As one of the best preserved historic cities in Southeast Asia, Luang Prabang attracts thousands of visitors interested in absorbing its beautiful scenery and slow pace of life. I likewise visited with the intention of experiencing these delights and also with the hope of…Read More

As one of the best preserved historic cities in Southeast Asia, Luang Prabang attracts thousands of visitors interested in absorbing its beautiful scenery and slow pace of life. I likewise visited with the intention of experiencing these delights and also with the hope of volunteering. Although many places quite reasonably expect visitors to make a commitment of weeks or months in order to volunteer, there are places in Luang Prabang where one can do drop-in volunteering.

I had initially planned to help students with their English at Big Brother Mouse (http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/englishpractice.html) a local organization that seeks to increase child literacy. As well as publishing and selling inexpensive books written in Lao (an occasionally English as well), they run a drop-in volunteering program. Volunteers can read to small children or help older ones with their conversational English each day at 9 am and 5 pm. It’s a wonderful organization and while I both bought one of their books and donated money to them, I actually ended up volunteering teaching English to novices (young monks in training) because of a chance meeting.

Although its population is just 50,000, Luang Prabang has 33 temples. They are not only numerous, but prominent and their grounds occupy much of the old city. This in turn results in the presence of an exceptionally large number of monks (or more accurately, novices, I’ll explain the difference) in the city center. As a result the monks’ dawn alms round has become one of the city’s biggest attractions, so popular that it has created a cottage industry of scammers who sell low-quality rice that is literally fit only for farm animals at inflated prices. It’s also notable in that the participants in the alms round are almost all novices and thus are aged between 11 and 20.

After giving to the monks during the alms round on my first morning in the city, I went to a temple to meditate. After I left, a young man named Khamchanh whom I assumed to be a monk greeted me and asked me if I’d been praying since I had bowed three times before meditating, as is traditional in Thailand. We quickly began talking and it emerged that he, like most of the inhabitants of the temples, was a novice, not a monk. Although they dress identically to monks and many of the same religious duties, novices are young men who serve in the temple who are subject to the ten Buddhist precepts, rather than 227 monastic rules. Most are sent by their families or villages as a way both of gaining religious merit and also an education, since high schools are relatively rare in rural Laos, where three quarters of the country’s people live.

Being students and away from home with no adults to assist them outside of school, these young men need help with both their schoolwork and their English (which is usually taught by non-native speakers). As a result, I learned that while they find it inconvenient that visitors come to their temples just to take pictures, they’re appreciative of anyone who is able to chat with them in English. By my third visit, Khamchanh, who spoke very good English (made even more impressive by the fact that he’s never been outside Laos), had brought a number of other novices to come meet me specifically to practice their English. Some had come from other temples (which is not quite as surprising at it seems since novices from different temples attend school together and several temples adjoin one another). Given this incredible level of interest I made sure to return daily and was invited by the novices for both prayers and the drum ceremony (where they drive away evil spirits by ringing a giant drum).

Even with some of the students’ limited English, these conversations were fascinating as they challenged many of my perceptions. For example, when they are not in school or engaged in chores at their temple, novices are able to largely do as they please, provided they observe Buddhist precepts. The most onerous of these, I suspect, is that they are forbidden from physical contact with women (or with any object that a woman is touching), which also means they are not supposed to spend time outside their temple alone with women. (This also includes family members.) As temples are relatively well off by local standards, novices generally have phones, including smartphones in some cases.

Whether you volunteer by working with monks or at Big Brother Mouse, you will gain a greater understanding of Laos, and your students will likewise gain by your presence. If your time doesn’t allow either, buying books (which cost as little as 7,000 kip / about $1.50) from Big Brother Mouse and giving them to children wherever you go is another way of making a difference.

Note: Lao means the ethnic group and their language, Laotian means from the country of Laos
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Luang Prabang in Laos is an amazing city. It has so much culture and history, but it is a fantastically simple place and the best way to get around it is equally simple. Riding a bike means that you can enjoy the city at the…Read More

Luang Prabang in Laos is an amazing city. It has so much culture and history, but it is a fantastically simple place and the best way to get around it is equally simple. Riding a bike means that you can enjoy the city at the sedate pace that it was meant to be enjoyed at. We had bike hire included at our hotel and many others offer the same, but you can hire a bike for a day for only a couple of pounds from a few places on the high street. If you are going to do this (and you should), here is the route we took, which will cover all of the main sites nicely.

We started on the other side of the Nam Khan river from the main city (this was where our hotel was) and you should do this as part of your journey because there are lots of little streets and villages that you can explore. The locals here are very friendly and the children will be delighted to here you shout hello to them as you ride past.

