Phonsovan (Laos)
How to describe this place adequately? Enough to do it justice? Phonsovan it a shit-hole! Plain and simple as that! It’s ten times worse than Adelaide when it’s having a bad day, although to say that would perhaps hint at the fact that I rate Adelaide slightly, and this is a complete fiction also. This place is a glorified t-intersection, sitting in the middle of a plain of unexploded ordinance, painted and stained in the colour of grey and brown, enveloped in dust, soot and general debris that somehow transcends the general comprehension of what large piece of crap looks like and manifests itself into what the Lao people call a town. To say this however is to perhaps do myself and Janelle a slight injustice for seemingly voluntarily accepting an expedition to this schiester outpost. So let me roll it back a few steps.
How to describe this place adequately? Enough to do it justice? Phonsovan it a shit-hole! Plain and simple as that! It’s ten times worse than Adelaide when it’s having a bad day, although to say that would perhaps hint at the fact that I rate Adelaide slightly, and this is a complete fiction also. This place is a glorified t-intersection, sitting in the middle of a plain of unexploded ordinance, painted and stained in the colour of grey and brown, enveloped in dust, soot and general debris that somehow transcends the general comprehension of what large piece of crap looks like and manifests itself into what the Lao people call a town. To say this however is to perhaps do myself and Janelle a slight injustice for seemingly voluntarily accepting an expedition to this schiester outpost. So let me roll it back a few steps.
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The day before in Luang Prabang JJ and I had debated as to whether we’d make the hit and run mission to the Plain of Jars, necessitating an overland journey to the gateway of this ancient wonder. The plan that we devised seemed uncomplicated, well crafted and would cater for the travel adventure requirements of all concerned. It therefore meant a 4-5 hours bus ride to Phonsovan, a spin through the various sites/locations of the Jars outside of Phonsovan and then a late flight from Phonsovan to Vientiane in order to provide us with the opportunity of scooting off to Vang Vieng after that. As I said, relatively painless, barring perhaps associated fatigue that wears you down when you’re vegetating on a bus for a few hours.
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So we jumped the van in the morning and set across the mountainous interior of Laos, punching the time card in Phonsovan perhaps at somewhere close to 4pm in the afternoon. Now as I’ve made clear, this place is a non event. It really is a town built on a large t-intersection, obviously priding itself on the bland and uninspiring architectural hodge podge that moonlights as commercial premises. Never the less, it’s perfectly acceptable for us in the fact that it fulfils the purpose of maintaining us for an evening before heading out for some stone jar viewing the next day, or so we thought. Enter stage left, Lao Airlines and their infamous propensity to cancel flights at a drop of a hat. Apparently the flight from Phonsovan to Vientiane the next day had been ditched due to the substantial amount of haze in the air due to forest burning. SON OF A BITCH, what this now meant was that our ability to get out of the place was now being dictated by a bus ride that operates on an unfavourable schedule to what we’ll require in order to make the most out of Vang Vieng. We discuss the logistical drama and vow to head out to one of the sites early in the morning and hijack a mobile Lao karaoke van as quickly as possible after that. For that evening however we absorb ourselves in the wonders of Phonsovan by trying teleport ourselves to somewhere else, anywhere else, it doesn’t work. We find the closest bar to our Phonsovan digs and drink instead. It makes us feel moderately normal for the evening.
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You see that photo, THAT's Phonsovan! That's it! A little piece of nothing in the middle of nowhere, coloured in a rainbow of grey and brown that's ever so appealing for the jaded traveller.
Now, let me say this. The Plain of Jars is a large group of historical cultural sites containing thousands of stone jars, which lie scattered throughout the Xieng Khouang plain in the Lao Highlands. How the jars got there and indeed their purpose are not known although intellectual guesses have been made. These sites are well known outside of Laos, and I assume therefore should be well known within Laos, I did say I assume. I add that amusing side note for this reason, the bus that we had nominated as our getaway service was scheduled to leave at 10am that morning (the morning of our attempted viewing), in the interim, trying to locate a tuk-tuk driver that actually knew what the hell we were talking about when we made a request to be take to the Plain of Jars was nigh impossible. For what must be a popular tourist site you would have thought that anyone looking like that may have been a tourist would have been accosted for offers of a ride. Our quest felt like that these people were pulling a monumental ‘Punk’d’ episode on us, it was I would say the equivalent of asking a cab driver in the centre of Sydney to take you to the Opera House and him looking at you vacantly because he doesn’t know what the f**k you’re talking about!. Although I repeated the question and our desire to see this famous site with every subsequent cab driver I was started to look as though I'd just arrived from outside of the solar system. In any case we did finally manage to chat with one person that mentioned to us that tuk-tuks are not actually able to take you to the main site and that in fact you would need to walk close to three kms into the park and then three out in order to see them. Considering the site was about 15kms out of town and the rocket clock was reading about 8am, well, our chances of getting out there and then making it back for a 10am bus ride to Vang Vient was not looking probable at all. So the next best solution? That’s right, gin and tonics at 8am my fine fellow, why not start the day out the way that you’d like to finish it.
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JJ & I knocked back a few heart starters and reminisced upon the good times that this hot spot for Oligochaetology offered (study of worms by the way). That took us all of five seconds and then we just drank as hard as we could in order to forget the torment of those five seconds. It didn’t work for us either. When 10am flashed up on the scoreboard we were well and truly on our way outta there. Phonsovan, to you I say kindly,'get stuffed’. You’re a place that I never want to visit again because you offer nothing to humanity, but thanks for holding us over for the night, it's an evening that I'll never forget (apparently) as my psychiatrist has stated that you never truly get over such a serious bout of PTSD!
Phonsovan - 'Thanks for coming'
You see that photo, THAT's Phonsovan! That's it! A little piece of nothing in the middle of nowhere, coloured in a rainbow of grey and brown that's ever so appealing for the jaded traveller.
