Travelling Around Britain and the World

Sunday 15 November 2015

Around the Bolaven Plateau, Part 9 of Thailand and Laos

A Rural Plateau where Ethnic Minorites Form the Majority

An Unsuccessful Early Morning Walk

Laos

We rose early and in the gentle morning sunshine set off to walk to the Tad Lo waterfall. Rather than strike out into the thick jungle we made for the road thinking that it must cross the river and we could orientate ourselves from the bridge. The locals were up and about and everyone we met gave us a smile and a cheery sabadi. Disappointingly, the road took a twist in the opposite direction and seemed reluctant to twist back;so we returned to the lodge for breakfast.

Up at 7 o'clock on a bright, clean Bolaven morning

While we were eating, a young man with a jaunty hat approached us and introduced himself as Ging, our guide for the next few days. He outlined our programme and we were pleased to find it accorded completely with our expectations – a new experience in southern Laos.

An Elephant Ride

But before setting out to explore the plateau we had an appointment with an elephant. Lynne was wary; on our last Lao elephant ride the beast had been fractious and when we discovered our route involved wading for a couple of hundred metres through the clear, warm, waist-deep waters of the Nam Khan River my wife became a little stressed. Sensible as I always am, I welcomed the river; a grumpy elephant cannot bolt and wade at the same time – but then I am not the one with the irrational fear of water.

Lynne sent Ging to tell the mahout she would only go if he guaranteed no water. Once reassured, we climbed onto the gantry, the elephant was led up and we eased ourselves into the rickety howdah. There was no safety bar but perversely this made Lynne happier as she felt less trapped.

Safe and secure up here, Tad Lo

The elephant plodded off towards the waterfall, taking the jungle paths we had earlier eschewed. They were narrow at ground level….

The path is narrow on the ground

… and often non-existent at our height, so we brushed through the leaves and branches.

There is no path up here!

The path rose steadily and was often rough but the elephant was sure-footed and amenable, responding instantly to the slightest touch from the mahout. We soon reached the falls.

The Tad Lo Falls from elephant back

After the falls we passed a man tending his vegetable patch and arrived at the road we walked along earlier. It was hardly busy but our elephant clearly disliked motor vehicles and was nervous even before two lads went past on a motorcycle, deliberately revving the engine. The mahout skilfully calmed the nervous animal.

A man tending his vegetable patch, Tad Lo

Over the road we plodded through a hamlet...

Hamlet, Tad Lo

…where tobacco and chillies lay drying in the sun…

Tobacco and chillies drying in the sun, Tad Lo

…and children played with plastic bottles and old tyres.

Child playing with an old tyre, Tad Lo

Then we reached a small lake and the elephant headed straight for the water. The mahout spun round, ‘only drink, only drink,’ he said with alarm in his voice. We wondered what Ging had said to him, but he had clearly made the point. And indeed the elephant did only drink, sucking up water and squirting it into his mouth. The evening had been cool and morning gently warm, but it was now undeniably hot and we did not begrudge a well-earned drink. We would have preferred it, though, if he had not spent the rest of the walk waving his trunk around and showering us with water/elephant snot.

We continued through more jungle. At one point the mahout stuck his hand into a tree and seemed to break off a twig. Then we realised that dangling from his thumb and forefinger was a stick insect almost as long as his arm. When we had taken a good look he leaned over and hooked it into another tree.

A huge stick insect dangles from between forefinger and thumb

We had been out for over an hour by the time we returned to the lodge. We promptly set off again, this time by car for a tour of the Bolaven Plateau, avoiding a family of pigs as we went.

Avoiding a family of pigs, near Tad Lo

Visiting the Katu People

The Lao are, of course, the majority ethnic group in Laos, but the country is shared by 160 different ethnic groups, some of them very small, speaking 82 distinct languages. On the Bolaven Plateau the Laven (after whom it is named), Alak, Taoy, Suay and Katu together easly outnumber the Lao.

We dropped in on a Katu village 30 minutes from Tad Lo. Some 20,000 Katu live in Laos and 60,000 more in Vietnam.