To get over the river to the city proper, you'll need to use one of the two permanent bridges. I'd recommend the old bridge because it is open only to pedestrians, bicycles and mopeds and isn't as busy as the other one. You'll have to put up with mopeds driving fairly close behind you - it's not too bad though!

From there, you can take the road that runs alongside of the river down to the bottom where the two rivers join and then come up the other side. The roads are very quiet so you don't have to worry if you don't do much, or any, road cycling normally. The views are spectacular and there are plenty of places along the way to stop for photo opportunities.

Around the other side you can follow the signs up through the houses to the Wat Xieng Temple where you should stop for a wander around. It costs less than a pound to get in and some of the buildings are wonderful. You can park your bike outside the entrance - the entire city is so safe that there is no fear of anything being stolen!

From here you can drive through the main street past all of the little shops and tour centres. Now would be a good time to stop for a drink or a nice ice cream in one of the little cafes. From here you can carry on up to the Royal Palace which is another great place to stop for a good photograph. The Royal Palace has some lovely gardens to wander around too.

If you carry on to the top of this road and turn left you will end up back at the old bridge that goes across the river so this is pretty much a full circle. If you are staying on the city side of the river, you should head across here to see all the local villages like I said.

Overall, with stops, the tour took us about three hours, cycling at a leisurely pace and stopping where I've said. It was a thoroughly enjoyable way to spend the time and see most of the things the city has to offer, so I would definitely recommend it.   Close

We spent three days in Luang Prabang and it really is a wonderful city with so much to do. It is a chilled out city that has stood the test of time thanks to its status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There are plenty…Read More

We spent three days in Luang Prabang and it really is a wonderful city with so much to do. It is a chilled out city that has stood the test of time thanks to its status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There are plenty of places to grab a bite to eat and watch the world go by, but if you want to be a bit more active, I'd recommend the following five things:

1) Take an elephant trek.

We booked through All Lao Travel services which is on the main high street. The staff were very friendly and helpful and there are lots of choices for elephant trek, depending on what level of involvement you want. You can go on all day trips that involve trekking through the jungle and washing the elephants with scrubbing brushes! We opted for an hour long trek and it cost about £20 each. This included transfers to the trek start which is only about 15 minutes from the city centre. We got to sit on howdahs (seats on the back of the elephant) whilst the guide took us through some beautiful scenery. There was a stop in the middle whilst the guide took photographs and then my husband got to take the reigns and ride on the elephant's back, which he loved! There is an opportunity to feed the elephants at the end which was amazing. We loved our little taster trek and would definitely recommend it if you are short on time.

2) Watch the alms giving ceremony.

Luang Prabang is one of the very few places in the world where this deeply religious ceremony takes place. It basically involves the local monks receiving food donations from local residents in return for a blessing. It takes place very early each morning throughout the city - ask at your hotel for details of specific times and routes that the monks take. I'm not a religious person but I really enjoyed the simplicity and spirituality of the ceremony. There are a few things to bear in mind when you are watching: don't offer food unless it means something to you, don't approach the monks and be respectful of what they are doing.

3) Visit a temple.

Luang Prabang is nicknamed the city of a thousand pagodas. it is a self explanitory nickname really, but you should definitely make time to visit one of the impressive temples that are scattered throughout the city. We enjoyed Wat Xieng Temple which is on a little complex and includes a number of different religious buildings. it costs a few pennies to get in and there are lots of big and small buildings to explore. It's a nice introduction to temples in general. Another thing to bear in mind when visiting is that the monks are happy to talk to visitors about their experiences - especially if it means they can practice their English.

4) Try some local food

Lao food is different to anything you'll find anywhere else in the world. It isn't as heavy and rich as some of the dishes you get from neighbouring countries like Cambodia and Thailand. Instead it focuses more on fresh ingredients and lovely flavours like lemongrass and chilli. There are a couple of places where you can get a good local meal. For first time visitors you should try Tamarind which is a restaurant and cooking school. They have a tasting platter set menu which gives you a little bit of everything. The best thing about this restaurant is that the staff will explain what each dish is and how to eat it which we loved. We also went to another place across the river called Dyen Sabai, a restaurant where the signature dish is fondue. This is a cook your own dish where you get plenty of fresh ingredients for not much money. The ambience of the restaurant is great and it's a lot of fun.

