Come on, Lукpaqagua.
In Asia, China is identified as the big market of the future and it is for the French to not let themselves be distanced.
They already colonize the Delta of the Mekong since 1862 and are planning to reach China by going up the river to Yunnan.
An expedition composed of six French military and civil, cartographers, doctors and designers, arrives in Saigon on June 5, 1866.
Captain Ernest Doudard de la Grée is the captain.
He quickly understands that the Mekong is not the way to commercial hope, but the call of the unknown is the strongest.
His second, Lieutenant Francis Garnier, returns to Saigon after two years and more than 10,000 km traveled.
The report he published in 1873 is a success of the edition at the origin of a French passion for Asia.
On June 8, we arrive in Kompong-Lurung, a large market located a little below Phnom Penh.
An interpreter in Langanamite and Siamese named Seguin, a Marine infantry soldier and two Matlos compose the French part of the escort.
Passports for China and some instruments of lack of astronomy.
The governor plans to make them come to the beginning of the dry season in the lower part of Laos where we will have to see these days.
In the tent of the steam boat that must lead to the first cataract, the expedition takes the time to visit the ruins of Angkor Wat,
located at the end of the Great Lake Tonle Sap.
These are the same ruins that the explorer Henry Moho had revealed to the Western world six years ago.
On the island of Moncrôme, a bunch of trees spread a sanctuary.
This will be our first step on the field of this anti-civilization that has disappeared.
On June 24, we arrive on our elephants.
At 250 meters from us, the three towers that crown the triple entrance of the temple are being celebrated.
We follow the structure built of large blocks that end at the entrance of the middle.
At half a kilometer from here, a dark and imposing mass, drawing nine towers under the blue sky, offers us a look.
This is not a rival temple of that of Salomon, but the masterpiece of a unknown Michelangelo.
Our installation is over, we separate ourselves in order to vacate our occupations.
The farm is made of sheep with the help of inhabitants.
I am Thorelle Botanize, from the door of the croquis in the company of the photographer Zell, and Joubert examines the composition of the field.
As for me, I proceed to my first topographic recordings,
united by my rudimentary instruments, the best being forgotten in saigon boxes by the administration of foreign affairs.
Never an imposing mass of stone has been equipped with more art and science.
If we admire the pyramids as a gigantic work of the force and of human patience,
with a force and an equal patience, it must be added here the genius.
On the first of July, at ten o'clock in the morning, our elephants wait for us.
At noon, we climb on light boats facing the door of the citadel.
The heat is suffocating.
Inumerable bamboozos and marais fly heavily above our heads,
where rowing along the rivers, we look past without interrupting their fishing.
On the fifth of July, at noon,
we throw the anchor into a mound of the point on which the northern king of the first man
is built a room in the European.
Phnom Penh is a city that counted 50,000 men, before being burned by the Siamese in the 1830s.
Thirty-six years later, a dozen thousand inhabitants of the people.
On the sixth of July, at evening, we are presented by Monsieur de la Gré
to His Majesty the first man.
He makes us the brightest welcome and invites us to attend a ballet
given by the whole heart of these dancers.
All the cultural influence of India is revealed through this show.
The dance, we know, is completely foreign to Mongolia
and the Chinese are only interested in historical representation.
On the seventh of July, the two ships appear at the same time as the Rath of Phnom Penh.
They separate after a last salute.
The next day, eight pirogues are placed at our disposal by the mandarin of the village.
These are simple tree trunks dug and mined
in order to raise the strong currents of the river.
The long and painful slope along the left river
is made up of long pears made of bamboo.
The men of the crew, between six and ten,
leave the platform ahead,
fix their pears at one point of the river,
stone or branch of tree,
walk backwards to come back then on the opposite side,
take a new point of support or two at the age.
It is exhausting and endless.
We only do a few kilometers a day.
On the 13th of July, we arrive at the village of Sombor.
Beyond the river, there are countless islands
that enlarge the measurements.
We are at the border between Cambodia and Laos.
The area we cross is almost completely uninhabited
and covered with magnificent forests.
The current is fast.
The water is already watering the trees,
branches and branches of leaves removed from the river.
On the 16th, the leisure of a field of corn
makes us sleep.
