The Plain of Jars is one of the most important and mysterious megalithic structures in Asia. Thousands of huge stone jars lie scattered across fields in north-east Laos, though who made them and for what purpose remain subjects of academic debate. Yet the Plain also bears witness to a more recent and tragic history, the legacy of which is still causing death and injury to this day.

The first challenge for visitors though is getting there. We had decided to make the short airplane trip back from Phonsavan to Vientiane, but hoped to travel there cross-country, so that we could see something of Laos along the way. The cheapest option is to take the bus, but we decided that a ten-hour trip on public transport was too much to ask even of our travel-hardened kids. In the end we booked a private minibus to take us there. This cost twice as much as flying would have done, but allowed us to take in the mountains, rivers, and villages, while still having room to move around and play games to keep the children entertained.

We also booked a tour to take us round the Plain. Online research had led me to believe that we were not permitted to visit the jar sites without a guide; it turned out this was not the case, but you would need your own transport and a good map to get round unaccompanied.

Our guide told us that he would first be taking us to a spoon factory, and my heart sank. Another excuse to sell the tourists overpriced souvenirs, I thought. But I was wrong. The spoons proved to be a fascinating illustration of Laos’s troubled history.

During the Vietnam War, the communist rebels in Laos supported their comrades in North Vietnam, and the “Ho Chi Minh Trail” was used to move supplies and men south to make surprise attacks across the border. The American response was to bomb them: for nine years, an average of one plane-load every eight minutes, 24 hours a day. It’s estimated that more bombs were dropped on Laos than during the whole of World War Two.

The Plain of Jars is littered with detritus from the Vietnam War

As much as 30 percent of those bombs failed to detonate, so that the Plain of Jars is now littered with unexploded ordnance (UXO). Children are still regularly maimed and killed while playing in the fields, after accidentally triggering leftover bombs from their grandparents’ war.

Products made by locals using scrap aluminum from bombs

One local decided to make something positive from this tragedy, and started making spoons from aluminum recovered from bomb sites. The “factory” was a small forge under his house (the living area is raised on stilts). Others in the village took up the idea, though my wife was more excited to find women weaving beautiful fabric on a traditional loom, and to be able to buy the actual cloth they were making.

Weaving on a traditional loom

Three jar sites have been opened to the public, and we visited all of them. Each has their own attractions, and the scenery is breathtaking, its green rolling hills more reminiscent of England than anywhere else I’ve been in Asia.

This jar was damaged by a bomb

Archaeologists believe that the jars were used two thousand years ago to store the bodies of the dead while the flesh decayed; then, after a couple of years, the bones would be removed, cremated, and reburied in smaller ceramic jars nearby. At Site Number One, the largest and most popular of the sites, there is a cave which was probably used as the crematorium.

This cave is believed to have been used as a crematorium

However, investigations are impeded by the hidden dangers of UXO. We saw a team working on making a bomb safe, and later heard the controlled detonation.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a bomb,” my son commented, and we reflected on how fortunate we are that that was true for all of us.

The locals face the problem with stoic good humor – we enjoyed excellent fish and chips at a cafe called Craters, named after the bomb craters which dot the landscape, and decorated with grenades and shell cases. But the UXO prevents agriculture from developing, and takes an appalling toll of deaths and injuries still. A visit to the UXO Center, run by the Mines Advisory Group (MAG), is an essential, if emotionally grueling, experience.

International aid has suffered a blow to its reputation in recent years, with scandals rocking major NGOs. However it would be hard to find a better example of effective humanitarian work than that of MAG. They not only clear away the explosives, saving lives and freeing up land for development, they also provide jobs and training for local people. If you’re looking for a good cause to support, then they are well worth your consideration.

Photos: Andrew Killeen

As a parent of animal-loving kids, I’ve written before about feeling conflicted when it comes to zoos. My children love to see and learn about wildlife; but I have serious concerns about the standards of animal welfare in many zoos, particularly (it must be said) in Asia.

So it’s a pleasure to be able to report on a zoo with ethics and care for animals at its heart. Having exhausted the pleasures of Vientiane inside a day or so, I stumbled across the Laos Wildlife Rescue Centre (LWRC) via an online search. Getting there proved to be a little trickier though. It didn’t seem to be on any of the tour itineraries, and in the end we had to hire a minibus and driver to take us there. At a cost of USD 120 this was extravagant for a family of four, but we justified it to ourselves on the basis that everything else in Laos was so cheap.

However I was glad that we made the effort, though I was concerned at first. The people behind the Wildlife Rescue Centre are working in partnership with the Lao Zoo, and at the entrance it appeared to be a rather downbeat and old-fashioned place, with deer and turtles as the first animals you encounter.

However it’s a huge site, and the deeper you explore the more you discover the scope and potential of the project. The owners are working to improve conditions for all the animals, and training the staff to provide better care. And behind the older buildings are larger enclosures where the rescued animals are looked after.