5) Visit a waterfall

Kuang Si waterfalls are about a half hour drive from the city centre, but they are so worth a visit. You can organise a trip through one of the many tour operators on the high street and you can visit by themselves or combine it with lunch and an elephant trip for not much money. (About £10 for just the falls and £30 per person for the combination). The falls are in a beautiful almost jungle like setting and the walk to them is lovely. The colour of the water is just amazing; a lovely turquoise green colour. If you are feeling adventurous, you can monkey swing into the water from one of the trees above, but beware the water is cold and there are lots of little fish in there! On the way out of the falls area, there is a little enclosure that houses rescued Malaysian Sun bears. Its quite interesting and is included in the entrance price. There are a few shops outside the park where you can get cheap food and souvenirs.

However long you are in Luang Prabang, you should do at least some, if not all, of the things above so that you can really get the most out of your stay.   Close

Baci Ceremony, VientianeWe were invited to take part in our own Baci Ceremony while we were in Vientiane. Prior to our own ceremony I knew nothing about what happened or why they had the ceremonies.In Laos a Baci ceremony is carried out for both sad…Read More

Baci Ceremony, Vientiane

We were invited to take part in our own Baci Ceremony while we were in Vientiane. Prior to our own ceremony I knew nothing about what happened or why they had the ceremonies.

In Laos a Baci ceremony is carried out for both sad and happy events so it might be for a marriage, a birth of a child, a funeral/death, a welcome home, before or after major exams and before a long journey could all be reasons for a Baci ceremony.

There is no specific day or time for a Baci ceremony but just before noon or sunset appears to be a preferred time. The idea of the ceremony is a calling of the soul or in Laos "su kwan" also spelt ‘sou khuan’ .

Kwan
The idea of kwan is the soul of a person but more than that; vital life force of any being. In Laos it was believed in ancient times that humans consisted of thirty two parts and these were watched over by kwan. The human works best when all his kwan are in the body and the idea of the Baci ceremony is to call all the kwan back to the body from wherever they have wandered off to.

The Pha kwan or Pha Khuan
When we arrived in the middle of the floor was a wonderful creation called the pha kwan. This is made from banana leaves , marigolds and white threads. It is wider at the bottom like a pyramid and must take hours to create. This creation is usually made by older woman in the village or community.

This flower creation is set on a white cloth in the middle of the room. The person who is to carry out the ceremony sits cross legged in front of the pha kwan and he is called a maw pawn or mohkwan or mor phon. The maw pawn is usually an elderly man, often an ex monk and he chants the sort of poetry during the ceremony. The maw pawn also knows the auspicious days when it is best to hold a Baci ceremony and that is worked out by using the lunar phases.

Around the pha kwan were a couple of sweets and dried and fresh fruit, hard boiled eggs which represent the foetus , a stalk of bananas which represented the community and each fruit being member s of that community, a whole boiled chicken with head feet and claws and finally as a bottle of Laolao whisky for purification.

Our Ceremony
We had to sit on the carpet around the pha kwan and the white strings that were attached to the pha kwan were taken and handed to each of us to hold. The maw pawn also held one white string too. And began his Buddhist or animist chanting which is him calling the wandering spirits back to the body.

The ceremony began by the maw pawn lighting a candle on the top of the Pha Kwan and then those taking part in the ceremony my husband and I laid our hands palm down at the edge of the pha kwan. The maw pawn then brushed our hands with the white strings saying "hai kuard nee, dee kuard kao" meaning "bad is swept out, good is swept in".
The next stage was he took the white strings and gave us each one to hold and he also held one end and he chanted some more and this was asking our spirits to receive the blessings.We then held the string between our palms while he continued to chant.
We were then told to say "ma der khuan euy" whixh according to our guide means "please come spirits". He then threw some bits of rice in the air over us . These rice grains we were told represented the spirits and the good luck that we had asked for in the ceremony.

After the chanting the maw pawn then tied the strings around our wrists. If this had been a big ceremony such as a pre wedding ceremony then everybody would have then come forward to tie a string around the wrists of the couple taking part. I think about three or four strings were tied around each of our wrists. As these strings were tied around our wrists he chanted some more words which were a sort of concluding blessing.

The final part of the ceremony was that the maw pawn poured a little shot of Laolao into small glasses and we each had one. This concluded the ceremony and we were instructed to keep the white strings on our wrists for at least three days and longer if we wanted our lost spirits to have the best chance of returning to us.

We got up to leave and we told that we were to take the beautiful pha kwan home with us. We sadly only had one more night in Vientiane so we took it back and had it in our hotel room for one night and then left it for the cleaner the next day so hopefully it might return her spirits too.

I kept my strings on for the rest of our holiday so hopefully all my spirits have returned to me. My husband took his off when we left Laos which was at least three days so I think he has been balanced too.

I found the ceremony really interesting. I am not sure i fully understand the whole thing. I am certain I understood not a word of the chanting but it was done with ceremony and was very serious too . The maw pawn didn’t speak to us at all except when doing his chanting and after the ceremony he disappeared very quickly. Out guide was greta and explained a lot of what went on to us so that we understood the ceremony and what happened a bit better than just sitting through it.