The conversations are extended.
The moustaches and the rain
are already exhausted in the early morning.
Laos is generally well-made and vigorous.
It has a shaved head and is preserved, like the siamese,
that covers hair along three or four centimeters
on the top of the crane.
It is trapped with taste
and carries the most beautiful stools with ease and dignity.
The Laotian women are trapped in a piece of stools on the chest
and reject it on one or the other shoulder,
without a big problem of hiding a healthy one.
The hair of a beautiful black woman
are raised in chignon on the top of the head.
A band of stools will not scratch the stools and the surroundings.
This little diadem is often made of a few flowers.
On the 19th of July,
the commander asks me to explore on the right bank,
the rapids of Pré-Tapang.
When approaching the area,
the surface of the waters is covered with innumerable
wooden bouquets, half submerged.
The limestone waters run with impetuousness in a thousand canoes,
which is impossible to embrace on the inexplicable network.
It is impossible to embrace on the surface of the river,
which is impossible to embrace on the surface of the river,
which is impossible to embrace on the inexplicable network.
In front of the danger,
we decide to put this project back later.
The natural riverway that we expect
for the trade with the South China seems gravely compromised.
On the 21st of July,
the expedition reaches the town of Tung-Treng,
a Laotian country,
then under Siamese domination.
The commander of the farm
sends Francis Garnier in naval
to recover a boat full of materials
that could not have been taken.
By sailing this time in the direction of the current,
the captain has the permission to explore the rapids
and make a hydrographic survey.
But these Cambodian sailors are terrified
and refuse to approach.
The water is boiling, the current is boiling.
The boat is almost submerged.
But two battalions refuse to continue to fall,
resolution not to fail in the recognition of this passage,
the hand on my revolver,
I make sure to stop the flag from the back.
The men prefer to decide themselves of their fate,
afraid by the perspective of seeing my inexperience
lead them to a certain death.
If I was not concerned by the study of the river,
the terrified of my brothers-in-law would scare me.
Francis Garnier is returning to Stung Trang on July 30.
Meanwhile, the commander of the farm
has gone to the Cekong, an affluent of the Mekong,
for a few days' exploration
where he discovers the center of a slave trade.
Stung Trang is a regional center of the lacquer trade,
of l'Ivoire and of the Noix d'Arec.
Next to this trade, the Cekong is the road
of another kind of less aviable exchange.
It is the slave trade.
For a little bit of brass or powder,
for a few verities,
the leaders of the wild tribes of this area
are aware to deliver to teenagers,
often from their entire families,
and they will then have to sell on the Pnom Penh market.
Francis Garnier, who has been ill since the return of the rapids,
is reached from the Tifus,
called by the Laos, Fievre des bois.
He falls into a kind of coma that lasts 12 days,
per his hair,
missing to drown while falling from the pirogue,
and is indicated by a partial paralysis
of the left leg and of a passenger certainty.
But he comes out miraculously.
The first clear memory that I find in my memory
after this obscure period of nightmares
is a calm and bright landscape of the tropics.
On the edges of a narrow and torrentous river,
not far from a bright waterfall
that glows with the rays of the sun
and a diamond dust,
there are some houses scattered.
Beyond that, behind a stream of crocodiles
is a wide river.
We were arrived at the island of Colombo.
On the 14th of August,
we take our progression.
The waters continue to rise
and reach almost the level of the mountains.
At the base of the trees and rivers,
we project ourselves above our heads
and bar the passage.
It is then impossible, because of the violence of the current,
to turn the extremity that flows into the water
and we have to spend an hour or two
to eliminate the obstacle at the cost of cows.
The next day, the rivers of the river
seem to disappear under the floods
and the boats sail in the middle of the forest.
On the 17th, we are finally at the foot of the cataracts of Cone.
They are preceded by a huge basin
which is about one and a half meters in its largest size
and about 40 meters deep.
They are limited to the north by a group of compact islands,
in the middle of which they emerge for the first time
a few hills.
The two most important canals and the cataracts
are located in the two extreme arms.
On the 6th of September,
we take our navigation towards Bassac.
Above the island of Cong,
the river meets all its zones in one arm
and occupies more than 1,200 to 1,500 meters.
