stay open late, the Dao Fah disco and the bowling alley. He offered to take me to both. After closing down the Garden we rounded up a couple tuk-tuks and got every foreigner who wanted to keep partying to climb in. One Aussie guy wanted to haggle the tuk-tuk price with the driver, while I tried to explain to him that the cost of the trip amounted to 50 cents per passenger, so what the hell was he arguing about? We all rode whooping and yelling to Dao Fah, and then listened to a mix of crappy Thai pop music and Akon. You have one drink choice at Dao Fah; large bottles of Beer Lao. You stand in one line to pay, get a ticket, then stand in another line to turn your ticket in for your beer. After damaging our eardrums for a bit, the crew piled back in the tuk-tuks for the bowling alley. Bowling? In Laos? at 1am? Sure, why not. I bowled atrociously, perhaps worse than Barack Obama. At some point I got back in the tuk-tuk for the final ride of the evening and was safely deposited at the door of my guesthouse. A day in Luang Prabang reminds me of a day at summer camp. You see all the same people everywhere, and you all move from activity to activity at roughly the same time. I love it.

Chiang Mai, Thailand

I spent only a bit more than 24 hours in Chiang Mai. The first day we arrived via night train from Bangkok. Lindso and Adrianne shared a sleeper car, and I split one with a taciturn Thai man. We got some pretty good sleep to the clackety clack of the train, and arrived at 9am.
After checking into our hotel, I took Lindso and Adrianne on a forced march to see the best wats in a city of a hundred wats. Ok, so it was 92 degrees, with high humidity, and the traffic was thick with fumes. Soon I had a mutiny on my hands.

Songthaew ride down from Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. This wat is on top of a 3000ft hill a few miles outside town. The twisty switchback ride up got Lindso carsick. She just barely held on till we stopped at the top and then hurled out the back of the truck.

Lindso at the bottom of the 300 steps.

Inside the Wat. Lindso still recovering outside.

Girls in traditional garb dancing to music

Ubiquitous picture of King and Queen Bhumibol

Wat Chedi Luang was built in 1441. This wat has bells all around the exterior; for a small donation you can ring each of them for good luck.

Novice monks resting

The lone surviving elephant on Chedi Luang

A split second after I released two tiny sparrows from their wicker prison.

All over Asia you see people offering the chance to set free birds they have captured for a dollar or two. I'm sure these birds are either very easy to catch, or are trained to come back to their owners. Still, it's a cool feeling to set free birds that are clearly very eager to escape their little cage.
Wat Phra Singh was built in 1385. We really enjoyed this wat. It has a peaceful shaded garden behind the old Wat with benches and tables where one can sit and reflect upon the Buddhist quotes that are posted on the trees. We walked among the trees and read the quotes while monks came and went from their nearby monastery. It was a great refuge from the hot sun.

A concept that must be believed for any serious distance runner.

Words to live by.

It's all mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.

A great sign for a poor but dignified country. Can someone post this one on Wall Street?

Wat Chiang Man is the oldest wat in Chiang Mai, allegedly built in 1296.

I enjoyed my short time in Chiang Mai, and would have liked to see more of it. It is a big city, lots of traffic and noise, much bigger than I expected. Starbucks was right next to our hotel. The night market was excellent. Lots of bargains, good food, and good music.

In the afternoon I jumped in a red songthaew and headed for the airport and on to Laos.

Rangoon, Burma

Burma is a country of amazing absurdity, vast corruption, and shocking cruelty.
After the 1988 uprising and the resulting international condemnation due to gunning down thousands of unarmed protesters, Burma's new dictator changed the name of the country to Myanmar. Ostensibly, his reasons were that "Burma" is a colonial name, and not representative of the populous of the country. More likely is that he hoped the fresh new name of Myanmar would not be easily associated with repression and death. Most citizens still refer to their country as Burma, as do many international organizations and nations.
Absurdity: Burma's government has an unfortunate habit of declaring it's own banknotes to be worthless: In 1985, the 20, 50 and 100 kyat notes were demonetized and replaced with new kyat notes in the bizarre denominations of 25, 35 and 75, chosen because of dictator Ne Win's fondness for numerology; the 75-kyat note was introduced on his 75th birthday.
Only two years later, the government once again demonetized the 25, 35 and 75 kyat notes with no prior warning, rendering some 75% of the country's currency worthless. This time 15, 45 and 90-kyat notes was issued, incorporating Ne Win's favorite number 9. The resulting erasure of people's life savings led to serious riots and eventually the 1989 coup by yet another repressive general. Today the Burmese government sets an arbitrary and ridiculous exchange rate of 6 kyats to the dollar. If you exchange dollars at any bank, that is the rate you'll get. However, on the street, the exchange rate hovers around 1000 to the dollar, a mere 20,000% difference! Not surprisingly, the government owned airlines, trains, and hotels don't accept their own worthless kyat, only US dollars!
Burma's time zone is set not one hour behind it's neighbor Thailand, but a half-hour. Burma sees fit to break with the mold of time zone changes in one hour increments. Burma is one of only two nations that does not use the metric system. I won't mention the other one.
In 2005 the reclusive and paranoid military junta moved Burma's capital from Rangoon, a city of 6 million, and the hub of all economic activity, to tiny Naypyidaw, a remote mountainous region in the center of the country. The new capital is built like a fortress, and foreigners can only enter with pre-approval. No foreign embassies have been allowed to make the move. It is theorized that the government moved here to have a better chance to survive an American invasion by land, or a revolt by it's neglected population.
Burma is ranked #178 on the Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index. That means it is more corrupt than any nation in the world other than Somalia (which isn't really a a nation, but an anarchic Mad-Max like desert)
Burma is ranked fifth from last on personal freedoms by Freedom House. It squeaked by such vacation hot spots as Somalia, North Korea, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan.
Burma is ranked last in Asia for per capita income by the World Bank, with an estimated annual income of $233 per person. That's about 12 cents an hour for you forty-hour-a-week cubicle dwellers.

