Pak Ou

Photos from Laos (19-May-2012)

I cannot imagine how long it's taken me to make another post of these photographs. The photographs from the entire trip would probably take me a lifetime to finish going through. Then it's half of the semester already gone, and the next vacation just round the corner. I'm hoping to pass the next vacation with an internship stint in Cambodia, but am not able to judge the prospects of being shortlisted as yet. 

The fonts are bigger today! Since I discovered that my eyesight has been deteriorating rather hurriedly recently. Perhaps an excess of computers. But really, it's no choice. I miss the boat ride, the sunlight, and fresh open air. The artificiality of the air-conditioning and lifestyle both alike, serve to asphyxiate. 

Pak Ou Caves set within nooks of a natural construct. I'd been sincerely in awe at how scenic the exterior looked. But...

Pak Ou Caves in my mind had used to be quite fantastic - from everything that I'd read & watched about them, but frankly, when I finally did have a chance to go there, I was genuinely disappointed. 'Tourism' brims to the caves' very mouths, & if the concept of 'touristy' is tangible, it wouldn't surprise me if it overflows into the waters surrounding Pak Ou Caves. The caves were shallow, no doubt adorned with countless Buddha statuettes of varying sizes, but these were so near the caves' mouths that all sense of mystique had in an instance been extinguished. The whole setup had seemed almost too artificial, like one put in place deliberately for the sake of tourism. Perhaps previously, in my naive thinking, had attributed too much fantasy to these far-off caves, or that Tony Wheeler's promotion of the caves had simply been a successful advertisement. 

Andrew & Dara in the photographs. On our way back from Pak Ou.

Takeaway spring rolls in cellophane wrap. You'd think that they'd do up traditional fares like that more primitively! - No, everywhere is a reminder of the 21st Century consumerist culture, Laos is no exception. ('Primitive' here is positively romanticized & carries no derogatory connotation)

And then dinner at the Indian restaurant - Nazim. Luang Prabang outlet. It's really difficult not to overeat judging by the portions served.

 It is today, 29 September, my father's birthday, that I got hold of this Emile Zola book, & have read 2 shorts so far. 'The Miller's Daughter' & 'The Death of Oliver Becaille'. The former, a simple, dramatic fast-paced tale, & one that, I'd think, pokes fun at the ludicrousness of life, & how, eagerly living as most of us do, are so anxiously drawn into this whirlwind of absurdity without first questioning. The latter was especially engaging & is highly recommended. Equally simple & engaging, it seems that Zola can be really attentive to nuances. But certainly the highlight lies in the contemplation of the notion of 'death', as suggested in the title. A very intriguing & unusual portrayal of which. - No spoilers. The only conclusion from reading these 2, is that Zola's writings truly rip the human nature raw. High, mighty and the center of the universe? Plain bullshit.

 

I'm not sure if I should embark on Nana today, for it is an approximately 500-page commitment, but I might otherwise be unable to keep myself awake should I commence my struggle with the dry readings - from school.