If per capita GDP were measured in Buddhist temples, then Laos might well be one of the wealthiest countries in the world. On "city" blocks, suburban streets or in the middle of the green, rolling countryside – Laos has wats (temples) everywhere.
They stand always in yellow, often with sparkling glass on walls and roofs and usually with serpents – once believed to be the gods who lived in the rivers prior to the arrival of Buddhism – guarding the entrances.
Some in town are hundreds if not more than a thousand years old – erected by the great Lao kings. One was built to house Laos' most prized Buddha statue, the Pra Bhang – the reason for the former royal capitol's name, Luang Prabhang. Another claims to have 6,400 different Buddhas.
Today, we drove past many, many wats to get to Wat Sok Pa Luang – which means forested wat. Which it is. Shaded by lush foliage of a huge variety of trees and plants is a large compound in which perhaps 50 to 100 monks reside. Buildings as small as little bungalows and as large as dormitories are scattered about the peaceful sylvan setting.
Of course there are the main temples for prayer and meditation as well as a couple of larger-than-life seated Buddhas of Compassion here and there.
These were all fringe benefits for us.
We were there for a small, wooden building perched on a platform that houses an herbal sauna and a staff trained in traditional Thai-Lao massage by the monks. The sauna building is nothing to look at – just an old wooden hut on stilts. It has to be to accommodate the boiler below where a wood burning fire heats water infused with herbs and flowers including lemon grass, lavender, eucalyptus, mulberry leaves, frangipani, basil, sage, mint and several other things you might use in your kitchen or a bag of potpourri.
Although the people who operate the sauna deny it, a few tourists claimed the steam smelled like hash. Perhaps this is why the steam room is so relaxing – it's a giant bong?
The setup is simple – walk up the rickety ladder-like steps to the wooden platform, use the changing room to don proper swimming attire. Ladies must also wear a traditional sarong. Then, pile into the steam room. And by steam room, I mean a dimly-lit wooden shed with three narrow wooden benches on a piece of carpet that's highly questionable. You sit in the room with the herbal steam billowing in through a pipe on the floor – which you must also be careful not to touch or step on as you try to find a seat.
To be honest, this has all been upgraded since my first visit in September, 2001. That particular Saturday afternoon, my friend Jay and I crowded in and stood in a wall of people as if the steam room were a large elevator. The body heat must have elevated the swelter because I had trouble breathing in there after a few minutes.
This visit was decidedly less crowded. It was just Emily, me, a young British couple and a nice girl in her mid-twenties from Ireland with two Buddhist nuns jumping in and out of the mix.
The routine goes like this: carefully climb in without slipping or burning yourself, sit until you can't take it, get out, drink special herbal tea they offer while sitting around the resting – and then repeat. After a few times of feeling that you just can't take it anymore, you get a massage from one of the traditional monk-trained specialists.
Emily and I agree it was a great massage. It involved all the proper pressure points, stretches, and chiropractic adjustments that a good Thai massage should have.
The price for all-you-can-breathe steam room, all-you-can-drink herbal tea and an expert traditional massage – 50,000 kip or $6.24 per person.
When it was over, we left in a sweaty-herbal mess to ride our rented motorcycle around the Vientiane countryside.
What we found was no surprise – the further from town we went, the more verdant and beautiful things became. With all the wide, sprawling trees, green meadows, lakes, streams and rivers, it's no wonder the Lao love a good nap. There's no shortage of gorgeous spots to take your mind off work and into a hazy slumber in the shade.
We passed traditional markets, families of cows, mud-covered water buffalo fresh from tilling the fields, rice-field tractors, children playing, families eating at little roadside barbecues and lots and lots of lush green terrain under the huge Lao sky.
Emily and I rode down a rural Lao road until the late afternoon. After passing through essentially nothing for awhile, we came to a tiny intersection with a few food stands, a building and two ATMs.
"We've reached a town, maybe we want to turn around here?" I asked.
"Is this the center of town? Look, there are two ATMs," Emily replied.
"That's how you know it's the center of town."
On the way back to Vientiane, we rode through clouds of strewn up red dirt. I've only ever seen soil so red in Laos, Thailand and Georgia. It's the kind of dirt that can stain your clothes red. Unfortunately, in a few places along the way, the trucks stirred it up so much that I think it stained my eyes red.
More impressively, large thunderclouds gathered in interesting patterns all along the Mekong and stretching out – as they have done most every night. As the setting sun hit them, rainbows appeared from their silver linings after which lighting began to flash, signaling the heavy rains to come within hours.
People everywhere were with their families, relaxed, snacking, laying around, enjoying each other. Businesses were mostly closed. People gathered to talk with their neighbors, their communities. Sundays in Lao are the ultimate in sabai-sabai (relaxation).
Yesterday the woman who owned the restaurant where we had lunch gave us some insight on the Lao psyche.
"There's no need to rush. We treat each other equally. We're nice to each other. If someone says 'hello,' you say 'hello' back and smile. Maybe you like them, maybe you don't, maybe you don't even know them – just say 'hello' and smile – what does it matter?"
"Thais, they don't get this – especially the ones from Bangkok. They think foreigners are the most important – at the top of the chain of respect. They think Lao are below them – so they come here and treat foreigners well and treat us poorly while they complain how expensive things are. We don't have Thailand's resources. But you know what? Here in Lao, foreigners, Thais and Lao – everyone – is the same. We're all people and we can all treat each other with kindness and respect."
And that's exactly what we've experienced and saw going on in and outside of Vientiane today.
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