Sunday, 30 June 2013
Thursday, 27 June 2013
Laos to Vietnam
Just as I am beginning to get my head around Lao money, which is 12, 000 kip to the pound, I cross the boarder into Vietnam, where one pound is worth 33, 000 dong. I still hesitate when pressing the three million button on the ATM.
To get to Hanoi in Vietnam I take the tourist bus, which I hate, but local buses across the border are notoriously late, bumpy or non existent. It would take at least three days, with over night stops in one horse towns, and probably more if the buses aren't full enough to justify the journey. The tourist bus gets the job done in 24 hours straight, no changes, no delays.... Ok, fewer changes and fewer delays.
Having met my friend Charlotte in the tubing town of Vang Vieng*, where it rained for three days and we were flooded in our bungalow, we have to catch a mini bus back to Vientiane before getting on our 'VIP' sleeper bus. In Lao, all 'VIP' means airconditioning. The bus is fitted with two tiers of reclining, red leather chairs arranged head to foot in three columns down the length of the bus, leaving two asiles. Lao and Vietnmases passengers are separated from other travellers, and I am shouted at by the driver and pushed to the back when I try and sit too far forward. When I argue back he says 'I don't know, I don't know', which I think means he doesn't understand my protests. The same happens when we stop at a service station - Lao and Vietnamese sit in one room, Western travellers in another. I don't why this is.
At 2:00 in the morning the bus stops, engine off and, with no explanation, the drivers come and sleep in the vacant seats. I guess that this is because we are at the border, which doesn't open until 6:00. I don't sleep because of the snorning from every direction, and sure enough when the sun rises and I step outside there are tens of buses lined up in front and behind of us.
Despite already having my Vietnamese visa, it takes three hours to get my exit stamp from Lao and have my passport checked (eight times) in Vietnamese immigration. There is lots of pointless waiting, form filling out and stamping (of feet and passports), all done by very important men in militaty uniform.
Nine more hours in my narrow little bed and I arrive in the capital - the dense green country side having merged gradually into rice paddies, followed by rice paddies dotted with ugly concrete buildings, followed by inner city Hanoi. With more traffic than Mumbai, more pollution than Kathmandu, more lights than Bangkok and more mopeds than the whole of Laos put together (and there are a lot of mopeds in Laos), Hanoi is crazy. And very hot. I almost wish I was back on the airconditioned bus, but not quite.
* Vang Vieng was famous a few years ago for being the most unlikely party town in the world. A tiny riveside village in the middle of Laos, travellers flocked here for Magaluf style partying whilst 'tubing' down the NamSong river, stopping at bars on the way. In 2011 more than 20 tourists died from drowning, jumping the river and hitting their heads on the rocks and drug overdoses, making it Asia's most dangerous destination for tourists. This figure was only slightly higher than years before, but, coupled with at least one serious injury a week, was eough for the Lao government to shut down bars, put serious fines on drug posession and ban zip wires, rope swings and slides into the river. There are now just three bars along the NamSong, with ping pong tables and boule. Tubing is a leisurely affair, although there are still groups attempting (and failing) to recreate Vang Vieng's crazy past by dancing on tables and embarassing locals by walking around the town in swim wear, beers in hand.
To get to Hanoi in Vietnam I take the tourist bus, which I hate, but local buses across the border are notoriously late, bumpy or non existent. It would take at least three days, with over night stops in one horse towns, and probably more if the buses aren't full enough to justify the journey. The tourist bus gets the job done in 24 hours straight, no changes, no delays.... Ok, fewer changes and fewer delays.
Having met my friend Charlotte in the tubing town of Vang Vieng*, where it rained for three days and we were flooded in our bungalow, we have to catch a mini bus back to Vientiane before getting on our 'VIP' sleeper bus. In Lao, all 'VIP' means airconditioning. The bus is fitted with two tiers of reclining, red leather chairs arranged head to foot in three columns down the length of the bus, leaving two asiles. Lao and Vietnmases passengers are separated from other travellers, and I am shouted at by the driver and pushed to the back when I try and sit too far forward. When I argue back he says 'I don't know, I don't know', which I think means he doesn't understand my protests. The same happens when we stop at a service station - Lao and Vietnamese sit in one room, Western travellers in another. I don't why this is.