Foreign Policy magazine ranks Burma in a three way tie with Sudan and Somalia for worst Human Rights violator in the world. I guess the junta needs to create a Burmese pirate navy to claim first outright.
Pure evil: In 2008 the junta denied international aid to cyclone Nargis victims, adding thousands to a death toll of over 140,000. Government troop shot of over 3,000 protesters in 1988, many of them unarmed monks and students. Slave labor camps are believed to exist in the north, no access is allowed to any outsiders to confirm. Burma is #2 in Opium growing only to lovely Afghanistan. Burma is the only country who has jailed a Nobel Peace Prize winner, Aung San Suu Kyi.

Knowing all this, I looked into the global opinions on the morality of visiting Burma. Many organizations promote a boycott of all tourism to Burma. Their argument is strong and compelling. I was fully aware that the government owned all domestic airlines, the trains, the ferries, and the top-end hotels. I did not know that thousands of Burmese have been forcibly relocated and/or enslaved in forced labor camps in order to upgrade popular tourist areas. There is absolutely no denying that by visiting Burma, you are directly putting money into the hands of the junta. I'd be paying $20 for a tourist visa, $10 in departure tax, and $5 to visit the famed Shwedagon Stupa. To put it very clearly, that is at least $35 that I'll be handing to a group of murderers and rapists. There is no getting around it. How do I justify that? I'm not sure I have the correct answer. I would be staying at a small privately-owned guesthouse. I'll eat at only small street vendors. I'll hire trishaw and taxi drivers. I'll put dollars in the hands of regular folks. I'll make sure my contribution to the government is limited to getting in and out of the country. Is that enough? What else can I do?

Yangon is a sad, neglected, isolated city. Crumbling British colonial architecture abounds. The best buildings have been appropriated as government offices and freshly painted. The rest are disintegrating in place, untouched since the military dictatorship took over in the 60's. It is the only city I've ever seen that has no evidence of American consumer products. There is no McDonalds, no KFC, not even Coca-Cola. For that matter there are no ATM's, no tourist infrastructure, and no tourists.

I arrive as sparkling new Yangon International Airport and was quickly waved through immigration and customs. First impression is that the Burmese are really skinny. .I was met at the exit by an Indian man bearing a placard with my name on it. It really is such a wonderful thing to see someone holding up your name when you arrive bewildered in a strange land. It was even worth the $4 I know I overpaid in pre-arranging a taxi. Aru welcomed me to Burma with bloodshot eyes and red stained teeth. Chewing betel nut is popular here. He led me to his battered 1980 Nissan with tires so smooth and treadless, they may have been the original set. Though this was the most dilapidated taxi I had ever ridden in, it would prove to be the best I would see in Burma.

Just five minutes into the ride Aru turned to me and said "Do you know we have a lady under house arrest here?" Not shy to tell me about Aung San Suu Kyi, he pointed out the street on which she is imprisoned. "Can we drive by?" I asked. ""No way, blocked off." Instead I checked into my air-con, ensuite bathroom, single room at the MayShan Guesthouse for the princely sum of $15, then set out to walk the city. view of Sule Pagoda from the MayShan rooftop

I struggled through the shattered sidewalks among throngs of Burmese, feeling extremely self-conscious. I received stares from nearly everyone I passed. Mine was the only white face in the street. Children pointed and hid behind their mothers. When I travel to Asia, I feel like I'm getting an insight into the life of an NBA player. I'm only 6'1", but in Asia that makes me a freakish giant. No one wants to stand out as an obvious tourist, but it is unavoidable in Burma.

