Lanten New Years Celebration - Pahka, Laos

Sunday, 31 January, was the New Years celebration in the Lanten village of Pahka. Pahka is located on the unpaved road, Lao Highway 17B, between Muang Sing and Xieng Kok. It is about 25 minutes outside of Xieng Kok.

I wanted to be there to watch the preparations for the festival, so we got up at 3:45 A.M. to leave the hotel at 4:00 A.M. for the 3 hour trip to Pahka. We went out to the parking lot and found Khun Kompak and Khun Thone waiting and ready to go. We were off to an early as well as a good start to the day. Since we were unable to purchase much food the day before, we stopped at the morning market in Khouang.

Our trip out to Pahka was highlighted by the sights of two very large bonfires on distant mountains. These fires were massive and provided golden glows to their surroundings with mushroom shaped clouds of smoke created above them. The mountains were not being cleared as part of the Hmong people's slash and burn technique of agriculture. The clearing and burning was on a large industrial scale to prepare the area for development into rubber plantations financed by China. During our flight to Luang Namtha, Duang and I had seen many of the rubber plantations. They had reminded me of the terraces used by the Incas in Peru.

We arrived in Pahka at 7:00 A.M. to find the village already heavily involved in the preparations for the festival later in the morning. Many men were squatting in a large semicircle around a large area of fresh banana leaves placed upon the ground in front of one of the homes. Piles of various parts of slaughtered cattle, hide, bones, intestines, stomach, internal organs, and so forth were heaped on top of the banana leaves. Next to each man was a thick round cutting block. Pieces of the animal were placed upon the cutting block and chopped with a heavy knife until it was turned into a thick paste - just as I had seen at some many preparations for festivals in Isaan.


Occasionally either one of the men or a woman would gather up the paste and place it into one of the large pots boiling over a wood fire close by to the men's location. Women were busy close by cooking rice, cooking soups, and preparing pieces of meat. Some of the women were multi-tasking. Besides their cooking duties they were caring for their baby who was strapped to their back. Older children were cooking pieces of liver skewered onto long pieces of slender bamboo. After cooking the meat they willingly shared with their friends and siblings. Throughout this scene village pigs, chickens, and dogs wandered about content to nibble and gnaw at the scraps at the edge of banana leaves.

After a couple of hours of intense food preparation, the villagers took a break to have breakfast. Their breakfast consisted of sticky rice that had been cooked in a very large pot covered with banana leaves. Along with the rice they ate some of the boiled meats. The food was placed on banana leaves and eaten with bare hands. Men took care of some of the small children while the women ate. Children wandered about the entire time amusing themselves anyway that they could. As is so often the case in Asia the older children looked after the younger children. Many of the young toddlers exhibited a strong sense and spirit of independence. I got several photos of groups of two and three year olds walking, sitting, and eating together fairly much oblivious to their surroundings. They live in an environment, or world very different than toddlers back in the USA or Europe. Their world still retains vestiges of trust, and innocence long purged from Western societies.

It was during this interlude that I found some of the younger women relaxing by playing a game. They were enjoying themselves by tossing a ball type object back and forth between them. The ball type object was a stuffed red, white, and blue cloth sack about four inches square with long cloth streamers of the same colors. There did not appear to be any strategy, rules, or even winners and losers in their play. They just smiled, and laughed even when they failed to catch the object. The overall feeling during the morning was a strong sense of community. Everyone seemed to have a duty and responsibility which they performed willingly as well as happily. There was one man who was obviously in charge and often was a little agitated. I joked with Duang that I thought that he "tink tink, too much" - what she used to tell me so often before. What she meant was that I "Think, think too much" - an expression of the Buddhist precept that thinking that is about wanting and desire lead to pain and suffering Although the people apparently respected him, when he started to spin out of control as often politicians do, the people basically ignored him. As he was getting all excited they walked away and continued with their work at their selected pace.

As the morning got later, vendors set up their booths on both sides of the village main dirt street. A very popular booth for the children was the vendor who sold the Lao version of snow cones. The young children congregated around the female vendor as she prepared to sell the cold treats. Other popular vendors were the balloon people. The balloon people had booths where people paid to throw three metal darts at air filled balloons stuffed into cubicles on a large sheet of plywood about 12 feet away. If three balloons were broken with three consecutive throws, the player won a small box of soy milk drink or fruit drink. The game was open to all ages - you just had to have the money to play.



