Plain of Jars, Laos

Friday and Saturday, 24 & 25 November 2006

We take a local bus from Luang Phabang to Phonsavan. Taking the tourist "VIP" bus would have meant air-conditioning and more comfortable seats but we thought that we might save a bit of money by travelling in a normal bus. This has its downsides: the bus is a bit rickety and the aisles are packed with sacks of rice. It seems that local buses are used to transport all sorts of goods: our one has a few hundred boxes of shoes strapped to the roof. More disconcertingly, while the bus is being loaded, a man oversees things with a rifle half-hidden under his jacket. In 2003 and 2004 buses in the area we are travelling to were attacked by insurgents/bandits and we presume that this guy will be travelling with us for a bit of protection. Our bodyguard is very young though, only recently out of short pants. You wonder whether he has real bullets in that gun or did it just come as part of a "Cowboys and Indians" set he got last Christmas.

The journey is a long and slow one, taking about 10 hours. The roads are hilly, windy and potholed (just short of Conor Pass terrain for about a hundred miles). Backpackers had told us that Laoatians get travel-sick easily and had predicted vomiting on an apolocalyptic scale. Thankfully this didn't come true; although one old lady did belch like a trombone for the whole journey. The in-bus entertainment consisted of a 6-track Thai karaoke DVD complete with "amusing" videos. The 6 tracks were played on a loop - recent upgrades to hell have included this feature!

Phonsavan is a small town but has a decent tourist trade thanks to the UNESCO World Heritage Site nearby: the Plain of the Jars. This is a plain covered in 2000 year-old stone jars, which are believed to have been used as funeral urns or storage for food. (Yawn!) We stay at Kong Keo hostel, which is basic but does have the attraction of staff who are masters of double-speak. Despite pestering him for the evening, the sphinx-like guy in charge won't give us a straight answer about the price of a tour to the Plain of Jars:

Us: "Hello again [for the 9th time], we want to check again about the tour: will it cost 10 dollars per person?"
Sphinx, disappointed with himself for making eye-contact with us: "Yes, 10 dollars".
Us: "Are you sure, 10 dollars?"
Sphinx: "Yes, I'm sure, 10 dollars".
Us: "So that means 20 dollars in total?".
Sphinx: "No, it could be more".
Us: "Why, 10 plus 10 equals 20?"
Sphinx: "Maybe not, maybe we don't get enough people to go on tour".
Us: "But it will be 10 dollars per person maximum?".
Sphinx: "I don't think so...maybe...we see tomorrow, 10 dollars, maybe, maybe not".
Us, a bit exasperated: "Ok, maybe we will try another tour company".
Sphinx, adamantly: "No don't go to other tour company, they ask higher price, I give you tour for 10 dollars".
Us: "Are you sure, 1o dollars per person, 20 dollars altogether?".
Sphinx, backtracking: "Yes...I think so... maybe...we see".

Us: "So, when will we find out about this, later tonight or tomorrow morning?".

Sphinx, retreating into the shadows: "Yes".

Beaten into submission, we retire to the hostel's bar. It throws up a surreal cast of characters. We get talking to a fisherman from the Faroe Islands. He is a bit deranged. Having spent the last 6 months on a large trawler somewhere off Russia he has every right to be. He is obsessed about fish and talks to us for a solid two hours about fishing, fish and other sea life (whales, shrimp, king crabs, tuna, shark, 4 different species of bottomfeeder). We also speak to an English lady, divorced from a Burmese "freedom-fighter", who has been hanging around with young novice Buddhist monks for the last few months. To round off the night, we meet an Italian guy, who has recently set up a tomato farm on the Plain of Jars. Apparently this will produce tomatoes for the German market when they are out of season in Europe. He talks of his deep love of halibut with the Faroe Islands fisherman. We turn in for the night before it gets ugly.

The next day we get our tour to the Plain of Jars (for 10 dollars!). The plain was lavishly bombed by the US during the Vietnam war as it was believed to be a supply route for the Viet Cong into southern Vietnam. Between 1964 and 1973 one planeload of bombs was dropped every 8 minutes. It has taken some time for the huge number of unexploded bombs to be removed from the jar sites. This has also inhibited archaeological study of the sites. As a result, it is still not certain what the giant jars were used for. Our guide, Lor Vang, prefers the local legend of the jars being made to hold "Lao Lao" (rice whiskey) to celebrate the victory in battle of a warrior hero. Whatever the reason, the 3 sites we visit are well worth the visit. The jars vary in size (generally up to head height) and condition, and remind you of the stone circles you see in Ireland.

On the way back to Phonsavan, we stop by a hut where Lao Lao is made. The conditions here are pretty decrepit (chickens pecking at the ground and quietly incubating the next strain of bird flu; filthy toddlers dressed in rags chasing the chickens; toothless hundred year old women acting as master brewer). It doesn't look like there is much hygiene involved in the brewing process (a few plastic drums, full of a whiteish goo, festering in the sun and attracting alot of interest from flies). Despite this, the Lao Lao doesn't taste bad and there is no lasting throat-burn. Lor Vang entertains us with stories of his polygamist father ("he is so handsome" that he has 3 wives and 13 children). Polygamy seems to be fairly routine in Laos. Lor Vang will probably keep it to just the one wife and 2.5 children though as any more than that would be very expensive. A wise fellow.

We head next for Vientiane. It's an overnight bus. We make sure to charge up the iPods to drown out the karaoke. To see more photos click here.