This was published 15 years ago
Touched with magic
Maria Fairweather discovers how a war-ravaged country survived the battles, the bombs and the march of modern development.
By Maria Fairweather
'Keep your eyes on the river - we'd better not stray north of it," said the pilot as he dipped the Beaver's wings to give us a better look. We could just make out the Mekong through cloud mixed with smoke from the slash-and-burn farming used by the Hmong hill tribesmen. We all knew there was a risk of being shot at by the Chinese Army, which was said to be deployed north of the Mekong.
It was April 1975, and we had recently arrived in Laos, where my husband had taken up a post at the British embassy in Vientiane. We were travelling to Ban Huay Sai in the Golden Triangle, the famous trading and opium-growing area that straddles Laos, Burma and Thailand.
Thirty-one years later, we stood on the river bank at Ban Huay Sai, sipping tea and waiting for our visas to be authorised. We had arrived by car from northern Thailand and were waiting for the Luang Say boat, a specially adapted Mekong barge, which was to take us down river on a two-day journey to the old royal capital, Luang Prabang.
The journey took us across a landscape that, to our astonishment and joy, had hardly changed. Tropical forests cover the hills and mountains on either side of the river. Despite logging and forest clearance, almost half the country is covered by such forests. They are, with the river, the most important natural feature of Laos, a source of food and timber, home to rare species of flora and fauna - and to many pi or spirits.
A Hmong village we stopped at was distressingly poor. Three decades ago, the Hmong were colourfully dressed, the women covered in silver ornaments, selling their patchwork hangings and jewellery. The Hmong, who had fought alongside the Americans in the Vietnam War, had suffered terribly; almost a third of the tribe had been killed and many more had fled to Thailand.
Further down river, we saw people panning for gold and passed a village of Yao - a Daoist people who migrated from China.
An overnight stay at the Luang Say lodge in Pakbeng, a small town halfway between Ban Huay Sai and Luang Prabang, is worth the journey in itself. The traditional Lao-style wooden houses, simply but comfortably furnished, with modern bathrooms and magnificent views, are a delight.
The rising sun was stripping the mountain tops of their veils of mist as we left early the next morning for a second day on the river.
We arrived in Luang Prabang as the sun was about to set and climbed the flights of almost perpendicular steps that take you up from the low, dry-season river to the town, recently designated a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Luang Prabang is startlingly beautiful. Golden temple roofs rise above flowering trees, while the mix of French colonial architecture and traditional Lao houses on stilts, and the cobbled tree-lined streets, add to its charms.
The next day, we woke at dawn to see the daily alms-giving to the monks and novices, when processions of saffron-robed and barefoot men and boys set off from the monasteries to receive rice and other food. It is customary in Laos for both men and boys to spend some time in a monastery - a spiritual rather than military service.
Our hotel, the Maison Souvannaphoum, was formerly the residence of Prince Souvanna Phouma, who was prime minister when we were here last. With its 21 rooms, colonial-style architecture and tropical gardens full of orchids and fruit trees, it has everything you would expect from a luxury hotel. Most of the new hotels and restaurants are restored old houses.
Luang Prabang has the best food in Laos. L'Elephant Brasserie, with its cane furniture and palms, is the smartest place in town, and the food excellent, although dear. Many cheap riverside restaurants with ravishing views serve traditional and simple Lao, Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese food.
Eight days gave us plenty of time to visit some of the 30 or so wats (religious centres) of Luang Prabang and to climb the Phou Si (Sacred Hill), to take in the breathtaking panorama of the town.
The Wat Xiang Thong (Golden City monastery) is in the old town at the tip of the promontory. The main temple must be the world's loveliest Buddhist temple. Built in 1560, its three overlapping roofs float almost to the ground. The black and dark-red walls, decorated with stencilled gold-leaf designs, rest on a pediment covered in a deep peacock blue-mirrored mosaic. Inside, a great golden Buddha surrounded by many smaller ones gazes at the offerings of flowers laid before him. The walls are covered with scenes from the life of Buddha and explicit depictions of hell.
I will never forget our first Pi Mai (New Year, which falls in April) in Luang Prabang. We had set off in Land Rovers from Vientiane along a road as terrifying as it was beautiful. As we ate a picnic lunch in a clearing, the explosions of the ever-closer war merged with the innocent bangs of the New Year festivities. We returned to Vientiane by air.
Every trip to Luang Prabang was touched with magic, whether for the boat festivals, when the long pirogues (flat-bottomed boats) compete in races at the end of the flooding season in October, or for a friend's wedding, the neighbourhood full of the sounds of khens (reed flutes) and drums. I was delighted to discover that the magic remained undimmed by the passage of time.
We had left Laos at a time of great fear and sorrow: many of our friends had been forced to flee, and the country was ravaged by war. It was also virtually untouched by modern development. We returned to a country at peace, struggling to put the past behind it. I could only hope, as Laos strives to develop, that the guardian spirits of rivers and forests, the benign pi, be extra vigilant in protecting this enchanting country.
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