The most popular booths for people of all ages were the dice games. Gambling is illegal in Thailand but very wide spread in Laos. The dice game involves placing your money (bet) on a sheet of plastic that has pictures on it. The pictures of fish, horses, dragon, etc correspond to the pictures on the faces of the dice. The dice are placed side by side at the top of one section of an opened wooden box. A string runs from the band holding the dice in place to a bettor at the foot of the open box. After the bets are placed, the person pulls on the string which typically releases one of the dice to tumble down into the second section of the open box. The second tug on the string usually released the remaining two dice. The winning bets were paid off and the losing bets gathered by the vendors. The losing bets were kept in the bottom part of the box to a certain point when the vendor hid the stash of cash under the fabric playing surface of the bottom box. The betting and payout were a combination of roulette and craps. You could bet on the actual picture that would show up at least once or you could place your bet on lines and intersections of lines for different types of payouts. The little children were obsessed with the game. It was like video games in America only with the possibility of winning money. However just as is the case with gambling anywhere in the world, the "losers" far exceeded the number of "winners" Much to the delight of the children, I gambled for awhile. I used just about every cliche used in movies about gambling to extol good luck. I blew on the dice. I talked to the dice. I patted the string puller on the shoulder. I rubbed the string puller's hands. I puffed three times on the hand of the string puller. The children loved it. I ended up wining 50,000 KIP (about $6 USD. When I quit I gave my "Lucky" string puller 10,000 KIP much to her delight. Duang then gambled on her own. It took awhile but she managed to lose the 60,000 KIP that I gave her. We had lost 10,000 KIP ($1.25 USD) but we had a great time - very cheap entertainment for sure.


We left the village when the speeches by the visiting dignitaries started. There were to be dances and music as part of the celebration but it was getting late. We still had a three hour drive to return to the hotel. I wanted to be back by sunset for safety reasons - safety in terms of "road safety" rather than crime concerns.

Upon completing our dinner, Duang and I stopped by some people playing volleyball. They were people from Thaioil that we had met earlier in our stay. They were from the same refinery in Thailand where I had worked when I met Duang. I ended up playing volleyball with them until it was too dark to play. It was a pleasant surprise to meet them again, play volleyball and most of all return to our room without any injuries or even aches and pains. It was definitely a nice way to finish our last full day in Laos (for this trip).

We were scheduled to leave the next afternoon at 12:40 P.M. but that is for another blog or two.

Laos Day #6 - The Rest of the Day - Silk Experience

After our lunch in Luang Namtha on Saturday, 30 January, we wandered around the "new" town searching for the bakery and a place to buy some supplies for the next day's journey to Ban Pakha for the Lanten New Year celebration. "New" town? After the war ended in 1975, the Pathet Lao moved, or more accurately rebuilt, the market and government buildings north of the original town site in 1976. The "old" town where we were staying is subject to flooding in the rainy season so the decision was made to move to the higher ground to the north.

The new town consists of three wide parallel streets, one of them being the main highway - Highway #3 with a small number of connecting streets. Luang Namtha is the capital of the province but is essentially a rural backwater. There are several guest houses and a large hotel is under construction. There are a few restaurants catering to tourists and even fewer bars. There are several tour company offices offering treks, and when the water levels are sufficient, boat tours. The town is the jumping off point for treks into the minority people villages and the NPA wilderness.

There are supposed to be 35,000 people in Luang Namtha, but that number must include all of the adjacent villages in the wide area around the town. Based upon my observations, I would say that the actual "new" town has around 5,000 inhabitants. There was very little traffic on Saturday afternoon and even fewer people on the streets. It was so empty that we found only two booths on the sidewalk - a young girl selling fruit and an older woman selling some clothing - unbelievable for southeast Asia. After talking with several people, most who did not know about the bakery, we found out that the bakery was closed on Saturday and Sunday. Undeterred with bought some fruit and resigned ourselves to having to make an early morning stop at the market in Kouang, a small village past Muang Sing, to have breakfast.


We returned to the hotel - Duang to rest and I to write in my diary. As Duang rested, I sat on the porch overlooking the Nam Tha River, and took photographs. Several children, two girls and four boys, were busy exploring the opposite river bank as well as the river itself. They were having a grand time as only 5 to 8 year olds can. The boys were dressed only in the jockey style underwear. One girl was topless and the other girl around 5 years old was stark naked. Two of the boys climbed a tree stump and jumped into the river. With that demonstration of bravado the group waded across the river to our side, put on their dry clothes that were cached midway up the river bank, and walked back to their village.

After about two hours I checked in on Duang to see if she would like to go for another walk. She agreed so we walked to the bridge that spans the Nam Tha River and leads to Ban Pasak. Ban Pasak is a Tai Dam (Black Tai) village that we had visited earlier. During our previous village Duang has purchased a beautiful silk scarf from a local weaver.


We walked to the home of the village weaver and found the family involved in another aspect of the silk process that we had not witnessed before. The grandmother was working in front of a large wood frame that had been set up outside of their home. The woman's daughter or daughter-in-law assisted her in her task. An older grand daughter cared for her younger sister and baby brother. Her son or son-in-law supervised and helped as required to keep the work going.

