I went to Luang Prabang City with my husband on his three-day business trip. The United Nations used to have regulations that required you to make a safety confirmation and get permission from the Lao government in advance when going to that area by car. But since such regulations are no longer in effect and people are now allowed to travel freely, we decided to go by car. I heard that those who work for the Japanese government are prohibited from traveling by car. It is because of the poor condition of the roads in the mountains and the risk that the area might be infested by bandits, but there is no occurrence of such incident slately.

As it happened to be the rice-planting season, I could glance over plenty of fresh and green rice plants about ten centimeters long in paddy fields. A lot of people were forming a line to transplant rice seedlings. I felt like seeing a scene of a movie. Some cultivators there were equipped with engines that could be pushed by hands, but some others were being pulled by water buffaloes. In the rich granary, there were a lot of big houses with cable-TV antennas. Many of the stilt houses were having weaving machines placed underneath the floor.

Going 180km away from Vientiane, mountains came in sight ahead of me, and I entered a mountain path after passing a series of curves. Through a thick tropical forest, I could see a swidden spreading far and wide. It was a horrible scene with trees being scraped off. Right in front of me, I saw some rice plants planted in the sloping swidden at an angle of 35 or 45 degrees. I was curious to see how people would work on such steep slope, but unfortunately, I didn't have a chance.

There were few communities on both sides of the street, and children were running about with nothing on. There were many houses on stilts made of woven bamboo wall and thatched roof. Some hamlets had electrical services but some others didn't. Without having sufficient springs, people there were also storing rainwater in order to use. As it was sprinkling with rain on that day, I was wondering if those houses wouldn't be wet and damp.

I guess that those men carrying guns were on the way to go hunting. Females were bending forward and walking as carrying shoulder bags on their backs with putting the handle parts of the bags on their foreheads. Were they carrying vegetables and water? Both males and females were below average height. I heard that half of the people in Laos were mountain tribes, but I was not sure what kind of tribe these people were? Their lives and workings were completely different from what we call life.

Going across a mountain where it was so foggy that I could hardly see ahead, the sun suddenly appeared. Then when I went across another mountain, it was drizzling. The series of mountains that I felt to be continuing forever finally became gentle with easy curves after four hours, and then I reached my destination, Luang Prabang.

There were very few cars, and the people walking in a crowd were mostly travelers. A yellow pagoda was standing on a hillock in the center of the town, and catching the eyes. Although there were a lot of temples everywhere in the city, most of them had been reconstructed in 1900's after being plundered and destroyed during the invasion of the Black Flag Party of China in the end of 1800's. Among those temples, the one escaped undestroyed was Xieng Thong, a very old temple built in 1500's, and the faded colors of red and yellow on the wall as the years went on were giving out bitter light. There was no solemn atmosphere that would straighten your spine but open brightness to make you feel comfortable. In the center of the town, there was a broad street extending about 1km, and old Laotian houses and buildings of the French colonial period were standing on both sides of the street. It didn't make me feel like I was just looking at some old buildings in a tourist resort, but I rather felt as if I had been transported through time to the old times. Even though it was certainly an unfamiliar town, I strangely felt a longing for the place for some reason.

Probably, because it was during the short period of monastic living for young people, there were lots of young folks wearing yellow gowns both at the temples and in the town. The local people seemed to be paying no attention to the tourists, but they might be wondering at heart for what reasons people were coming to this town. Because the Laotian government is concerned that having too many tourists might cause the lax public morals to be brought in, they are not very active for attracting tourists. Moreover, as the Laotians seem to be not having good sense of business, there is no system that leads the tourists to spend money in the town. That's a good thing for us.

I was present at a dinner party, which was attended by about fifty people, related to my husband's job, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry. Then I ate some food special to that district. There was a fried buffalo skin and vegetables. As I ate skin of buffalo for the first time, it was a bit greasy but nice and crunchy. A fried river shrimps tasted like some food boiled down in soy that we eat in Japan. The seaweed from Mekong River that had been dried and seasoned looked and tasted just like laver. In Laos, people drink a toast over and over during a meal. After a meal, they enjoy a band's performance. I heard that the rhythm would be different depends on region, but all of them were very peaceful music just like Japanese folk songs.

Then, people started to dance. Men and women were pairing with each other and dancing in circles. Like Awa folk dance in Japan, they moved their legs and hands to the music. Women come in front of men and say ÒPlease dance with meÓ as joining their hands and making a bow. Then they would dance in circles, and join their hands and make a bow once again in the end. Men would also ask women to dance sometimes. We all enjoyed dancing together in circles with Lao governmental officials, their secretaries and drivers, my husband's colleagues from England and Holland, and us, the Japanese.

I went to a weekend fair held by Hmong. Hmong is a mountain tribe also living in the northern part of Thai, and they are famous for women's embroideries. There were embroidered designs that seemed like making a picture of Hmong people's lives, and also a geometric pattern cross-stitch. Old women were covering their heads with black cloths, but not young women. Those old women were wearing reading glasses and busy doing needlework while looking after the shop. I found a tapestry at a shop where a girl who looked to be about twelve years old was serving the customers. It was 30,000kip, but as I only had 23,000kip with me, I asked her to give me a discount. She still looked very happy to be able to sell it. There was a little girl who looked only about five years old learning how to do the needlework from her mother. At every shop, there were the same designs and colors of embroideries. I assume that it is passed down from parents to children and from older sisters to younger sisters.

I felt that the way was a bit shorter going back home. Entering the city of Vientiane, I was astonished to see so many cars and motorcycles. I realized that I was back in a big city.

Translated by Maiko Noda