My husband can’t bend his knees and sit on the floor so he really struggled as you are meant to kneel and sit on your heels or sit cross legged and he can do neither so sort of had his legs bent to the side. This is something to consider if you have problems like this. You have to sit for about twenty minutes so my legs were just beginning to get pins and needles when we finished.

I thought it was lovely that we got to keep the pha Kwan and such a shame we only got to enoy it for one night. I hope the hotel cleaning staff got some pleasure out of it as so much work had gone into making it.

I am sure we paid for this in our tour but I am not sure what it cost. Selective Asia put together our itinerary for us and worked out all the flights etc while we just told them what we wanted to do.
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After leaving my country, I accumulated roughly two years in Southeast Asia with long breaks between the visits. There were good reasons for the visits; the many IgoUgo journals they generated are a good testimony of that. Of the forty countries and special areas I…Read More

After leaving my country, I accumulated roughly two years in Southeast Asia with long breaks between the visits. There were good reasons for the visits; the many IgoUgo journals they generated are a good testimony of that. Of the forty countries and special areas I have visited, Southeast Asia was by far the friendliest and one of the most beautiful, both in culture and nature. While there, I traveled a lot – especially in Thailand, but also developed a taste for long stays at several cities and towns. One of them was Vientiane; it was love from the first sip of local coffee.

I cannot accurately describe the joy of seeing this gem for the first time. It obviously wasn’t a place to settle down, but it clearly was a perfect stopover during long trips in relatively uncomfortable areas. Despite being little more than a sleepy, colonial, fishing town along an important – but slow flowing – river, Vientiane displays an awesome variety of first rate attractions. Thai and Lao histories are tightly linked to such an extent that modern Bangkok and the dynasty ruling Thailand from there cannot be understood without knowing at least some of the history of the Lao Kingdom of Vientiane. The French colonizers added their plural – an "s" – to the name of the country they created by unifying the three Laotian kingdoms, but their influence reaches far beyond that single letter. Then, there is the Vietnam War; Laos became then the worst bombed country per capita in written history in what is also known as the "Secret War." Later on, Laos became a Communist country, and as of now it is one of the few such societies still surviving. Despite that, it is still a very Buddhist country – at least at its center and south – practicing as Thailand a variant of the Theravada School. Ensuring a pleasant time while seeing all this eclectic mix is the awesome fusion between French and Lao cuisines; French baguettes filled up with local delicacies and one of the best coffees on the planet ensure perfect mornings for the whole stay.

First time visitors may doubt the strength of the Thai and Lao links. The food is different, the language and alphabet are different. Yet, take out the French influence and you get Isaan food. Modern Thai comprises four dialects; the one of Chiang Mai has its own alphabet (now rarely used). The dialect spoken in Isaan is identical to Lao, despite each being written with a different script (Thai and Lao respectively). The difficulties most westerners face finding the similarities beteen the two cultures are the result of their tendency to analyze history in terms of the European-styled countries that appeared since 1648. Under such constrains, the Thai-Lao history looks confusing. However, look at it from the perspective of ethnic-city-states and suddenly everything is clear, though the amount of details needed to comprehend the actual situation is immense.

While reading or listening to denizens’ descriptions of the area, one hears all the time about drought and unfertile ground, as it happens also with the adjacent Isaan, the vast northeaster lobe in Thailand’s map. The claim is true if compared to the incredible fertile Thai central valleys and the southern Mekong in Cambodia and Vietnam. Yet, both Isaan and Vientiane are very green. For someone who grew up in a semi-desert like me, this is still very fertile, wet and rainy part of the planet. Thais and Lao call arid an area capable of producing rice! Troubles in heaven…

There is another surprising – and related to the last point - aspect to Laos. The oldest human settlements in Southeast Asia were found in the Plain of Jars, near Phonsavan. At first, this seems odd. Why would the first settlers prefer a mountainous and rather hard to access region over the near fertile valleys? This is an awkward reminder of Southeast Asia prodigious fertility. Everything on the low plains is eventually swallowed by the vegetation.

Finally is the Mekong. Since earliest times rivers have been a favorite destination for travelers; partly because they are moving, flowing destinations with quietly implied adventures. Many travelers choose to travel along the longest river, the widest, the highest or the lowest, or maybe even along the wettest one. In the past, I made a different choice: the Mekong. Not because it is the best in a given category, but because it is a human river. The Mekong resists being qualified in banal ways; it has other properties to be proud of. More than anything else, the Mekong is a human river; countless cultures and civilizations were born, grew up and gave way to others on its shores.