These very populated and very cultivated rivers
offer us places of comfortable and well-prepared.
At the bottom of the perspective
of the river,
a far-off group of mountains
take over the horizon every day
of the most considerable proportions.
The fifth day after our departure from Cong,
we begin to travel
the immense arc of the circle
that describes the river at the foot of these mountains.
And on the 11th of September,
at 9 o'clock in the morning,
we go to Bassac.
Bassac is the old capital
of a small Laotian kingdom.
The village is called of our days
Champassac.
It is always a big storm
located all the way along the right river
of Tumé-Cong.
At the foot of a massive mountain
which is the very geographical
and most famous of all the lower Laos.
The village will become
the base of the expedition
which always awaits
Chinese official authorizations.
The beauty of the river,
the frame of the mountains
in the middle of which
it unfolds its large landscapes,
makes Bassac one of the most remarkable
situations of the valley of Mekong.
It is also one of the most
fortunately chosen
from the climate point of view.
The neighborhood of Fou-Bassac,
Montagni-Lancé,
single-handedly tempered
the arches.
The next day of their arrival
at Bassac, the commander of the
Agré, accompanied by officers
and men of escort in arms,
makes an official visit
to the governor of the province.
A big party is organized
with fireworks and pirogues.
On September 20, the rain has stopped.
I am eager to, in my quality of geography,
to fix the position
of the point where we arrived.
And I take this opportunity
for the first rays of the sun.
On September 21,
the members of the expedition
discover the temple of Vat-Fou
that the inhabitants of Bassac
have reported to them.
These ruins of type Khmer
are located 7 or 8 km
southwest of the city.
On the slope of the sacred mountain
named Fou-Kao,
whose shape is similar
to that of an Indian phallic symbol.
At the bottom of the mountain,
on the right and left of a chausset,
there are two large square monuments.
They consist of a gallery of 40 m
on the side,
in the center of which is an alley
covered with bricks and stone blocks
at the top of the vaults.
The alley chausset is 2 to 300 m long.
It is limited on each side
by a series of barns
or columns at Capito Piramidal.
This chausset follows the movement of the terrain
and engraves the flanks of the mountain.
It ends by a very high and very steep staircase,
which consists of more than 150 steps
and on both sides of which are statues.
One of them, which is upside down on the ground,
represents, according to the tradition,
the king who built Vatfou.
At the top of the staircase
is a cross-shaped sanctuary,
similar to those we have already found again.
At the back and above the sanctuary
is a long terrace.
It is established in the same rock
which was leveled and adossed at the mountain,
which in this place is completely cut at peak
and offers only a high wall of a red-gray
of about 40 meters high
at the foot of which I am making some sources.
Many ex-votos are placed on the terrace,
in the rocks' cracks.
Due to the cretes that are roughly
out of the forest, nothing limits their look.
The river, in its distant course,
the islands that are flowing,
take place beyond the sound of greenery
extended at the foot of the observer.
I receive from the commander the mission
to recognize the lower course of the Sedon,
great affluent of the river on the left,
which he comes to join a little above Basac.
Mr. Torel will join me for this tour.
After having passed at the foot of the Foussalao,
about 200 meters high,
we will discover on the left river
the three embouchures of the Sedon.
At five o'clock in the evening,
we will enter the river.
It is almost night when we stop
in a small village located on the left river.
Our escort commander
is eager to announce to local authorities
the visit of the strangers.
The pagoda of Hamo will make us jealous.
Francis Garnier has just landed on the river
of what will become the city of Paxée,
the regional capital of the province of Champassac,
populated today by 80,000 inhabitants.
The Vatlang, the temple where it will lie,
will be renovated in 1935.
It is now visited by tourists from all over the world.
I try several times to trouble by the firecrackers,
the
many caimans that show up here and there.
But my carabiner, the fake one,
has a strong, light and comfortable weapon,
and a too weak caliber for their hard and hard weapons.
The bullets ricochet and splash on the rocks.
At the great superfaction of the Ramors,
in front of which I am humiliated by the power of my weapon.
A rich and luxurious nature
seems to inspire the sweetest and most peaceful murders.
No turbulent or cruel passion troubles the nonchalant dream of the inhabitants.
