The world is changing fast, especially in Asia. Yet Laos seems resistant to the pressures of modernization and globalization; its capitol city Vientiane as evidence. There are no high-rises or mega malls, and few if any movie theaters (that I noticed). Entertainment is mostly limited to karaoke bars and bowling lanes and the city has a curfew of 11:00pm. Lao women working or entering government buildings are required to wear a traditional sarong and most ride on the back of motorbikes side-saddle. It’s a quiet city in which you can wander into the courtyard of a nearby Wat and hear little more than the sounds of monks shuffling by. Along the Mekong overlooking Thailand, a new waterfront has been built where teens brood and smoke cigs, children play soccer, and hilarious public exercise classes are held – imagine jazzercise from the ’80s. Most park their motorbikes to look out on the glassy blue waters on their commute home from work. Our guidebook tells us the riverfront once teemed with food vendors but they’ve now set up shop across the street in a small margin of sidewalk. A billboard visualizing dam and condo projects looms as a backdrop; a sign of change to come.
Vientiane isn’t an especially pretty city but it still has it’s charms; wide Parisian-style avenues, a replica arch de triumph, a few stunning wats and most of all a very relaxed atmosphere.
While in the neighborhood we stopped by the COPE museum, which details the continuing devastation caused by unexploded ordinance (UXOs) remaining in Laos after the United States dropped over 270 million cluster bombs over the country during the Vietnam War. About 30% or 80 million did not explode on impact, and instead, continue to kill and maim Lao people today. The COPE museum was established to bring awareness to this issue and to raise money for the center that treats victims. We left the museum heavy-hearted yet overwhelmed by the resilience of the Lao people, who fill craters with fish ponds and shell casings with flowers.
In the evening, we wandered to a couple of riverside bars overlooking the Mekong. At one, we met an American ex-pat working on an education project. He invited us to join his NGO friends for dinner, some of whom had been living in Laos for as long as seven years. Nostalgia for home ran deep, with one gal getting up to the mic to sing John Denver’s Country Roads. When open mic night at the expat bar got too grating, we left and continued down the street until other music perked our ears. It was live Lao rock streaming from a riverside bar teeming with buzzed locals drinking Beer Lao. At the front of the bar were two men with angelic voices and masterfully playing the guitar. One looked like karate kid while the other had the kindest face that begged you to hug him. It was a beautiful way to cap off a rainy evening.
Such beautiful people despite their hardships and past atrocities.