My entry journal

My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

LAOS | Sunday, 30 June 2013 | Views [245] | View Larger Image

6am was our pick up for the morning flight. When we arrived to the take off location, we were greeted by a flurry of workers, laying out and preparing the hot air balloon for flight. It was a strange sight to see the vessel that was going to take you 1km into the air being inflated. Once we were up, the sun began to rise. The morning fog that filled the limestone valleys glimmered like pale water. All the while, the pilot was in contact with the ground team, informing them of wind strength, and the possibility of a landing location. We saw the town begin to wake up. Monks in orange garb created streaks of colour that were highlighted against the dull grey of the pavement. The image of the second balloon floating amongst the mountains surrounded by mist bathing in the morning light is one I will never forget.

We came into Vientiane just as the sun was setting. The sky was illuminated in soft hues of blue and gold as motorists buzzed all around us. As daylight melted into the Mekong, this city was just waking up. This was a change of pace for me, as my experience in Laos up to that point had been confined to the rural village of Bah Nahin – a one road town that set with the sun. The ebb and flow of work and play was apparent here in the capital, particularly in the barks of bus drivers echoing down the street, as the maze of laneway bars opened their doors to the mix of night-time dwellers.

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During a boat ride just south of Luang Prabang, we stopped in at a small village along the banks of the Mekong River. The people here made their living brewing potent whisky and selling odd trinkets to passing tourists. We had arrived during a special time – the village had all come together in the tradition of building funeral constructs for the elderly. I felt particularly out of place and a little intrusive strolling through the village while they peeled, nailed, bent and tied the vessel that would house their relatives into death. While the men where fashioning the coffin material out of plants and wood, the women were in the houses clipping wet money onto clotheslines and preparing lunch. During the commotion, something struck me as peculiar. It rang in my mind like a distasteful joke. While the soon-to-be dead were being attentively looked after, in the quiet corners of the town sat the very young. Alone.

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My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

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