Settlements dating back to 2100BC have been found around the river, with Ban Chiang being the oldest one. The Funan civilization (a kind of Indianised-Khmer culture) dates back to the first century and was the first organized society found along the Mekong. It was succeeded during the fifth century by the Chenla people, which was another Khmer state, and then by the mighty Khmer empire of Angkor. Following the fall of the Khmer empire, the Mekong was the frontier between states of Siam and Tonkin (Northern Vietnam). The French captured Saigon in the mid-19th century, established a protectorate over Cambodia in 1863 and then took the three Laotian principalities from the Siamese in the late nineteen century. They added a distinctive colonial touch to these cultures; the colonial reality lasted until the First and Second Indochina Wars ended French and American involvement in the region.

Traveling along this river is best accomplished by combining boats and cars, I have described several of these. However, resting along its riverside is probably best accomplished at the largest and cutest town along its shores: Vientiane.
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Under these circumstances, I accumulated several months in this tiny town despite its dusty heat, high humidity and relative lack of air conditioners. Its many advantages more than compensated for the weather. Even these climatic hardships weren’t totally negative. The dust and high humidity create…Read More

Under these circumstances, I accumulated several months in this tiny town despite its dusty heat, high humidity and relative lack of air conditioners. Its many advantages more than compensated for the weather. Even these climatic hardships weren’t totally negative. The dust and high humidity create spectacular sunsets over the Mekong River, the sun slowly disappearing among the Thai foliage of the other shore, leaving as a short lived reminder a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and yellows searching for a comfortable bed among puffy clouds.

Some of my visits were just overnight stops, others significantly longer. Invariably, they were joyous. Just before going to sleep, when it is dark and quiet, I can still walk through Vientiane’s beloved streets; I can still smell and sip its sublime coffee; I can still eat a baguette; though everything at the wrong time of the day. Though if taking into account the differences in time zones, my timing is perfect.

Thus it isn’t a surprise Vientiane – and Laos – played an important role in The Cross of Bethlehem. Several key events in the book took place there. The dramatic trip which begins and ends the book began at its morning market. Not less important is the fact that after that night at Udon Thani’s terminus when the book was born, I spent much of the subsequent stay in Vientiane – officially waiting for a Chinese Chinese visa – writing what became later the backbone of the book. The reader may be reading about Israel, Palestine, Europe or even American corporations, but for me those chapters belong to a simple and attractive guesthouse, so close to the Mekong, you can almost hear its silent flow.

Vientiane strangely fitted for this unasked role. In several places it has been described as one of the centers of the 19th century Great Game modern version. I do not comment directly on that in the book, but people like Sam, the owner of a certain guesthouse, Adi, Mohammed and other personages in the book certainly support this claim. Others, no less dramatic and interesting, didn’t make it into the book, yet they certainly helped in creating my own version of Vientiane.

Vientiane – like Laos – is slow paced. Experiencing it to the level described in the book takes time. Time to learn the sights: landmarks and streets, river and greenery. Time to know the denizens and learn how to speak with them. Time to learn the types of travelers passing through. Yet, if paying attention to the details and avoiding upmarket hotels and restaurants, which create cultural bubbles, one can decipher and enjoy the city in a reasonable amount of time. Then the city would walk within you wherever you go.

I’m writing these words from an almost perfect conceptual antipode. The largest high-altitude city in the world, where the broken terrain is never flat enough to balance a marble, where cold – weather-wise and human-wise - reigns unmolested and the main river in town - a narrow and anemic stream carrying mainly laundry soap – has been covered by a crowded avenue. Yet, even here Vientiane walks with me, appearing always as a calm comment to a violent reality. Bad encounters can happen also in good places; these are unrelated entities. When those bad encounters happen it is important to remember the good things related to that place. Then, a fragile balance is reached, with the good memories walking us towards new destinations. That’s what travelers do.

Considering all these it was difficult to choose suitable material. One consideration was it to be representative and interesting; but this needed being balanced by the need not to reveal too much on the plot of the book; after all I need to answer to the publisher afterwards.

The book isn’t a travelogue, though much of it can be read as such; it describes many travels under unusual conditions. More than a travelogue, less than an academic treatise, The Cross of Bethlehem let’s you travel into places we all know exist, but few of us venture exploring. Unless we are true travelers. Would you take this journey with me?
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The monuments, embassies and ministries, revealed that Vientiane was the capital of a country; yet, it looked like a small town, with a center built in French colonial style. The wide streets and spacious, empty sidewalks with lots of tall green trees were a rarity…Read More

The monuments, embassies and ministries, revealed that Vientiane was the capital of a country; yet, it looked like a small town, with a center built in French colonial style. The wide streets and spacious, empty sidewalks with lots of tall green trees were a rarity in Southeast Asia. Close to the Mekong riverside, with its romantic sunsets, were excellent French and Italian restaurants.

