263. | From silence to chaos – two days in Phonsavan

Thousands of stone vessels lie scattered across the hills, and no one knows for sure who made them or why.

That was all I knew about the Plain of Jars before I set out.

One thing was certain, when I chose this city, I took into account that it had a much-hyped attraction.

The day came when I could go after the truth.

Back on two wheels

I rented a motorbike from my host in the morning.

He warned me that it would rain in the afternoon. If I got home before 3 o’clock, I would be safe. We were 1 hour off, but more on that later.

The day wasn’t all about the two-wheeled journey. I covered a total of 63 km, at a fairly slow pace, as the quality of the road really doesn’t allow for faster speeds.

I actually enjoyed the slower pace. I had time to look around, sometimes stopping on the side of the road to take photos.

Plain of Jars

I had to go west of Phonsavan, near Muang Khoun (ancient royal city), about 25 km. to reach one of the 17 plains, namely Site 2.

I arrived in a quiet little village, which was busy because all the schoolchildren were on their way home for lunch. Every time I see so many students with pioneer ties, smiling memories come rushing to my mind. I even wore a junior pioneer and pioneer tie.

Google Maps turned me down a small street to an even quieter abandoned temple courtyard.

Here I learned about the history of the Plain of Jars.

The Plain of Jars, a strange archaeological site in northern Laos, where thousands of huge stone jars lie scattered across the hills and valleys. These vessels can weigh several tons, and we still don’t know for sure who made them and for what purpose, although the most accepted theory is that they were related to funeral rituals. They are usually dated to between 500 BC and 500 AD (the Asian Iron Age). The area was badly damaged during the Laotian civil war, and to this day there are parts where unexploded bombs mean that you can only travel on designated paths.

Just as I was reading about the history of the place, an uncle came across the bridge. He explained something to me in Lao, but since I didn’t understand, our communication was simplified to a single English word: ticket.

So I bought a ticket. And from then on I was completely alone.

I had to cross a small bridge and then walk through a large agricultural area. The whole journey was like a straight-line adventure game: barbed wire fences guided my path all the way, there was no way I could get lost. It was a special experience to walk through such an area alone.

The plain I was heading for in this part was a hilltop. And what a hilltop!

I arrived in a beautiful grove. Its atmosphere immediately enchanted me!

The atmosphere of the place was made up of the beautiful sunshine, the light filtering through the leaves, the jars scattered everywhere on the ground covered with fallen leaves, the silence and the smell of the thousand-year-old past.

I spent enough time here to be able to observe the jars and my thoughts.

The term jar was quite misleading to me, by the way. Most of the vessels were at least a meter high, and there were several that were almost the same size as me. There were standing, lying, whole and broken jars.

I touched some of them or held my hands on them for a long time. I tried to feel the handprints of the creators from 2000-2500 years ago. I felt a bit like I had traveled back in time. I could easily imagine the environment from 2000 years ago.

The place is part of the World Heritage. Now it is also part of my memories.

Rain, museum and coffee

I didn’t really try to get home.

The slowdown!

One of my friends asked me on Monday how I managed to spend 7-8 hours on a crowded bus on Sunday? Maybe I’ve slowed down this life so much, he asked.

I think he sensed what’s been happening to me for a long time now. Yes, my life has become much slower-paced than it used to be. By this I don’t mean that I do less or that my life is less intense. On the contrary! Anyone who is a regular reader of my blog can see that my life cannot be called uneventful at all. Just as it wasn’t before.

But the pace is different. Nothing drives me, I’m not in a hurry and yes, if something else finds me that slows me down, or even speeds me up, I go with the flow.

I was thinking about this one morning exactly last week, while I was turning over the lines of the morning I had put together for myself. The mantra, repeated five times every morning, begins: With every breath I take, I am calmer and more balanced.

That morning, I began the sentences with a little more impatience. As if I wanted to get through this morning ritual so that we could move on. With this sentence, the thought came to me very quietly that there was no point in this if I didn’t give it its way.

After the momentary rush, I immediately picked up the pace. How could I be calmer and more balanced if I was in a hurry?

I slowed down.

So, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home. I even took a little detour to the village center. Just to look around. Then I stopped for lunch.

I love that in such a small village we arrange our meals in the simplest way. I said thank you, thank you. That’s the end of my Lao knowledge. I also said that I would like to eat something. The lady then walked over to the food counter, grabbed some noodles to show her that this was it, and I gave her a thumbs up to let her know that it would be good.