The wood frame reminded me of the wood curtain frame that my mother used in the 1950's to stretch out and dry freshly washed sheer window curtains. The frame in Ban Pasak was about 4 feet wide and 8 feet long. Along each of the two long sides of the frame, 16 shiny metal tubes, about 6 inches long and 3/4 inch in diameter were fastened. At the bottom of the frame, two similar tubes were attached. The top of the frame was a wood board with a series of notches cut into it's upper edge. The bottom cross member at the back of the frame had approximately 20 slender wood rods. On the day of our visit, 10 of the wood rods had short blue PVC pipe bobbins placed over them. Each of the bobbins had a mass of brilliant gold colored silk thread spun around them. The older woman was busily occupied taking the 10 individual threads in her hand from the bobbins and looping them around the 34 shiny tubes. In a continuous and fluid motion she wound the threads up and down and up and down through the tubular maze. Her motion only occasionally interrupted when a thread was broken or came to an end. She stopped and waited as her son or son-in-law tied the two ends together and gave them a few twists necessary to essential make the knot invisible. It was remarkable even when I removed my glasses and got extremely close to the knot that I had just witnessed being made I could not see it. The end result of the afternoon's efforts will be a large skein of golden silk that will be placed above the hand loom located underneath the family home which stands about 6 feet above the ground on stilts. The skein is then incorporated into the fabric that is woven my the woman's daughter. On our previous visit, we watched as the daughter wove similar golden silk thread into a piece that she was weaving. It was extremely beautiful - the gold silk iridescent within the intricate design of the finished fabric on the loom.

Since Duang and I typically are not part of any tour or organized group, we remain masters of our time. We are able to stop and if not to smell the roses, to talk to the local people and learn much more about their life as well as their work. We both share the same passion to learn and understand the world outside of our home which makes our travels so much more enjoyable. In our travels we have found that two of people's favorite subjects for discussion as well as sharing are their life and their work. Our visit with the village silk weavers was no exception. As Duang and the villagers were busily engaged in conversation, I wandered around. I noticed two long pieces of PVC pipe straddled across the back of the family's Chinese farm truck. The middle of the pipes were covered with heavy paper - locally produced bamboo paper I suspect. I asked about the pipes through Duang and the man came over to show me what they were. He removed the paper covering from one of the pipes exposing a mass of shiny gold silk threads. Removed from the constraints of their paper restraint, several ends, I believe 8, of small skeins of thread dropped from the pipe. The family had recently completed dying the thread gold and the finished product was drying around the PVC pipe. Eventually the dried threads will be wound onto bobbins for subsequent processing on the frame close by.
Also spanning the pick up truck's bed was a wide bamboo tray covered by a large piece of silk obviously covering many objects. We learned that the fabric was covering special structures along with silk worms. The man's wife came over to me and brought me to an area underneath the house where many objects were stored. The objects were a dome type very open lattice created from woven rattan. From the woman, we learned from the woman that at the proper time, silk worms are selected and placed beneath each dome, 10 worms to a dome. The domes are then covered which encourages the worms to commence spinning their cocoons. using the dome to support their work. She then took us to a screened room underneath the house.

The screened room was about 10 feet by 10 feet and had a vestibule with two doors as and entrance. Inside the room was a large framework made from lashed bamboo which served as shelves. Many low side woven bamboo trays rested on the shelves. The woman removed one of the woven trays and placed it on the floor. It was filled with wiggling silk worms and mulberry leaves. She squatted and commenced to sort through the mass of worms. She selected the fat ones that had a yellowish tinge. The selected worms were placed into a plastic bin. These are the worms that are placed underneath the rattan domes to spin their cocoons. She was joined by her young son who readily pitched in to select the worms. Her young daughter was not put off by the wiggling and squirming creatures but was not willing to give up her guard with a falang (foreigner) in such close proximity!

After completing the day's sorting operation, the woman went up into the house and returned with a large bag filled with dry cocoons that had been previously harvested and boiled. The dry cocoons would eventually be turned into thread, dyed, and woven into fabric. It was very informative and interesting to learn how the family produced as well as controlled the entire process of creating silk fabric. Every member of the family contributed to the process and it appeared that the family was successful. Although the family was currently living in a typical Tai Dam elevated wood house, next door a three story concrete and brick replacement home was being constructed.

The family had a baby son who had a cleft lip. Fortunately his palate was fine. He was able to feed without difficulty and just about upon cue in response to my query about his ability to eat, he started to breastfeed. The family told us that when the baby got to be 10 kilos (22 pounds) he would be able to have his lip repaired for free. I took a father and son photograph in appreciation for the family's time and kindness. I promised to send a copy to them by way of the hotel. Two days ago we mailed the photos to Laos.