The amazing local coffee and the baguettes were an additional bonus, a very welcome French legacy, especially after the forced semi-abstinence from those products in Thailand. Much before my visit, at the end of the 19th century, French settlers planted coffee in the volcanic ground of the Bolaven Plateau in southern Laos – a place inhabited by the Laven people – and created a new industry in the country. Despite the high quality of the local product, both Arabica and Robusta varieties, the world ignored it, maybe as a result of low yields. For example, in the year two thousand the yield was just 13900 metric tons, and the local market consumed most of it. The small quantities exported always produced record prices independent of the international coffee market, a modest recognition of its high quality. In blind taste tests, the Laotian coffee usually earned first place, a result of optimal geographical conditions with a slow-paced organic growth, a subtle reminder of a charming local culture that still placed quality before quantity.

The morning market in Vientiane, one of the most impressive markets in Southeast Asia, was the best place to experience a cup of this coffee. South of Vientiane, the coffee quality was also high, but to its north or east, the quality deteriorated rapidly. Coffee beans in Laos were roasted to a very dark grade, which experts call "Italian Grade," however, without creating the bitterness that sometimes accompanies this long roasting process, another testimony of their quality.

A coal oven made of a conical bucket filled with concrete and containing an aeration hole in its bottom placed over a few layers of bricks was the basis for an evaporation vessel. The vessel was cylindrical, the diameter of the bucket, and two circular openings on its upper sides were partially obstructed by two kettles. Inside the kettles were filters made from a circular metallic frame, to which a conical cloth filter was attached. The diameter of the filter was about thirteen centimeters and the length of the cotton cone was fifteen centimeters when new, and about twice this size after some use. Around fifty grams of very coarsely ground coffee were added to the cloth filter. Hot, butthat was heated by the vapors from the vessel. Because the filter was immersed inside the coffee, the liquid experienced a prolonged cooking time. The length of this stage was inconsistent and it depended on the number of customers, the hour and other variables. Moreover, from time to time ground coffee was added to the filter, so any practical evaluation of the cooking time was impossible.

A long cooking time could result in mild acidity. Therefore, to enjoy the best coffee, it was preferable to approach the stalls early in the morning. The result of this complicated process was a very condensed coffee, which was the base for the preparation of several coffee drinks. The most popular was coffee with milk. To prepare it, around fifteen percent of the volume of a small glass was filled with condensed milk, then the cloth filter was placed over the glass and the condensed coffee was poured again over the filter and flowed down to the glass. Coffee filled around half of the volume and the cup was then filled with hot water from the vessel. The black-and-white drink was served, which was then mixed into an opaque dark brown liquid. The coffee was very dense and heavy-bodied. It reminded me very much of a chocolate drink. First time drinkers often remarked: "This is coffee-flavored chocolate." A colorful characteristic of the drink was the temporary blackening of the drinker’s teeth and tongue.

In those days, beyond the culinary delight, a favorable combination of a shortage of books in Vientiane bookstores together with a fierce competition for them between the two main ones provided a perfect opportunity for me. The two bookstores bought all my used books at excellent prices. Thus, I established a commercial line between the two capitals. An owner of a bookstore became a friend of mine. His English name was Sam and over a lunch at his large home, seven kilometers away from the town, he told about his past.

"Before the communist revolution, I served in the military police of the king’s army," he told me while holding a ball of sticky rice and contemplating the different dips in front of us. "I won an English competition and was sent for further studies in the US. After I returned, the communists took over and I was left without a job."

"I became a tuk-tuk driver when a bookstore owner gave him a daily task," he said between sips of his papaya juice. "I delivered English newspapers, especially the Bangkok Post, to the embassies and up-scale coffee shops around town. After a few years, I began working full time at the bookstore and much later, when the English owner hurriedly returned home, he offered me the shop."

I wondered how he could afford to buy the bookstore…

(Excerpt from Chapter 42. Losing Paradise)

The Cross of Bethlehem is available at Amazon in paperback and Kindle edtitions.
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My book selling was not strictly for business. I used it for pleasure and studies as well. I always tried to carry good books. In some of the hotels, the staff already knew my preferences and gave me free books that other people had left…Read More

My book selling was not strictly for business. I used it for pleasure and studies as well. I always tried to carry good books. In some of the hotels, the staff already knew my preferences and gave me free books that other people had left behind. I knew owners from bulk second-hand shops who got their books from the hotels in a similar way. Buying books from the second-hand stores made it possible for me to sell the books one by one and to make a reasonable profit. In one of them I found an old guide of Nepal, and through it I was exposed to the idea of trekking along the Himalayas. It looked like the perfect escape. Walking day after day in the open, with no buses, no technology, no electricity, promised a quiet period with no snoopy watchers in sight.

