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

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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. 

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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.