At the roadside market our driver bought a large bag of wild mushrooms to take home. Meanwhile Ging paid a small fee and we walked away from the road and into the village, pausing first at the coffins. All villages keep at least two ready at all times, an ornate one for a village leader, and a plainer one for anybody else.

Katu coffins, Bolaven Plateau

The village was not a great advertisement for Katu life. The houses were ramshackle and broken down.....

Katu village, Bolaven Plateau

....filthy children, the youngest naked, played in the dirt while the women lounged on doorsteps smoking large wooden water pipes.

‘They all smoke,’ Ging said with distaste, 'even the children.'

Ging with Katu women and children
The woman in the centre is smoking a water pipe, tobacco is drying on the mat in front of the hut

To be fair, though, none of the children asked for anything, not money, not pens, not even sweets. The young man below did ask to have his photograph taken but that was a request I was happy to oblige.

Katu boy, Bolaven Plateau
He asked for the photo, then came over all shy but was thrilled when I showed him the picture

There were few men around, presumably they were out working, but well-tended vegetable plots were dotted around the village.

In the main square a group of girls were playing a game involving flicking a small stick out of the dust with a longer stick. Sometimes the small stick was caught, in one case with impressive athleticism, sometimes it landed on the ground. They measured the distance using lengths of the larger stick. The rules seemed elaborate, but everyone understood what they were supposed to do.

Main square, Katu village
I watched the game, then they packed up, then I got my camera out - not my finest moment

Katus in Laos speak Low Katu, one of the fifteen languages which make the Katuic branch of the Austroasiatic language family. There are by 1.3 million Katuic speakers across South East Asia.

Visiting an Alak Village

It was only a short journey to an Alak village. There are only 4,000 Alaks, all of whom live around the Bolaven Plateau and speak a language belonging to the Bahnaric branch of the Austroasiatic family. I find it remarkable that 4,000 people have their own language and even more remarkable that their nearest neighbour’s language is as different as German is to Italian. Odder still, Lao, the national language, is from a different family entirely and is no more closely related to Katu or Alak then it is to Swahili or Swedish.

Alak petrol station, Bolaven Plateau

We parked beside the petrol station and walked into the village. Like the Katu village it was off the road but instead of dirt and bustle, everything here was tidy, well-looked after (I must resist the temptation to call them the Smart Alaks) and largely deserted – during daytime the inhabitants were busy being industrious elsewhere.

Alak village, Bolaven Palteau

Alaks are animists and the focal point of the village is a carved wooden hall where the sick isolate themselves to be tended by the village shaman.

Medicine hall, Alak village, Bolaven Plateau

Once his potions and incantations have worked, a buffalo is sacrificed amid rejoicing and celebration. An area to the side of the square is reserved for this around a ceremonial pole from which hangs a symbolic stairway to heaven.

Ceremonial pole, Alak village, Bolaven Plateau

We wandered past neat houses and vegetable plots but here nobody came to talk to us. We did meet one local who clearly thought he was the village chief - and beautiful to boot. We negotiated our way round his ego and left.

Am I not beautiful? Alak village, Bolaven Plateau

Multi-Ethnic Market

Five minutes driving took us to a crossroads where there was a sprawling market with permanent stalls. It was not attached to any village or settlement and was presumably used by locals of all ethnic groups. We walked through the food section among things familiar and unfamiliar. Sausages, kebabs and the usual array of spatchcocked frogs, chickens and rats lay ready for the barbecue. Ging bought some eggs on skewers.

 
Ready for the barbecue, Bolaven Plateau

We saw dried squid, which is popular in Vietnam (where these presumably came from) but rare in landlocked Laos and wondered at strips of buffalo hide. People chew them, Ging said, when working in the fields. They did not look appealing, but then I have never understood the attraction of chewing gum, either.

Dried squid and buffalo hide, Bolaven Plateau

Rather more familiar were bundles of asparagus, a crop I associate with more temperate climes, like the Vale of Evesham, or even our home turf in north Staffordshire.

Asparagus and other fruit and veg, Bolaven Plateau

It was not all food. Other human requirements were catered for including motorcycles, hand powered mills and electric fans.

