Phonsavan; The Plain of Jars

Our desire to go to Laos stemmed from the research we did when we were in Siem Reap, week #3 of living in Cambodia. Planning our multinational adventure consisted of googleing the top 10 things to do in the country and then figuring out how we could get there. Even though there were a few cool things we wanted to do Laos, the main reason we were going there was because we found a super cheap flight out of the capital of Vientiane to Katmandu, Nepal.

We had read that the most popular thing to do in Laos is the 'Flight of the Gibbon Experience', where you trek into the jungle, then use zip-lines to traverse the jungle canopy, stay in tree houses and essentially live like the native gibbon monkeys for 2 or 3 days. We were really excited about this, it was exactly the kind of thing we wanted to do...until we found out that it costs $500/person. So instead, we decided to do an equally exciting 'Mahout Training' just outside of Luang Prabang. It was an all-inclusive 2 day experience where you learn how to take care of elephants; you bath them, feed them and then learn to ride them on your own. It was the only thing we paid for in advance and the cost was singularly the most expensive thing we were doing on our whole trip.

By this point in our adventure, everything centered around getting to Luang Prabang in time to make our reservations and those reservations were in three days. We were still in Phonsavan and desperately still wanted to go to the Plain of Jars so we made the decision to stay an extra night-- cutting it really close. We all understood that if our luck of showing up an hour before the bus is supposed to leave and actually getting tickets ran out, we might miss our pickup and forfeit all of the money we had already spent to become Mahouts. Nevertheless, we wanted to see the megalithic, Iron Age Jars and also get some more practice riding moto's while still in the countryside.

When we returned to our guesthouse from the MAG center we found Mr. Kong relaxing in the bamboo-hut. We wanted to get his advice on the Plain of Jars and when he invited us to join him, we happily sat down and started discussing our plans for the next day. We told him that we wanted to visit Jars sites 1, 2 and 3, that we were hoping to rent two moto's in the morning and make the journey on our own. Mr. Kong was very adamant that we should take his guided tour, but the price of his tour was twice what we intended to spend and we were really jazzed about riding moto's. Even when he explained that “all the moto's you can rent in Phonsavan are crappy, guided tours are made in air-conditioned vans or tuk-tuks”, our awesome moto experience in Xam Neua and our desire to get more practice, clouded our judgment and we declined his offer.

Once he understood we weren't going to taking a tour, he told us that his sister, who owns a hostel/restaurant around the corner, has bikes for rent and that we could easily rent two from her if we went in the morning. He also gave us a jewel of information, that was “First sit, then Kip” which meant; 'take the moto out for a test run before you pay for it'. The thought had never occurred to us...but of course! If you just drive the bike around a little you'll be able to tell if it sucks. Duh.

So, thinking that was sound advice, the next morning we walked around the corner to his sister's place called 'The Falang' (which in English, essentially means The Foreigner) and asked about bikes. We told her we wanted two moto's, one automatic and one manual. She handed us the keys and told us to drive down the short street for a test run. We found this very promising, considering Mr. Kong's advice from the night before and drove the moto's to the end of the street and back. We really had no idea what we should be looking when assessing the quality of a bike but they seemed to be OK; they both started up fine, the brakes worked, they didn't appear to have any mechanical issues and plus they looked pretty. So, we agreed to rent them for the day for a total of 200,000Kip. She handed us maps, circling the different Jar sites in the area and told us to be back by 8pm.

About halfway out of town was when we realized that none of us knew enough about motorcycles to recognize an issue if we saw one and that Mr. Kong's advice was only relevant if you have a clue about what to look for...

The automatic scooter Cait and I were riding kept veering hard to the right, and when we all stopped at one of the only stop lights in town, Sam's semi-automatic died (though it started back up again with a few turns of the key and methodical pressing of the ignition). At this point, we were already 20 minutes into what we thought would be an hour long ride, so instead of going back to the rental place we decided to just power through it and continue on. The further and further we got out of town it started to become apparent that riding motorcycles to the Plain of Jars is a bad idea-- unless you're on a top notch, high quality, dirt bike. The road that was at first paved, quickly turned into a gravel road, then a sand and gravel road, then not even really a road as much as is was a stretch of sand with huge potholes and loose rocks the size of baseballs. Our automatic pink scooter and the manual piece of junk we had rented, barely made the journey.