These charming landscapes that caress its most beautiful rays,
the sun of the tropics, breathe a tranquility,
a singular innocence everywhere.
All the rumors, all the failure of the civilized world
come to extinguish and die at the door of this country
where nothing manages to trouble the deep silence.
And the memory that we keep once we are entered in the agitation of the outside
seems so strange, so distant, that it seems to correspond to another planet,
to belong to another existence.
To return to Basac, and always without news of the passports for China,
the commander of the Agrae gives the order to Francis Garnier to go back to Pnom Penh,
passing through the road of Angkor and the Grand Lake.
The lieutenant arrives on February 7.
He finds a French battalion,
and the commander of the Agrae,
and the commander of the Agrae,
and the commander of the Agrae,
and the lieutenant arrives on February 7.
He finds a French battalion of a navy infantry,
coming to defend the city against the insurgents led by Sivota,
a brother of the first Neurodom, the king of Cambodia.
The documents are ready,
and Garnier passes the lines in style by forcing the block on the river.
Then he takes the road towards Doubon,
where he must join the expedition.
Then he makes the village of Penom flow on the right river.
On the 7th, I pass to Lacan.
On the 10th, I finally see the French battalion,
floating in the middle of the palm trees on the river Houten.
I have traveled 1,600 km since I separated from the expedition to Doubon.
But I only have a little rest.
Let's get back to the city towards the north.
From Bonn Navein to Kemara,
we meet the rapids of Akenka, Kikai and Kengkonkilek.
The road for a steamer would be extremely dangerous,
even impossible.
Moving on the right river,
the battalions visit a Buddhist sanctuary
venerated by the populations of the entire region since the 16th century.
It is a mass pyramid,
whose square base measures about 10 meters,
and whose gold arrow reaches a height of 45 meters.
At its base, its ornament and its architecture are Birman's inspirations.
Built by a Laotian king of the 16th century,
the Tate would hold a relic of the Buddha.
When we stayed in the city,
we would play in a tight pyrography.
The eyes were fixed on a piece of land,
and the hand was used to sketch a map.
We had a lot of time to jump on the ground
to take the exercise.
It was almost impossible.
That's how, yesterday,
by throwing the eyes on a dead tree
at the foot of which I had been stopped for a moment,
I realized that what I had taken for a firecracker
is a living mass in balance with a firecracker.
At 1.2 meters above my head,
and in which I recognized a leopard.
On March 23,
our battalions show us on the right-hand side
a pagoda containing the footprint of a Buddha foot.
These footprints, called Buddha-pada,
are extremely numerous at Laos.
They make the appearance of a Buddha foot
that has spread for a long time.
A bit like our benedicts,
these Buddha feet are sometimes full of water
that pilgrims can pour on their faces.
The expedition visits the ruins of Vienna,
the capital of one of the Laotian kingdoms,
which the Siamese took from Assault and destroyed in 1827.
In order to prevent its reconstruction
and all the speed of independence,
it was necessary to build a bridge
on the other side of the river,
creating the city of Nongkai under the domination of the Siamese.
We are about to enter the thick forest
that hides the ruins of the unfortunate city.
A few centuries later,
India quickly leads us to the location of the palace of the king.
It is completely destroyed.
The fire, the slavery after the victory,
are mostly Asian races,
the last word of the king.
We find in the ruins and the solitude of the Vientians
a striking example of its unfavorable destruction.
There is no other building than the pagodas.
But, abandoned by their priests
and built of the same materials as the palace,
46 rainy years have passed
to be able to destroy the fragile splendors.
The most considerable of these temples
is the Vatrakeo, which was the royal pagodas.
We visit it at the exit of the palace where the neighbor lives.
His friend appears to us in the middle of the forest,
graciously encoded by Liane
and all in Irish leaves.
A little distance north of Vatrakeo
is in the middle of the forest,
a pagoda of smaller dimensions
and a modest aspect,
which is almost intact in the middle of universal destruction.
It is the Vatsisakhet.
We perceive by entering an infinity
of small statues of Buddha,
placed in golden niches
and tapping from the top to the bottom
the entire surface of the walls.
We leave Vientiane with the heart locked.
At the place we will spend the night,
the width of the river falls abruptly to 200 meters.