At 2:00 in the morning the bus stops, engine off and, with no explanation, the drivers come and sleep in the vacant seats. I guess that this is because we are at the border, which doesn't open until 6:00. I don't sleep because of the snorning from every direction, and sure enough when the sun rises and I step outside there are tens of buses lined up in front and behind of us.
Despite already having my Vietnamese visa, it takes three hours to get my exit stamp from Lao and have my passport checked (eight times) in Vietnamese immigration. There is lots of pointless waiting, form filling out and stamping (of feet and passports), all done by very important men in militaty uniform.
Nine more hours in my narrow little bed and I arrive in the capital - the dense green country side having merged gradually into rice paddies, followed by rice paddies dotted with ugly concrete buildings, followed by inner city Hanoi. With more traffic than Mumbai, more pollution than Kathmandu, more lights than Bangkok and more mopeds than the whole of Laos put together (and there are a lot of mopeds in Laos), Hanoi is crazy. And very hot. I almost wish I was back on the airconditioned bus, but not quite.
* Vang Vieng was famous a few years ago for being the most unlikely party town in the world. A tiny riveside village in the middle of Laos, travellers flocked here for Magaluf style partying whilst 'tubing' down the NamSong river, stopping at bars on the way. In 2011 more than 20 tourists died from drowning, jumping the river and hitting their heads on the rocks and drug overdoses, making it Asia's most dangerous destination for tourists. This figure was only slightly higher than years before, but, coupled with at least one serious injury a week, was eough for the Lao government to shut down bars, put serious fines on drug posession and ban zip wires, rope swings and slides into the river. There are now just three bars along the NamSong, with ping pong tables and boule. Tubing is a leisurely affair, although there are still groups attempting (and failing) to recreate Vang Vieng's crazy past by dancing on tables and embarassing locals by walking around the town in swim wear, beers in hand.
Sunday, 23 June 2013
Xieng Khuan ( Buddha Park)
The Buddha park, an hour on the public bus from Vientiane, was designed and built in 1958 by a yogi/priest/shaman who merged Hindu and Buddhist philosophy, mythology and iconography to form a collection of concrete statues in the middle of no where. When I visit it is pouring with rain and I get my photos inbetween showers, spending most of the time sheltering in a huge concrete pumpkin with a mouth. I get the impression that this artist was a bit mad.
Other than the brief explanation given at the entrance to the park which I have paraphrased above, I'm not really sure what the point of the park is, other than None of the staues have informative signs, but I suppose that most of the visitors are Hindu or Buddhist and can recognise them and know their stories, whilst I recognise only a few of the obvious ones (the Buddha mostly).
Most visitors are tourists of Asian descent, taking pictures of each other next to the huge statues through their IPads. There are also a few monks, quietly wandering around with umbrellas (which they always carry, whether its raining or sunny).
Other than the brief explanation given at the entrance to the park which I have paraphrased above, I'm not really sure what the point of the park is, other than None of the staues have informative signs, but I suppose that most of the visitors are Hindu or Buddhist and can recognise them and know their stories, whilst I recognise only a few of the obvious ones (the Buddha mostly).
Most visitors are tourists of Asian descent, taking pictures of each other next to the huge statues through their IPads. There are also a few monks, quietly wandering around with umbrellas (which they always carry, whether its raining or sunny).
Thursday, 20 June 2013
The Secret War in Laos
In the Laos capital, Vientiane
COPE stands for Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise and was set up in order to provide care and support to the huge number of people injured by UXO (unexploded ordinance), mostly by providing prosthetic limbs. They also provide support for those with other, non UXO related, disabilities across Laos.
During the war between the US and Vietnam, Laos was heavily bombed by American forces in an attempt to prevent supplies from going down the Ho Chi Min trail, a guerrilla supply line which went through much of Laos. The war in Laos was kept secret from Congress and the American people because of the 1954 Geneva Accords on Indochina that were suppose to protect Laotian neutrality.