Assorted hardware, Bolaven Plateau

As we drove off Ging shared out the eggs. A hole had been made in the pointed end, the contents removed and beaten with herbs and seasoning and poured back in. The egg was then placed in a steamer and the result was a tasty snack. [I have since tried the process at home, and it works].

An egg, formerly on a stick

Sinouk Coffee Estate and Resort

The French introduced coffee to Vietnam (most of the instant coffee sold in the UK is Vietnamese) and when they found they were getting a minimal return from the land-locked part of their Indo-Chinese empire, they tried coffee in Laos too. It failed down by the Mekong but adapted readily to the Bolaven Plateau and we called at the Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort for lunch.

The restaurant spilled out onto a shady terrace. While Lynne drank noodle soup and I ate pork and ginger we watched children playing in the garden and considered the contrast between these privileged youngsters running around on a lawn and the filthy children of the Katu families playing in the dirt just a few miles away.

 
Having lunch at the Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

After we had eaten – and of course, finished our meal with an excellent coffee - we strolled round the gardens. We inspected the coffee bushes and Ging pointed out the differences between varieties, Arabica, Robusta and the rarer Excelsa.

Ging among the coffee bushes, Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

We have seen coffee before but this was, I think, the first time we had seen it in flower.

Coffee flowers, Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

The garden contained plenty of other spectacular flowers…

In the garden, Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

….and a couple of impressive water features.

Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

Before leaving we dropped into the shop and made the inevitable purchases.

Sinouk Coffee Plantation and Resort

Tad Fan

Continuing round the plateau for forty minutes brought us to Tad Fan (or ‘Fane’ or ‘Fang’). For a small fee we walked through a hotel/coffee house and perched on their viewing platform to see the joint highest waterfalls in Laos dropping 120m to the valley below. Despite appearances they are on two different streams which only meet at the base of the cliff, making them two separate waterfalls with only one name (but several spellings).

Tad Fan, Bolaven Plateau

Back Down to Route 13 in the Mekong Valley

From Tad Fan we descended towards Route 13 which had brought us south from Vientiane, but reaching it was not the end of the day’s driving. Si Phan Don (Four Thousand Islands), our destination for the night, was still a couple of hours to the south. Darkness fell at about 5.30 with dramatic suddenness, no messing with twilight here. Our driver put on his lights, but not all drivers seemed to think it was necessary.

Driving towards Route 13

4,000 Islands (Si Phan Don)

In the last 20Km before the Cambodian border the Mekong spreads out to a width of over 8km to form an area of rapids, waterfalls, placid pools and many, many islands (though 4,000 is poetic licence.) We crossed the new road bridge onto Don Khong, the largest island and soon reached the largest settlement where we checked into the hotel.

Round the Bolaven Plateau and Down to Si Phan Don

Our comfortable third floor room (a lift would have been nice) had a riverside balcony and we ate in the hotel restaurant on decking above the river. Our red curries were seriously under-chillied in deference to the believed preference of the largely western clientele.

A group of a dozen or so bikers – middle aged men of various European nationalities – sat at a long table behind us. Interested to find out who they were and where they were going we interrogated the man in the Welsh Rugby shirt – well who else? They were, we learned, a pan-European group put together by a specialist Austrian tour company and had not known each before the start of the trip, though they seemed to have gelled well. They had started in Bangkok on hired bikes and were headed for Beijing; we wished them well.

Thailand and Laos
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Saturday 14 November 2015

South Past Savannakhet and East to Tad Lo: Part 8 of Thailand and Laos

South Beside the Mekong then East to the Bolaven Plateau

Laos

Breakfast of tea, fruit juice, bacon, eggs, toast and jam at a pavement café was the ideal start to the day.

Having failed on our own yesterday, we enlisted the help of Phim to get our postcards sent. It was still not an easy job; the advice of several passers-by had to be sought and several blocks had to be driven round before he announced that he had found the post office, probably. We could not see it, but he took the cards wandered uncertainly into a courtyard and returned without them claiming success [and ten days later they reached their intended recipients.]

South from Thakhek on Route 13

We found our way back to Route 13, the main north-south highway, and left Thakhek, heading towards Savannakhet, Laos’ second largest city.

