RAINING ON THE RED PRINCE

I'll have a Coca- cola to go... in a bag??

A double rainbow, what a rare sight. Having just left my guesthouse, I’ve stepped out into the quiet afternoon streets of Luang Prabang, Laos. I’ve seen the colorful phenomena of twin arches only a few times in my life. I feel a good day ahead of me; I turn and head towards the Mekong River. 

On my way, the precipitation that brought the rainbows returns, and the clouds loosen into a steady rain. I quicken my steps, and take shelter in a small roadside drink stand. It’s not much; tables and benches are made of scrap lumber. But it’s dry inside, and with the rain turning into a deluge, I stay for a while. I’m not that worried about the downpour; most monsoon showers don’t last very long. Besides, I prefer the rainy season here in Luang Prabang. In the dry season, the air here is terrible. Since local farmers still practice slash and burn agriculture, the air becomes filled with acrid smoke from burnt brush, with the skies always hazy. I’ll take the rainy season, thank you. 

The lady vendor in this drink stand doesn’t speak English, but I make do with hand motions and order a soda. Reaching into an ice cooler, she removes a glass bottle of cola. But instead of handing it to me, she opens it and pours the contents into a clear plastic bag! After inserting a straw, she seals the bag's top with a rubber band. 

I had forgotten about this little ritual. This is the usual Southeast Asian manner of dispensing a soda to go. By doing it this way, she keeps the glass bottle to return for deposit. 

A tribute to the 'Red Prince' on his 100th birthday... but where are the crowds??

Soon the rain relents, and I resume my walk along Luang Prabang’s red brick sidewalks. Despite wet streets, this is a great place for a stroll. The scenic town has well preserved French villas, friendly folks, and a laid back lifestyle. As the former capital, it retains some of the old allure that the rest of Southeast Asia has lost.

While wandering the streets, I chance upon a statue and park dedicated to President Souphanouvong, a.k.a. the 'Red Prince'. It’s a new looking park, and it appears that I’ve just missed some kind of public event. There are fresh flowers and colorful ribbons strung about everywhere. Perhaps the rain chased everyone away. 

An impressive display of old photographs depicts Souphanouvong’s career as a communist. A new billboard bears the likeness of the former Prez, and lists his birthday, which is today. He died years ago but by coincidence, I found his memorial park on what would have been the Red Prince’s 100th birthday.

The ex - President, with frozen applause

That explains all the decorations. I have arrived here just after an official government ceremony commemorating his birth. I look up at his brown likeness, and it’s an odd pose for a statue. The Red Prince seems to be frozen in the midst of applauding. Yet he applauds alone. On his centennial anniversary, I am now the only person in the entire memorial park. If his well wishers left due to the rain, nobody has returned. 

Government officials were here for the ceremony, but with their departure, there are no other Laotians here paying tribute to his memory, fans or otherwise.

I saw far more people visiting the royal palace of his cousin, the king, that Souphanouvong had helped his communist comrades to depose. 

Apparently people have a lot more interest in old kings, than they do in old communists. 

PALACE OF THE DOOMED KING

This was the palace for the King of Laos, in the years before communism

I'm outside an unusual looking building, and what I’m seeing is not what I expected at all. With its long white layout, topped by a red tiled roof, this appears to be some sort of important auditorium. Two architectural features hint at the importance of this landmark. High on the rooftop, a narrow golden stupa points to the sky. Just above the main entrance, there is a golden, three headed elephant. This emblem is a mark of royalty, and once adorned the Royal Lao flag. 

This happens to be the palace of the last King of Laos. 

Nearing the palace, I see where the visual peculiarities come from. Its exterior is a mixture of two vastly different styles of architecture, French and Laotian. Doors and the shutters are French, but the roof is Asian. Snake-like naga figures protect the palace corners, while the stupa shaped spire peaks up to the center of the rooftop.

This architectural blend is not surprising, since the royal residence was constructed for the king by the occupying French colonials in 1904. Laos was such a poor country when the French took over, that the royal family couldn’t even afford to build a decent palace. 

