Coffee and Croissants: France on the Middle Mekong

Vientiane, the sleepy capital of land-locked Laos, is in the process of slowly waking up. Long isolated from nearby Thailand by the broad sweep of the muddy Mekong river, the city is now physically joined to its larger and more vigorous neighbour by the recently opened Mittraphap ("Friendship") Bridge. Opinions differ as to what impact this imposing, Australian-engineered structure will have on the tranquil Lao capital--but there is general agreement that change is in the air.

Vientiane is an old city, its history obscure, and its earliest origins lost in the mists of time. The annals record that in 1353 a Lao prince, Fa Ngum, seized control of a fortified settlement on a bend in the Mekong River. The settlement was called Viangchan, a composite Lao-Sanskrit term which means "City of the Moon"--though some experts argue for "City of Sandalwood". Fa Ngum made the city the southern capital of the first independent Lao state, which is known to history by the poetic name of Lan Xang, "The Kingdom of a Million Elephants".

For almost five hundred years Vientiane prospered. In the mid-16th century King Setthathirat dignified the city by building two important temples--Wat Phra Keo, which housed the venerated image of the Emerald Buddha now lodged in Bangkok, and That Luang, the largest and most important Buddhist temple in Vientiane, which has since become the accepted symbol of Lao nationhood.

In 1637 King Souligna Vongsa ascended the throne, ushering in a "golden age" for the people of Laos and more particularly for Vientiane, the greatest city of the realm. The new king reigned for an unparalleled 61 years, during which time his court was visited by Dutch traders and Portuguese missionaries. In their accounts Vientiane appears as a rich city, and Souligna Vongsa as a stern but just king whose name was respected both at home and abroad. And he was proud--according to a contemporary French account, 'there is not a monarch in existence, however powerful, that he does not consider to be beneath him'.

Sadly for the Lao capital--and for its unfortunate inhabitants--this glory was not to last. In 1827 Chao Anuvong, Lord of Vientiane, staged his ill-fated invasion of Siam. The victorious Rama III took a dreadful revenge. Chao Anu was imprisoned in a cage over the Chaophraya until his death from exposure, whilst Siamese armies levelled every building in the environs of Vientiane, sparing only the Buddhist temples. Subsequently the entire population of the vanquished city was forcibly resettled along the distant frontier between Burma and Siam.

So complete was the destruction that when the first French explorers made their way up the great brown river in the 1860s, seeking Vientiane, they found nothing beyond forest and decaying ruins. In course of time other French were to follow, supremely confident of their superiority both in arms and culture, purveyors of a mission civilizatrice which would eventually see independent Laos subsumed as a colony, a forgotten backwater of French Indochina.

Set against a historical time scale, France's presence in Laos was but brief. The tricolour fluttered over the country for just six decades, between 1893 and the granting of full sovereignty in 1953. Yet during this period Vientiane was rebuilt as an unexpectedly charming Franco-Buddhist enclave on the middle Mekong, whilst French tastes and customs came deeply to influence the Lao urban elite.

As a consequence of France's defeat at Dien Bien Phu in 1954, French political influence in Vientiane was replaced first by the laissez-faire capitalism of the United States and its CIA "secret warriors". Then, in 1975, following the communist seizure of power throughout Indochina, American influence was in turn replaced by the austere socialism of the victorious Pathet Lao and their Vietnamese and Soviet mentors.

The lesson of history is that nothing is permanent, and by 1991, with the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the world-wide collapse of Marxist economies, Vietnamese influence in Laos was on the wane whilst that of capitalist Thailand was once again on the rise. In the intervening three years - and especially since the opening of the Mittraphap Bridge - Laos has begun to open to the outside world by admitting increasing numbers of businessmen and tourists.

One of the most pleasant surprises awaiting the visitor to Vientiane is the French cultural influence which still survives in the city. True, the position of French as second language has gone - almost certainly replaced by English on a permanent basis, despite continuing Gallic efforts to reawaken Laos' former francophone tradition. Yet it is still possible to wake in a Vientiane bedroom, throw back shutters which would not seem out of place in any French provincial town, enjoy a breakfast of croissants and cafe-au-lait followed by a lunch time meal of freshly-baked baguettes and locally manufactured paté, before - in the same way as much of the indigenous population - retiring for a quiet post-prandial siesta. And in the evening, for those both in the know and in the money, excellent French cuisine is available at a number of up-market restaurants despite (or, perhaps, because of) the years of socialist austerity.

This agreeable ambience aside, Vientiane's most notable memorial to the French influence must be the architecture. To begin with, there are numerous small residences, and not a few mansions, built in the style of the former colonial power. Many of these may be found in the older part of town, along the riverside road appropriately designated Quai Fa Ngum. Here, as by the shaded boulevards in the vicinity of That Dam and beside Lan Xang Avenue, the "Champs Elysee" of Vientiane, may be found fine examples of colonial French architecture, complete with shutters and red-tiled roofs, which would sit comfortably in Dijon or Toulouse.

Many of these former private residences are in stages of advanced decay, and some are clearly too far gone to be saved. Others, however, have been painstakingly restored - and as the authorities come to realise the potential value of this unique architectural legacy to tourism, not to mention the inherent charm of the Lao capital, preservation rather than demolition is rapidly becoming the order of the day.

More elaborate examples of French colonial architecture have also survived the years of communist austerity. Notably, the old French cathedral, built in 1928, which once served as the spiritual (and social) gathering point of the French community each Sunday. Nearby, although protected by a high wall which shields much of its glory from view, is the extensive compound of the French Embassy. Here an entire complex of superbly preserved colonial mansions survives amidst well-kept gardens. A bronze statue of Henri Mouhot, the distinguished French explorer whose tomb is near Luang Prabang, presides discreetly over the grounds, and an almost palpable fragrance of times gone by fills the air.

Happily, French architectural influence is not just limited to the houses of former civil servants and the diplomatic enclave. Mention has already been made of Lan Xang Avenue, the great, shaded boulevard which bisects Vientiane, and which for the moment still carries more bicycle traffic than it does cars. At the northern end of this main thoroughfare stands the Pratu Xai, or Victory Gate - Vientiane's "Arc de Triomphe", a post-independence building which tries, with only limited success, to combine Lan Xang with Les Invalides. By contrast, at Lan Xang's southern end, stands a miniature Versailles splendidly preserved. This is the palace of the Laotian president - as it was once the residence of the French governor.

In times past, during the colonial era in Indochina, elements of French architectural style once even crossed the Mekong to Thai towns such as Chiang Khan, Nong Khai and Nakhon Phanom. Admittedly such influences were never great, and were generally limited to a few rows of colonnaded shops. Today, sadly, few of these survive - an exception being the eastern part of Nong Khai's Thanon Meechai.

Nevertheless the Laotian capital, at least, seems to be taking an active pride in its Gallic legacy. Here, more than perhaps anywhere else in the former French Indochina, one can still sense life as it used to be. Whilst savouring your morning café au lait, selecting a volume from the recently refurbished Biblioteque National, or promenading along Lane Xang Avenue in the hazy evening sun, the charm of Vientiane's colonial past suffuses the town.

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