The road goes on forever...
30 October 2010
We're not exactly sure where we are tonight. We found a little gueshouse somewhere in the highlands of central Laos on the Bolaven Plateau. We started the day in Champassak on the Mekong river. Over the past three weeks Jean and I have seen much of the natural features of southeast Asia. We haven't really delved into it the area's history yet though.
A long time ago Champassak, now a small town with a single main street and a population of less than 15,000, was the location of the capital of the Khmer empire. Over 90% of the population of Cambodia is of Khmer descent. Physcially Khmer people differ from neighboring ethnicities possessing a darker complexion, broader noses and often curly hair.
The city, Shrestapura, measuring approximately a mile square was probably founded in the middle of the fifth century. To put it into historical perspective around the same time the Roman Empire was threatening to implode and Europe was gearing up for the dark ages.
Over the next hundred years the Khmers thrived and expanded their territory. Sometime in the early 7th century the capital was moved to a more southernly and central location within the empire in modern day Cambodia. Not much of the ancient city remains above ground. Archaeologists are still at work piecing together the culture and history of the old Khmers.
Holding a commanding view from the summit of Phu Kao of the countryside that was once the capital is Vat Phu. Vat Phu was orignally constructed in the fifth century as a Hindu religious complex dedicated to the god Shiva. Over the centuries it has seen many changes and renonvations and now serves as a Buddhist place of worship.
At the base of Phu Kao are a pair of barays, huge, rectangular man made lakes. They served as resevoirs and were representative of the ocean surrounding the earth. Beyond the barays a causeway lined by phallic sandstone posts (the phallic symbol being associated with Shiva) led to a pair of seeminly identical temples.
After that steep rock steps took us up several terrace levels. At one time buidlings had once been situated on the terraces but all that remains are foundations and crumbling statues. After ascending several hundred feet to just below the summit we found the sanctuary dedicated to Shiva. Much of Khmer Hindu architecture involves earth symbolism. The barays below were the oceans and this high point symbolized the domain of the gods.
Jean and I strolled around on top to admire the scenery and catch our breath. Besides the sanctuary, now dedicated to Buddha, there were a couple of other interesting sights including rock carvings of an elephant, a crocodile, and Buddha's foot. If he'd worn shoes I reckon Buddha we be around a size 65.
After about an hour we made our way carefully down the steep rock flights and checked out the small but informative Vat Phu museum before hitting the road. It was midday and we had a long way to go and weren't really sure of our route.
We were armed yet again with another hand drawn, poorly photo copied map. The map showed a little dashed line wriggling from Champassak to Pakse. I'd inquired at our guesthouse this morning and the jolly, gap toothed proprietor had assured me that a road route existed and we wouldn't need to ferry across the Mekong again. Motoring slowly through town looking for this alleged route I randomly ran into the proprietor and he directed us down a rutted dirt road.
The track soon intersected a wide dusty thoroughfare. It was obviously under construction and in 6 months time would probably be smooth asphault. For the past couple of days we've had a stiff wind out of the north making evenings and early mornings pleasantly chilly. I turned on to the road and dead into the wind. For the next 40 miles we were buffeted with swirling dust. Occasionally trucks would come by and churn up thick clouds. After much coughing and sneezing we were glad when we hit tarmac around 3 in the afternoon.
Entering Pakse Jean and I noticed this huge flight of stairs leading up a hillside. Gluttons for punishment we pulled over and climbed up to take a look. The stairs were part of a Buddhist temple complex and led to a natural area. Several hiking trails branched out from the top of the stairs. We only explored a bit before descending. The sun would set in a couple of hours and we had lots more road to cover.
I filled up with petrol in Pakse before turning off east towards Packsong and the Bolaven Plateau. We gradually began to climb and at five the air was cool and crisp. We turned off toward Salavan and I shouted back to Jean to start looking for a guesthouse.
The sun set quickly and the temperature dropped off sharply. My hands soon felt like icy claws and my nose ran like a faucet. We've found that guesthouses in Laos will usually have a distinctive glowing yellow Beer Lao sign out front. We eased through several settlements and saw no such sign. One place had a pretty hopping market place but nothing forthcoming on the lodging front.
Salvation finally came in what I belive is Laongum. We rolled in about an hour and half after sunset well frozen but relieved. There were several structures including a house and what appeared to be a bar. A family sat outside having dinner around a small table. Down the gravel drive past some other structures I could see a row of rooms.
The people around the table turned to look at us. After a long awkward pause a young man got up from the table and approached us. He pantomimed sleeping. We nodded. He gestured toward the building in back. I motored around. The young man met us and handed me soap, towels and some bottles of water. Then he pantomimed eating. Jean and I nodded again. He pointed back towards the house and left us to clean up.