The usual delicious and rich soup arrived. Chicken, not tofu, full of vegetables. Plus the obligatory salad leaves served with the soup, now accompanied by mint leaves. I’ve been eating all the vegetables they give me for a long time. I never thought I would ever eat mint leaves like this. Very delicious. And it’s especially tasty with soup.

By the time it was time to pay, a young girl who knew English had already appeared. She showed me that the food was 40,000, while she said “60”. Choosing the middle ground, I gave her a fifty, of which she quickly gave me back ten. That’s how I knew that the real price was what she showed me, not what she said.

I like to eat among the locals. I can’t explain why, and I know that there’s no need to explain. It’s just nice to sit among them.

Finally, I started to head home. I saw that not only I was approaching the city, but also the storm clouds. And it was only two o’clock, not three, when we were waiting for the bad weather to arrive.

The rain started on the outskirts of the city, which started as a gentle drizzle, but in a minute it got so heavy that I ended up having to stand aside for a quarter of an hour.

Continuing my journey, I headed to the city’s museum, the Xieng Khouang Provincial Museum.

Since I bought two entrance tickets today, I’ll show them to you as an interesting fact. It’s worth noting how the name of the province (Xieng Khouang) is written once separately and once together.

The museum was completely dark and empty. After a little digging, I found the staff, who were working on some antiques in a back room.

Of course, they welcomed me and turned on the lights for me.

It was a good choice to visit this museum. Not only because I avoided the second wave of the storm for an hour. It was also worth going in because of what I saw there.

I think my review on Google Maps pretty much sums up how I felt during the hour I spent there:

I was the only visitor this afternoon. Thanks to the museum staff for turning on the lights for my pleasure. I learned a lot of interesting information about the history of this beautiful country. In addition to the many objects, there were many pictures and information blocks. Wars, history Fields of jars… If you want to be more informed and at the same time spend an hour pleasantly, this is the place for you.

From there I went to a cafe I had been to the day before. I also wrote a Google Maps review of that place, and I’ll show it here:

I was planning to go to another cafe, but it started raining. I am grateful for the rain, because I accidentally discovered this beautiful place. The decor and environment are modern and very tasteful. Books, board games and comfortable seating. I didn’t eat any food, even though it looked very tempting. I ordered an orange American coffee with ice and got the most delicious orgy of flavors I have had in days. This coffee was amazing. The staff is friendly and smiling. If you are in this area, don’t miss this cafe!

So, I definitely wanted to drink another one of these. (I’m just sitting down to finish this post on Saturday, when they’re making the third one.) This is a miracle coffee. There’s nothing complicated about it. Freshly squeezed orange juice, an American coffee, and ice. Yet it creates such a wonderful harmony of flavors that I’d be hard-pressed to find words to describe it.

When I came to this coffee shop, I wanted to drink my usual iced American coffee. But this coffee looked so good on the screen in the window that I wanted to give it a chance. I was afraid it would be some kind of sweet létty made with sugary syrup, and what a pleasant surprise I was!

If I could, I would gladly try this elsewhere.

Bun Bang Fai

After Thursday came Friday.

And I had no idea what awaited me.

My host told me to go to Wat Santiphap temple.

There would be something there.

I arrived at the temple around 12 o’clock. I saw the preparations for the ceremony in the temple courtyard, but I also knew that there would be a procession from there to a place.

So I waited. Quite a while. I sat on the steps in the shade of a building next to the temple and read.

Then I heard the sounds of departure. And I understood what my host had explained to me. The procession had left by car, but from what I suspected, it was not a foot procession.

Many people waved from the cars, perhaps even telling me to join them, but I wasn’t sure. I realized that I had missed this program, but as I turned out of the church, I looked around the corner to see where they were going. But they disappeared so quickly at the end of the long street that I felt there was no chance of ever finding them.

I turned back towards the city, hungry. I had missed this program.

Well, not at all! One last car turned out of the church and stopped next to me on the other side of the road. A monk asked me if I wanted to join them. There was no question. I jumped into the back of the van.

Within a few minutes we arrived at one end of the town. And yes: I would never have found this place.

I followed the crowd for a few hundred meters, somewhat bewildered. I had no guide, no one to tell me what the custom was here.

Fortunately, life put things right in a matter of moments. As I entered a courtyard through a small garden gate, a woman immediately pressed a can of beer into my hand. And immediately all the English knowledge that could be displayed in this small courtyard came out. The questions came, where I come from, how long have I been here? Then came the first request, can we take a selfie? With him. With him and his girlfriend? Then just with his girlfriend?