The bears at the LWRC are contented and curious

Many of these are bears. Tragically the Asian black bear is hunted and bred for use in Traditional Chinese Medicine, often being caged with its bile tapped via a tube. The Wildlife Centre has a policy of “rescue, rehabilitate, and release”, and most of the animals we saw – contented in big, varied spaces, and showing no signs of distress – are destined to return to the wild.

Sadly some of the zoo’s inhabitants are too damaged by their treatment at the hands of human beings that they can never be released. We could only imagine what had happened to the mandrill which paced in tiny circles in its cage, and my children voiced their disgust aloud at the visitors who were teasing it to get it to “perform” for them.

Not all the primates were distressed. The elegant lar gibbons showed off for us their skill at swinging from branch to branch, in a natural expression of their territorial rights. The volunteer that we met talked about them by name, enthusiastically describing their different personalities.

A lar gibbon poses, elegant as a dancer

My boys were also delighted by the binturongs. This beautiful animal is known as a “bearcat”, though it is neither bear nor cat, but actually a species of civet. Among other highlights for us were the impossibly cute lorises, and a large collection of crocodiles.

Crocodiles laze in the sun

The zoo is still a work in progress, but an impressive amount has been achieved in the short time since the LWRC was established. If you are visiting Vientiane or Vang Vieng, then I would urge you to get to the Centre (it’s roughly halfway in between), and support the important work they do in preserving endangered species and rescuing vulnerable animals from cruel captivity.

To find out more about how you can support the Laos Wildlife Rescue Centre, visit their website: www.laoswildliferescuecentre.com

Photos: Andrew Killeen

Lao PDR (Laos) is in some ways the forgotten country of South East Asia. Landlocked, it lacks the beaches which draw backpackers to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam, and it’s largely missed out on the rapid development experienced by its neighbors.

However being overlooked also means it has preserved its natural beauty and laid back way of life. This beguiling, wild country, as big in area as the United Kingdom but with less than one tenth of the population, is one of the most fascinating places I’ve visited in Asia.

We flew into Vientiane, via Kunming. Most visitors then head north to the old royal city of Luang Prabang, but with only six days to explore, and a planned visit to Phonsavan’s mysterious Plain of Jars, we decided to base ourselves in the capital for most of our stay.

Vientiane is a small city of around 600,000 people. It’s a charming place, but in truth there’s not a great deal to do there. However it is cheap: we stayed in a spacious accommodation in the comfortable S Park Design Hotel for less than RMB 250 per double room per night, and the boys loved swimming in the pool. There are also numerous restaurants and cafes, with the city’s French colonial history giving local cuisine an enticing mix of Asian and European influences. At La Vendôme the four of us enjoyed a three course meal with wine which you would not be disappointed to be served in Paris, and the bill came in at under RMB 500.

One sight no visitor to Vientiane should miss is the Buddha Park. This was established in 1958 by a religious visionary, who inspired the local people to create concrete sculptures featuring a mixture of Buddhist, Hindu, and, erm… “other” figures. He later fled the country and set up a similar park across the Mekong in Thailand.

The sculptures are at the same time crude and extraordinarily ambitious. Oddest of all is a giant pumpkin, inside which you pass through the human world to go down to hell and up through the spirit world, before emerging into the sunlight.

For my wife and I, the Buddha Park was an mindbending exhibition of outsider art. For my kids it was the site of an epic game of hide and seek, which they were still talking about days later.

While I would not want to deter anybody from visiting Laos, there was one terrifying moment, which I share as a reminder to take care in developing countries.

As we arrived at the beginning of the hot season, in the afternoons it was too exhausting to do anything other than swim. So I persuaded my family to accompany me on an early evening walk to tick off some of the “must see” sites. I’d been warned about the packs of feral dogs wandering around Vientiane, but it was only around 8pm, and we were walking down a brightly lit main road when it happened.

Afterwards we tried to piece together the events of those few seconds, and as far as we can tell we must have startled a man sitting on a wall, because before we’d even noticed them his dog was up on its hind legs, forepaws against our 9-year-old’s chest, snapping and snarling. I’d been walking ahead, so I turned round and ran at the dog shouting to get it away from my son. This seems to have triggered a feral dog into attacking me, and I backed into the road, narrowly avoiding being run over.

At this the man came, picked up his dog, and threw it over a low wall to get it away. He then gestured to us to carry on up the road, even though the wild dog was still growling at us from a distance. We turned around and headed rapidly back the way we’d come, hailing the first tuktuk we saw to take us back to the hotel.

Fortunately, neither dog actually bit us; having to go for a rabies jab, while potentially lifesaving, would not have made for an amusing holiday anecdote. If you do visit Vientiane, I would recommend taking some form of dog repellent and staying in busy areas after sunset.

In my next post, I’ll be writing about some more appealing animal encounters.

Photos: Andrew Killeen