All posts by Sharon

Daily Life, Laos

Changing of the Guard

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We hired Ae, our night guard/gardener, at the recommendation of a VIS teacher, who was friends with his previous employers – a couple who had worked for a charity organization here but returned to the States last year. The teacher said Ae was desperate for work and had been calling him frequently to find out whether any of the new teachers wanted to hire him. Without pursuing any other options, we offered him a job. In retrospect, it’s highly likely the VIS teacher simply wanted to get Ae off his back.

Within the first couple weeks Ae was already asking for a loan. I sought the counsel of everyone I could find (Lao and foreign), and they all responded with a resounding, “Don’t do it!” However, Ae showed Tony his dilapidated little thatched-roof shack and told us (through a translator) that he couldn’t pay his children’s tuition. Saavy little bastard. When it comes to children and education, I’m a big fat sucker.

So, against the unanimous advice of friends, colleagues and strangers, and without Tony’s blessing, I gave Ae the equivalent of $120. He agreed to let us deduct about $12 from his pay every month till the end of the school year. Even the Lao teacher who translated during this discussion shook her head and suggested we take out a bigger chunk each month.
But did I listen? Of course not.

Last week, I gave our maybon Daeng the electricity bill and the money to pay it (about $150, a fortune even to us). Unfortunately, she delegated that task to Ae.

For the next few days, Ae kept trying to tell me something. He made gestures that looked like a bird flying overhead and rambled in Lao. I told him repeatedly to tell the story to Daeng so she could translate, but he acted embarrassed and wouldn’t do it. Finally, I called another Lao lady, who talked to Ae and conveyed his story: He was riding his motorbike to the electric company when all the contents of his shorts pocket blew out. He didn’t realize what happened until it was too late. He claims that’s how he lost our bill, all our money, and his whole salary.

Tony wanted to fire him on the spot, but I convinced him to sleep on it. Neither of us actually slept that night. Tony was seething with anger; I was confused about how to proceed. I feel a constant nagging guilt about our relative wealth in Laos, and I worry about being culturally insensitive. I decided to call our landlady, Mrs. Villay, who owns most of the homes on our block and seems to be the matriarch of the village.

Mrs. Villay lives two doors away, so she immediately came over with an old bill (so the electric company could call up our current charges) and a feisty attitude about Ae’s story. “We couldn’t believe you hired that man!” she said. “He’s not well. He spends all his money on cards. He is not responsible, so he cannot work for you.”

When I told her that I wanted to believe Ae, she scoffed. “He stole that money from you,” she said. “I am sure of it!” She has had her own share of sneaky employees; one maybon stole gold from the spirit house. “When I caught her, she cried and said her baby was sick, but I took her to the village chief and now she has to pay me back a little bit every month,” said Mrs. Villay. “You have to be strong!”

Strong is not a word often used to describe me when it comes to confrontation. Gullible, wussy avoider is much more accurate.

Anyway, this afternoon Mrs. Villay came over to help us fire Ae. Ugh. He turned in his keys and rode off on his moped, and Mrs. Villay said, “I think he’s happy. Now he doesn’t have to pay you back.”

We considered not replacing Ae. However, the grasses and rainforest plants in our big yard seem to grow about a foot a day, and there’s no way I’m going near them with a weed whacker when I know snakes are lurking nearby. So I asked Mrs. Villay if she knew of a trustworthy person looking for work. As it happens, her lovely handyman, Mr. P, has a son who is interested in the job. We hired him 20 minutes after firing Ae.

So Beng starts tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed!

Laos

What Wat?

