Memories of Luang Prabang

                                                                     by Jim Goodman

 

      Luang Prabang, the old royal capital of Laos, first entered my consciousness during the Vietnam War, reading articles about the Pathet Lao advance on the city and a little background on its history.  Afterwards, while living in Korea, I heard tales from a few travelers of what it was like before 1975.  When I eventually moved to northern Thailand in 1988 my interest returned.  Laos opened to tourists in 1989, but unrestricted, unsupervised travel was only possible in Vientiane Prefecture.  To visit Luang Prabang one had to suffer the constant companionship of a government minder and go by plane round-trip, all expenses for the minder paid by the tourist. 

       In 1994 the Friendship Bridge, connecting Nong Khai with a point in Laos a little south of Vientiane, officially opened.  At the same time Laos changed its tourism rules and now people could go anywhere on their own.  One could also take any means of transportation, by air, road or river.  For my first trip that summer I chose the river route from Huey Sai in northern Laos, across from Chiang Khong, Thailand.   Two types of boats were possible:  the slow, bigger one, with some room to move around, stand on deck and sleep overnight, and the small, cramped speedboat, which took only six hours either way.  I took the latter.

       With the exception of the riverside town of Pakbeng, about halfway, the scenery is unremittingly similar, full of forests on both sides, with an occasional Hmông village of stilted houses along the route.  About 25 km before Luang Prabang, however, the boat passes very tall cliffs at the confluence of the Nam Ou River to the left and the Pak Ou Caves with their Buddhist images on the right.  The latter is a popular excursion out of the city, while a ride on the Nam Ou leads to the lovely rustic retreat of Muang Ngoi Neua.

       Compared to Vientiane, Luang Prabang is a small and quiet city, nestled in a mountainous landscape, a first view dominated by Phousi Hill and its chedi overlooking the city.  It has two distinct parts.  The original town lies on a narrow peninsula formed by the turns of the Nam Khan River coming down from the hills and flowing into the Mekong.  This is the Xieng Thong founded by Fa Ngun in 1367 as the capital of the new kingdom Lanexang.  The name changed when the state acquired the Phrabang Buddha image from a Khmer king and thenceforth became Luang Prabang.  The image, however, stored in the royal palace, was looted by Thai armies in 1778, returned in 1792, captured again in 1828, and given back again in 1867.

          Long before Fa Ngum, the Khamu minority established the first settlement in Luang Prabang, though how long ago has not been determined.  When many centuries later the Lao set up their first state here they recognized the Khamu as the spiritual owners of the land and their kings often employed Khamu shamans to conduct ceremonies honoring the land spirits.  The Lao themselves trace their origin to the myth of Khun Boulom, sent to earth, along with his two wives and a few others, by the King of Heaven to bring order and purpose to the world. 

       Upon his arrival he found a great gourd vine reaching to the sky and soon blotting out the sunlight.  Khun Boulom ordered people to cut it down, but knowing whoever cut it would subsequently die, no one was willing.  Finally an elderly couple who had descended with Khun Boulom, Phou Ngeu and Gna Gneu, volunteered, provided they would afterwards receive offerings from the people and their spirits would be invoked at the beginning of meals.  Phou Gneu and Gna Gneu then hacked away at the liana roots until the whole thing came tumbling down, killing them in the process.  Subsequently the Lao people revered them as the Magical Great Ancestors and keep their red masks and hairy costumes in Wat Aram to bring out during the New Year festivities in April.

       Khun Boulom’s two wives bore him seven sons and Khun Lo, the eldest, became the progenitor of the Lao people, settling in Xieng Thong.  To his other sons Khun Boulom gave the lands of Xieng Khouang, Sipsongpanna in Yunnan, Sipsong Chau Tai in northwest Vietnam,  Lanna in northern Thailand, the central plains of Siam, and Pegu in the delta areas of the Salween and Irrawaddy in Burma.  Tai peoples moved into many of these areas perhaps as early as the 6^th century, but lived under Khmer jurisdiction until the 13^th century, when Tai states formed in Lanna and Siam and in Luang Prabang the following century. 

       Lanexang ruled over most of the Lao population, though King Sethithirat I moved the capital to Vientiane in 1560.  The state broke up into three kingdoms in 1707—Luang Prabang, Xieng Khouang and Champassak.  In the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries Luang Prabang suffered from Thai invasions and to pre-empt the Thai from taking all of Laos the French moved in during the 1860s to establish a protectorate over the whole country.  The resultant construction of colonial settlers’ homes and new government offices gave Luang Prabang new architectural features, a legacy that would enhance its charm when it became a modern tourist attraction.