Today we start at Thakek and head south past Savannakhet and then east to Tad Lo

On the way we passed a truck load of monks....

About to pass a truck load of monks, heading south on Route 13

....and fifteen minutes later we noticed the roadside stalls were no longer selling dried fish or sugar cane, but blue plastic sacks of salt.

Roadside stall selling plastic sacks of salt, near Savannakhet

The Natuay Salt Factory

We were in an area of natural salt water springs and soon turned into the Natuay Salt Factory, opened beside such a spring in 1995 by a Mr Soundara, a local entrepreneur who already owned a plastics factory and a drinking water company.

Welcome to the Natuay Salt Factory, near Savannakhet

It was Saturday so there were few workers around, but everybody seemed happy for us to wander where we pleased. In England you cannot visit a place of work without presenting yourself at reception, signing in, having a ‘visitor’ badge hung round your neck and being escorted everywhere, all in the name of ‘security’ (an industry whose main object is to make people worried about their security, thus persuading them they need more security). In Laos people smile at you, and once you have smiled back you are taken on trust.

Worker at the Natuay Salt Factory, near Savannakhet

As the sign says, salt can be extracted by boiling the brine in large vats…..

Steaming brine, Natuay Salt Factory near Savannakhet

…or letting the water evaporate from shallow pools. Although it was neither rainy, nor cloudy - nor likely to be for some time - the pools were, for the moment, not in use.

Shallow pools for evaporating brine, Natuay Salt Factory, Savannakhet

Salt lay around in heaps, looking strangely like snow, with the grimy edges snow acquires from lying too long by the roadside. I half expected the heat to be melting it into puddles.

Salt piled up like snow, Natuay Salt Factory, near Savannnakhet

Kaysone Phomvihane

Savannakhet lies on a bend in the river and although it's the country's second city, Route 13 cuts off the bend and misses it. In 2005 the city was renamed Kaysone Phomvihane after the Savannakhet born revolutionary leader who became Chairman of the People’s Revolutionary Party in 1955. From 1975 to 1991 he was the first Prime Minister of independent Laos, became President in 1991 and died in office a year later aged 71. I am not sure the new name has caught on, Savannakhet is shorter, simpler and such a pleasing word. Perhaps Mr Phomvihane should be satisfied by having his face on all the bank notes from 2,000Kip up

Kaysone Phomvihane on the 2,000Kip note, worth a little less than 20p

That Ing Hang and Folk Tales

A little to the east of the city we detoured to That Ing Hang, a much-revered 16th century stupa (though locals claim it is much older) allegedly enshrining part of the Buddha’s back bone.

It’s a disappointingly grubby monument and crumbling in places…

That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

… though it does have some amusing carvings. I particularly liked this little demon.

Demon, That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

Lynne was again irritated to find that she was not considered properly dressed until she had put on a local style skirt and even then was not permitted into the stupa’s enclosure…

Boldly going where no woman has gone before can go, That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

…she did not miss much except a close up look at the offerings.

Offerings, That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

The stupa is surrounded by a well-manicured courtyard and cloister, with the appropriate quantity of Buddha images.

Buddha images, That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

While we sat in the shade Phim told us a couple of folk tales, which are worth retelling. A male bird and a female bird met and fell in love and vowed to always be together. Inevitably there were chicks and while the mother tended the nest, the father flew off to find food. One evening he stayed out later than usual. He entered a lotus flower and as dusk fell, the flower closed around him and he was trapped inside. In the night a fire swept through the forest killing his family. In the morning when the lotus opened he flew home, discovered what had happened and remembering his vow flew straight into the fire and died so that he could be with her in the next life. What a happy tale!

More Buddha Images, That Ing Hang, Savannakhet

There was once a girl who never spoke and whatever her family and friends said or did she remained resolutely silent. When she reached marriageable age her father despaired of finding her a husband, and the village elder decreed that she would marry the first man she spoke to. She was a beautiful girl and many suitors came with hope and many suitors left disappointed. Eventually a poor man arrived and begged for a chance to make her speak. This was not the catch her father had hoped for, but he was desperate and so he agreed. The poor man told her the tale of the two birds, but said that the female went hunting and become trapped in the lotus flower. ‘That’s wrong,’ said the girl, and so she found her husband.