Laos
This obviously poses a huge threat to local communities. 25 percent of all Lao villages are still under significant threat. Villagers regularly use the metal from UXO in their homes – making cooking pots, tools and sometimes, in the case of bigger shell casing, as stilts for their houses or metal canoes. As a result of the familiarity they have with the devices, often they have no fear when they come across UXO in the countryside, despite education to the contrary. Children in particular collect UXO to sell as scrap metal, making 10,000kip ($1) for a small cluster bomb. They even buy cheap $10 metal detectors and quickly make their money back. This, of course, leads to a huge number of accidents. Over 50,000 people have been killed or injured as a result of UXO accidents since 1964.
The centre has lots of displays telling the stories of children who have used bombs as balls in a game, women who make a fire without knowing that there is a bomb buried in the earth beneath, and men who attempt to use the bombs to fish. Those who survive the initial blast, the journey to hospital (which can take several hours) and the hospitals themselves are often shunned from their communities. If not, their families spend all their money and sell all their livestock in order to pay for treatment. Many people end up making their own prosthetic limbs - out of UXO - to avoid spending their lives trapped in houses which are raised off the ground and difficult to get in and out of.
Above: Improvised prostetic limb, made using UXO
COPE not only makes prosthetic limbs, it also makes tricycle wheel chairs which can make their way over rough terrain (of which there is a lot in Laos) and are close to the ground to ease getting on and off the ground, where most rural Lao people eat, sleep and live. They have five centers across the country, open to and free for everyone. As well as initial treatment, they discuss on going care, therapy and education. Survivors need regular physiotherapy and children need new prosthetic limbs made as they grow.
As well as displays telling the stories of those affected by UXO, there was a small cinema showing documentaries. The film I watched explained the problems in clearing the UXO. To clear one hectare, little more than the size of a football field, takes at least ten days. It can take longer if the terrain is hilly or thick with forest, if there is bad weather, proximity to villages roads, bridges and electrics, or objections from the village. Many villagers who experienced the original bombings are reluctant to evacuate during detonations - claiming they survived it the first time round. Those working to clear the land also have to respect take into consideration village customs, such as not carrying anything on the day of a funeral (not easy when removing bombs) or appeasing local spirits.
From 2004 to 2012, MAG (Mines Advisory Group) cleared more than 38.7 million square meters of suspect land in Lao, destroying 161,802 items of UXO. As a result villagers gained more safe land for farming, clean drinking water, latrines, irrigation for rice cropping, safe school compounds and tertiary roads. Although villagers are glad when the threat has gone, they often resent the loss of potential income. It will take at least 15 more years to survey, map and clear UXOs from all the populated and agricultural areas now on the Lao government’s priority list.
The Convention on Cluster Munitions bans the use, production, stock piling and transfer of cluster munitions and obliges states to clear affected areas, assist victims and destroy stock piles. Since 1997, 94 countries have signed the treaty. TheUnited States of America
COPE stands for Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise and was set up in order to provide care and support to the huge number of people injured by UXO (unexploded ordinance), mostly by providing prosthetic limbs. They also provide support for those with other, non UXO related, disabilities across Laos.
Above: Statue outside the COPE centre, made from 500kg of UXO.
During the war between the US and Vietnam, Laos was heavily bombed by American forces in an attempt to prevent supplies from going down the Ho Chi Min trail, a guerrilla supply line which went through much of Laos. The war in Laos was kept secret from Congress and the American people because of the 1954 Geneva Accords on Indochina that were suppose to protect Laotian neutrality.
Above: Map of the bombed areas, each red dot represents a bombing mission - one every eight minutes for six years.
This obviously poses a huge threat to local communities. 25 percent of all Lao villages are still under significant threat. Villagers regularly use the metal from UXO in their homes – making cooking pots, tools and sometimes, in the case of bigger shell casing, as stilts for their houses or metal canoes. As a result of the familiarity they have with the devices, often they have no fear when they come across UXO in the countryside, despite education to the contrary. Children in particular collect UXO to sell as scrap metal, making 10,000kip ($1) for a small cluster bomb. They even buy cheap $10 metal detectors and quickly make their money back. This, of course, leads to a huge number of accidents. Over 50,000 people have been killed or injured as a result of UXO accidents since 1964.