       The city was still the royal capital of Laos and the object of siege and capture during the anti-colonial war.  Fortunately, it did not suffer much damage then and during the Vietnam War it was far enough away from the Ho Chi Minh Trail not to experience aerial bombardment.  No bomb craters to visit here, unlike the pockmarked hills and plains of Xieng Khouang.  And when the Pathet Lao did take over they did not launch an iconoclastic campaign against the temples.  The new government discouraged religion but it was impossible to ban it altogether.  When the government relaxed its attitude the temples became as active as ever. The state now views them as valuable tourist attractions and worthy of upkeep.   

       Luang Prabang suffered a brief yet destructive occupation by Chinese Black Flag pirates in 1887, who damaged or destroyed all but one temple.  Only Wat Xiengthong, at the northeast end of the peninsula, emerged unscathed and though all the others have been restored, this classic structure is the most attractive and harmonious in the city.  It’s also one of the most tranquil locations, close to the river junction.  The compound’s atmosphere and the array of different exterior wall murals, on the subsidiary buildings as well, inspire an extended visit.

       Some murals depict scenes from the Buddha’s life, others fanciful figures of mythology and vignettes of daily life.  Most are paintings, but some employ low-relief sculptures, like one of half-naked maidens in a lotus pond.  Paintings illustrating scenes of farming, caring for animals, bearing loads on the back, using boats, chatting, weaving and cooking provide insights into the rural life just a short distance outside the city, confirmed by a hike up the Nam Khan.  A vignette might be of the morning alms rounds of the monks, which one could witness live on the road from Phousi Hill on the southwest end of the peninsula to the Ashoka Stupa of Wat Visounarath.   

       I observed this the morning after my arrival, though in drizzling rain with the devotees crouched over their offerings under umbrellas.  The rain ceased afterwards and it was still early, so I was off to the nearby produce market.  It looked much the same as Thailand markets, save for the stall selling French bread.  The weather didn’t improve and after a few days I left, but with an overall positive impression, especially of its polite and friendly people, and a desire to return.

       The next year 1995 Luang Prabang achieved recognition as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and in sunny March, 1997 I returned for a longer stay.  Not much had changed yet, nor was it crowded, and backpackers outnumbered tour groups, who were mostly Thai.  The only difference was the addition of a Hmông handicrafts market next to the pier where the tour boats landed.  The street on the peninsula along the Nam Khan River side still featured the colonial era homes, many of them serving as shop houses catering to local residents with a variety of goods for daily use.  Fancier hotels and restaurants had gone up on the other side of Phousi Hill, but I preferred the open-air ones on the Mekong side of the peninsula and again indulged in my favorite meal of spiced fish steamed in banana leaves, served with cold Beer Lao while watching the sunset.

       I visited the old royal palace this time, which stands at the end of a road flanked by towering palm trees.  I walked through Wat Xiengthong compound again and more closely examined the black and gold pillars and gilded wall murals of Wat Mai.  Inside one of the temples on the road along the Mekong an artist on a scaffold was delicately restoring old classical mural paintings on the upper part of the wall. 

       Exploring beyond the city, I hiked three km southeast along the Nam Khan River to Wat Phan Pao, a two-story, octagonal, light ochre building topped by a golden chedi, unlike any of the temples in the city.  Another day I rode downriver to Kuangsi Falls, a popular attraction.  My visit coincided with a celebration of some kind in the village next to the falls.  Folks invited me for food and drink and to watch the dances.  I enjoyed that as much as the sight of the falls.

       I made a third journey six years later in May, flying in to get an aerial view of the city and its environment.  After arrival I also crossed the river to take photos of the city from a new angle.  I had a story assignment on paper production, both the sa paper in Luang Prabang and the type made from elephant dung in Hongsa, Xayaboury Province.  So I spent little time in the city itself, but did notice the greater number of tourists and the conversion of many shop houses into lodges, tourist agencies and restaurants advertising vegetarian meals and internet service.

       A final excursion in June, 2004 confirmed this trend.  All the shop houses were now tourist-oriented facilities.  At night the entire street turned into a handicrafts market, with mostly Lao vendors rather than Hmông.  At the morning alms round camera-flashing tourists outnumbered both the monks and the devotees together.  The best temples had ticket booths at the gates.    The highest priced entry was Wat Xiengthong, but I didn’t mind paying as I was keen to view the murals again.     

       I had clear skies for the most part and took advantage of this to photograph many of the temples, chedis and houses.  I spent most of one day at the enchanting Tat Sae waterfalls in a forest above the city.  Unlike the Kwangsi falls that tumble over a cliff, at Tat Sae branches of a stream slide over a series of stone terraces.  Children play in the pools beside the falls and Lao families picnic on the banks.  It seemed to be more popular with locals than with tourists, as none were around.