The next day, April 5,
the conch is still being reduced.
Around 1 o'clock in the afternoon,
we arrive at a first rapid,
by the caillou and galleys
that accumulate in its mouth
a small affluent of the left river,
the Namthong.
At the most tight point,
the oasis opens with such a rapidity
between the two walls of the canal
that it even becomes necessary
to completely unload the boats
to make them take over the pass.
The luggage is transported to two men
from rock to rock above the rapids.
Then we embark again.
This painful navigation
may be slow.
From April 8, we are still
only 12,000 from the first rapid,
crossing the 5.
We arrive soon at the foot of one of the most
dangerous rapids in this region,
the Kenchang.
This time, the battles of Nankai
are still going on.
In a journey of exploration,
we must certainly not wait
to find a way out.
Already, most of us walk barefoot.
Some do it in order to get used to
advance to this new suffering
and be reserved for the days of ceremony,
their last loss of support.
Others do it in need.
We must therefore move forward
with the greatest caution
not to hurt ourselves on the arraids
alive from the rocks.
But despite our precautions,
we cannot venture into the middle
of the high grass that borders the rivers.
It will tear our legs deeply.
A little naval of the Kenchang,
we will meet one of these
rados built in bamboo,
a real floating house
to transport many travelers
and huge quantities of merchandise.
The river on the left of the river
is flat and the chains of hills
are far away.
As if he had found his freedom,
the meekong is retreating to the north
and staying in this direction.
On the 17th, we arrive in Paklei.
The season is still going on.
The arseholes of a dense forest
full of joyous clamors
are all rising from the improvised hotels
and are organizing the usual games.
Our presence in the middle of the spectators
does not excite any emotion.
We can see a few banks of sand
on which there is a huge fishery.
A real bamboo city
already abandoned by the fishermen
because the crust of the waters can make you feel
from one moment to the other.
The expedition arrives at the foot of Kang Luang,
one of the most dangerous rapids to cross.
As to show them the perils,
the corpse of a inhabitant
belonging to one of the many tribes
that inhabit the neighboring mountains
passes near their boats.
The channel is more and more encamped
and retreated by the rocks
and at each angle or each
fractionality of their parois,
they must fight against a current
whose speed is suddenly decreasing.
By going to the empty boats
with ropes against this current of fumes,
one of them is filled.
But the boss stayed fiddly
standing at Gouvernail,
no less continues to lead him between two waters.
And the effects combined with his ship
and our boat
manage to take along the edge
the light pierog
which is emptied and refilled with water
We arrive at a village called Bangkoksae.
A large number of tribes
of surrounding mountains
come to exchange their products.
What we see belongs to
most of the tribe of Khmur,
extremely many in the surrounding areas of Luang Prabang.
These are the Farhush populations
which deal equally with the foreigners.
On the 28th, we are still crossing several fast
in which the river has become wider
and has spread its waters a little deeper
between islands and many banks of sand.
Tonight, we stop at Bansiluang.
Luang Prabang is only a few thousand miles from here.
The next day, before turning
the last turn of the river
below the royal city,
we stop to dress our most beautiful clothes.
Among the enemies above all,
it is the one who will give the most skull
to the bones of his hat of straw
and will put the best in evidence
the black ribbon on which the name Mekong
spreads in gold letters.
The banks of the capital of Laos
finally appear.
At the top of a hill,
a tatoo or agoba
loses its sharp arrow
the foliage of the trees
and forms the dominant trait of the landscape.
Some pagodas spread
on the slopes of this sort of sacred mountain
and their red roof
clings vividly on the dark green of vegetation.
At the foot of the mountains,
high from about 15 meters,
fixed radars on which
many houses are built,
form below the city
like a second river city
that, in many senses,
in zigzag,
relies on the houses of the river.
We take into account a pagodas
that has been assigned to us
until the construction of a special housing.
Not far from us,
a daily market is very frequent
is held under guard
if you are close to the confluence
of Namkan and Mekong.
It is the first time,
since our departure from Phnom Penh,
that we meet a market
in the sense that we give this word to us.
On the 2nd of May,
the commander of the village
chose on the southern green of the hill
which dominates the city
a land surrounded by several pagodas
to make them build their housing.