After seeing and learning about the entire silk production process that the family used to produce the silk scarf that we had purchased, we have a greater appreciation for the piece and a much greater respect as well as admiration for the people who created it.

Laos Day #6

Saturday 30 January started off very cool. The temperature during the night had gotten down to 14C (57F). It made for a very refreshing start to the morning. Duang chose to remain in the relative warmth of our bed underneath the comforter and a special Chinese blanket. The Chinese blanket was the same type that we had seen used in some of the minority people villages. The blanket was made out of a felt type synthetic material and about 5/8" thick - making it very heavy. The blanket was also decorated with very garish colors - predominately reds. All told, I was even glad that we had that blanket the previous night.

I left our cottage at 7:00 A.M. and walked to the Vat (Wat in Thai) in Ban Khone which is close to the hotel. There was a fog bordering on being a light mist. People were congregating in small groups outside of their homes getting warm from small wood fires built on the bare ground. Once again my morning's walking experience gave evidence to the open and friendly disposition of the Lao people. People walking, riding bicycles, riding on motorbikes, and squatting around their home fire gave me smiles and "sabai-dii" (Lao "Hello"). Walking provides so much more dimension to travel. The slow pace of walking exposes you to the sounds, smells, as well as the intricate details of the area through which you pass. You also are exposed to more intimate contact with the local people. Travel by truck, car, motorbike, or bus will cover more ground and cover the ground more quickly but it doesn't seem like you have been there unless you put your boots or, as is so often the case here in Southeast Asia, put your flip flops on the ground.

I arrived at the Vat, Buddhist temple, after most of the Monks had apparently left on their daily alms walk. Several young Monks ranging in age from 15 to 20 years old milling around in the fog. The chickens and roosters that live on the Vat grounds were busy greeting the morning and leaving their roosts in the many trees and shrubs that grow throughout the compound. At 7:00 A.M. the Lao public radio started broadcasting on the large speaker mounted in one of the large trees of the Vat. There was some ethnic music and what seemed to be a reading of the daily news. Shortly later two separate groups of younger Monks returned with food offerings from their early morning alms walk. I assume that the older Monks had finished their walk prior to my arrival at the Vat. However, I did see one of the older Monks look into a very young Monk's bowl to see what he had brought back - sort of like checking out a younger brother's trick or treat bag on Halloween night.

The Monks were shy so it was not easy to get meaningful photographs. Some of the older Monks were doing morning chores - sweeping out their houses, and carrying water to the outhouse. Most of the Monks were occupied keeping an eye on me, trying to figure out what I was up to,and ensuring that I could not photograph their face. Two Monks, about 8 years old, were busy playing a game with a woven rattan ball - perhaps Takawh without a net. I often find it ironic that these "holy men" quite often can be seen behaving just like so many of the other young boys of their same age. In Laos, and to a lesser extent, Thailand, the Vats and Wats offer an opportunity to poor boys to obtain a higher education for free. One of our new Lao friends, had attended the same Vat from when he was 9 years old until he was 18. At the side of the Vat grounds was a fairly large two story building - the Vat's school.


I wandered around the Vat grounds and eventually made my way to the village outside of the back gate to the Vat. Upon my return on to the Vat grounds, I heard some voices. I peered over a bamboo fence and saw several Monks huddled around a small fire. They were trying to get warm and in deep conversation - perhaps theology? I said "Sabai dii" and asked their permission to photograph them. They indicated that there was no problem. I took several and I am optimistic that this aspect of a Monk's life is not often seen.

I returned to the hotel, showered with plenty of hot water from the solar water heating system, and enjoyed breakfast with my wife. The hotel manager was not there so we made arrangements with the receptionist to hire Mr Kpmpak and his van for the next day so that we could attend the Lanten New Year celebration in Ban Pakha. Just as in Isaan, news travels quickly and far in Luang Namtha, Duang and I returned to our cottage - Duang resting in the bedroom and I writing at the desk in the front room. I heard a voice letting us know that someone was coming - a sing song type lilt used by peddlers when they are making their rounds through Baan Chorada where our home is located. It was Kuhn Khone, and his 11 month old daughter, Soolani. She was all bundled up against the morning chill and clutching a large balloon from the local festival. She was just too precocious in her little pink hat with ears at the sides to ignore so I hauled out the cameras and started taking photographs. She was a very easy and willing model. We all had a good time. Khun Khone had heard that we were traveling to Ban Pahka the next day and inquired if he could accompany us. Without hesitation we gladly agreed. He had been so helpful and kind to us that we were happy to help him out.

