rakish richard's rants...

It Is Possible To Eat Too Many Baguettes...

OOOOO, I've really got my blog on now, so 'wattchout!' That's 'wattchout!', like how James Brown would say it, not how some miserable extra* playing a dock worker in a bad suspense thriller would yell it as he saw the first of numerous evildoers scale the perimeter fence.

Jeepers, that whole 'Plain of Jars' really is quite something to see. Since my last post, we had a nice little travel day, heading out of Luang Prabang (it's so hard to say goodbye) on the public bus for Phonsavanh. We chose seats down the back, cos that's where the ARMED GUARD sat, making us feel right at home with his expressionless face and lack of English. I thought it was an AK, but there were a few on the bus certain it was a Kalashinikov. I can't tell anymore, it's been years since by boots saw the parade ground, but he was a nice enough chap in the end, and given all the teenagers and other non-uniformed folk with assault rifles we saw during the day - an all round good guy to have about.

Arriving in Phonsavanh was a pretty normal affair, but it didn't take to long to notice just how close this country still is to the years and years of war it has endured. Most of the trucks are ex-Vietnamese heavy troop vehicles, patched together (presumably) with parts from the wrecks of other, older ex-Vietnamese heavy troop vehicles that are scattered around. Most prevalent however, are the leftovers of war which are now literally part of the city - notably the American bomb casings which are used for everything from seats and tables, to stilts for the houses. As our bus got closer to Phonsavanh we saw houses roofed with the round lids of fuel tins, cluster bomb casings being used as feed troughs, and pressed steel all-weather airstrip panels as wall cladding. Not surprisingly, Phonsavanh is not yet even 30 years old, as it was only founded when the local residents emerged from 9 years of hiding in caves and found their entire district had been blown to pieces and was covered with unexploded cluster bombs. Of the various materials available, war junk was in plentiful supply...

The next morning (freezing, I might add. I thought I'd forgotten how to feel cold...) we boarded our van with our local guide, Long Wan (stop giggling) and headed to the first of the three jar sites. (I looked into the whole 'wrecked plane' site, but was told that it's all been cleaned up now, and there's nothing but a rusting Russian Tank to be seen... I tried... ) Being a fount of local knowledge, Long insisted on pulling us over to show us the local swallow farming operation, which really deserves an explanation;

Littered on the hills are little huts, with a bare patch of earth out the front, perhaps 8m by 5m. This holds a pair of nets in a stiff rectangular frame, held flat on the ground in the 'open' position. Inside the hut a small lad waits for swallows to come down and say hello to Mr. Captive Swallow - who is tied up in the bare ground between the nets - at which point he pulls his string, closing the nets, and he's hit feathered gold. But, it seems that waiting, and pulling a string, were a little too strenuous - and another more modern method was adapted. Atop the hut (remember? hut? young lad waiting?) the farmers have now erected a long bamboo pole, complete with many side branches. Now - here's the trick; as you might expect, captive swallows are used to lure other birds down BUT, the branches are coated with glue, and as each extra bird lands the poor wee fellow is trapped, becoming yet another decoy, so ad infinitum.

The birds are a big hit at the local markets, enough said.

So, the Plain of Jars... For some reason I can't add weblinks to this post, so you'll have to do the donkey work yourselves if you want to see some pictures. We stopped at all three sites during the course of the day, each being a collection of between 100-300 stone jars carved approximately 3000 years ago, sitting atop three hills in the district. My theory about a 'colossal pickling monopoly' was promptly rejected, as the local legend suggests they are in fact buffalo skins, hardened over the eons - well, I was close...