Ornate decor in a Buddhist shrine on the royal palace grounds

The Laotian line of royalty reached back six centuries, and the country wasn’t always so poor. There were several ancient kingdoms. The most powerful was called 'Lane Xang', based here in the town of Luang Prabang. At its zenith, Lane Xang’s territory included not just northern Laos, but also parts of Thailand, China and Vietnam. These same three neighboring countries would later dominate Lane Xang in succeeding centuries.

This may not be the most picturesque palace from the outside, but what lies within is more impressive, so I climb the front steps to enter. Waiting my turn to buy a ticket, two European backpackers ahead of me complain that the three dollar admission price is too high! I wonder why they bothered traveling thousands of miles to see this exotic land, if they are bickering about spending a few dollars to see one of the most cherished places in all of Laos. 

Once inside, I make my way into the throne room, where King Sisavang Vong held court. Here I get a sense of royal luxury; the décor is impressive. Gold trim lines the royal pillars. Red ceilings and red walls, make way for colorful mosaics depicting everyday life in old Luang Prabang. France is again represented, with their crystal chandeliers. When the French built this place Laos was already a French colony, so the display of opulence was not a true reflection of the king’s power. Still, the king remained an important part of the Laotian identity, culture and religion.  

Without any need to hold court in this royal room anymore, golden cases with Buddha statues and ceremonial swords are displayed around the room. But the main focus is the throne itself. From a distance, the royal chair appears to be made of gold all around, save for the royal purple seat cushions. Behind where the king’s head would have been, is the royal symbol of three gold elephants. Three levels of mythical nagas heads seem coiled and ready to strike, as if to protect the king. I'd love to take photos in here but if I do, they'll confiscate my camera. 

Statue of King Sisavang Vong of Laos

The monarch that held court here, King Sisavang Vong, died in 1959 as Laos entered another period of conflict. He was replaced by his son, King Savang Vatthana. This succession occurred in an era when the world's monarchies were quickly disappearing. At the funeral, the king’s heir was heard to say, “Alas, I am doomed to be the last king of Laos.”

Although he replaced his father as the monarch, King Savang Vatthana chose to delay the coronation ceremony until the war ended, so in the end he was never crowned on this throne. By the time Savang became king Laos was independent, and the reins of power were again connected to the royal family. Prince Souvanna Phouma, the king’s cousin, would become the on again, off again Prime Minister of Laos, as he struggled to keep the country together during the war years fighting the communists. 

Taking the other path was Souvanna Phouma’s half brother, Prince Souphanouvong. Here was a unique figure. As a prince, he became one of the few royals in world history who became a committed communist. He left the good life of Luang Prabang, and went to the highlands to join the Pathet Lao. He became known as, ‘The Red Prince’. Souphanouvong took a Vietnamese woman as his wife, endearing him to his communist patrons in Hanoi. If he was to remain true to the monarchy, he would have married a Laotian. 

Over in a nearby reception room, a red embroidered wall hanging bears dragons and a phoenix. This was a gift from Hanoi, presented to King Savang in 1963. What an insincere gift. More than any other country, it was North Vietnam that would bring about the downfall of the Royal Laotian Government, and this king with it. 

I meander to the back of the palace, where the royal residence is located. Some of the palace rooms appear much as they did as the day when the king was arrested. In the dining room, Wooden chairs with wicker seats surround an antique table, beneath another French chandelier. Here over dinner, the king discussed affairs of state with his princes. 

The King's tennis court, which hasn't been used in decades

The old wooden floors creak, as I reach the separate bedrooms of the king and queen. It’s 1970’s era furniture, mixed with Asian accessories. Black and white portraits of the royal couple still hang on the walls. The king’s bed has mosquito netting over it, a reminder that even royalty worried about malaria here. The royal rooms give the feel of undisturbed time capsules. 

Outside the king’s bedroom in the hall, I take a seat by an open window, listening to the light rain falling through the tropical trees outside. I wonder if the king ever sat here to collect his thoughts by this window, as the drama of Laos unfolded. As the end neared, the US government offered him asylum, but he declined. The king had declared long ago that he would never abandon Luang Prabang. As the heart of Laos, he vowed to stay here until the end.