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Thursday’s Vientiane adventure with Tony N. and Rand included stops at two local Buddhist temples: Si Muan and Si Saket.
Wat Si Muang
Various legends surround the original construction of Wat Si Muang, but here’s the gist of the story: King Setthathirat moved his capital from Luang Prabang to Vientiane in 1563, so a group of sages selected a site for the big stone pillar that would become the home of the city’s guardian spirit. The pillar was suspended with ropes over a large hole in anticipation of a human sacrifice to the spirit. Finally, a pregnant woman leapt (was pushed?) in to the hole (sometimes with with her horse or a young monk, depending on who’s telling the story), and the pillar was released. Many people believe offerings at the temple will bring good luck to women trying to conceive.
Wat Si Saket
This temple was built in 1818 by Lao prince Chao Anou. He later rebelled against Siam’s influence in Laos, bringing Siamese wrath and destruction to Vientiane. For some reason, they spared Wat Si Saket, which was restored by the French in the 20s and 30s. The wat’s perimeter walls feature niches with more than 2,000 little silver and ceramic Buddhas with another 300+ standing and sitting Buddha statues on the steps below the niches. Some date back to the 15th century.
In one small space, there’s a pile of damaged, mostly headless Buddhas from the 1828 Siamese-Lao war.
I’m a wee bit obsessed with nagas, the serpent deity, so I loved the 5-meter long “haang song nam pha.” The whimsical naga stands at the back door of the wat’s ordination hall, and it’s really just a fancy wooden watering can for the ceremonial cleansing of Buddhist images.

Disclaimer: My camera battery was dead, so these shots were taken with my phone.

Laos

Lao Textiles

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As Rand, the two Tonys and I walked around Vientiane yesterday, we popped in to Lao Textiles, a company run by an American woman named Carol Cassidy. I mistakenly thought it was a weaving workshop, and I wanted to see whether we could all take a class. Rand, a self-proclaimed interiors junkie, had read about Cassidy and said it was the only “don’t miss” on his list of things to see here. Serendipity brought us to her doorstep!
When we first arrived, her assistant gave us a quick tour and some background information. When Cassidy showed up, she absolutely fell in love with fellow creative spirits Rand and Tony N.
Nursing a broken foot, she plopped down in a chair and chatted with us as though we were neighbors or longtime friends. It soon became clear that she was not some idealistic do-gooder who breezed in to Laos and produced a few scarves. Although her relief work has created jobs and changed the lives of Lao villagers and landmine victims in Cambodia, she has also built a wildly successful textile empire in Southeast Asia.
Her staff use modified looms that Cassidy designed to combine European and Lao weaving techniques, enabling them to create longer and wider lengths of silk fabric with stunning traditional and contemporary patterns. She still sells scarves and wall hangings in her restored Vientiane mansion and upscale U.S. boutiques, but she also has contracts with several haute couture houses, the Guggenheim Museum, and some very wealthy American socialites. For one rich family, she produced gold silk wallpaper! As we walked through her studio, she pointed out various projects underway on the looms, including solid fuchsia silk for a Yves St. Laurent sofa and creamy silk with a gold and silver pattern destined to be Chanel curtains.
Cassidy told us that some big projects can take more than a year to complete, and I read on her website that only two centimeters per day are woven on the most complex designs.
She clearly enjoyed discussing the design world with Rand and unpretentiously asked him questions about different artisans and designers who might appreciate her creations. Tony N flipped through iPhone images of their furniture designs, and she gleefully inquired about their work. As we were leaving, she practically begged for their contact information.
My Tony and I felt so fortunate to be participants in this conversation. We obviously wouldn’t have been able to engage Cassidy so much on our own! Note to self: Always take Tony N and Rand along when you visit artsy destinations.
For more information on Carol Cassidy, check out her website at www.laotextiles.com.

Here are some photos of her workshop. I don’t know why I didn’t get a shot of HER or any of her finished work. Duh.

Daily Life, Laos

Lao Starbucks

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We are so thrilled to have two of our favorite people visiting this week – Tony and Rand! They were in Hong Kong for business, so they popped over to Laos to hang out for a few days. Yesterday, Rand mentioned his desire for traditional Lao coffee, something I had also been eager to try. I knew there was a coffee stall right in front of my house, but I had never been brave enough to check it out. The lady working at the stall had lots of business in the schoolkids on lunch break, who were buying iced juices. I ordered three “kaa-feh boh-laan,” and then we watched her cook up some black sludge in a small metal pot. In three coffee-stained glasses, she measured out about two fingers of sweetened condensed milk, a layer of coffee sludge, and several spoonfuls of powdered creamer. She stirred it up and poured the heavenly concoction into ice-filled cups. Delicious!! She may just be my new best friend. (That’s our house right behind Tony, so you see how convenient it will be for me to get my fix!)

