Wet Pilgrimage To Wat Phu

    by John Mc Beath

When I first read about the Khmer built temple of Wat Phu in southern Laos and how it predates the famous Angkor Wat in Cambodia by perhaps 200 years, I decided to try and visit the remote site.

Fortunately for the independent traveler, the Lao government has recently abolished restrictions on internal travel. Travelers are now free to go around this beautiful country by plane, boat or bus; there are no trains.

Since I'd arrived in Laos in the wet season, which makes many roads hazardous, I bought a Lao Aviation ticket from Vientiane to Pakse, the nearest center about 50 kilometers from Wat Phu. Not much English is spoken here, but basic French is an asset since some of the older people speak it fluently.

Having no clear idea of how I'd get from Pakse to Wat Phu, I planned to make enquiries in Pakse about boat or road transport. Boat travel, I soon discovered, was either very expensive, (US$650 for a three day houseboat tour) or cheap but complicated (involving at least one change of boat, perhaps two, then a final 14 kilometer stretch by road). The road option seemed preferable; in French I was quoted Australian dollars 100 return by car and A$60 in a motorized tri-shaw (tuk-tuk).

Since my informant assured me the road surface was 'bon,' and although perhaps I should have known better, I opted for the cheaper tuk-tuk for the two and a half hour journey including a crossing of the Mekong.

We set out at 8:00 A.M. in steady, light rain and after thirty minutes ran completely out of 'bon' and bitumen.

With mud and puddles concealing the many pot holes in the unsealed surface, I lurched and bounced around on the thinly padded, narrow seat in the back of the tiny vehicle. Griping a steadying rail with one hand, I was forced into a slightly hunched posture in a space designed for smaller physiques. The young driver and his offsider grinned broadly, making signs about the poor state of the road.

We crossed on wooden bridges over several picturesque tributaries of the Mekong, some quite wide, and all swollen by the rains, passed through a number of delightful sleepy settlements, and at length reached the small rural village of Ban Muang Kao on the Mekong. Here we stopped to await the ferry, and climbing slowly from the tuk-tuk, I walked stiffly to an open air, thatched roof stall. Surrounded by inquisitive but friendly villagers, I put into practice the first Lao words I'd learned, ordering a black coffee. If you don't know these words you'll be served coffee with condensed milk and sugar. Forget your short black espresso, here we're talking serious caffeine syrup concentrate made from beans roasted to coal black.

Using the second phrase I'd learned, I ordered hot water (pronounced 'numb horn') to dilute the tumbler of viscous fluid by two parts to one, making a delicious drink of strong black coffee.

For a while the rain cleared and we sat sipping our drinks and surveying a peaceful rural scene as people, chickens, dogs, goats and an occasional pig wandered past. A woman went by from the river leading a water buffalo that glistened as black as my drink. The Mekong swirled past, powerful and mud-colored, a few women squatting at its edge pummeled the family washing, and at the far bank about one kilometer distant we could see our ferry setting out.

This vessel was an old fishing trawler with the addition of two Vietnam war surplus aluminum dinghies as outriggers, making a trimaran across which was a wooden platform with a raiseable cramp at each end.

After a twenty minute crossing we hit the real mud on the other side. This is the village of Ban Pha Phin about 14 kilometers from Wat Phu, and the entire population of about sixty people assembled to watch as five men pushed the tuk-tuk up the slippery slope, followed slowly and unsteadily by a clumsy Australian on foot carrying photographic equipment. Twice I lost balance and stumbled almost going full length into the mud, each time to shrieks of laughter from the audience.

It started raining again as I reached the vehicle for the final leg through the small town of Champasak and on to the temple. We slewed, slid, and shuddered along a narrow road that was little more than a mud slide. Were the ruins going to be worth this ordeal? I wondered, and dared not think about the return journey.

At last we could see the huge complex of Wat Phu in the distance shrouded in rain, and at the front, its large rectangular ponds where boat races are held during festivals. We pulled into the admission centre at the end of the lake and paid the entry fee and camera charge: $1.80.

As I looked out at the temple structures rising in misty rain up the face of a 75 meter hill behind the pond, a magical moment happened: the rain stopped abruptly, the clouds rolled back, and the sun came out. It seemed like a good omen, and I took full advantage, spending the next three hours exploring and photographing the wondrous ruins of Wat Phu.

It is believed the complex dates from the 6th century through to the 13th, with most construction occurring in the 11th century by the powerful Khmer Kingdom, with an estimated total work-force of 3 million people.

The ruins are in a natural state with huge mossy blocks of stone lying around; some parts are dilapidated, and others quite well preserved. The atmosphere of tranquility here seems to be found only in very old, decaying places of religious worship. Small trees and bushes flourish high up among the stonework, providing much more than clumps of green color as they force their own crevices in the facades. High quality stone carvings of Hindu deities (Shiva, Pavarti, Krishna, Vishnu, Trimurti) are plentiful, particularly in friezes over the lintels. This could easily be somewhere in ancient India.

In later centuries the temple was converted to Buddhism, and Buddhist figures are installed in contrast to the Hindu ornamented buildings.

Two long pavilions of brick and stone (for segregated gender worship) stand at the base of the hill, their roofs, probably of timer, long since vanished. The exterior walls have a number of huge, granite framed windows, each filled with a row of ornamental stone pillars turned like Victorian table legs in place of glass.

Ornamentation skillfully carved in stone is everywhere--climbing up doorway uprights, on pediments, and along every available ledge.

Behind these pavilions, galleries of stone steps lined with the Lao national tree Frangipani ascend to various buildings and statuary along the way to the Shiva/Buddha main sanctuary at the summit. Here a natural spring rises in a small cave, thought to be the reason for the temple's location.

A system of stone pipes, some of which lie around the cave, conveyed water to the main enclosure to bathe a Shiva lingam (stone phallus).

The view from the top is superb; a wide angle vista of the surrounding green plains to the Mekong and beyond.

Of the return journey, the less said the better. Frankly I don't remember much of it anyway; my mind swarmed with images of stone figures from a thousand years ago, and the overwhelming beauty and serenity of an isolated, very special place in southern Laos.

One word of advice though: if you're thinking of visiting Wat Phu, think twice about going during the Wet.

Mekong Express Home	- Laos Home -	Editor for Mekong Express