          My other adventure in the area was the boat ride from Luang Prabang to Muang Ngoi Neua.  The boat goes upriver past the Pak Ou Caves, then turns up the Nam Ou River at the steep high cliff next to its confluence with the Mekong.  Muang Ngoi Neua lies an hour’s ride further upriver, passing steep hills and karst landscapes.  A small village of stilted wooden houses with thatch roofs, and a few artillery shells from the war used as garden ornaments, this was an ideal rural retreat.  The main activity was watching passing boats and the fishing on the river.  Proposed dams threatened this environment, but at the time they hadn’t been constructed yet.

       But they had in China already, in several locations on their portion of the Mekong, and were beginning to go up in Laos.  The first was underway near Pakbeng, which would terminate those boat journeys from Huey Sai to Luang Prabang.  Another was scheduled just downstream from the World Heritage Site.  I had the feeling that this fourth trip would be the last chance to see Luang Prabang and vicinity in its original environment.  Afterwards my travels and research resumed focus on Yunnan and Vietnam, but I kept up with news of Luang Prabang developments.

          In response to ecologists’ opposition to the dams, the Lao government contended that as a resource-poor country its main possible export was the electricity generated by the dam projects.  Recent photographs of the city show that it now lies next to a large reservoir that floods the original landing pier and gives it a very different appearance from the view I had across the river back in 2004.  I can’t envision returning anymore.  But I still have my memories.

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Farewell to the Four Thousand Islands

                                                                       by Jim Goodman

typical scenery in Siphandon

       In southern Laos, just above the Cambodian border, the Mekong River suddenly splits into separate streams that swirl around an archipelago the Lao call Siphandon—Four Thousand Islands.  Then it tumbles over the Khone Falls, a broad, massive cataract on the eastern branch and a series of falls over rocky terrain on the western side.  In recent times this has become a popular tourist excursion, a unique scenic area, famed as one of the most tranquil, laid-back places in the country and one of the last homes of the Irrawaddy dolphin.

       Siphandon’s residents are farmers and fishers, living the same way their ancestors did ever since it was first inhabited.  Nothing much ever happened there throughout most of its history, other than seasonal phenomena and religious and life-cycle ceremonies.  For a while though, in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, the Siphandon area attracted intrepid explorers and adventurers seeking to breach the navigation barrier of the Khone Falls and make the Mekong the River Road to China.

river scene near Don Khon

       After an unsuccessful assault on Danang in 1957 and withdrawal to the south, French military forces finally seized Saigon in 1861 and pressured the Vietnamese government the following year to cede the city and its surrounding Mekong Delta provinces.  The next year they compelled Cambodia to become a French protectorate.  But back in Paris the government wasn’t sure keeping Cochinchina, as the southern third of Vietnam was called, was such a good idea.  Saigon was far from being the great commercial port it would become later and the rural area was still sparsely populated.  How could such a colony prosper enough to be worth the costs of maintaining control of it?

       Opposing this view was that propagated by the most enthusiastic imperialists, who argued that the Mekong River was the route to the riches of China.  They didn’t really know much about the river, other than it originated somewhere up on the Tibetan Plateau, or the nature of its course down through Yunnan in southwest China to eventually reach the South China Sea.  So they advocated exploration up the river to verify their claim and thus provide justification for keeping the new colony.

on the edge of the Four Thousand Islands

       In 1866 the French government authorized the Mekong Expedition to explore as far up the river as they could go.  Under the command of Doudart de Lagrée, consisting of six French explorers, including Francis Garnier, one of the most vociferous proponents of the expedition, three interpreters and about a dozen soldiers and militiamen, the group departed Saigon in two steam-powered gunboats on 5 June 1866.

       It was easy enough getting to Phnom Penh, taking an excursion up the Tonle Sap River to see the ruins at Angkor Wat and returning to Phnom Penh.  But when they proceeded upriver to Kratie they had to change to canoes and get past the Sambor Rapids, the first great obstacle to free navigation on the river.  Then, crossing into Laos they encountered the Khone Falls.  Here the cataracts spanned a width of eleven kilometers, with jagged boulders separating falls that were often twenty meters high.  It was an awe-inspiring view, but totally depressing as well, for the falls appeared insurmountable, demolishing the River Road to China dream.

