Visiting wats was another way to avoid the midday sun. On our first day in Louangphrabang, Jack befriended the monks at Wat Nong, around the corner from our hotel, and for the rest of our visit they called his name each time he walked by or when they saw him during the morning procession.
At Wat Xieng Thong temple complex, Jack was impressed with the gold stenciling of elephants and dancing apsaras, nymph-like figures often seen in Buddhist and Hindu temples. We were pleased there were no hawkers, beggars, touts or souvenir vendors, which travelers commonly find at similar sites throughout Southeast Asia. Louangphrabang has been spared so far from becoming a tourist trap, and tourism hasn't spoiled the local culture.
Weaving lesson
The Laotians are hospitable and welcoming. No one sensed this as much as Jack, who, as well-traveled as he is, was more at home and engaged in Louangphrabang than in any other place we have visited. As strangers called out "sabaa-dii" (hello) to us along the street, he learned to echo the singsong greeting, customarily delivered with a smile.
After our first afternoon there he had three requests for the next day.
The first was to visit his "monk friends" at Wat Nong.
Another was to get an "after-school snack" from the roadside vendor at the elementary school around the corner from our hotel. The previous day we had sampled one of these treats -- a wedge of rice with a dollop of coconut cream, wrapped in a banana leaf.
Jack's third request was to "go to the weaving store," a reference to the OckPop Tok textile shop on Ban Vat Nong, down the street from our hotel. Laos is known for its cotton and silk textiles, and although most of those sold in Louangphrabang are woven in surrounding villages, this store had several looms.
On our first visit to the shop, Jack spent half an hour watching a weaver working on a simple, contemporary pattern featuring bright squares. When we returned the next day one of the owners was there and asked Jack if he would like a turn at the standing loom.
The next thing I knew, my child was expertly swinging the comb of yarn back and forth, pulling the heddle toward him to tighten each row, and working the pedals. I interrupted him when I realized he was cutting into the store's productivity.
