Mysterious ancient monuments and the scars of war
Trip Start
Jun 04, 2005
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23
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Trip End
Apr 05, 2006
Phonsavan,
Lao Peoples Dem Rep
Sunday, July 24, 2005
We spent our last two days in Laos in Phonsavan. This small town in the east of the country owes its tourist destination status to the fact that it serves as a springboard for a visit to the Plain of Jars. Even so, it is a sleepy little place, not touristy at all. As we drove through the town at dusk, we spotted bomb casings and other remnants of ammunition being used as gate posts and planters outside houses...a hint of the tragic war history of this area
Nature, Phonsovan
. The bus journey from Luang Prabang, on Thursday 21 July, had proved a little longer than expected - the narrow road between the two towns is one long mountain pass, winding its way through a high landscape of green mountain ridges and small hamlets. We arrived at around 7.30pm and checked into Maly Hotel, renowned for its excellent restaurant... we certainly enjoyed our meals that evening!
On Friday morning, we set off for a full day's sight-seeing with our guide Rasa, the son of Maly Hotel proprietor Sousath Pethrasy. We piled into an army jeep and minivan, and drove 20 minutes or so out of town to the Plain of Jars 'Site 1', a grassy expanse of gently undulating ground, surrounded by farmland and an airforce base on one side.
This site, like the two others we visited in that day, is a graphic example of the tragedy and destruction of modern history contradicting the enduring achievements of an ancient culture. Bomb craters and trenches are dotted between the stands of ancient stone monuments. Beside the entrance gate is a large MAG (Mines Advisory Group) board providing statistics on the number of UXO (unexploded ordnance) cleared from the site before its opening to the public.
Sticking to the path marked as safe from UXO, we wandered among the 120 or so giant sandstone vessels - the biggest is over 3m high. The overall effect of the site is as awe-inspiring as Stonehenge, if not more. Most of the jars have lost their heavy stone lids; many are dislodged from their standing positions or cracked (thanks to the bombing), but nevertheless we found it quite remarkable how well they have weathered
Paddy fields, Phonsavan
. As Rasa told us how and why they were made, I stared down into the dark cavity of a tall jar, and it felt as if I was looking back in time. It is believed the solid sandstone jars were carved around 7000 years ago, though this has not been confirmed with carbon dating or any other scientific tool. The identity of the people who made the jars is a mystery, though there is evidence that their civilisation was widespread - similar giant stone jars are found throughout South East Asia, from Assam to Sulawesi. The exact function of the jars also remains shrouded in mystery, though the discovery of human remains at the base of some jars suggest that they were associated with burial. In the 1930s a French female archeologist had studied the Phonsavan sites and concluded that the dead were laid to rest inside the jars; however the Phetrasy family, who have done much research of their own, are convinced that the vessels were used for leaving offerings of goods and food, and that the dead were buried beside them. In the course of doing excavations, the Phetrasys found human remains - a key piece in the puzzle which will hopefully be carbon-dated once Laotian archeologists have been trained in the technique!
Local folklore offers a third but rather fanciful explanation - that the jars were victory cups, filled with rice wine, for an ancient king who had defeated his long-time rivals
Plain of Jars, Phonsavan
. A lovely story and quite believable when one looks out over the hundreds of jars, scattered as if left behind by giants after some drunken party.We wandered among the stands of massive jars, peeping into them; climbed to the top of a hill from where the whole site is visible, and checked out a cave which had been used for shelter during the war. In the cave, Rasa expanded on the tragic recent history of the area. During the Vietnam War, from 1965 to 1975, a secret, unofficial war has waged here in Laos - even though Laos was strictly speaking neutral and off-bounds, CIA pilots in civilian clothes conducted daily bombings over eastern Laos, dropping more bombs here than were dropped by the entire Allied force in the course of WWII.
The purpose was to disrupt the Ho Chi Minh trail, the Vietnamese supply route that ran from north to south, through the parts of eastern Laos. Needless to say the Lao people, and not the Vietnamese forces, paid the heaviest price in this 'non-war' - approximately a third of the small population in Xiengkhouang Province was wiped out, and the losses continued many decades after the end of the war, as UXO littering the fields and forests maimed and killed local people. As we explored the jars sites, we spotted bomb craters, like open wounds, only metres away from the ancient stone relics which have survived for centuries... the irony of this really drove home the senselessness and futility of war. Even so, we found the positive and forgiving attitude of the people here quite amazing.
In the course of the day, we explored two further Jars sights in the surrounding area, in settings even more hauntingly beautiful that the first - a short walk to the second sight took us through rice paddies up a hillside, while the third occupied a commanding site on a hillock, overlooking a fertile, green valley. We marveled at the scuptural effect created by small trees growing in the few of the massive jars... having grown from seed in dropped by birds, the roots of the tree would eventually crack its host jar and clamber over it like a rock bonsai. Marvellous.
On the way back, we made a few other interesting stops. We took a short walk through a small village, where men were erecting bamboo poles and stringing wire between them - their very first electricity supply. A bit further, along a farm road, our guide pointed out another remnant of war - the rusted shell of a French tank, stripped bare of all its useful bits. After a full day of gawping at ancient monuments, shuddering at the horrors of war and gazing out over spectacular scenery, we returned to the Maly Hotel in the rain.