Above: “Bombies” - The size of tennis balls and designed to explode into razor-sharp shrapnel pieces on impact. There could be up to 500 of these in one shell casing.
COPE not only makes prosthetic limbs, it also makes tricycle wheel chairs which can make their way over rough terrain (of which there is a lot in Laos) and are close to the ground to ease getting on and off the ground, where most rural Lao people eat, sleep and live. They have five centers across the country, open to and free for everyone. As well as initial treatment, they discuss on going care, therapy and education. Survivors need regular physiotherapy and children need new prosthetic limbs made as they grow.
As well as displays telling the stories of those affected by UXO, there was a small cinema showing documentaries. The film I watched explained the problems in clearing the UXO. To clear one hectare, little more than the size of a football field, takes at least ten days. It can take longer if the terrain is hilly or thick with forest, if there is bad weather, proximity to villages roads, bridges and electrics, or objections from the village. Many villagers who experienced the original bombings are reluctant to evacuate during detonations - claiming they survived it the first time round. Those working to clear the land also have to respect take into consideration village customs, such as not carrying anything on the day of a funeral (not easy when removing bombs) or appeasing local spirits.
Above: Shell casing.
One of these could contain 500 'bombies' are are often used as
canoes, planters, stilts for houses or are broken and melted down to
make pots, tools or trinkets to sell to tourists.
From 2004 to 2012, MAG (Mines Advisory Group) cleared more than 38.7 million square meters of suspect land in Lao, destroying 161,802 items of UXO. As a result villagers gained more safe land for farming, clean drinking water, latrines, irrigation for rice cropping, safe school compounds and tertiary roads. Although villagers are glad when the threat has gone, they often resent the loss of potential income. It will take at least 15 more years to survey, map and clear UXOs from all the populated and agricultural areas now on the Lao government’s priority list.
The Convention on Cluster Munitions bans the use, production, stock piling and transfer of cluster munitions and obliges states to clear affected areas, assist victims and destroy stock piles. Since 1997, 94 countries have signed the treaty. The
http://www.copelaos.org/
Wednesday, 19 June 2013
100 Waterfalls - Nong Khiaw
Stepping back out into the bright sunlight after the dark, hot cave we decide to find the area known as the '100 waterfalls', having been tempted by wading through the cool river. We don't know exactly where it is, but someone directs us further down the road and off we go. We cycle up and down hills (more up than down) for half an hour with no luck. Everyone just says 'keep going'.
We give up and swim in the river where there is at least as small waterfall. We are soon joined by some children from the near by village, who enjoy showing off by jumping, rather dangerously, off the rocks and into the water. The only English they speak is to tell 'Gangnam Style' as they launch themselves into the air.
The cycle back to Nong Khiaw is much better later in the day with the sun down and my hair damp and cool from the water. I am starving and have a huge meal of chana masala, dahl fry, aloo gobi and garlic naan at the local Indian restaurant before me returning my bike. Lao and Thai food is good, but I miss Indian food (I never thought I would say that!).
During breakfast the next morning I over hear a couple discussing with a tuk tuk driver how they are going to get back to Luang Prabang. They have been trying to leave for a couple of days now and for some reason there are no buses and no one can tell them when the next one will be. Their options are taking a tuk tuk or hiring a mini van. Laos tuktuks are more like motor bikes with trailers and are not comfortable for four minutes, let alone four hours. So they opt for the private mini van It also turns out, they tell me, that no one has been able to go up river for three days either, supposedly because of water level but probably because no boat men can be bothered to go.
I have to make a quick decision and decide to share their mini bus Luang Prabang. I tell myself that it is because I don't want to risk getting stuck and having to charter a whole mini bus to myself in a few days time. However it might be that I am whimping out of heading up river and spending a couple of nights in a rural village where no one spoke English. I hope it was the former and I'm slightly disappointed in myself, but promise my self to try another homestay when there is slightly more chance of returning.
Above: Northern Laos Geography
We give up and swim in the river where there is at least as small waterfall. We are soon joined by some children from the near by village, who enjoy showing off by jumping, rather dangerously, off the rocks and into the water. The only English they speak is to tell 'Gangnam Style' as they launch themselves into the air.