Since the rain isn’t very heavy, I exit the royal residence to peruse the palace grounds. Walking on the grass near the back, I find an old weather beaten tennis court. The king himself enjoyed playing tennis here, a sport he learned while attending school in France as a youth. With the net gone, this court hasn’t been used in years. 

Red Prince (in black) with Ho Chi Minh and other communists

Behind the palace is the Mekong River, and to the other side is the king’s garage. I head in to see what kind of wheels the king favored. Inside, I’m amused at his choices of automobiles. Besides an old Landcruiser and a Citroen without headlights, there are three American cars. Two are full size Lincoln Continentals from the 50’s and 60’s. Except for the red logos of the three headed elephant painted on the doors, they are all white. His poor chauffeur must have spent a lot of time wiping mud off of the pristine white finish, since Luang Prabang had few paved roads back then. 

The last of the royal rides is, egads! It’s a four door 1950’s Ford Edsel. I’m surprised that the king held onto such a low quality vehicle. Then again if you think about it, the Edsel makes a fitting metaphor for America’s commitment to Laos. In the beginning, it was big, and it was powerful. But it wasn’t popular, it wasn’t dependable in the long term, and in the end it was a failure. 

Laotians sell food and drinks outside the royal palace, now an official national museum

I open my umbrella, and head back out into the rain. Leaving the palace, I head down the long driveway, passing between tall palm trees and smartly trimmed hedges. This is the same route that the king took when he departed the palace for the last time. After the Pathet Lao forced him to abdicate in 1975, he was arrested and forced to leave his home for good. As the communist era in Laos began, the monarchy that had survived for 600 years, was gone in a flash. 

The only royal that retained any power with the communists was the Red Prince, who became their ‘front man’. As a member of the royal family, he gave the Pathet Lao legitimacy in the eyes of the populace. He was named the 'President of the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos', a position which held more symbolism than power. He had brought the neutralists hope that royalists and communists could rule in peace together. But they were fooled, since the real power behind the Pathet Lao wasn’t the Red Prince, it was the communist chief Kaysone Phomvihane.

As for the other former prince, Souvanna Phouma resigned as Prime Minister in 1975. He retired to Vientiane, where he died in 1984. His fate was far better than the rest of the royal family. After his forced abdication the king, queen and two other princes were imprisoned and sent into internal exile. They would never return to Luang Prabang. The last king of Laos, Savang Vatthana, died in a remote jungle prison camp, and the Laotian monarchy died with him. 

The communist government of Laos has never given an account as to what happened to all of these members of the royal family. How they met their tragic deaths in prison, remains a mystery to this day. 

SHOOTINGS AT THE BRIDGE

View through window of the tragic bridge shooting site

I’ve departed Vang Vieng in northern Laos, and Route 13 is taking me due south, into the town of Hinh Heup. Slowing down, we approach another of the roads many river crossings. Unlike others this is no small creek; the Nam Lik River is hundreds of feet wide. 

As we cross the old bridge I hear an unexpectedly loud racket beneath our vehicle. It’s the rude sound of clanking metal. The weight of the bus is coming down on each of the crossing’s heavy modular panels, sided with creaking criss-crossed rails. Rather than the huge modern 'Friendship Bridge' that crosses the Mekong River, this structure is built more from an old military style. 

The way across is only a single lane bridge. This may pass for a highway crossing in Laos, but with only one lane this bridge is prone to congestion, which backs up traffic as vehicles wait their turn to cross. 

In 1975 this bridge was the scene of congestion of a different kind: fleeing refugees! As they descended from the mountains, this narrow bridge became the scene of an atrocity wrought on the minority Hmong people. 

Hmong in traditional dress (Source: Wikipedia)

That year, the Pathet Lao communists and their North Vietnamese allies unleashed a major campaign of violent retribution against the Hmong, as punishment for their siding with the Americans and the Royal Laotian Government during the war. Hungry and fearing for their lives, the survivors were fleeing the fighting to the north. An exodus of more than 20,000 Hmong civilians flooded this road south towards Vientiane. 