And from then on, this was the schedule next to the main program. Someone always came up to me. With a can of beer. Or with some Lao Lao whiskey. With a request for a joint photo, to stand in the middle of a group photo. With questions and kind words.

For some reason, everyone was very happy that I was also participating in this local celebration.

Because I am so lucky that I was able to participate in the famous Lao rocket festival, Bun Bang Fai!

And then it all just started.

This is a traditional rain-waiting festival, usually held around May. They build launchers out of bamboo and homemade “rockets” and compete to see who can fly higher/farther. The goal is to ask the heavens for rain to irrigate the rice fields. In the meantime, there is partying, music, booze, and food.

The whole thing was quite chaotic. I was caught in the middle of a frenzy and was speechless the whole time. The atmosphere carried me along.

I was a stranger.

But the locals were so kind that I didn’t feel like a stranger for a minute.

Falang!

I heard this word around me several times.

They pointed at me.

I knew they were talking about me.

This word means “Western (white) foreigner”.

Strangers came up to me and handed me a can of beer. I still have one in my bag today. Kids were running around, some of them were brave enough to ask me something in English. Even two young monks approached me to take a selfie. And for some reason it was exciting that they wanted to take a picture with me.

The music was blaring. They invited me to dance. I danced too. It was a slow dance, I imitated the movements of the locals. Or I just watched the circle as the local women danced in their beautiful clothes. They were happy to have me there. I was happy to be there. Lao Lao whiskey is very tasty, I had to say this several times, because offering it is also an expression of hospitality. Just as accepting it is my job. And I don’t think I had any option not to accept it.

Meanwhile, the rocket launches began. Huge bamboo stands had been set up in the rice field beforehand. The rockets, built on huge (sometimes 5-6 meter long) bamboo poles, were placed on top of this in a small launching chute. The rockets were then launched remotely, using a battery.

In addition to preserving tradition, this event is also a bit of a competition. That’s why quite huge rockets arrived, paraded in the colors of each family. Some of them immediately turned towards the ground and crashed close. But there was not one that flew very high and very far.

There were also some that didn’t work. The owner of this one was bathed in muddy water in a pit made for this purpose. At a certain point in the party, I was also invited to bathe in this puddle. I took the opportunity. It is true that this morning I washed my clothes and shoes in the shower for 45 minutes. But it was not a big price to pay to be there.

We ate fried and boiled chicken. Because of course I also got a piece of meat, a chicken leg. When a woman brought half a chicken and I bit into it just like the locals, everyone gave me their appreciation. They welcomed me, and I tried not to stand out from the crowd.

The head of one of the families knew English well, I talked to him a lot. He told me that I would be lucky in the near future to be here. I think so too. He thanked me – as many others do – for being here. Every time I replied that I felt grateful to be here.

Many rockets flew. And I had to drink a lot of beer. Of course, no one forced me, but I didn’t want to resist either. Many men came there and said that no matter how many beers I had, I would drink the can to the bottom. Then they would give me the next one.

I arrived here on an empty stomach, thinking that after the celebration I would eat in the city. Well, this empty stomach, the drinking of a few competitions, a Lao Lao or two and the drinking of an endless amount of beer had its consequences.

I got really drunk.

Luckily, based on the conversations, people knew where I lived. One of the cute ladies was my landlord’s mother, whom I had never seen at the hotel before, but today, for example, she came to me. With whiskey, of course. This morning she showed me our videos and pictures together.

So, they knew where I lived. That was my luck. If they hadn’t taken me home, I would probably have slept in the rice fields all night, holding a fired rocket.

It was about 5 or 6 in the afternoon when I lay down on my bed.

I really wanted to spend this afternoon working, not totally KO-ing passed out.

But I would be surprised if I regretted even a little that Friday afternoon and evening didn’t go as planned.

I really, really enjoyed every crazy moment of this celebration. I bathed in the love of the people and in the mud. We chewed the meat together. We marveled together and rewarded the rockets with a collective scream.

We connected and it was great.

It seems that every village gives you an unforgettable experience.

Phonsavan has given you a lot now.

I continue my journey to Vietnam with a grateful heart.

Postscript:

Just as I finished this post, I received a notification: my bus today was canceled due to the gas situation. We will leave tomorrow at the same time, from the same place. Maybe.

This way I will definitely have a day off from my Visa. Plus I have to find a new place to stay in the city today. The cafe and work will remain tomorrow.

Phonsavan and Laos didn’t want to let me go today for some reason. Vietnam can wait another day.

And that’s fine!