Luang Prabang to Angkor – Day 6: Vientiane

Yesterday evening, we asked our hotel’s front desk service whether they could arrange a taxi for the following day. We wanted to be driven around from about eight to twelve, intending to eat lunch at noon before setting off for the airport. The price we were quoted, however, amounted to about a million kips, which we judged far too high for a four-hour hire. Instead, we decided to trust the local rideshare app Loca. After our checking out the following morning, we hailed our first cab to the Lao National Museum, which only cost us 120 thousand.

We alighted in front of a big square decorated with a few trees and flowers. At its centre, standing on an elevated platform, was Kaysone Phomvihan, the first leader of the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party and the first Prime Minister of the Lao PDR. Flanking him were two tableaux: to the right a statuary of Lao soldiers under a red flag, and to the left a statuary of ordinary working people of different professions under the flag of Laos. A tall cement building in traditional Lao style stood at the far end of the square. I was impressed by the grandeur of the whole ensemble: its spacious design, reinforced by the emptiness of the square, succeeded in its mission of inspiring awe.

Only after inspecting our tickets and booklet did we realise we had entered the Kaysone Phomvihan Museum instead of the neighbouring Lao National Museum. Still, we decided to make most of the situation and stayed, mesmerised by the propagandistic information boards and patriotic displays. My favourite part of the museum were its panegyrics to Kaysone. In proper hagiographical fashion, these included quotations from childhood acquaintances extolling the national hero as the best swimmer and shooter of his friend group.

We spent about an hour at the Kaysone Phomvihan Museum, after which we crossed a dirt path to the National Museum next door. Unlike its empty neighbour, this museum had a few visitors: we bumped into two other tourists on the second floor. The quality of its displays, however, differed dramatically from one room to the next. The archaeological section struck me as rather sad, with a single fossil or a dinosaur tail and a childish plastic replica of a brachiosaurus. However, there was an entire section dedicated to archaeological finds from Vat Phou, mostly comprising statues of Hindu deities from the sixth and seventh centuries.

The third museum on our itinerary was the Lao Textile Museum. Architecturally, it could not have differed more from the previous two. As the French governor’s former residence, the Lao National Museum was built to impress visitors with the grandeur of its giant gleaming pillars and wide white staircase. In contrast, the Textile Museum consisted of several wooden houses built in traditional Lao style, which seemed more suited to the local climate thanks to their open design and cozy terraces shaded by tall trees. As a privately owned museum, it paid no homage to communism or national luminaries, and our interactions with the staff were more informal. Towards the end of our visit, for example, a sweet old lady working at the gift shop gave us a cup of butterfly pea tea.

I found the information boards at the Lao Textile Museum very interesting. For example, I learned that Lao women’s skirts often have Naga motifs, and that a weaver’s expression says, “weave the sinh, weave the naga.” Lao men, on the other hand, used to tattoo nagas directly onto their skin and would consider other men with the same tattoo to be their own kin. I also learned of the symbolism behind many common animal motifs, such as frogs, which symbolise rebirth and procreation, or the various mythological creatures like the mom (a half-elephant half-lion creature) and the hatsady ling (a half-bird half-elephant).

We ate lunch at the same restaurant we visited yesterday, after which we picked up our bags at our hotel and used the Loca app to call a taxi to the airport. Our four o’clock flight to Pakse arrived on schedule, and we once again haggled down the price of a tuk-tuk to our hotel from 150 to 100 thousand. It was only then that I realised it was Halloween: the person who opened the hotel door had his face made-up to look like he had giant scars across his cheeks and forehead, and until I saw other personnel made up the same way, I assumed he had survived a horrible motorcycle accident. I was relieved that Barron did not want to celebrate in any way, as I dislike the consumerism of Halloween and do not understand the allure of dressing up.