A cycle tour and a suffocating sauna

Haw Pha Kaeo

I hired a bike today to see some more of Vientiane’s sights. Firstly I visited Haw Pha Kaeo. Like many in Vientiane, this temple was razed by the Siamese in 1827. The building that stands today is a replacement built by the French between 1936 and 1942, although the original temple dated from 1565. It was originally constructed to house the Emerald Buddha, a relic brought to Vientiane by the king when the capital city was moved from Luang Prabang. This treasured relic was taken by the Siamese in a war in 1779 and now resides in Bangkok’s Grand Palace. All that remains in memory of the Emerald Buddha in Haw Pha Kaeo today are luminous green statues sold as souvenirs. Within the temple are displays of ancient depictions of Buddha, and picturesque gardens fill the grounds outside.

I had a quick lunch in a restaurant offering Lao and international food. I chose a Lao dish of fish steamed in a coconut leaf, nostalgic for the delicious steamed fish curry, amok, that I ate in Cambodia. Sadly, this could not compare; dry and bland, it was edible but not enjoyable. Afterwards I took the bike on my way to Pha That Luang, the golden monument that has become a symbol of Laos. It was an easy 15 minute ride out of the city following a main road that took me around the Patuxai monument which I climbed up yesterday. Pha That Luang has a similar story to Haw Pha Kaeo; built in the 16^th century when Vientiane became the capital of Laos, it was destroyed during the Siamese invasion and later reconstructed by the French. Painted entirely gold but now dirty and worn at the edges, the monument is a pyramid made of four square bases with stupas at each corner, and a large lotus bud shape at the very top. It certainly looked more impressive from further away, from where the griminess cannot be seen and it glows an untainted gold. But the afternoon sun breaking spectacularly through the clouds above made for an eye-catching sight. I scooted around on my bike on the other side of the walls of the monument, exploring the beautiful gardens and the two temples. I headed back to my hostel and enjoyed a refreshing banana milkshake in a nearby café.

In the evening I was curious to visit a Lao-style sauna on the next street. I cycled cautiously down a dirt-path alleyway following a sign for the Herbal Sauna, and was welcomed by the friendly woman working on the reception desk. Inside there was a quiet courtyard lined with potted plants and stone tables for drinking tea. Two large dogs lay licking themselves. I was given a sarong to wear and, after changing, was led to the men’s sauna, as the women’s sauna was not working at the time. Opening the wooden door and pushing back a heavy red curtain, I stepped into the empty steam-filled wooden room which smelt of a herb I recognised from Asian cooking. I stood for a few seconds and turned around for the door when I realised I couldn’t breathe. “It’s too hot!” I told the woman. As there was nobody in there already I wondered whether a human could physically cope with such heat. After a few ladles of water thrown over myself I tried again, and lasted for about five minutes. Watching the other people who went in and out after me, most managed about the same time as me. Even after such a brief stay in the sauna my skin felt very soft and with some hot tea, I felt very refreshed.

I went for dinner at Le Vendome, sold to me by Lonely Planet as ‘probably the cheapest French food just about anywhere in the world’. This was necessary as I was counting my last Kip; I had run out and in the evening the currency exchange booths in town were closed. Counting my last few notes out carefully, I chose a tasty and inexpensive macaroni, ham and mushroom gratin. Afterwards I studied the dessert menu to see what I could afford. I was a measly 1,000 kip short of what I really wanted, Poire Belle Helene- poached pears with ice cream and chocolate sauce. So instead I chose a chocolate soufflé which was marginally cheaper to satisfy the chocolate craving I’ve had running for a few days. I don’t think I really knew what a chocolate soufflé was when I ordered, and was horrified by the swollen monster presented to me in a tin I would use to make a loaf cake. I barely made a dent on the soufflé before accepting defeat. The final blow came when I saw on the bill that I could have paid in dollars, of which I had plenty, and so my dessert scrimping was unnecessary. As I walked back to my hostel I told myself that I will have to find a way to overcome the huge sense of remorse that I feel when I order the wrong dessert.