We did our best to remove some of the dust and grit before joining the family around the small table. Upon sitting down I noticed there was quite a collection of empty Beer Lao bottles under the table. Glancing at my watch I noted that it was a Friday night. Funny how things like what day of the week it is slips past you when you're on long term travel holiday.
Jean and I were introduced to Mr. Chiksee, a burly middle-aged man wearing a camoflauge jacket. He was a park ranger and spoke fairly good English. He was thrilled to have a couple of westerners as his guest and offered us food and beer. The fare consisted up a big heap fried crickets. Jean quickly jumped in and said she was a vegetarian. I had a few. The crickets tasted vaguely of lemon and had the consistency of a potato chip with legs.
We were also served steaming bowls of vegetable soup with sticky rice. The soup concealed some vicious peppers. Our dining companions thought our yelping response to the fiery accotrouments were quite humorous. Mr. Chiksee reassured us that the peppers would make us strong like him.
We noticed some loud, jarring music and nerve jangling singing emanating from the nearby building. After a while we excused ourselves and took a look in. It was far tamer than it sounded from the outside. Two of the three tables were occupied by groups of people in their late teens or early twenties drinking beer and eating. While the guys were dressed casually some of the woman wore slinky evening dresses.
We're not exactly sure where we are tonight. We found a little gueshouse somewhere in the highlands of central Laos on the Bolaven Plateau. We started the day in Champassak on the Mekong river. Over the past three weeks Jean and I have seen much of the natural features of southeast Asia. We haven't really delved into it the area's history yet though.
A long time ago Champassak, now a small town with a single main street and a population of less than 15,000, was the location of the capital of the Khmer empire. Over 90% of the population of Cambodia is of Khmer descent. Physcially Khmer people differ from neighboring ethnicities possessing a darker complexion, broader noses and often curly hair.
The city, Shrestapura, measuring approximately a mile square was probably founded in the middle of the fifth century. To put it into historical perspective around the same time the Roman Empire was threatening to implode and Europe was gearing up for the dark ages.
Over the next hundred years the Khmers thrived and expanded their territory. Sometime in the early 7th century the capital was moved to a more southernly and central location within the empire in modern day Cambodia. Not much of the ancient city remains above ground. Archaeologists are still at work piecing together the culture and history of the old Khmers.
The track soon intersected a wide dusty thoroughfare. It was obviously under construction and in 6 months time would probably be smooth asphault. For the past couple of days we've had a stiff wind out of the north making evenings and early mornings pleasantly chilly. I turned on to the road and dead into the wind. For the next 40 miles we were buffeted with swirling dust. Occasionally trucks would come by and churn up thick clouds. After much coughing and sneezing we were glad when we hit tarmac around 3 in the afternoon.
Salvation finally came in what I belive is Laongum. We rolled in about an hour and half after sunset well frozen but relieved. There were several structures including a house and what appeared to be a bar. A family sat outside having dinner around a small table. Down the gravel drive past some other structures I could see a row of rooms.
The people around the table turned to look at us. After a long awkward pause a young man got up from the table and approached us. He pantomimed sleeping. We nodded. He gestured toward the building in back. I motored around. The young man met us and handed me soap, towels and some bottles of water. Then he pantomimed eating. Jean and I nodded again. He pointed back towards the house and left us to clean up.
We did our best to remove some of the dust and grit before joining the family around the small table. Upon sitting down I noticed there was quite a collection of empty Beer Lao bottles under the table. Glancing at my watch I noted that it was a Friday night. Funny how things like what day of the week it is slips past you when you're on long term travel holiday.
Jean and I were introduced to Mr. Chiksee, a burly middle-aged man wearing a camoflauge jacket. He was a park ranger and spoke fairly good English. He was thrilled to have a couple of westerners as his guest and offered us food and beer. The fare consisted up a big heap fried crickets. Jean quickly jumped in and said she was a vegetarian. I had a few. The crickets tasted vaguely of lemon and had the consistency of a potato chip with legs.
We were also served steaming bowls of vegetable soup with sticky rice. The soup concealed some vicious peppers. Our dining companions thought our yelping response to the fiery accotrouments were quite humorous. Mr. Chiksee reassured us that the peppers would make us strong like him.
We noticed some loud, jarring music and nerve jangling singing emanating from the nearby building. After a while we excused ourselves and took a look in. It was far tamer than it sounded from the outside. Two of the three tables were occupied by groups of people in their late teens or early twenties drinking beer and eating. While the guys were dressed casually some of the woman wore slinky evening dresses.
We walked in and the MC, appearing somewhat startled by our appeareance, hopped down from the stage and helped clear off the third table. The place resembled many dance halls I've seen in Texas with its open rafters strung with Christmas lights, bare concrete floors, and a small wooden stage jam packed with amplifiers and speakers. No steel guitars here though. Just a music synthesizer and a mic. We watched several karaoke acts whilst sharing a frosty beer Lao before retiring for a hot shower and some sleep. The road goes on forever and the party never ends.
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