Plain of Jars, Phonsavan

Before we even decided on our final route, i had secretly came out with the different alternatives that will somehow land us at Plain of Jars. During the semester, i was taking this History module, From Wheel to Web, and i was intrigued by the background of these jars. What got me hooked on this attraction was its dubious legacy. Well, according to Wikipedia and many other websites, no one knew for sure where these jars came from or what they were used for. Some villagers claimed that it was for burial purposes and others, the preservation of food and water. But the spookiest (not sure if this is the best choice of word use) factor was that the limestone did not come from Asia and it is almost impossible for these 2,000 tons to travel across water.

But anyway, we set foot at Plain of Jars after spending 1/4 night at this slightly haunted hostel by the bus terminal... Or maybe it was the full moon's effect. It wasn't pleasant, either way. We came from km52 and the journey was about 9 hours ride. The temperated dipped and we were almost preserved by the time we reached the bus terminal. Do remember to have enough local currency, else you're in for some intense ripping off. 

Yes, the hostel at the bus terminal. (Avoid at all cost)

Post bombings from 2nd Vietnam War

--

We only went to Site 1, because yes, I was being the biggest coward and skeptical about Sites 2 and 3. But allow me a chance to justify my cowardice. Phonsavan, especially the Plain of Jars area, is one of the most heavily bombed area in the world. (Even more intensive than the bombs dropped in Germany and Japan during the Second World War.) And this was due to the discovery of the HCM Trial during Johnson's presidency that he systemized his Rolling Thunder Operation. Let me break down the intensiveness and extensiveness of the bombings -- at the rate of 1 bomb / 9 min for 9 years continuously. And the thing is, the U.S. planes could not land with the bombs at the back, so they did secret bombings in Laos, and 70% of the bombs were not denoted, hence becoming land mines. The entire population was wiped out and people continuously lived in fear. 

But it's really puzzling (???), heart-warming (???), i can't even find a suitable word to describe my respect and the pain i have for the people in that area. The kind of forgiveness they have in them and to use to bomb remains to make their quality of life better. Okay fine, obviously i don't expect them to be grieving and stagnate, but, i admit, i am loss of words here. 

--

We were pretty lucky to have met an English speaking Tuk Tuk driver who quoted us a price way below the average we've researched. It was 15USD for the two of us, if i do remember correctly, but definitely not pricier than that. And he left us at his sister's cafe and even booked a sleeper bus for our later journey to Hanoi. 

Fate, maybe. 

x

Chronic remorse is the most undesirable sentiment. If you behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrong doing because rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean. The badness should be hunted out, acknowledged and, if possible, avoided in the future.

Sanity is impossible. On the contrary, sanity is a rather rare phenomenon. It can be achieved and would like to see more it.

-- Brave New World.

Km52, Vientiane, Laos -- you've changed me too much

As much as I hate to admit this, I wasn't much of an expert of Laos' demographics and culture before I started my backpacking trip. (Not hinting that I hold a Ph.D in that now...) Anyway, I discovered km 52 village by chance while searching for a couch in Vientiane. Km52 village is literally 52 kilometres away from the city centre of Vientiane and easily accessible by a local bus.

Directions: The bus station at the Old Market, walk all the way to the end and board pay only USD 2 for a bumpy but interesting ride to Km52 Village. Definitely, there’ll be heaps of touts for more comfortable ride, but if you’re low on budget, why not just squeeze yourself on the local bus with a delicious Bahn Mi. (Advisable to write ‘km 52’ and ‘Hmong’ on a piece of paper, else no one is going to understand you. But given the decades of animosities between Laotians and Hmongs, you’ll probably get a few snares.)

So our couch hosts, Yukivang and Soukha, gave us directions to alight at Km52's bus stop. To put it bluntly, we were just two city dwellers staring aimlessly at all those straw-topped stalls and desperately trying to figure out which of them were actually bus stops, while balancing our butts on the miserable wooden planks with backpacks strapped on our legs. Not unexpected, we missed the said bus stop and the driver probably hit the end of the route, turned around and asked where we were headed to. I actually felt the blush of embarrassment instantly. 

Fast forward; met our hosts and they settled us in a lovely little guesthouse but the price was jacked up doubly because it was the Hmong New Year. Yuki picked us up from the guesthouse and brought us to his village by foot. The experience was beyond words because all I was capable of were snapping pictures of the place with my eyes and storing them in my literal memory. Sat at his porch for what seemed like eternity before the other teenagers from the village came to join us. Later at night, Yuki’s family prepared dinner for us, I ate so much, I think I finished one week’s supply of food. It was simple home cooked dishes but it warms my insides to be eating together at a small table with just a light bulb suspended and hovering above our heads. It was at that moment where I realized I took 20 years of my being in a developed city for granted. From the streetlights to the cemented roads, water heaters, proper bedding and of course, the weight of education that is a luxury good sought after by them.

Ditched Vang Vieng’s tubing and massive drinking for another day in Km52 village for Hmong New Year’s celebration and time with our new friends. That sincerity in their eyes definitely outweighed the pre-planned activities and schedule. The day spent celebrating New Year with them can easily be one of the best moments for my entire trip. Has been four months since Ping and I came back to our concrete-jungle-paper-chase reality but that particular experience had definitely changed us, for the better, or not. I wished we didn’t have to leave the village and we dragged our feet back to the hostel because it was about time we move on to the next destination. 