Three hours later, when we finally reached the first stop on our itinerary (Jar site #2) we were hot, hungry and physically exhausted. Not to mention, all coated head-to-toe in the fine red sand and dust that was kicked up by the huge air-conditioned tours buses that passed us along the way. On the verge of a mental breakdown, we arrived at the ticket counter; Sam pushing a bike with a broken speedometer, fuel gauge, horn, blinker and ignition, Caitlin walking, and me haphazardly riding a scooter with a flat tire. Hoping the woman at the counter could help us, we stumbled up to her desk and asked if she could call the 'in case of a bike emergency' number that we had been given by The Falang. Unfortunately, she spoke not a word of English and even though we pointed to the phone number, then pointed to our bikes, her numerous phone calls where in vain since we couldn't understand each other at all. 

Our pretty pink scooter with a flat rear tire

We then spent about 30 minutes yelling at each other “I told you that we should have taken a tour!” “I told you that we needed to rent good moto's!” “What are we gonna do??? This is all your fault!” “No, it's all your fault!”. By this point, none of us cared even a little bit about seeing any Jars.

It wasn't until a tour bus pulled up and a group of happy, clean, well rested tourists started filing out that we gained our composure; “OMG are you guys ok?”. We explained what had happened and their driver, who spoke English, kindly offered to call the emergency number for us and get someone out to help. When he hung up the phone he told us that someone was on their way, they'd be here in half an hour and that in the mean time, we should go see Jar site #2. We reluctantly agreed, thanked him and started up the hill.

Despite the effort it took to get there and that in retrospect, we should have taken a tour; what we found was really awe-inspiring. The Jars were sitting on top of the largest hill in the valley, each was carved out of solid rock and there were over a hundred of them. Big enough to fit all three of us inside, we hypothesized that the Jars must have been used to brew huge batches of ancient beer or rice-wine... nothing else seemed feasible (though we later found out that the current theory is they were used as ancient burial urns-- not for beer).

"Look at how much beer this could hold!!"

Jar site #2

View out over the valley from the top of Jar site #2

A 'tree hug'!

Jar site #1

The biggest Jar we saw

View out over Jar site #1

Jar site #1

We talked about how sad and unfortunate it is that these hugely impressive, megalithic, works of our ancestors, aren't even listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site due to the UXO contamination and the danger they pose to mass tourism. We hoped our donation would help, but we knew from looking around us that much more work still needed to be done and that we alone, couldn't solve the problem. All over the site were painted markers, showing where MAG had cleared surface UXO's and where they hadn't. Standing in the middle of the site, the danger was very apparent. Walkways were clearly marked, walking outside of the perimeter was strictly off limits and bomb craters littered the area.

"YOU ARE ADVISED TO STAY BETWEEN THE WHITE MARKERS"

The markers showed where MAG had cleared UXO's and where they hadn't.

Bomb crater

Another bomb crater

We had read at the MAG Center that The Plain of Jars was the most heavily bombed area of Laos, making it the most arduous clean-up effort in the country. Even though MAG has spent years clearing a few of the sites, most (83 of 90) have not yet been assessed and ALL still have lingering bombs that pose a threat to human life.

We felt privileged getting to see something that few people have seen or even know about. Embracing our filth and misfortune, we walked back down the hill in better spirits then when we had made the ascent. Though, the second half of our day proved to be just as frustrating as the first, and none of us really recovered.

Waiting at the ticket counter for someone to show up.

We waited for another hour before the woman, who rented us the bikes, showed up to help us out. Once she changed the flat tire, she told us that we had to pay her another 200,000Kip for a 'new' tire plus her time and trouble, and that even though nothing actually worked on Sam's bike; “The bike works good! You just have to use the kickstart”. Which would be fine for anyone who knows what that means, but for us, we had never 'kickstarted' a moto before and it proved to be the most frustrating and embarrassing thing we had encountered thus far. We also got lost, riding more the 20km in the wrong direction before realizing our error.

There were times when some of us threatened to walk home and leave the bikes in the dirt... others threatened to drive away on the bikes and leave the people in the dirt. Ultimately, the glorious day that we had sacrificed from our itinerary to see the Plain of Jars, was spent yelling, fuming, seeing some jars, then fuming and yelling again.

We were all irritated with the reality of traveling and with each other. For the first time in two months we were actually looking forward to going home to Phnom Penh.