This will be realized in 48 hours
by the people of the king.
Coming back from building a tomb
for Henri Mouhot,
the intrepid explorer
who was our predecessor
in this city,
I only live on the Namkan.
Around us, the sunset
was insulated
the waters of a thousand reflets
of purple and gold.
Everything in this landscape
without being renewed
by the rapidity of our locomotion,
breathes a tranquility
and a apparent happiness
that invites the oblivion
of the noisy world
and agitates in the silent memory
still in us.
What a contrast
between this calm
tableau of the tropical chaos
and this Europe
whose name is unknown
to those around us.
Even more than the distance,
these differences
between civilization
for the cause of which
we are exiled
and the civilization
of which we have become others
seem to dig between us
and our country
a bigger abyss
and a bigger day.
To join China,
three routes
are offered at the expedition.
The one on the river
is the longest.
The second
is the most direct.
It is about
going back to the North
to the North
to the Namu
flowing from the left
of the Mekong
and reaching directly
the frontiers
of the Yunnan
where they could find
the great river.
The third route
would lead them
to Guangxi
crossing the occupied area
by mixed tribes
which separate
from China's Tonkin.
At the morning
we finally arrive
A breeze from the southwest
and the natural freshness
of our aquatic route
promises us a pleasant day.
In the face of the Namu
confluence,
we find on the right
of the high cliff
in the front
of which
a deep cave opens
that the Indians
have transformed into sanctuaries.
From there,
the stream
that presents the river
is imposing.
Here,
the river is about 300 meters
wide.
Its steep course
is bordered
by rocky walls
that climb
the bizarre
hills
of the mountains
of the second floor.
At some distance
from there,
the black areas
of the Namu
are mixed
with the yellow
of the Mekong.
The evening has come.
Along the rock wall
that forms on the right
of the river
an entire mountain
at a peak
of more than 350 meters
My boat
produces a slight clap
in the Argentine sound
like an echo
in the pure atmosphere
of this peaceful night.
At a huge height
above my head
is one of the birds
of late prey
that joins
their nest
in a few
rocky crevices.
Their crevices
that are discordant
become more and more rare.
I keep going
to play
at my nest
of calm and fresh moments
that bring
the first stars.
Soon
we will hear
the murmur
of the great river
and the soft
song of the
nocturnal insects
telling the sound
of the river
a mysterious love.
On the first June
we will cross
the rapid
of the Kengle
and see the unloading
of our boats.
This abstract crossing
the navigation
becomes easier.
We see
in the distance
a mountain chain
of 1,200 meters
of elevation
in average.
On June 2
it is Banasta
a beautiful village
on the left river.
The next day
we arrive
in Pacta
the last step
and to talk about
the commitment
of our arrival
at Dieng Kong
with the governor
of this city.
He can't
decide to let us
cross the border
of Siam.
The letters
of Bangkok
which we are
carriers
agree well
the free circulation
on all the territory
but it is not indicated
that we should leave.
We need
all the diplomatic art
of the commander
to solve the matter.
A proper gift
and some pressure
will help him.
Toral and Moin
have access to
fiefdom
accompanied by
vomiting and delirium
and we are hardly
restored
when we have to
get back on the road.
For the first time
since Vienn Chiang
we are playing
with an extended view
in the middle
of a vast landscape
and on the shore
in a wide and deep
bed.
It is almost noon
when all of a sudden
the foyer
of a young mangy
is violently
approaching us
on board.
The time is calm
and this intermittent movement
must have
another cause
that Rafale is suffering.
By approaching
we will discover
a rhinoceros
suppressing
with force
against the trunk
of the tree
and managing
to print
an oscillation
movement
that makes
the fruits
rain
around the
huge animal.
The method is effective.
His meal
is ready.
The other
day
on June 18
we arrive
at the foot
of a fast named
Tango
which offers an insurmountable
obstacle
to the navigation
of the river.
We arrived
at the extreme limit
of the country
in which
our passports
ensure
the free circulation.
From this
moment
it becomes clear
that the exit
of our journey
depends on
the
journey.
Since we entered
an area
that remained
outside
European investigations
each of the
features of the
Mekong
that I can add
to my map
seems to me
an important
geographical discovery.