The cycle back to Nong Khiaw is much better later in the day with the sun down and my hair damp and cool from the water. I am starving and have a huge meal of chana masala, dahl fry, aloo gobi and garlic naan at the local Indian restaurant before me returning my bike. Lao and Thai food is good, but I miss Indian food (I never thought I would say that!).
Above: The Ou River
During breakfast the next morning I over hear a couple discussing with a tuk tuk driver how they are going to get back to Luang Prabang. They have been trying to leave for a couple of days now and for some reason there are no buses and no one can tell them when the next one will be. Their options are taking a tuk tuk or hiring a mini van. Laos tuktuks are more like motor bikes with trailers and are not comfortable for four minutes, let alone four hours. So they opt for the private mini van It also turns out, they tell me, that no one has been able to go up river for three days either, supposedly because of water level but probably because no boat men can be bothered to go.
I have to make a quick decision and decide to share their mini bus Luang Prabang. I tell myself that it is because I don't want to risk getting stuck and having to charter a whole mini bus to myself in a few days time. However it might be that I am whimping out of heading up river and spending a couple of nights in a rural village where no one spoke English. I hope it was the former and I'm slightly disappointed in myself, but promise my self to try another homestay when there is slightly more chance of returning.
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Pha Tok Caves - Nong Khiaw
From Luang Prabang I plan to spend a few nights in a small town up river called Nong Khiaw (pronounced Nong Key-Oww). From there I want to catch a boat to an even smaller town called Maung Ngoi Neua, where there is no electricity but I can fish and cook with the villagers.
The bus, complete with live chickens in a bags under my seat and a moped on the roof, drives for three hours along bumpy, bendy roads. Some how the Lao girl next to me manages to fall asleep and ends up on my shoulder.
Nong Khiaw is divided by a river, the two halves connected by a long, concrete bridge. The town is surrounded by huge lime stone cliffs which are covered in jungle. I find a bamboo hut, complete with hammock and river view and proceed to chill out.
By the next day I am bored and, with the Canadian girl I met on the boat to Luang Prabang, rent a bike to explore the surrounding countryside. First we visit a cave used by locals during the 'Secret War' - an extension of the war in Vietnam which involved heavy bombing of Laos. After cycling for ten minutes I see the sign - 'Famous Pha Tok Caves - across the river and through the rice field'. We turn off down the gravel path where we find a woman in an open sided bamboo hut and her three small children playing in the grass. We pay the 5000kip (40p) entrance fee, cross the shallow river, climb a stile into a rice field and eventually spot the concrete steps up to the caves, which are high up in the lime stone cliffs and hidden by trees and vines.
The cave is very big, much bigger than I had expected, and very dark - I'm glad I brought my torch because the caves extend about thirty meters into the cliff where there is no light what so ever. There are a few signs dotted about indicating what various areas in the caves were used for - government, police department, weapons.... and 'arts'. Other than that there is no more information on the caves. When I look them up there is not much information on them other than what is in other blogs.
The cave is very hot and after we have stepped back out into the bright sunlight we decided to find the local waterfall, having been tempted by wading through the cool river. We don't know exactly where it is, but someone directs us further down the road and off we go. We cycle up and down hills (more up than down) for half an hour with no luck. Everyone just says 'keep going'.
We give up and swim in the river where there is at least as small waterfall. We are soon joined by some children from the near by village, who enjoy showing off by jumping, rather dangerously, off the rocks and into the water. The only English they speak is to tell 'Gangnam Style' as they launch themselves into the air.
The cycle back to Nong Khiaw is much better later in the day with the sun down and my hair damp and cool from the water. I am starving and have a huge meal of chana masala, dahl fry, aloo gobi and garlic naan at the local Indian restaurant before me returning my bike. Lao and Thai food is good, but I miss Indian food (I never thought I would say that!).
