LUANG PARABANG, Laos — It is our last night in Laos and all my 32 khwans are in place. I tug at the many cotton strings that a group of Lao elderly have tied loosely around my wrists and stare up at the canopy hanging eerily over my bed. The ceremony is called baci, a celebration of important milestones such as induction into monkhood, weddings, or in our case, climbing 328 steps up Phousi Hill just hours after getting off a plane. According to the cult of phi (spirits), which is an integral part of Buddhism in Laos, a human being is a union of 32 organs or khwan — components of the soul that sometimes stray. I keep the strings on, as I may have chugged a beer or two over the limit and caused some of my spirits to drift tipsily away. The ceremony calls them back to the body and re-establishes balance.
It’s all very Eat, Pray, Love except for one tiny detail — we are not in Bali, or Italy, or India, or any place likely to land on the cover of a travel magazine. This is Laos, a country that, as far as travel is concerned, has always been a side trip and never the star. It made me think of the side trips and stars of my life, and, going deeper down the rabbit hole, made me wonder: Which one am I? Typical. On a night of the full moon, with nothing but Al Jazeera and my thoughts to keep me company in this cabin in the woods, I find myself exceedingly self-aware. Why am I not surprised?
It’s a common and sometimes unpleasant consequence of traveling. You leave your life behind for just a few days, and you see start seeing yourself as a speck in history, a filtered product of many pasts with many alternate presents, living among billions of other people who are at once nothing like you and just like you. I feel a panic attack coming, but it is interrupted by an Instagram notification. So-and-so liked my photo. “Earth to Chonx,” my phone may as well have said. It’s a nifty thing to have when one is predisposed to untimely existential crises. Snapping out of it and feeling Insta-normal, I fall into a deep sleep. My wandering spirits are in order.
Rum with a side order of letting go
The ceremony of khwans is not my first for the week. Our trip begins in Bangkok, where we partake in the annual Loi Krathong festival. Every year, people of Thailand, Malaysia and some parts of Burma, float their krathong — baskets made with woven leaves and decorated with flowers and a candle — into a river. It’s the ceremonial letting go of grudges, hatred and negativity believed to be much more effective than watching a feel-good movie and bawling over a pint of ice cream on a Saturday night.
Our little group of journalists from Manila and Singapore, together with our mother hens from Thai Airways and Tourism Authority of Thailand, start to bond over dinner with the aid of Mekhong rum-infused cocktails. I maintain an outward normalness in spite of my alcohol-induced Asian flush, all the while wondering what I should “let go” of. There is something to benefit from taking traditions seriously, not dismissing them as touristy and, therefore, lame. But even as I near the edge of the dock at the Chao Phraya, I had nothing. I let go of the basket and only the basket. Maybe letting go is not a group activity — or maybe that’s just the Mekhong talking.
Wats, thats and all that
The following morning, we fly via Thai Airways to Luang Prabang, a UNESCO-protected World Heritage Site and the seat of tourism in Laos, located about 11 hours by land from its capital Vientiane and an hour away from Bangkok. Our first stop is Wat Visoun and That Makmo, a Buddhist temple and a large watermelon-shaped that or stupa built some time in the 15th century. Of all the Buddha images in the ancient building — from the sandstone Buddhas of the 13th century, to the bronze relics typical of the 15th to 17th centuries, to the wood and concrete Buddhas of Laos’ French colonial era, down to the clear, plastic candy-colored ones that our Lao guide Kham calls “fake” — the wooden Buddhas in the “Cease Fighting” mudra is the crowd favorite. A mudra is a position of the hand that affects the energies of the entire body. The “Cease Fighting” Buddha has two raised hands with the palms facing outward, a symbol for Lao people to stop fighting, at that time, over water for their farms.
By the end of this trip, I will have encountered thousands of Buddhas, most of them enshrined in temples (a gazillion of them are inside Pak Ou cave, a two-hour boat ride from the city via Mekong River), some of them commoditized at the Luang Prabang night market along Sisavangvong Road. There is a billboard along a highway in Thailand that reads: “Please help stop disrespecting Buddha — do not tattoo, buy, sell as furniture or merchandise.” But our guide explains that it all comes down to intentions. “Choose the Buddha that’s right for you and place it on an elevated spot,” he says. As one of the five precepts of Buddhism states, “Live in mindfulness” — even as you make unpopular choices like not “letting go” or buying a Buddha.
We’re only getting started and already I feel Wiki-wiser. But didn’t Buddha also say that keeping the body healthy is also a duty? Or was that @yogiSTING? As it turns out, our guide started out with the easy stuff, to get us in the right state of mind for the big surprise that was to come.