After his visit, Duang and I headed out on our first walk of the day. We first stopped at the rice milling "plant" to the right of the Boat Landing Guest House towards the Acrow style bridge spanning the Nam Tha River. The miller has been busy with all sorts of rice deliveries to the mill. These are not huge shipments but are deliveries from local people - deliveries by motorbike, push carts, the ubiquitous Chinese farm trucks 5 HP and 10 HP variety and some of the more modern small farm trucks - approximately 1 to 2 ton rated capacity. Often the farmer's family will accompany him on the trip to the mill. I was able to take several photos of "The Farmer's Daughters" as they waited in their 10 HP Chinese farm truck. The people wait their turn. When it is their time, they dump their rice out of their bags into a square hole in the floor. A vertical conveyor elevates the rice to the top of the milling machine where gravity is utilized to feed the grain through the process. The hulled rice exits the bottom of the milling machine on to a short horizontal conveyor that feeds another enclosed vertical conveyor that fed a chute which dumped the finished product into an awaiting grain bag - the same bags that were used to bring the grain to the mill. just as in Isaan where the rice thresher is paid with a certain percentage of the finished product, the miller kept his share. In the back and side of his milling room (plant?), there were high stacks of filled 100 Kg bags of milled rice. The milling plant was extremely interesting - it was filled with many large cobwebs that had captured the dust generated by the milling process and nearby dirt road for unknown days, weeks, or perhaps months or longer. Exposed drive belts offered a constant source of potential accidents. Standard safety equipment and practises often required in similar American facilities were no where to be seen. This was a down to the basics, one person facility - minimally fit for purpose. A facility where a local person was providing his neighbors with a necessary and valuable service. About 4 kilometers away alongside the main road into town, I saw another similar milling plant. No doubt there would have been more of these small independent plants if I had looked more carefully and more widely.



From the milling plant, we walked back to the paved main road and a very short ways towards the new part of Luang Namtha to Ban Khone where the Vat I had visited earlier in the morning. The Monks were now accustomed to me so photographing them was much easier. Unfortunately the Vat was locked and the Monks we spoke to did not have the key. We grabbed a passing taxi truck and rode into town. After having lunch at a local restaurant, I withdrew 700,000 KIP from my bank account back in California. The world has changed so dramatically in such a relatively short time.

In 1973, I obtained an American Express card for the sole purpose of making foreign currency purchases by credit card during my first overseas trip - a trip to Europe. At the time the only alternative was to carry Traveler's Checks. Today I am able to be in a small town in northwest Laos, use my American ATM card to get funds from my account in California, and check the current balance of the US account - a small town that was leveled during the Second Indochina War, 1973 to 1975 - amazing!

So ended our morning of our sixth day in Laos. The day was one-half over with a full afternoon remaining but that will be subject of a different blog.

Laos Day #5 - A Day In Luang Namtha

After our full and exhausting day to Xieng Kok on Thursday, Duang and I decided to relax and "catch up" on Friday 29 January. Duang caught up on her sleep and I caught up on my journal.

While Duang slept, I had my breakfast and wrote in my journal. It is very easy to fall behind in maintaining a journal especially when there are so many interesting sights, and people to write about. Kees joined me prior to his departure to go on his photo assignment of the Lanten wedding. It had been a surprise as well as a pleasure to see him again in such wonderful surroundings.

Later in the morning, Duang and I attended the local festival. At 11:00 A.M. Jorgon and Helga drove us out to the Vat (Wat in Thailand) in their camper. We were somewhat disappointed. Just as we were surprised at the small size of the Luang Namtha Night Market, we were surprised at how small the festival was. We climbed the staiway from the dirt road up to That Phum Phuk (That Phoum Phoul) and were rewarded with some nice views of the Luang Namtha Valley.

During the Second Indochina War, the stupa of the Vat was toppled by a bomb blast which occurred during fighting between Communist troops and Royal Lao troops. The ruins of the toppled stupa now provide an interesting climbing experience for local children as well as many of the young Monks, who are often not much older than the village children. A replacement stupa was built alongside the ruins in 2003.

The festival consisted mainly of several small booths selling food, snacks, soft drinks, and beer. In the end of the festival furthest from the stupa was an area set up as a beer garden complete with a stage and powerful sound system. Unfortunately, we had arrived after the performance of local minority dances. There were several booths where anyone, children, Monks, as well as adults could throw three metal darts at air filled balloons placed within vertical wooden trays. If a person burst three balloons they won a small container of soy milk or some other type of soft drink. The booths were doing a very good business. Gambling is legal in Laos unlike in Thailand where it is banned. From this trip to Laos I can report that they start them young. Many times we saw 7 and 8 year olds trying their luck or rather testing their skill. Another common sight at the festival was a small child enjoying the simple pleasure of a helium balloon tethered to their hand.