We trekked between two of the sites, having lots of fun filming 30 second news reports on my camera, and talking to Long. So, I have gone on a little about the bombings, but it was when we were walking between the sites, coming down into a wide valley, that you can really start to see the pounding the area took. There are craters as far as you can see, and what's really horrific is that these bombs weren't aimed at anything - everything you can see has simply been carpet bombed into oblivion. In 1992, upwards of 100,000 pieces of ordanance were still being located and destroyed annually. Have a look here if you're interested;

Read: http://www.itvs.org/pressroom/pressRelease.htm?pressId=109

Laos is a poor country still losing lives to bombs dropped 30 years ago in operations which contradicted the Geneva Accord. These bombs are true terror weapons, so if you're looking for a cause, give some help to the Mines Advisory Group. Given that these devices have been dropped in Kuwait, Iraq, the Falklands, Ethiopia, the Sudan, Sierra Leone, Chechnya, and Kosovo (not to mention their current use in Afghanistan) - they'll have their work cut out for them for a while yet.

OK, I promise not to mention the war,

any more...

Righty-hoo! So, our day out on the Plain of Jars was a tough one, lots of sun, walking and a LOT of jars. Still, there's something very eerie about being around things that are so ancient and roughly finished(like Berin's model plane) and it's something I'd highly recommend.

We were pretty tired little kiddies that night, but as luck would have it, we met up with some of the folks we'd taken the river boat with, and trotted straight to the local town fair, which happened to be on at the time. As usual, there were all the young guys with AK's, an awful lot of barbequeing (my chicken was so raw that the owner actually took it back to re-cook it, eeeeewwww...), and some strange sort of competitive drumming - a lot like Taiko, for all you 日本に住んでいる人。 Seeing as I still had my raw chicken to eat, as well as the requisite single dinner bottle of Beer Lao to finish, Jules took off on a walk to take another look at the drumming. Her return later was reminiscent of Roberto Benigni's 1998 Oscar Win, as she proudly announced she had participated in some kind of 'Duelling Drumsticks' type drum solo competition. Unfortunately I wasn't there to see it, but papier-mache effigies are being put up all over town as we speak, as she seems to have attained the status of Sun-God in these parts.

But, time was short, so we flew the coop and made for the capital, Vientiane, where we are now. We splashed out on the V.I.P. bus, fat lot of good our extra dollar over the public bus did us, as when we stopped for lunch our brakes were on fire.

That has happened to me SOOOOOOO many times...

Vientiane is very cool, and Helen (Clark - we go way back) - if you're reading, I'm pleased to report that there is a hive of activity surrounding the upcoming ASEAN conference, it's gonna look real perrrrty here when you arrive.

Yesterday we went to the spectacular Wat That Luang - a massive golden stupa at the end of town's main avenue, and today's highlight (along with finding the incredibly fortified American Embassy and determining that Julie can cast here vote here instead of faffing about with postal nonsense) would have to be the Buddha Park, featuring loads of unconventional statues (Buddha pulling on the leg of a massive cockroach, Buddha with four heads, a giant pumpkin with a depiction of the three levels of Hell, Life, and Heaven depicted inside, and a nonsensically large reclining figure of - Buddha) and a good view over the Mekong. It's been a pretty good time here in Vientiane, but my high baguette consumption is tearing my mouth to shreds; curse the French and their crusty breads!

Tomorrow is our last day before heading down to Pakse, where we'll stay on one of the islands in the Mekong, then it's a short bus ride, palming a few dollars to the border guards, and we'll be in Cambodia!

This little laddie's off to bed, another big day planned before we board our first night bus in a while. I'm currently reading The Penguin Complete History of The Second World War, which should pass the time; 1350 pages, 150 maps, 3 authors.

Big war. Big Book.

Congratulations also to John Howard - you big doofus, I've already met Australians who've politely asked if it's possible to become honourary New Zealanders for the next four years. Good one.

Your man turning the political content up to 11,

Arch :)



*No offense intended to Jurgen Masterton, who worked excellently as “Dock Worker 4”, “Attendant at Party”, and “Crane Victim (as a boy)” in the hugely successful “Port Violators”, the widely panned “Party! Party! Party?”, and the deeply emotional “My Daddy Wasnt Just A Crane Driver” respectively.

posted by Arch @ 10:06 PM