As they reached this bridge in Hinh Heup, Pathet Lao soldiers blocked their way. Despite their desperate situation, they would not allow the refugee families to cross the bridge to flee to safer regions! 

The Hmong were ordered to return to their homes in the north. With many of their houses already destroyed, the Hmong didn’t have homes left to return to. Desperate with nowhere to go, and with nothing left to lose, the refugees rushed the bridge on May 29th.

The soldiers opened fire. At least five Hmong civilians were shot dead, and dozens were wounded. Rather than returning north, the survivors scattered. Many fled to Thailand by other routes.

As I listen to the banging of the loose steel panels while we drive across the bridge, I look out across the water. Just a couple hundred yards upriver, I can see work underway on a modern two lane bridge, built by a Japanese construction company. 

We reach the far side of the river, and as we drive on I look back to where we have just passed. There is no memorial here at the old bridge, to mark where the massacre happened. Since a new bridge is being built, this old bridge where this atrocity took place may soon be gone as well. 

The rutted highway through Hinh Heup

There may not be a memorial here, marking the site where the civilians were killed that sad day. 

There may always be official denials by the government of Laos, saying that the shootings here on this bridge never happened. 

But the Hmong will always remember. 

BOMBING WHERE THE WAR NEVER ENDED

Bars and restaurants in Vang Vieng. The war is over here. Or is it??

BOOM!  BA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

It’s after 1am, and I’m sitting in a bar in Vang Vieng, Laos. The explosions I just heard are from far off in the night. There's a lot of background noise in the bar, but there's no mistaking what I just heard. Those blasts weren’t thunder, and they weren’t fireworks. They're from something far more sinister, probably artillery. At least eight explosions went off close together. It sounded like they detonated in the mountains to the east.

I ask the Laotian bartender across the bar from me, “What was that??”

He heard the explosions too, but he’s silent. I saw him speaking English earlier tonight, but now he won’t answer me. 

Old explosives and weapons from fighting by the Hmong against the communists

Not giving up, I press him further, “Is that from problems with the Hmong?” Fighting between the Hmong and the communists began decades ago during the Vietnam War. The outside world hasn't heard about it for years, but there are still rumors of occasional ambushes in the remote mountains of Laos. 

Continuing to hold his tongue, the bartender's face is blank. Then he turns, and walks away. If he knows anything, he’s not about to tell me. 

I manage to see someone else here that's in a more talkative mood. Further down the bar, I approach an expat westerner. He has lived in Vang Vieng for a while now. Mentioning the explosions, I ask him if there is still conflict in the area between the government forces and Hmong fighters.

“Yeah, it still goes on,” he informs me. “It’s never really stopped.”

So it’s true, there is still fighting in the mountains! This is news almost unheard of. Now I've heard bombing myself, and this expat just confirmed that resistance continues. Hmong groups had been surrendering the past few years, but nobody saied that fighting was still going on. Sadly, the communist war against the Hmong people never ended completely. Despite government denials, there are still army attacks against Hmong hold outs in the mountains. For America, the Vietnam War ended in 1973. For America's ally the Hmong, the war never really ended.

“Just a few years ago there were bombings at a couple bars on the island,” the westerner tells me. “The government keeps it very quiet."

There is still sporadic fighting targeting Hmong hold outs in remote northern mountains 

After disclosing this, the expat remembers that he shouldn’t be telling me about the fighting, especially here in a public bar. He has let his guard down to talk about the hidden conflict, but not for long. 

“I’m really drunk, and stoned,” he admits. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Then he motions to the Laotian bar staff. “They’ll hear me.” 

He’s afraid someone will tell the police that he’s talking about the unrest. I don't think he would get arrested; he’s no human rights activist. But as a foreigner living in Laos, he’s worried that if he’s caught blabbering, the government will deny his next visa renewal. 