After walking along the two aisles of booths three times, Duang and I sat down at one of the food booths. I ate some squid flavored potato chip type snacks while Duang had a plate of chicken feet to munch on. We shared what eventually became three bottles Beer Lao - the excellent Lao beer brewed in Vientiane. We sat listening to the mahlam lao and mahlam sing music blaring from the beer garden while we watched the world, or at least this small part of the world go by. After awhile 5 middle aged men strolled by and nodded "Hello". By their demeanor, haircuts, slacks, and cotton solid colored pastel shirts, I knew that they were government officials.

After a couple of hours we decided to return to the hotel. We passed two tables with plastic chairs under a canopy where the five men along with three officers of the Lao People's Army were enjoying themselves. Just past their location, as we approached the exit, Duang left me to go to the bathroom. As I stood waiting for her to return, one of the men came with a plastic chair and motioned for me to sit. Since it was already getting quite warm and my camera backpack was heavy, I gladly accepted his invitation. He left but quickly returned with a glass of Lao Lao, the very potent rice whiskey popular in Laos as well as Isaan. Having lived in Vietnam for awhile I was familiar with party and Party protocol - party etiquette and Communist Party etiquette. I accepted the offer and took my glass over to the table where the dignitaries were seated. I thanked them in Thai and toasted them in Lao to their shock and amazement. Fortunately a Lao toast is one of the few Lao terms that I know. By now Duang had joined us and she was treated to their hospitality - a glass with some Lao Lao. She spoke a little to the men explaining that I was from America and that I was visiting for one week. We thanked them and headed towards the gate. I then remembered about certain laws in Laos. Foreigners are not allowed to "fraternize", "be with" (as in the Biblical sense), or be intimate with Lao women. I suppose that such laws may also apply to relations with Lao men, but I never cared or researched that aspect. If a foreigner wants to marry a Lao woman, they have to apply and request permission from the Lao government. Duang is often mistaken for being Lao in our travels and I wanted to ensure that there were no misconceptions regarding our status or perhaps it was the effect of our beer and Lao Lao, so I returned to the dignitaries and explained in Thai and pantomime that they did not have to worry - Duang was Thai not Lao, we were married, and they did not have to take me to jail. We all had a big laugh and said good bye one last time.

We returned to our hotel and found that Mr Thone had brought his 11 month old daughter to the reception area. We spent some time playing with her and photographing her before returning to our cottage. After two hours of cleaning camera gear and writing in my journal I went for a walk.


Outside of the hotel in the gravel parking lot, local boys were having a cock fight. Cock fighting has deep and long traditions in Southeast Asia. It is not illegal here. This was the second cock fight that I had witnessed. I had watched my first fight in Tahsang Village. Unlike what I had read about cock fights the first fight as well as this one was not a bloody or fatal affair. In the first fight, the spurs on the roosters leg were taped to prevent them from being used as weapons. In Laos there were not any spurs on the rooster's legs. True to form, I found this fight to be as boring as the first one. In Laos the fight consisted of two twenty minute rounds. I had arrived towards the end of the second round. I don't know if it was actually at the end of twenty minutes or not, but it was obvious to me which rooster had won - the other one pretty much given up although both animals were tired from their jumping around and pecking. The boys mercifully declared the winner, grabbed each rooster, split into two groups and went their separate ways on bicycles. I continued on my walk.

I walked to the bridge, an Acrow type structure, spanning the Namtha River. I never made it all the way across the bridge. Down below my perch at the start of the bridge, a fisherman was cleaning off his throwing net on his way back home in the late afternoon. Across the river, women were busy washing laundry, and bathing in the shallow water below their village. Truckloads of farmers and harvested broom plant crossed the bridge on their way back to their villages. As the heavier vehicles crossed the bridge, the bridge bounced up and down from the moving loads. One of the smaller farm trucks, the 10 HP type, did not have enough power to cross the bridge so men were assisting it by pushing it up the slight rise towards the middle of the bridge. Bicyclists were a major part of the bridge traffic that afternoon. All this made for interesting photography and observation of daily village life in a remote rural area of Laos.




For a relaxing and a "catch up" day, Friday turned out to be another satisfying day. It had been another day of surprises and an opportunity to observe as well as learn about daily life in Laos - a beautiful land inhabited by extraordinary people.

New Gallery Available for Viewing - "Monks In the Mist"

On the last morning of our trip to Northwest Laos, Luang Nam Tha Province, I joined the Monks of Ban Khone on their daily alms walk, "Tak Bart".

It was a very interesting experience, similar to my walk with the Monks of Luang Prabang, Laos one year ago. However this year, I had a Nikon D700 camera which allowed me to take photographs in the fog and early morning light without having to use a distracting flash.