Khone Phapeng Falls

       After hiking around the falls the Expedition team rested in Champassak and continued upriver to Yunnan, mostly on foot, its purpose now simply exploration.  Lagrée died in China and Garnier, subsequently convinced the Red River would be the River Road to China, lost his life during an abortive assault on Hanoi in 1873.  A decade later though, the French successfully seized Hanoi, then Huế, and forced Emperor Tự Đức to confirm Cochinchina as a French colony and the rest of the country as a French protectorate.  They also moved into Laos around the same time, competing with the British, who would soon grab Upper Burma. 

       If it wasn’t going to be the River Road to China, the French still fancied the Mekong as the link between upper and lower Indochina and, perhaps the River Road to the Riches of Laos, like timber, for example.  In the mid-80s they started blasting rocks in the Sambor Rapids and by 1887 steamboats could reach the Khone Falls.  New attempts to find a way through the falls failed and French officials slowly began to consider trans-shipment from below the falls to a point above them.

the retired French locomotive

       In 1893 the French decided, in line with their ‘gunboat diplomacy’ at the time with Siam, contesting sovereignty over Laos, to put gunboats on the Mekong above the Khone Falls.  This also involved finding a way past the falls.  They began laying tracks from Don Khon’s southeast corner to the northern end of the island, a distance of five kilometers.  But when the boat coming up from Cambodia was disassembled for trans-shipment in 1894 there were only enough rails for three kilometers.  Laborers hauled the cargo over the track for the three kilometers while others removed the rails from the section just traveled, relayed them to the front and laid them down on the rest of the track until its terminus.  Finally they reassembled the components and the French had their gunboat on the Mekong.

the bridge linking Don Khon with Don Det

       This feat did not stop everyone from thinking this was not the only way to get past Khone Falls.  In 1902 Peter Hauff, a Norwegian adventurer who moved to Saigon as a young man, managed to steer a 16-meter boat up and over the Khone Falls.  This was an astounding achievement, but didn’t lead to any reassessment of the possibilities for regular commercial traffic through the falls.  Hauff shortly afterwards organized the dispatch of 1200 logs in rafts from Luang Phabang all the way to Saigon.  Amazingly enough, despite the obstacles along the route, the rafts made it.  But this, too, turned out to be a one-off accomplishment.  No one followed him up.

trees on the trail beside Somphanit Falls

cataract of the Somphanit Falls

        The French eventually filled the rest of the Don Khon track with rails, brought in a locomotive in 1897, which could haul up to twelve cargo-laden cars over the tracks, and in 1920 built a bridge to Don Det and extended the line to the north end of that island.  But the train never saw a lot of service, though it remained in operation until 1940.  It sometimes transported river travelers coming up from Saigon and going to Luang Phabang.  But that journey took 35 days and required eight changes of vessels, longer than it took to go from Saigon to Marseilles.  The French eventually abandoned their commercial ambitions for the country.  Laos wasn’t the Land of Riches after all.  It was the Land of Lotus-Eaters.  When they finally departed the only evidence left of their presence in the Four Thousand Islands was the abandoned railway line. 

twilight at Siphandon

       Years later, when Laos opened the country to tourists in the 1990s, the Four Thousand Islands began attracting a new kind of explorer—tourists.  Highway 13 linked Pakse with Ban Khenat village, in the heart of Siphandon, from where travelers boarded small boats up to Don Khong or down to Don Det.  A luxury hotel went up on Don Khong, the large island at the north side of Siphandon, from where tourists could take a boat ride south through the islands down to the falls.  The great majority of visitors, however, were budget-minded backpackers, heading for the cheap guesthouses on Don Det and Don Khon.  In the early 2000s you could get a room for a dollar a night and share a bathroom/shower or, for just two dollars, a room with its own shower. 

beginning of the Somphanit Falls

       Rooms were furnished with a bed, table and chair, mosquito net and oil lamp, for there was no electricity anywhere except one up-market hotel on Don Khon that had its own generator.  Guests there had hot water, lights and refrigerator.  Backpackers didn’t think they needed such amenities.  They didn’t stay up late anyway, for early morning was the best hiking time.  Fishing boats were out early, buffaloes wading offshore, birds fluttering in the trees.  Walking along the shores of Don Det and Don Khon gave you great views of the little islets speckling the river surface, especially in the dry season.  More of them were visible then, some just little clumps of grassy earth a few meters wide, others long and narrow and some big enough for a small hamlet.

       The bridge connecting the two islands was still in place and you could follow the old French railway line from one end to the other.  The old locomotive stood in a field on Don Khon, but the railway tracks had all been removed, used as fences by the villagers or to span narrow creeks.  From the bridge a trail ran along the west side of Don Khon, following a rocky branch of the river and the several cataracts of the Somphanit Falls.  The trail stayed high on the bank with a clear view to appreciate the power of the river as it roared over the boulders.   