Another interesting option was one that I had been thinking about for years, a trip to China. Years ago my original idea was to travel from Beijing to Hong Kong by bicycle, but now a long train ride across China looked more appealing.

The choice of China was based on the presumption that the touchy local authorities would keep any foreign intervening parties under strict control. In the worst case scenario, I expected snoopers only in the cities with big concentrations of foreigners, such as Shanghai and Hong Kong. Believing that writing would be easier in trains and cities, my heart was with the Chinese option.

I crossed the border to Laos, processed the Chinese visa and visited Sam to get rid of another heavy load of books. This time he asked too many questions, and requested details about times and places, giving me the impression that after the failed search at Nita, another path, a more personal one had been chosen. I evaded the questions the best I could, collected money from him and my passport from the embassy, and started for northern Laos.

Due to my security concerns, the stops in the towns were short, a policy that resulted in a very thorough survey of the area. I visited Vang Vieng, Kasy, Luang Prabang, Phonsavan, Xam Nua, Udom Xai, Huay Xai, Luang Nam Tha, Muang Sing and Boten during this hurried trip. Despite the beautiful nature, the steep, green mountains, the well-kept temples and palaces in Luang Prabang, the old capital of the northern Laotian principality, and the less spoiled local people, I liked the northern part of the country less than the others. The disappearance of good coffee, the inferior food and the lack of good book stores played a role in that judgment. However, I felt better able to manage travel without being followed in that area and that was always a valuable asset.
I woke up in Boten, Laos and, waiting for the bank to open, ordered a coffee at the shop next to the guesthouse. First, they served me a cup of green tea, then a big bowl of noodle soup with fresh sliced tomatoes and, after I complained for a second time, they served a diluted coffee with too much condensed milk. The small village consisted of some shops and buildings that housed the officials.

The only people staying overnight were shop owners in their adjacent houses, officers in the closed compound next to the border and truck drivers in their vehicles with noisy whores. Its single street had some twenty buildings scattered along it and ran parallel to the narrow road leading to Udom Xai, northern Laos’ main traveling hub, almost four hours south from here.

Two of the buildings were guesthouses with simple rooms. A double bed with a mosquito net in a wood structure with small neon lights was all the furniture featured. The toilets and the cold shower were shared, but at the time there were no other guests. At slightly less than two dollars per night, it was a little overpriced considering the location, but the rarity of tourists made the high price necessary for the guesthouse owner. However, I stayed to allow an early start in China, because an hour would be lost when crossing.


(Excerpt from Chapter 53. The Back Door to the Middle Kingdom)

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During this visit I slept in the cheapest hotel in Vientiane, called Sabaidy, two words meaning "feeling good" in the Lao and Thai languages. It was a good location at the center of town, very close to the Namphou Fountain and one block away from…Read More

During this visit I slept in the cheapest hotel in Vientiane, called Sabaidy, two words meaning "feeling good" in the Lao and Thai languages. It was a good location at the center of town, very close to the Namphou Fountain and one block away from the beautiful promenade along the Mekong River. The guesthouse’s original building was a two-story colonial structure, which the owner re-modeled into three floors, without adding even one centimeter to its height. The first floor contained the large lobby with the reception counter, a small eating area with an advanced entertainment system, which signaled the family’s wealth, and a kitchen at the rear of the building. The reception counter had a computer with a database of the guests. Information was provided daily to the local police, as in all Southeast Asia. They always insisted on knowing where you came from and where you planned to go. However, the answers were accepted without further review. The mezzanine floor hosted a single room used by their cleaning employee. The room hung over the kitchen’s entrance and at its side, and a balcony overlooked the lobby.

On the second floor was the dormitory, a huge room housing eighteen beds, divided with the help of two thin curtains to create partitions of six beds, which gave the illusion of improved privacy. Each partition had two fans, one for the upper berths attached to the wall and the second for the lower ones, placed in front of them above a line of six simple wood lockers. A few small private rooms were scattered in front and above the dormitory. All of them were constructed of wood, including the shaky stairs, which lacked some steps and linked the unstable structure. Three small rooms with shared bathrooms made up each floor. Small electrical water heaters hung above the showers, a popular and ineffective arrangement in cheap backpackers’ hotels. The usual toilet in that part of the world was a hole in the ground and the fingers of the left hand were used by the locals instead of toilet paper, but here, there was a charming approximation to western toilets, only the flushing mechanism was missing and a big bucket of water was placed next to it to flush the toilet. A small bowl was used to pour water from the bucket into the loaded toilet.