The gallery includes several photographs of the local villagers "making merit" (Tum Boon) by offering food to the passing Monks. After accepting the offerings from the villagers, the Monks stopped in front of the people's home and chanted a blessing. In Thailand the blessing is given directly to the people, but here it was to the home.


The gallery can be viewed at this location:

http://www.hale-worldphotography.com/Travel/Monks-In-The-Mist/11244834_dQcTy#788653120_T8FcM

New Photo Gallery Available

A new photo gallery "Monks In the Morning" is now available for viewing.

http://http://www.hale-worldphotography.com/Travel/Luang-Namtha-Monks/11225188_PaeU3#787229048_Cg4yD

Laos - Day #4 Xieng Kok to Luang Namtha

Outside of Xieng Kok, we stopped at a Vat ("Wat" in Thailand. The young Monks were busy preparing the Vat (Temple) for the start of the three day festival commencing the next morning. They were putting a new coat of gold paint on the chedi. Upon climbing the long concrete stairway from the dirt road up to the Vat level, we came upon several Monks. The oldest Monk appeared to be 20 years old and the youngest Monks were approximately 9 years old.

Four Monks were standing upon bamboo scaffolding that surrounded one of the two chedis. Each of the Monks had a paint brush and a small plastic pail of of gold paint. As they busily painted the concrete surface of the chedi, the young Monks were busy chatting to each other as well as keeping an eye on the 3 falangs (foreigners) who had appeared in their sanctuary. Another Monk, about 8 years old, was painting a small statue at the corner of the chedi foundation.

Several other Monks were involved in mixing some more of the gold acrylic paint. They were pouring the vicious paint into a small plastic bucket and adding water to it to create a more spreadable mixture. Three young boys, who were not Monks but I suspect were related to some of the Monks, intently observed the mixing operation. Just as we observed in the Khmu village with the blacksmiths, there were plenty of people watching and giving morale support to the few that were actually working. The tradition of observing work is acquired and embraced at a young age.

When we first arrived at the Vat, the Monks were a little shy with us and definitely camera shy. Across the dirt road from the Vat, the Lao People's Army is building an outpost on top of a small hill. Loud music was blaring from within the "complex". In this communist state the music was not state martial music, or music extolling the virtues of the workers, or even music praising the universal brotherhood of the proletariat. They were broadcasting mahlam lao and mahlam sing songs - some of the exact tunes that are currently popular in Isaan and are played at every concert show. When my favorite song started playing, I showed the Monks some of my Isaan dance moves - much to their delight and amusement! After my "performance" the Monks were neither camera shy or leery of us - not even weary of us either.

Jorgon and I spent a great deal of time photographing the Monks painting the chedi. Helga and Duang, no doubt accustomed to our obsessions, did not seem to mind and patiently waited. At one end of this level of the Vat's grounds local women were erecting bamboo poles to form the framework to hang tarps to create booths for the upcoming festival. The booths most likely would sell local food specialties or just as likely some type of game of chance. Unlike Thailand, games of chance or rather "gambling" is legal. In fact upon crossing the border out of Thailand going into Laos, Thailand has posters advising people that if they lose their money gambling in Laos, the Thai government is unable to help them. Favorite games for all ages are throwing darts at balloons or tossing bamboo rings around the necks of empty beer bottles.

Back on Highway 17B, the dirt road back to Muang Sing, we stopped in an Akha village. We had spotted some women sitting outside in front of their home alongside of the road caring for children and babies. It was a scene composed of three generations - baby, mother, and grandmother with the women wearing traditional Akha clothing but also topless. As we approached, the grandmother came to us and was obviously demanding money to be photographed. My experience in Thailand, Vietnam, and on our previous trip to Laos, is that this behavior was typical of the Akha people. The opportunity for what could be some excellent photographs was too tempting to dismiss her demands. I thought that she wanted 5,000 Kip for "modeling fee" and I thought that it was a fair price. I paid her the 5,000 kip and there was immediate confusion - through our driver we found out that she actually wanted 50,000 Kip. I told her jokingly and very animatedly in Thai, which she understood, that for 50,000 Kip I would want to take photos of "nome falang yai, nome falang one - may ow nome Akha lek" (Big foreign breasts, fat foreign breasts not small Akha breasts). She started laughing and Duang as well as the driver were laughing like crazy. When it was translated for Jorgon and Helga, they laughed too. Duang told me that when we got back to the hotel I could take pictures of her breasts and pointed out they were bigger than the Akha grandmother's. We all laughed for a good long time as we continued down the road. This encounter was a topic of conversation for the remainder of our journey back to Luang Namtha as well as to this day. I suspect that the women were accustomed to being paid for being photographed but had never been rejected like that before.