Hiking up that hill
I feel like I’ve been duped by a Home TV Shopping ad when our guide says, “This wasn’t in the itinerary, but I’m throwing it in as a bonus.” We are at the foot of Phousi Hill, about to climb 328 slippery steps to Wat Tham Phousi, just a few hours after landing in Luang Prabang. Surprise!
What is 328 steps to a writer who spends her days hunched over a laptop and encounters exercise only via long, romantic walks to the fridge? Torture. I manage to mutter a “Yaaaay” to be sure not to offend our guide, who appears to be quite pleased with his idea. Extemporaneous exercise (which for me includes walking a few blocks in heels, running to the grocery to get eggs, and doing the Standing Forward Bend to clean up Doritos crumbs) is the root of all injuries. All my friends can attest to my ka-lampahan, but no one in our group knows this. So I put my “Game Face” mudra on and deal. Every step with mindfulness. Every bend = one squat.
The top of the hill is quite the vantage point with a 360-degree view of Luang Prabang. From here, the city looks like it’s in its own little UNESCO-protected bubble, a mix of wooden Lao houses and French architecture from when it was part of Indochine. The hill overlooks Sisavangvong Road, the two rivers that border the peninsula, Mekong and Nam Khan, mountains and forest in the horizon. You almost can’t tell how packed the city is with tourists — senior couples in cardigans and cross-trainers, hostel youth toting backpacks that can fit two small Asian boys, locals going about their business, and us, a bunch of sweaty journalists huffing and puffing while taking it all in.
We descend the hill on the opposite side, where at the bottom, a reward awaits. Tents upon tents of makeshift stores have sprouted on the street, selling souvenirs to tourists, at tourist prices of course. Our companions from Singapore retire to Le Palais Juliana, our resort hotel at the end of the street, to clean up before dinner. We, the people of the Philippines, stay to shop, of course. Never mind smelling nice. Messy hair, don’t care. We walked 328 steps — what’s the harm in walking a few more?
Turquoise Thunder
I’ve seen them on Pinterest, those long exposure shots of Tad Kuang Si, Luang Prabang’s famous multi-tiered waterfalls. We visit the falls on our second day in Laos and see them through the most sophisticated lens ever made — our eyes, man.
Kuang Si is only 30 kilometers from Luang Prabang, and it’s a famous side trip for tourists. We all have seen waterfalls before, but none will give you a TLC LSS like this one. It drops 50 meters and cascades into turquoise terraces, pillows of water and mist that you can actually swim in. If you’re visiting this area, wear non-slip shoes that you wouldn’t mind getting mud on. Save your fancy sneakers for the city. If you don’t plan on swimming, bring a light waterproof jacket because there’s crazy mist out there. Finally, don’t expect a silent retreat because Kuang Si is true blue tourist stop. Take it as a break from all that reflection. Tomorrow is another day.
And the streets were lit with a saffron glow
Every day at 5:30 a.m., Buddhist monks walk in silence around the city for their morning collection of food, a sacred ritual called tak bat. Before the Black Flag attacks of 1887, Luang Prabang had 67 temples from which monks swathed in saffron robes emerge before daybreak to collect alms. Today, the monks come from the city’s remaining 35 temples while local laypeople and tourists wait in the dark, lined up kneeling on the sidewalk, basket of sticky rice, crackers and money in hand.
We sit on the pavement like we were waiting for Brad and Angie to pull up to the curb, torn between getting that perfect shot and holding on to our baskets. Then we see the monks, a thread of orange against the cloudless purple sky, their heads shiny under the flickering streetlights. And it is magic.
It’s a sight that makes one think time has stopped in this city. As the sun rises and the monks disappear into their monasteries, the streets come alive in synchronized silence. A keeper sweeps litter from the entrance of a temple. A young girl sets up a table full of baguettes just outside the market. A group of tourists have their coffee at a guesthouse’s terrace. Life is simple. Everything is still.
Whereas Vientiane is a mix of old and new, Luang Prabang is, from its centuries-old traditions to its charming street life, well preserved. No Starbucks, no McDonald’s, not even a single 7-Eleven — even their ATM booths are made of wood. It’s as if the spirits themselves have tied cotton strings on its wrists to keep every single khwan in place, never to wander again.
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Special thanks to Thai Airways and the Tourism Authority of Thailand. Thai Airways operates four flights weekly (Tuesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays) from Bangkok, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos. Until Dec. 15, 2014, roundtrip airfare (Manila-Bangkok-Luang Prabang-Bangkok-Manila) on economy class starts at USD285, excluding taxes, for travel period Jan. 1, 2015 to March 31, 2015. Visit www.thaiairways.com for information and promos.