Luang Prabang

We were jostled around on the back of a Tuk Tuk truck on a mud and rock filled road heading out of the main drag of Luang Prabang. Along with two Brits we were heading to the Kwang Sy waterfall. The star attraction.

There was an earthen parking lot where we arrived filled with the usual collection of vendors selling food and trinkets. We hiked in and right away saw the bears in their cage. They danced about on their hind legs like clowns for the pleasure of bananas tossed to them by spectators. I had to turn away. Across from them was the tiger cage. When I saw this cat and how it prowled about its jungle pen, I was convinced the sleepy beasts in Kanchaniburi had been drugged. I had never seen such a large and agile beast. It moved like lightning through the dense brush jumping from branch to ground in muscular leaps.

Like all great theatrical personages the waterfall teased us before its appearance. Streams of milky emerald colored water splash over the large boulders and pool up into the swiming hole. Any ten year old would have been delighted by the jungle vines and the low hanging tree one could jump from. We enjoyed diving into the water and swimming hard against the stiff current toward the crashing waterfall, but I was left wondering if that was all there is.

As we squeegeed the water off our bodies I saw Boz and his friend Dom heading down the trail. We were about to head back when they advised us to keep going.
"It gets much better." Boz grinned his mysterious grin.
We climbed up a little further and there was a large round boulder plunked in the middle of the stream. water pooled to the left and right of it. People were swiming out to it and diving in. It was perfectly arbored by the jungle canopy, like an advertisment for romantic getaways.

We climbed on further and rounded the bend. There was a decaying resort there, filled with spiders and snakes, caving in with rot. Just beyond that the river made a spectacular leap heavenward. It crashed down in torrents onto the boulders strewn below it. Vines and moss and trees clung to the cliffs surrounding it. A small patch of blue could be seen floated above the canopy like a crown. I struggled with my camera turning it left and right. I tried to make a little video, but like all things grand it was unphotographable.

The next day we rented bikes and visited the temple of happiness on the outskirts of town. It took me a while to decipher why it had been named that. It is an octagonal shaped shrine on the crest of a jungle covered hill. Inside there are two pictograph murals, one set on top of the other. The top row depicts scenes of heavenly virtue. There are rolling hills and blue skies, verdant rice fields and pilgrims glowing with divine radiation.

The bottom mural is filled with graphic renditions of avarice filled sin. The artist took his opportunity to make multiple studies of near naked women frolicking in the heat of lustful abandon. The were juxtaposed to scenes of warlike carnage which included the beasts of the wild tearing out the organs of the fallen. I could imagine that late at night the monks took advantage of this mild pornography. Furtively groping beneath thier orange habits in a bid to make their spiritual solitude more endurable.

We then headed out on highway 13 around the enormous mountain that dominates the vista of Luang PraBang. The guy at the bike rental had called it a highway. This was one of the most optomistic and generous things one could have called this road. It was muddy and filled with rocks. The ground slid away beneath us as we struggled up the hills. At every turn there were rice paddies where little had changed in hundreds of years. A muddy river spread out below us and huge kharst formations filled the vistas like ancient kings. We passed a man harvesting pineapples. Speaking badly in Thai I managed to buy one. It was crisp and juicy with just the right amount of sweetness and a hint of pine. I finally understood why they had been named such.

We made it back to the one real road in Laos. Highway one connects Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng and Vienetiene in the south. We headed up an endless hill until we could pedal our bikes no longer. We walked up the final curves that crested the ridge blocking our way back into town. Trucks overladen with Laotian workers roared by. They smiled and waved to us cheering us on. We reached the top and roared down the other side. Children ran to the side of the roads holding out their hands for us to slap as we zoomed by.

In town we treated ourselves to a dinner at a luxury resort. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as we entered and I truly looked like a mad man. We were mud splattered and sweaty with our hair completely blown out. They sat us anyways in the elegant dining room. After a meal of Bison stew and a garden salad. Then we had a fusion desert that consisted of one of the many tiny pumpkins we had seen at roadside stands roasted and filled with coconut cream. We dove into the pool after eating. Sasha passed out on one of the lounge chairs. Soon other patrons of the hotel appeared. They looked like cadavors clad in black bathing suit. I tried not to judge but I felt out of place. I enjoy the crafted beauty of these places but prefer the wildness of a public pool like the ones we have in Harlem. Anybody can come in. Filled with noise and little bodies hurtling themselves into the water.