Further down the road we came upon an extended family building a new home on the side of the road. The home was being built on the side of the road but their materials, equipment, and children blocked one-half of the narrow road. We spoke to the people, mainly the young husband who was Lanten. His wife is Akha and the house is being built in her village. As we found out later during our trip to Laos, new homes are typically "relocated" existing houses rather than "New" as in built from scratch houses. The houses are heavy timber framed structures using notched as well as mortise and tendon joints. The heavy investment in labor and I suspect the inability to easily or cheaply obtain similar heavy timber today necessitates recycling the houses. The man informed us, through Duang, that he does not say his wife's name and she does not say his name because if they were to, the person would die. Animist beliefs play a very large part of daily life in the minority peoples of Laos as well as in Isaan. He offered each of us a shot of the volatile locally made rice whiskey to show his hospitality and to wish us good luck on our trip. We gave him a few thousand Kip, but not 50,000 to express our gratitude. We happily continued down the bumpy road laughing about the Akha grandmother once again due to the hospitality of the Hmong husband.

We stopped at a Hmong village and I got out to photograph two little boys on a hill overlooking the road. The sun, as so often it seemed on this trip, was in the wrong location for effective photographs. While I ws in front of the van taking photographs, Duang started yelling at me from within the van. I walked back to see what the commotion was all about. I got to the open sliding van door to find Duang, Jorgon, Helga, and the driver, Mr Kompack all laughing like crazy. Duang pointed out to the top of the hill to the left of the boys I had been photographing and explained what was happening. On top of the hill was a little boy around three years old completely naked, dancing like crazy and shaking his backside at us. Duang said that this little boy had clothes on when we arrived but as I started to photograph the other boys, he took off his clothes and put on his "show". I have no idea why he did it but we all got a good laugh at this entertainment or act of defiance - such are the surprises along the back roads of Laos.

At one home alongside the road we saw a mother and 7 children all younger than 5 years old. The mother and 4 of the children were standing in what was essentially a large drainage ditch alongside the road. The mother was wearing her sarong pulled up to her arm pits and was wringing part of it dry with her hands. The four toddlers were completely naked and were enjoying their combination bath and playtime. This ended up being a familiar sight in Laos - people washing clothes, washing children, and washing themselves in whatever body or source of water was convenient.

We stopped at the Lanten village of Ban Pakha. The village was a bee hive of activity. People were preparing for the Lanten New Years Celebration on 31 January. Women were preparing home made sausage for the party. Outside of one of the homes, a woman was cooking meat in a very large wok. The wok was basically sitting on the ground - atop a mound of clay. The inside the clay mound had been dug out to form a fire pit. A fire of bamboo and some hardwoods had created a healthy amount of coals for cooking. Inside the home, past the women and children milling outside the door, another woman was stuffing pig's intestines with chopped up meat and other things. Banana leaves were spread upon the well compacted dirt floor to provide a large work place. While I was busy photographing the scene, Duang was engaged in conversation with the women and ended holding a very young baby. I was not allowed to hold the baby, but I did provide some entertainment to the women as well as children - they were fascinated with my hairy arms and once they overcame their initial reservations amused themselves patting, stroking, rubbing and pulling on my arm hair. I felt it was a very fair exchange for being able to photograph the village people.

The people invited us to return on the 31st to attend their New Year Celebration. I told them through Duang that we would seriously consider coming back.

Further along the dirt road we saw some people bathing in the river. The adults turned away from me when they saw me. I got quite a different reaction from the children. Although I had stayed a comfortable distance away from their bathing area, the children quickly descended upon me either by running or riding their bicycles. It was wonderful. They were curious and inquisitive. I had a great time photographing them and showing them their pictures on the camera's LCD monitor. It made the children even more excited and willing to be photographed. Up on the road, Duang, Jorgon and Helga were getting a kick out of the sight of me and the children interacting. I also saw two women walking along in the river upturning stones and rocks in their search for food. They were not as willing to be photographed but I managed to take a couple shots.

We arrived back at the guest house after dark and weary from a long and enjoyable day. As we climbed up the wood stairs into the reception area I heard a voice say "Well you made it back alright." I was surprised to see it was our friend Kees. Kees and I had met through the Internet. His wife had discovered my blog and photography site. She shared it with him. We corresponded by email and then Facebook. Kees and Dorothy visited our home late last year. It was from and through Kees that I became aware of the Luang Namtha area. He has taken many wonderful photographs in the area and participated in the development of tourism in the area. He had gotten a last minute email to photograph a wedding as part of ongoing tourism development for a government agency. Unfortunately, Dorothy was not able to accompany him on this trip. We ended up having a wonderful set dinner with him at the Boat Landing Restaurant. It was a treat to be able to visit with him so unexpectedly and to introduce him to Jorgon and Helga.

It was a very fitting conclusion to a very satisfying and full day.