The shaggy green hills of Phonsavan are veined with red dirt roads and punctuated with jars.
Yes, jars.
This region in rural Laos is home to one of the world’s greatest — and most bizarre — mysteries. Thousands of ancient stone vessels are scattered over the countryside, but nobody knows the purpose of these enormous jars or how they got there.
Think Stonehenge meets Tupperware.
The disconcerting thing about walking around a war-scarred country is that you have to watch your step. Literally.
These white bricks mark a trail that has been cleared of mines. Wander off the path, and you put yourself at risk. (On the day I visited, the MAG International team cleared 72 unexploded ordinances.)
There is also a long list of things you cannot do at the archeological ruins. Like carve them.
These jars are thought to be at least 2,000 years old. But there is no organic material inside the jars, which prevents carbon dating.
Local legend claims these sandstone containers were created by an ancient king to store massive amounts of lao-lao, the country’s famed rice whisky. Some believe that the area was once inhabited by giants. Or aliens.
Another theory, probably correct, is that these jars were used for funeral ceremonies or to hold ashes.
They are also perfectly Maggie-sized.
When I asked other travelers if I should visit the Plain of Jars, most responded with, “Welllll … it is a plain. Full of jars.” And now I understand their ambivalence.
The site was interesting, but not mythical. It was pretty, but so is the rest of Laos. And the trip involved an 8-hour detour on a nausea-inducing road into an uninspiring town, followed by another 8-hour bus ride back into civilization.
But I did it. Plain and simple.