A constant
concern
which
nothing comes
to distract me
finished by
being imposed
as monomania.
I have
found
this unknown
enemy.
I therefore
leave the
19
of great happiness
a little
package of
living on the back
of my hand.
The sky
is rather
covered
and promises
to spread
the burning
reverberation
of the sun
on these
rocky beaches.
Here
the fugitive traces
of the
fishermen
or nomadic
hunters
disappear
absolutely.
A draught
against the
rocks
seems to me
to violate
the virginity
of this nature
which has escaped
to the end
all the
depths of man.
Sometimes
I try to
speak up
to affirm
my right
to enjoy
the forest
or the flower
and to
make
the kind of
fascination
that
exerts
on me
this calm
and great solitude.
The
wind
blows
to the pleasure
of the
bath
and I
let
go
by these
promises.
Just
I do
some
arms
in
plain water
that
two
elephants
come out
of the
forest
and
go
back to the
river.
In my
view
one
two
sınız
do
you
I
don't
return
is
that
you
are
add
he
did
no
reporters
there
themselves
Only to tie the bow of the day, I machinalily took the traces of my steps,
printed on the sand in the middle of the many prints that were left by the sands,
the sandals and the elephants.
I would have wanted to erase this double sign,
leave it by my passage, and which seems to profane this magical place.
The members of the expedition are now taking the track, leaving the river becoming impracticable.
By heading towards China, they hope to find the Mekong river and take it back to the source.
Unfortunately for them, the difficulties and the opposition are growing.
They will take 5 months to reach the border.
We took 5 hours to cross the 14 km that separates us from the Muang Lim Salad.
This is a sign of the difficulties that we will have to overcome by continuing our journey through the land during the rainy season.
The more money we have, the more we miss the expedition.
And we hide our misery under proud pride, always hoping for a few circumstances
that would give us the credit of a friendly friend,
embezzling the parsimony of the governor of Koshin China,
which has given us so much resources.
We meet in Muang Lim, in the new savages of a picturesque aspect.
These are the Mutsu, which could be seen in the Miao of Yunnan.
Only the Caucasian origin population, having fled to the middle of the flows without continuing to renew the Mongolian invasions.
The Mutsu put in their costumes a search and a complication that we were not used to meeting in China.
On June 28, the governor of Muang Lim comes to communicate to the commander the response of Xientong.
It is favorable. The king of Kemarata and of Tonkaburi authorizes them to loot men and boats on his territory
and continue to walk through the valley of the river.
Louis de la Porte is sick and unable to walk.
He must be transported by his companions, the local carriers refusing to take care of him
by fear of catching an unknown mortal disease.
In Paléo, we meet a new kind of tribe, the Kha Khos,
which is closer to the Chinese type than the Anamite type.
They wear shaved hair, except for a tail that rolls around a black turban,
with silver circles.
On the 8th evening, we have to sleep in the middle of the forest on the banks of a torrent.
A wave crosses our brother's head, and we tremble under our covers.
Out of the moustache peaks, accompanied by a desirability in this season,
the place is infested by an innumerable amount of puddles that sink into the hairy leather leather.
The state of general health of the expedition is deplorable.
The soil of the forests, as much as the rice fields,
torn by the first big rains, exhales dangerous and
rejuvenated mires of sensu, which have produced fever and ulcers to the feet.
We have to stay in bed for a long time.
In the corner of a pagoda, transformed into a hospital,
we throw the mercy of the others.
On the 23rd morning, we take back our route.
We have to go back to Paléo,
and we have to go back to Paléo,
and we have to go back to Paléo,
and we have to go back to Paléo, because that is a dangerous place.
The 23rd morning, we take back our route.
The long tail of our carriers gl українars soon sleep on the rim of the hill that separates us from the river.
After the rejuvenation, we climb the right bank and cover a thick forest.
The soil is marked with misdemeanorselfish leaves that tear the feet.
Through the cracks the compliqué爱,
The 7th August, the expedition arrives in Muanguyang.
Negotiations with the representative of the Birman authority are difficult.
The man is suspicious and he plays with their nerves by authorizing and then interdicting all around the passage to the border.