Yangon is fascinating to walk through. It is the most unusual city. The streets are packed with people selling everything imaginable. Yangon has no department stores, or hardware stores, or clothing stores. It has only tiny individually owned shops. There is one street selling screwdrivers. One big building is full of people working on 1950's era sewing machines. Another street is all underwear sales. It's all very interesting, but if you tire and want to sit in a shaded cafe, sip a cappuccino, and watch the world go by, forget it. Yangon's commerce caters to subsistence living. A hot meal from a street vendor is only 20 cents, but you'll have to sit on a child size plastic chair to eat it, just inches away from bus exhaust on one side, and an open sewer on the other. These are not the quaint, delicious hawker food courts of Malaysia and Singapore. I couldn't bring myself to risk the unrecognizable street food, so I walked and walked in hopes of finding and actual restaurant. Meanwhile, the mercury rose to 97.

I felt heat stroke was near, and sat on a kindergarten chair and drank an "Orange Crusher" soda. I passed orange robed monks, pink robed nuns, a few abaya clad women, and thousands of Longyi garbed, staring Burmese. Despite the poverty of Yangon, I saw no beggars, only nuns asking for alms.

novice nuns

Finally I reached the New Delhi restaurant. I was invited to pick any table by one of my six personal waiters. I was the New Delhi's only customer. My curry was decent, and I was brought generous helpings of extra rice. Midway through the meal the power went out to the city.

my Shwedagon tour guide

One item of pure beauty in Yangon is the world renowned Schwedagon Pagoda. Anyone who has travelled extensively in South-East Asia will eventually suffer from wat weariness/pagoda paralysis/Buddha boredom. Buddhists build a lot of temples. They are everywhere, and Lonely Planet will convince you that unless you see at least 37 of them in each city, you are missing a cultural experience. Well, I can say that if you only ever see one Buddhist temple, make it Shwedagon. It's the biggest, at 321 feet tall. It has 5,448 diamonds and 2,347 rubies, including a 76 carat diamond on top. Best of all, it is actually covered in gold! Several million dollars worth of gold plates cover the rounded part of the spire. I spent a couple hours walking around it (clockwise of course) at sunset. My tour guide was enthusiastic and knowledgeable, though not so fluent in English. I had to ask him if he felt it was normal to have a hundred million dollars worth of gold and diamonds sitting here, while people are starving and homeless due to cyclone Nargis? He replied, "Yes, because the Shwedagon Paya will always be here for every generation, and one man's life is short and temporary."

Sunset brought a shocking blackness to Yangon. No streetlights, almost no lit businesses, no bars or restaurants, just darkness. The upheaved sidewalks, the crush of people, and the smell of fried crickets no longer seemed exotic, just frightening. I group of urchins approached me begging for money. A boy of six or so displayed his bleeding head wound for extra credit.

I retreated to the one tourist quality restaurant I had seen, the only building with lights for several blocks. I prefer to "eat where the locals eat" when I travel, but this would take courage and much sleuthing in Yangon. Here I felt like a visitor from the future. With resignation, I gave in and stopped trying to bridge the gap.

Upon leaving the next morning I noticed how empty the airport is. For a city of six million, mine was the only international flight leaving all morning. Yangon truly exists outside the world economy. A pariah, propped up only by China, India, Singapore, and Malaysia; no one comes here. Burma is on the outside looking in.

Bangkok, Thailand

Bangkok, Thailand is a massive city of 8 million. What can I say about it that hasn't already been said? It's got insane traffic, it takes twice as long as you'd think to get anywhere. It's loud. It's got some pollution issues.

It also has a staggeringly beautiful Grand Palace. It has infamous nightlife. It's also has probably the best backpacker setup of any city on earth. I spent only a day and a half here, so I'm in no position to judge it. It's an overwhelming city at first, and you'd need to spend a week here to see everything.

Khao San Road is the ultimate backpacker ghetto. Spend a day on this street and you can get anything a backpacker could possibly want for next to nothing. T-Shirts, toe rings, tattoos, beer, drugs, a hostel bed, a bus ticket to Cambodia, a massage, a flight to Nepal, a tourist VISA for China, a fake press pass stating that you work for a Swiss financial newspaper, a cell phone SIM card, a memory stick for your camera, a fake international student ID, fake watches, fake sunglasses, fake dreadlocks...I love it.

Monks on a lunch break. How do they got their robes so bright? Must be colorsafe Tide.

This Reclining Buddha is very large. How large? I forget, but let's just say it's the largest Buddha I've ever seen, and I've seen more than a few.

Spires in the Grand Palace grounds.

The Grand Palace

Lindso imitating the goddess of something or other.

Sam imitates the monkey god Hanuman

The gold stupa inside the Grand Palace.

I'd like to come back to Bangkok someday, there's lots more to see. I also only had time to buy half of the cheap fake crap that I really wanted. There were several Japanese t-shirts with hilarious nonsensical English phrases that really should be in my collection. The best among them: a picture of a Star Wars stormtrooper in a Michael Jackson crotch holding stance, with "Smooth trooper loves yo momma's flapjacks" written on it.