The owner of the guesthouse was a serious and attentive man, although seldom friendly. He belonged to an old communist family and as a child spent four years living in remote caves close to the town of Xam Nua, not far from the triple border with China and Vietnam, while his parents were involved in the communications between the Vietnamese party and the local one during the revolution. When he grew up, he was sent to study abroad as compensation for the hard years. First, he went to a secondary school in Moscow and afterwards he went to study architecture in La Havana, Cuba. The skills he learned in that tropical heaven were used to rebuild the dormitory, which was an additional reward to the family. The Spanish he learned there created a bond between us. Several times, I met party members who came for long and opulent meals in the lobby, and twice I met aging Russians who came to speak with him in Russian. Despite their wealth in local terms, the owner slept with his wife and three children in the guesthouse’s lobby, on a big mattress that was brought out at night. This was the usual way of living for most Southeast Asian families. I saw it everywhere, and it may explain the locals’ unwillingness to make long trips alone and their general commiserating attitude toward backpackers traveling alone who were classified as outcasts by their societies.

Paying a bit more than a dollar a day for my bed and ten cents for my
coffee, it took a while for the money I earned from the books to run out. When that happened, Bangkok was the natural next stop.

(Excerpt from Chapter 42. Losing Paradise)

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The plan was to cross from Boten in Laos to Mohan, in the Xishuangbanna County of the Chinese province of Yunnan. The province’s name, meaning "South of the Clouds," sounded more like "Away from the Problems" to me.Here, the Communist regime was fighting a semi-secret…Read More

The plan was to cross from Boten in Laos to Mohan, in the Xishuangbanna County of the Chinese province of Yunnan. The province’s name, meaning "South of the Clouds," sounded more like "Away from the Problems" to me.

Here, the Communist regime was fighting a semi-secret civil war with the Hmong people. The government was paranoid about any foreign government intervention, a situation that suited me fine. The Hmong people were an ethnic group living across sections of Vietnam, Laos, Thailand and China. During the Vietnam War they helped the Americans, who quickly forgot their promises after their defeat. Since then, these poorly equipped warriors were fighting a hidden war against the communist regime in Laos, and had only made it in the international news once in a while over the last few years. Even after two foreign journalists died in a sporadic attack against a local bus, the event was hardly mentioned and quickly forgotten. The regime wasn’t feeling very secure in other areas either. The press was heavily controlled, and there was neither political nor complete religious freedom...

Bus fourteen took me from the bridge to the bus terminal and from there it was a five-minute walk to Sabaidy. The owner’ wife was attending the reception desk. Since the Nita event, I slept in the cheapest dormitories available. My logic was that in a big and densely populated room, it would be much more difficult to search my baggage or to attempt any other dubious action. The owners
knew me well, and I provided the husband a rare opportunity to practice his Spanish. They welcomed me with a wide smile and offered me a low berth in the dormitory, my favorite choice. One year before, they had exchanged all the thin, old mattresses with new ones that were thick, bright and springy. By now they appeared completely stained and deformed, while the sheets were too short to cover them completely, and thin enough to see through them.

While putting my things inside the tiny wood locker, I noticed that two beds from mine a young, shirtless man was sleeping. He was very dark and, judging by his hairstyle, his clothes around the bed, the luggage he was carrying and his general look, he was an Israeli. Two people entered the room, awakened him loudly and started talking to him while rolling marijuana cigarettes. That was a popular tourist occupation in Laos and in that place specifically. The local authorities were much more forgiving than the neighboring Thais. Yet, it was always done in a careful fashion, not in the exhibitionist fashion I was witnessing.

Listening to their discussion, I learned that the newcomers were Swiss and that later today they were leaving to return to Thailand. The Israeli looking guy presented himself as the Pakistani born Mohammed Aman. That was a good joke. Aman was the acronym of the Military Intelligence in the Israeli army.

Twice during the conversation he said, "Each time I need to fill an official form, I write that I’m a professional football player, while really I’m only a professional gambler on the internet." He seemed never to tire of the joke.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"I’ve been living in Laos for one year on a business visa and I’ve invested some money in a restaurant."

I wondered why he would be sleeping in the dormitories if he owned a restaurant, but I chose to keep my thoughts to myself. The whole situation felt like a setup. During their conversation they described themselves and their occupations with great detail, too detailed for normal chit-chat among tourists, especially since it was obvious that they had already met...

(Excerpt from Chapter 67. Mohammed)

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