In the end, he sends the decision to the governor of Xientong, city to which the commander has to go in order to obtain the right to pass.
Whatever it is, time is always older. The fever that most of them devours condemns immobility.
We leave Muanguyang on September 8.
More than a month has passed since we saw these days in Muanguyang.
Arriving in Bantap, our horizon is wide. The undulations of the terrain become less bizarre, but also less picturesque.
And we discover the great plain, at the end of which we see Muanguyang.
We settle at the entrance of the village, a few meters from the river Namloy.
In Banquen, the head of the mission meets a singular traveler, a good old man at the placid physiognomy,
who lives under the name of Cella, which means man who knows a lot.
He is a kind of ambulance doctor, of the original fungus, who hangs everywhere his science and his remedies, without fixing himself anywhere,
and without asking for any other salary than housing and food.
He has been living in Burma for three years.
According to the Laotian custom, the village leaders are intended to offer us, in our passage, gifts in nature.
We have always refused them, or at least we have always paid for the items that were offered to us.
Will we be able to continue like this? I doubt it.
We leave Muanguyang on September 18.
Our horses and luggage cross the river on a radeau
and take the road of Muanglong, which is our next step towards Xienghuang.
At Muangyu, we cross the river on a radeau bridge,
whose parapet was also made up of sculpted lions.
This is the work of this Chinese civilization,
in which the bearing of Muangyong sold us the wonders.
This time, we are at the door of the promised land.
On October 5, we are received by the king.
A young man of 19, 20 years old appears,
whose costume looks like the one of the clowns of our foires.
He is covered with a large Chinese hat,
embroidered with bells and dressed in red.
Discussed that other traditional gifts have been exchanged.
We serve a meal.
Then he withdraws, surrounded by the same honors.
In reality, he seems to suffer without resistance.
The Tutel des Grands Mondarins.
On October 7, the expedition crosses the Mekong radeau
in order to get on the other river.
They ignore it at this moment,
but it is the last time they will cross the great river.
The fairies on the water, the pirogues races,
the Venetian lights, the dangers and pleasures of navigation,
all will be placed on the scene of the voyage.
With new scenery and impressions of another kind.
On October 9, we leave the Namyang valley to enter the mountain.
On October 10, we are on a signatory ridge,
due to which we enjoy a very broad view.
On October 14, we are in Luangping,
a village populated by Chinese and Taiya,
chased by the war led by the Maoists in Yunnan.
They have brought in the Laos dead and processed by the Celestial Empire.
We find tables, chairs, benches and floors,
jumps and thousands of utensils that we have not seen for a long time.
It is a joy to be able to sit on a table.
The meals on the grass seem charming to people available,
but in the long run,
he becomes horribly annoying to the travelers who are tired.
At four o'clock in the evening,
an immense plain opens below us.
In the center, a fortified city rises.
It is not in a living emotion that we greet these Maoists,
our first Chinese city.
After 18 months of fatigue,
after crossing the regions almost still empty of human paths,
we find ourselves in front of the representation
of the oldest civilization of the East.
For the first time, European travelers
enter China through a Chinese waterfront.
Our enthusiasm goes beyond measure.
The sufferings we have paid
exaggerate the importance of the result.
And, for a moment,
we believe that China finally reveals itself to Europe,
a Europe represented by the French.
Entering Yunnan,
the expedition will face the most terrible of its trials.
The country is ravaged by a war
between the Muslims who created a caliphate
and the soldiers of the Chinese emperor.
Massacre, famine, epidemic,
what we will call the rebellion of the pantheists
will cause millions of deaths.
It will prevent the French cities
from going back to the source of Mekong,
located in Tibet.
Tired, the commander of the agreement will die of fever on 12th March 1868
in Tangchuan.
Francis Garnier will bring his chickens
by passing through the blue river that flows into Shanghai.
From there, he will join Saigon in June,
two years after their departure.
Louis de Carné, the only civilian of the expedition,
will die in 1870 after a tropical disease
contracted on Mekong.
In 1870, Francis Garnier will continue to explore
only Yunnan and Tibet.
By a kind of irony of the story,
this admirer of China
was killed on December 21, 1873 in Hanoi
during an attack on the Black Poverty,
and the irregular Chinese troops.