PS. All these pictures just brought back all the feels. The slow music playing from my Mac isn't helping. :'(

Mister Sun

Something about the sun captures me. 

Vientiane, Laos. Our nightmare.

Friendship bridge was anything but friendly. All we got were stares and violent arm-pulling from the tuktuk drivers. The only thing lacking was probably bruises on our arms. All we wanted was to head to Vientiane City centre in one piece, at a low price. So, like poultry, we were dumped on this SongTheow. Just that we were unwanted poultry for being too measly with our spending. But impatient face and ultimately, the pretend-to-be-angry-and-walk-away tactic worked and we got the SongTheow moving immediately at price of USD 4 for 2. (Insert celebratory emoji) 

We were half expecting to see streams of backpackers or tourists along the way. Instead the gravel caused a PSI of 900 and we only saw pain in our eyes. "HERE CITY CENTRE. DOWN DOWN!" was what shook us awake from our misty whirlpool but what laid in front didn't un-mist our already lethargic bodies and minds. With not a single building (let's forget about wifi), we found geographers within and managed a few attractions and one of the best sunsets on the trip. 

Pictures : 

That Dam (pronounced as tard-darm)

Putaxai

Try to reach before 5pm so you could head up to the top. 

I wasn't lying about the sunsets, yeah? 

And hour hand on our watches was merciless, it was 7pm and I haven't heard from my couch host. We were prepared to sleep in this random building but nearly peed/faceted in our favourite elephants when the security started switching off the lights. 

With our empty stomachs and mozzie-bitten weak bodies, we made it to the most "touristy" area of Vientiane -- Nam Phou Fountain. Because we spent so much on accommodation, we had to do instants for dinner. 

Plot twist: the couch host didn't actually abandon us. I texted him but apparently Laos SIM card couldn't receive international texts. 

Plot twist twist: we did not like Vientiane. Not at all. But the sunset didn't belong to Vientiane. 

Goodbye, my love.

Is that how the previous generations felt?

The destruction of my childhood and beautiful memories paving the way for the next. I'm not the only one feeling it.

 At least I landed some massive dump. 

Since the mandatory shot with Mr Ronald and friends was too crowded... We made do with this. 

Goodbye, KAP. 

Cactus

Reasons why you need a cactus 

1) It's not needy and whiney. 

2) Always there for you, without asking for too much attention. 

3) Fall in love with it, stare at it for hours.  

4) Make a good model for photo shoots. (A good exfloliating tool as well) 

5) Unleash your hidden talent of making new Germanic names. 

 Meet Starkmann. Say Hi. 

Evolution of pain.

The past couple of weeks had been hectic. Recess week didn't feel like one. I had gathered my remaining energy and discipline after 6 grueling weeks of school, and glued myself to work. Studying has been ingrained now, we are almost one entity.

The release of A level results was yesterday and it brought my memory back to 2 years ago when i did well. I was an honor-roll student. Well, i was happy, but it wasn't the happiest day of my life. I wouldn't try to deny that i felt really contented, maybe proud, of my achievements, but i have to credit my exams' luck too. Which brings me to part II of the story.

Either i've run out exams' luck or the As i've attained for all my History exams was a faux. I'd like to think the former but wouldn't like to bench my passion with luck. Maybe Jing is not a historian-matieral afterall. That aside, the main point, there are times in life when certain things meant the world to you, and not achieving your goals kills you, eats you inside. I had that during O levels. It's a combination of said failure, anger, embarrassment, indignant, helplessness, the list goes on, but basically you're trapped in this vicious vortex. Trapped in confusion and frustration, you would want to make an audacious (many would call it dumb in this case) step to retake examinations and hopefully, attain the supposed desirable grades. But i've decided to bring myself back to Earth and realize that i did fairly well.

I moved on.
I moved on, with pain.

The pain stayed for a while. The pain still stays. The pain will stay. The pain is going to stay. It will consume you from time to time. And thinking about it sometimes now, I see myself welling up in tears. I find myself having to deal with tears-soaked pillows on certain nights. Not a perfect bed scene, if i must add. It's not that i haven't gotten over it. I'm no longer crying for the results, but i still feel pain. A different kind of pain from what i first felt when i got my O level results. It's a pain of seeing an innocent break down in front of hundreds. It's a pain of seeing a helpless girl spewing vulgarities to everyone who sent her a text on social media. It's a pain i still remember and feel so vividly because it's the kind of sadness that sticks in your bones of not achieving your goals and knowing you'll never have the chance to. (well, unless you retake O levels, but retaking with experience is another story.) And doing well in A levels had never taken such a pain away. And most importantly, the misery a 16 year old had to go through because this competitive society that we live in weighs the white slip more than everything else. Because this competitive society that we live in believes the white slip is a ticket to the future. Just because this competitive society...

The pain never goes away. But it's an evolving pain. As i write, i still feel the ache in my heart. And that is because i am experiencing the same thing now. 20, I am now, once again, not doing well in school. Yes, the sadness and dejection creeps in -- to the extent of wanting to take a gap semester, so i will not be too consumed by the clutches of the society. But no.

I've learned not to wallow in self pity.
I've learned how to deal with such pain.
I've learned to see "failure" differently.

Let's call it my self defense mechanisms.