Somphanit Falls has several cataracts.

       To see the Khone Phapeng Falls on the eastern side of Siphandon is a different experience.  You have to take a boat to a viewing stand below the falls.  There’s no way to walk along the route of the falls, which span a wider section of the river than the ones on the western side of Don Khon.  The sound of the Khone Phapeng Falls is much greater, almost deafening, and standing on the viewing stand you can try to imagine just which route Peter Hauff used to take his boat up and over the falls and how he managed to convey his orders to his crew.

       Besides the river scenery, Siphandon’s other main attraction is the presence of the Irrawaddy dolphin in the pool of water along the border with Cambodia.  Less than ninety dolphins swim in this part of the river.  To see them you boarded a boat at the former loading dock at the south end of Don Khon, got a temporary visit permit from the Cambodian border police and then spent an hour or so afloat scanning the waters around you for glimpses of the dolphins as they broke the surface of the water for an intake of air.  The dolphins did this rather quickly and mostly all you saw was the back and fin creasing the surface and then submerging, and that you caught mainly from the corner of your eye.  Occasionally you could see the entire body and in any case the only hours you could be confident of spotting them were just after sunrise and just before sunset. 

Don Det early morning

              Unfortunately, it’s going to get even harder to see any dolphins at all soon.  Already an endangered species, when construction begins this year on the Don Sahong Dam the dolphins seemed doomed to extinction.  The dam will straddle the Hou Sahong channel between Don Sahong and Don Sadam, right above the dolphins’ habitat.  This is the principal upriver migration route for the dolphins and other river species of fish, such as carp and catfish, including the pladuck, a rare type of catfish that can reach three meters in length and weigh up to nearly three hundred kilograms.

       Supporters of the project, mainly Lao government officials and spokesmen for the Malaysian engineering company contracted to build it, say that the removal of traps from other channels will induce the fish to use these instead.  Opponents argue that has not worked in other cases where dams blocked traditional fish migration routes.  The project will also divert a large portion of the river that runs over the nearby Khon Phapeng Falls, considerably reducing its majesty, and permanently submerge parts of the archipelago, obliterating the unique scenery of the entire southeast quarter of Siphandon. 

Siphandon sunset

       Dam advocates say the country is poor and has few exploitable resources besides waterpower.  The completed dam will generate 260 mw of electricity, which will be sold to Thailand and Cambodia.  Opponents counter the benefits are not worth the environmental damage.  It will destroy the nature of what the Mekong Secretariat in 1994 described as “an ecologically unique area that is essentially a microcosm of the entire Lower Mekong River…Such a site is so rare in nature that every effort should be made to preserve all of Siphandon.”

       Twenty years later that recommendation has been ignored.  Removal of traps from other channels and evacuation of people from the construction vicinity began this month.  At least the people will have someplace to go and start life afresh.  As for the fish, particularly the dolphins, they will have to endure the blasting of rocks in and below the Hou Sahong channel, intense industrial activity, changes in the water flow, constant disturbance, disorientation and stress. 

       How the dam project will affect the rest of Siphandon is difficult to predict.  Certainly fewer tourists will come, as there will be less to enjoy.  The dolphins face a gloomy future, though.  Like the evacuated farmers and fishers they’ll have to bid farewell to the Four Thousand Islands.  But they are not likely to find a new place to live.  They won’t have the option that humans have.  They’ll just become extinct, like the pterodactyl, the ichthyosaur, the saber-toothed tiger and, apparently, the human duty to preserve the natural beauty of the earth.

"a site so rare in nature"

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Xishuangbanna: the Tropics of Yunnan

    
 by Jim Goodman

     For most of its history Xishuangbanna existed as an autonomous state on the remote southern periphery of China, run by the same Dai family since the 12th century. Lying in the tropical zone, on the northern rim of Southeast Asia, with flora and fauna not only unlike the rest of China, but even unique in Yunnan province, it has had close ethnic and cultural relations with its neighbors in Myanmar, Thailand and Laos.

     The valleys are home to the Dai nationality, while several ethnic minorities inhabit the hills. Xishuangbanna: the Tropics of Yunnan narrates the history and development of the Dai people, their culture, society and religion, from ancient times through the period of incorporation into the Chinese state. It also covers the characteristics of the lifestyle, culture and celebrations of the peoples of the mountains, as well as the economic and political changes of recent times and their effects on both hill and plain. The book contains over 280 photographs.

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Link to My book on Amazon Kindle

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EUZBIWK

Link to LULU

 http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/xishuangbanna-the-tropics-of-yunnan/14069400