I stood in a junkyard of rusty, defused bombs dropped from the sky decades before. It occupied a corner of the Xieng Khouang Visitor Information Center parking lot. I had researched the province and its fields still littered with volatile bombies leftover from the Indochina War. Tino, my guide, knew I wasn’t another Plain of Jars customer. He was grateful. His 15-minute rap for the wannabe UNESCO site had grown weary. And really, how long can you ponder a field of ancient jars? My calendar boxed out three days to uncover what Xieng Khouang offered beyond the Plain of Jars.