In recent years, a gutsy photo journalist found a group of Hmong guerrillas still fighting the communists near Vang Vieng. The holdout community had survived an attack where 26 of their family members had been massacred. His astounding photo gallery can be viewed here: 
"LAOS: Still a Secret War"

In other parts of Laos between 2000 - 2004, there were also a number of other isolated terrorist bombings. Vientiane and a few other cities were targeted. At least one Lao was killed, with many others injured. Responsibility for the bombings was claimed by a group calling itself, “The Free Democratic Government Committee of the Lao People”. This 'committee' is most likely a separate group of anti-government Lao exiles, that are unconnected to the Hmong. 

There haven’t been any reported bombings in Laos since, and tourism here continues to rise. Still, I can’t help but wonder. If the Laotian government continues on its unbending course of one party rule, and continues to pursue the Hmong hold outs in the mountains, will it be long before there are more violent incidents that spill over into the cities?

CIA AND THE SECRET AIRSTRIPS

CIA built airstrip used during 'Secret War' in Laos from 1960's to 1970's 

Vang Vieng is the number one tourist destination for foreigners visiting Laos, so you would think that it would have an airport. It doesn’t. 

Not that an airport is needed; the capital Vientiane is less than four hours away by road. But those that enter Vang Vieng  on Route 13, are still puzzled to encounter a long, wide runway right next to the highway in the middle of town. 

An airstrip with no terminal and no planes, mean that this runway is a remnant from the war years when American agents were here. Known by the former code name 'Lima Site 27', this empty landing strip was built by the CIA, for the secret war in Laos during the Vietnam War era. 

Since the roads in wartime Laos were abysmal, the CIA needed to find a way to resupply the Royal Laotian Army and the Hmong soldiers, who were both fighting the communists. 

For this reason, numerous runways like this one were built all over the remote highlands of Laos. The logistical problem was solved, and the Americans were able to resupply their allied fighters quickly by air. 

Since the US military was not supposed to be conducting operations in Laos, the task of flying these often dangerous missions went to Air America, a civilian airline. The worst kept secret in Southeast Asia, was that Air America was really just a front company for the CIA. 

Air America plane on covert mountaintop landing site in Laos, 1970 (Photo:Wikipedia)

Wearing civilian clothes, daring American pilots flew helicopters and small cargo planes throughout the countryside. These skilled pilots often landed their unmarked planes onto remote, tiny jungle runways far smaller than this one in Vang Vieng. During the height of the war, Air America had more than 200 planes and 30 helicopters at its disposal, keeping the forces fighting against the communists in Laos resupplied. 

There's no doubt that the real Air America pilots were brave; their planes were sometimes shot down during their dangerous covert missions over Laos. Of those that were captured, very few were ever seen alive again. 

Hollywood even made a movie about those daredevil pilots. The 1990 film 'Air America', starred none other than Mel Gibson, and Robert Downey Jr. in his pre-Ironman days. 

Since 'Lima Site 27' has been left to the elements, the condition of this runway has deteriorated over the years. As I walk across the quiet old airstrip, I find the blacktop that remains is broken and cracked, slowly turning into gravel. 

Long runway in middle of Vang Vieng, is occasionally used by Laotian military

Looking past the north end of the runway, I see that it’s oriented towards the mountains beyond that have the lowest altitude. This made for safer approaches and take-offs for Air America’s aircraft. 

Turning to the other end, I squint trying to see the end of the runway, and I’m unable to do so. Nearly a mile long, the blacktop gradually turns into dirt as the airstrip extends into the next neighborhood. A herd of goats comes walking down the runway,  shepherded along by a local teenager on a motorbike. 

Most evidence of the formerly secret operations that took place here have been carted away. Besides the highway to the east of the strip, the rest of the former airfield is now surrounded by residential houses, tall grass, and a couple of cheap local restaurants. Out of sight only 100 yards away, is the main drag where Vang Vieng's popular bars and discos are located,  catering to the young backpacker crowd. 

The old airstrip isn’t used much nowadays. Locals tell me that on rare occasions, a government plane or helicopter still lands here, perhaps on missions to watch the Hmong communities in the nearby mountains. It may not get much use anymore, but it’s worth noting that the entire runway is now prime real estate in this tourist town. The fact that the government has not sold it or developed it for other uses, means that they probably want to keep it just the way it is. 

Perhaps the runway remains, out of concern that they may need it again.