During breakfast the next morning I over hear a couple discussing with a tuk tuk driver how they are going to get back to Luang Prabang. They have been trying to leave for a couple of days now and for some reason there are no buses and no one can tell them when the next one will be. Their options are taking a tuk tuk or hiring a mini van. Laos tuktuks are more like motor bikes with trailers and are not comfortable for four minutes, let alone four hours. So they opt for the private mini van It also turns out, they tell me, that no one has been able to go up river for three days either, supposedly because of water level but probably because no boat men can be bothered to go.
I have to make a quick decision and decide to share their mini bus Luang Prabang. I tell myself that it is because I don't want to risk getting stuck and having to charter a whole mini bus to myself in a few days time. However it might be that I am whimping out of heading up river and spending a couple of nights in a rural village where no one spoke English. I hope it was the former and I'm slightly disappointed in myself, but promise my self to try another homestay when there is slightly more chance of returning.
Above: Nong Khiaw
The bus, complete with live chickens in a bags under my seat and a moped on the roof, drives for three hours along bumpy, bendy roads. Some how the Lao girl next to me manages to fall asleep and ends up on my shoulder.
Nong Khiaw is divided by a river, the two halves connected by a long, concrete bridge. The town is surrounded by huge lime stone cliffs which are covered in jungle. I find a bamboo hut, complete with hammock and river view and proceed to chill out.
Above: View from my hut
Above: Bridge over the Ou River
Above: My bamboo hut (fourth from the right)
By the next day I am bored and, with the Canadian girl I met on the boat to Luang Prabang, rent a bike to explore the surrounding countryside. First we visit a cave used by locals during the 'Secret War' - an extension of the war in Vietnam which involved heavy bombing of Laos. After cycling for ten minutes I see the sign - 'Famous Pha Tok Caves - across the river and through the rice field'. We turn off down the gravel path where we find a woman in an open sided bamboo hut and her three small children playing in the grass. We pay the 5000kip (40p) entrance fee, cross the shallow river, climb a stile into a rice field and eventually spot the concrete steps up to the caves, which are high up in the lime stone cliffs and hidden by trees and vines.
The cave is very big, much bigger than I had expected, and very dark - I'm glad I brought my torch because the caves extend about thirty meters into the cliff where there is no light what so ever. There are a few signs dotted about indicating what various areas in the caves were used for - government, police department, weapons.... and 'arts'. Other than that there is no more information on the caves. When I look them up there is not much information on them other than what is in other blogs.
Above: Meeting Hall of the Provincial Governor
Above: 'Sand to Protect Bullets'
The cave is very hot and after we have stepped back out into the bright sunlight we decided to find the local waterfall, having been tempted by wading through the cool river. We don't know exactly where it is, but someone directs us further down the road and off we go. We cycle up and down hills (more up than down) for half an hour with no luck. Everyone just says 'keep going'.
Above: Northern Laos Geography
We give up and swim in the river where there is at least as small waterfall. We are soon joined by some children from the near by village, who enjoy showing off by jumping, rather dangerously, off the rocks and into the water. The only English they speak is to tell 'Gangnam Style' as they launch themselves into the air.
The cycle back to Nong Khiaw is much better later in the day with the sun down and my hair damp and cool from the water. I am starving and have a huge meal of chana masala, dahl fry, aloo gobi and garlic naan at the local Indian restaurant before me returning my bike. Lao and Thai food is good, but I miss Indian food (I never thought I would say that!).
Above: The Ou River
During breakfast the next morning I over hear a couple discussing with a tuk tuk driver how they are going to get back to Luang Prabang. They have been trying to leave for a couple of days now and for some reason there are no buses and no one can tell them when the next one will be. Their options are taking a tuk tuk or hiring a mini van. Laos tuktuks are more like motor bikes with trailers and are not comfortable for four minutes, let alone four hours. So they opt for the private mini van It also turns out, they tell me, that no one has been able to go up river for three days either, supposedly because of water level but probably because no boat men can be bothered to go.
I have to make a quick decision and decide to share their mini bus Luang Prabang. I tell myself that it is because I don't want to risk getting stuck and having to charter a whole mini bus to myself in a few days time. However it might be that I am whimping out of heading up river and spending a couple of nights in a rural village where no one spoke English. I hope it was the former and I'm slightly disappointed in myself, but promise my self to try another homestay when there is slightly more chance of returning.
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