I like this story, it works on several levels – even if all of them are sexist!

Turning East Towards the Bolaven Plateau

Lunch and a Glass of Rice Whisky

Leaving That Ing Hang we continued south along Route 13 and then turned east on smaller roads heading up onto the Bolaven Plateau. We ate at a simple roadside restaurant, with offerings spatchcocked ready for the barbecue laid out beneath a fan to keep the flies off.

The 'menu' roadside restaurant south east of Savannakhet

We chose the usual scrawny chicken and, at Phim’s suggestion, sticky rice and a spicy bean salad. Too late we realised that beyond the chickens were a couple of rats. Paddy field rats are not the sewer rats we are used to and are considered good eating, but even so, there is a psychological problem for westerners to overcome before tucking into rat. We felt we ought to take the opportunity while it was there, but we had already ordered. Perhaps we used that as an excuse, quite literally, to chicken out.

Barbecued chicken, spicy bean salad and sticky rice - but no rat.

When we finished, the woman in charge offered me a glass of rice whisky. She was, I think, motivated partly by hospitality, but few Lao can resist the opportunity to reduce a rich westerner to a spluttering red-faced heap. ‘What about me?’ Lynne asked, feeling she had already endured enough sexism for one day. Ironically the request for equal treatment was only taken seriously when it came through me. Lao women do not drink, a least not in public, so there was a minor taboo to be broken.

When she has finished making the salad she will offer me a rice whisky!

I had somehow acquired a small audience as I sniffed at the brown liquid in the shot glass and took a small sip. It was not strongly flavoured or very alcoholic, around 30% I thought, so I downed the rest in one, to murmurs of approval from the watchers and maybe just a little disappointment. Lynne drank hers in a steady and more ladylike manner.

We drove on through sugar plantations, and past stands of cassava, banana, rubber and teak. The ascent to the Bolaven Plateau was so gradual we hardly noticed it. 600m above river level, it is a cooler land of rice and coffee plantations with greener trees and fewer palms.

On the Bolaven Plateau

Tad Lo, A Hotel and a Waterfall

After a long day’s driving we reached Tad Lo around 3 o’clock. Tad Lo is a waterfall (‘lo’ is Lao for ‘waterfall’), but there is also a hamlet and a tourist lodge where we checked in and said goodbye to Phim and his driver who were returning to Vientiane.

We took a walk round the extensive grounds to view the waterfall above the lodge….

Tad Lo

….the rapids below….

The rapids below the lodge, Tad Lo

…and for me to stand in a stupid position given my recent history.

I don't know why I chose to stand here, but at least I did not fall in this time

We returned to our bungalow and had a cup of tea on the veranda….

On the verandah of our bungalow

The Hotel Elephants Take a Bath

….but were soon lured away to join the small crowd watching one of the two hotel elephants take its evening bath. The mahout had an impressive sense of balance as he gave his charge a good scrub….

The elephant takes a bath, Tad Lo

….and then hopped off to let it enjoy the water.

The elephant bathing

When time was up he gave a single command and the huge beast lumbered obediently onto the bank.

Lumbering obediently onto the bank, Tad Lo

We walked up to the main lodge for a beer and were able to watch the second elephant bathing from the comfort of the bar.

The second elephant bathing

Although all the land we could see was owned by the hotel, this being Laos locals wandered in when the mood took them. Below us one man was taking his bath…

A local man takes his bath, Tad Lo

….while as dusk fell a group of monks arrived for their evening ablutions.

Monks gather as dusk falls, Tado Lo

We returned to our bungalow for a shower and heard the disturbing news that 128 people had been killed in random attacks in Paris.

On the plateau the evening was cool and for the first time since leaving Bangkok I put on a pair of long trousers. Back in the main lodge we enjoyed a glass of pastis before dining on fish with lemon sauce and chips (Lynne) and pork with lemongrass and garlic (me).

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Location: Savannakhet, Laos
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