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Yesterday was one of the most memorable days of my life. After a second day on the river we disembarked in the afternoon to stay in Ban Lad Khammoune, one of the remote villages that are dotted along the banks of the Mekong. Here there was no mains electricity and the generator that powered the few dim lights had only been bought two years earlier. No road led to the village and the people there were completely reliant on the river as a mode of transport, source of food and place for washing. Huts woven from wicker and roofed with palm leaves stood precariously on bamboo stilts and in here women made baskets from dried reeds as the fish they had caught hung from the roof to dry.
We were staying with the village Chief in one of the 'modern' houses. This consisted of a two story building made of brick and topped with some sheets of corrugated iron. Inside there was no furnature. Some mats covered the concrete floor and in the corner there was an area for cooking. Whilst it was incredibly basic, we were all warmly welcomed and made to feel very much at home.
After a cooling swim in the river, we were told that we would be partaking in a blessing ceremony in the evening.
We congregated back at 'our' house for about seven PM. Inside there was a sort of pinnacle which had been constructed from banana leaves and was decorated with vermillion flowers and topped with a candle. This was supported upon a burnished silver tray which in turn stood upon an elevated silver disk that looked a bit like a giant cake stand. it was around this that myself and the others on my tour sat. All around us there were the elders of the village, also sat cross legged on the floor and positioned wherever they could find space.
The ceremony began by the chief chanting a Buddhist prayer as we all held onto the silver disk and the elders held onto us. After this was completed, we turned to face outwards of the circle. Each of the elders took a handful of cotton strings that were arranged on five bamboo sticks which, when still covered alluded to ostrich feathers. With these, they each tied one string around either of our wrists, chanting as they did so, until the accumulated lines looked like manacles. It was an incredible thing to be a part of.
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Anne HI GEORGE ANNE HERE FROM THE SUMMERTOWN CRAZY COFFEE CLUB...SO INTERESTING READING AND SEEING PHOTOS OF YOUR TRAVELS..I HAVE GIVEN RICHIE YOUR LINK SO HE CAN FOLLOW YOU TOO. KEEP SAFE ANNE x