Diamonds In The Rough: The restoration of Luang Prabang's heritage buildings.
by Jean-Francois Warner
Walk along Luang Prabang's main street, Thanon Phothisalat: you will be very impressed by the lineup of temples on either side, most of them recently renovated. Here, Wat Saen sports a newly renovated golden mural and freshly painted pillars. Further down, Wat Si Muang Khun also glows from its recent make-over, beckoning any passers-by to remove their shoes and enter its quiet interior. There are forty-one other temples in the city, all of them seeing a new life. Wherever you look in Luang Prabang, the paint is fresh and the smiles are proud.
But the atmosphere in Laos' old royal capital has not always been so positive. From the days of the Revolution in the mid-70's until the early 90's, Laos' royal town was all but forgotten. Potholes in the streets were left to worsen, the weather-beaten temples went unrepaired--even the Royal Palace Museum, the showcase of the area's religious and royal heritage, was left to deteriorate. Luang Prabang was, for the few who visited during that time, nothing more than a dusty picture of nostalgia lost in Laos' attic. It was a ghost town, a mere shadow of its former royal self.
"l fell in love with this city as soon as I saw it," says Canadian architect Bob Hardy, recalling his first visit to Luang Prabang in 1989. "It's a diamond In the rough. Blow the dust off, and it sparkles."
Blowing dust off is precisely what he has been doing in Luang Prabang since that initial contact. In part through his efforts with the United Nations, the World Heritage Committee and the Lao government, Luang Prabang was in 1995 officially included in UNESCO's World Heritage List. The town is in good company: other cities on the list include Quebec city, Quito, and Jerusalem. It's quite an achievement for a small town of 20,000 people lost In the hills of northern Laos.
In the two years since the inclusion of Luang Prabang in UNESCO's list, Hardy and others interested in preserving the area's heritage have been helping restore the city to its former glory in the best way they know: one building at a time. Through their efforts, Luang Prabang is once again finding its majesty.
Bob Hardy and his wife Louise's project, which began in 1994 and opened its doors to the public two years later, is Le Calao, a renovated mansion turned hotel and cafe.
"When Louise and I first saw this building, it was in ruins. Weeds grew out of every crack, the roof was a sieve, and the walls barely stood," says Hardy, adding, "not unlike the other heritage buildings in town." The house, until recently known as La Maison Dore, is named after a French merchant who occupied it from 1936 to 1968.
What first caught Hardy's eye was the Maison Dore's unique blend of architectural styles. Chinese, Portuguese and Lao influences all contributed to its design, each subtly blending into the next. Le Calao is not alone in Luang Prabang to share this melting pot approach to architecture. To quote the World Heritage Committee report: "Luang Prabang represents, to an exceptional extent, the successful fusion of the traditional architectural and urban structures of the European colonial rulers of the 19th and 20th century. Its unique townscape is remarkably well preserved, illustrating a key stage in the blending of two cultural traditions."
Unlike other heritage houses in Luang Prabang, which were directly influenced by the French, Le Calao is of a Sino-Portuguese style. "Similar houses to Le Calao exist predominantly in Macau, the old Portuguese colony now governed by China," says Hardy. His hypothesis for this unusual blend is that the original builder of the house, a Lao trader of Chinese ancestry, asked for some house plans from a Chinese "cousin" who lived in Macau. The plans were copied and the house built, unwittingly adding a touch of Portuguese to this predominantly French area. Another house in the region of a similar style is, appropriately, the Portuguese embassy in Bangkok
"But this house is different," continues Hardy. "In other Portuguese-style mansions, the roof hangs over the end walls. Here, the end walls are raised past the roof--they contain it. They are actually fire walls, usually built into the row-houses of most Chinatowns to stop the spread of fire from one house to the next. Of course, Le Calao doesn't need this since it is isolated from other buildings, but the walls remain because that's how the original plans were drawn."
There are some additions that Hardy has made as part of the renovation, but only a well-trained eye could detect them. The two small end balconies, for example, are not balconies at all: they are support platforms for the new hotel's air-conditioning engines. The front terrace was rebuilt, but not before a 7,000 liter water reservoir was installed beneath it, assuring an even supply of water to the five upstairs bedrooms. That these additions either go unnoticed or reinforce the building's elegant lines is a tribute to the spirit of authenticity which has permeated the renovation.
However, what most people staying at Le Calao notice is not the technical nitty-gritty, but the historical details. The house's wooden transoms bear their original carvings, and the few that were missing now stand faithfully reproduced by local craftsmen. Miraculously, the main entrance's woodwork, an intricate rendition of two Chinese dragons, remained untouched through the years. "We don't know how or why," says Hardy of the dragons, "but we're glad they're still with us. They really add to the atmosphere that we tried to preserve."
With a lot of luck and with a little work from dedicated individuals, the dragons of Le Calao have weathered the dark years of abandon to see a new day. With their help, the Maison Dore is once again vibrant with the everyday life it once knew as part of Laos' royal capital.
Luang Prabang itself is no stranger to this story. After the neglect of the seventies and eighties, Laos' forgotten treasure is slowly coming back to life--one building at a time.