Daily Life, Laos

Flat Tire

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Yesterday I needed to get something at school, but I didn’t feel like driving the car such a short distance (it takes me awhile to do the 20-point turn to get out of our driveway), so Tony agreed to give me a lift on his motorbike. We had just pulled out of our gate (otherwise known as the neighborhood tuk tuk station) when a tuk tuk driver called out and pointed to the motorbike’s flat rear tire. I made the international gesture for “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” and all the tuk tuk drivers pointed to a little stall down the street. As we pushed the bike in that direction, the ladies at the produce stands all clucked in sympathy and waved us toward the “tire repair stall.” There, a guy on a stool took the tube out, patched it and put the tire back together for the equivalent of 60 cents.
When I was making coffee this morning, our gardener, Ae, knocked on the kitchen window (scaring the crap out of me) and called for me to come outside. He made a “pbttttthh” sound and mimed a tire going flat. I popped out to see, and sure enough, it was flat as a pancake. I guess you get what you pay for.
Somehow I understood Ae’s explanation that we shouldn’t have gone to the corner tire repair guy. He offered to take the bike to a proper place to get it fixed, which he did for the whopping price of $1.17.

Laos Tire Shop

Daily Life, Laos

Vay-freakin’-cation

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We were starting to doubt if we’d make it to October, but – voila! – we did, and we’re enjoying our first week off school. This is the week of Boat Racing Festival in Laos, a holiday to mark the end of Buddhist Lent. According to the Vientiane Times,

“The annual festival serves as a reminder to farmers that the rainy season is over for another year, so they can begin harvesting and preparing their soil for the next planting season. The end of Lent allows monks to leave their temples overnight to visit relatives after three months of immersing themselves in Buddhist teachings. According to tradition, during Lent monks are not allowed to travel so they don’t accidentally step on insects or damage villagers’ rice paddy walls.”

Yesterday, I went for an early morning bike ride and saw crowds of people heading to the temples wearing their finest traditional clothing. They carried ornate silver pots, orchids, baskets of sticky rice and other offerings. After sunset on the banks of the Mekong River, villagers gathered for the traditional ritual of layheuafai. They set adrift little boats made from banana leaves with flickering candles to pay homage to the river.
As much as we would have loved to see this, Tony and I were scared off by the crazy riverside street fair. We walked through it during the daytime, and we just couldn’t imagine how it could get any more crowded or frenzied. At one point, I was meandering along when I noticed a panel covered with blown-up balloons on my right and a guy throwing darts on my left! I was walking right through the Pop-A-Balloon game! There were no signs or other warnings. Absolute chaos. One of my colleagues lost her handbag in last year’s melee when someone cut the strap, and other teachers reported stories of stolen cameras and pickpockets. So we decided to stay far, far away from the river this weekend.
Unfortunately, that means we’ll also miss the dragon boat races. Linda, a friend from school, was rowing with a village team, and I had planned to cheer her on. But alas, I got spooked by the crowds. So we watched the races on TV. Pretty amazing!
We’re sticking around Vientiane for this weeklong holiday, trying to catch up on work and taking advantage of our loaner car to get some errands done and do a little sightseeing. Today we checked out a nearby swimming pool. It’s big enough to swim laps, and it was totally empty! I was psyched until I noticed the mold all over the sides and the brackish color of the water. Still, I’m not completely deterred. I’ll wear goggles and try not to get water in my mouth. How bad could it be?

Laos, On the Road, Teaching

Study Shmudy

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Last week, I accompanied 20 fifth graders on their study trip to Vang Vieng, Laos, about 4 hours north of Vientiane. The classroom teacher, Paula, worked with an organization called Green Discovery to plan a fantastic trip that built on the theme of environmental consciousness. The students were totally keen to discuss the impact of tourism, explore the concept of healthy ecosystems, learn about sustainable businesses, and reflect on their roles in caring for the earth. In fact, they were such independent learners that we teachers got to kick back and enjoy a little mini-holiday!

Grade 5 - Ready to Go!

Bus shenanigans

Our first stop was the Phosar Paper-Making and Reforestation Project funded by a Japanese group. The project uses tree bark to make paper, textiles and chopsticks for export. When we asked about the “reforestation” part, they admitted that they really aren’t doing that anymore. They quickly added that this type of tree grows to maturity in just one year. Whatever.

Papermaking

Later we visited Tham Chang Cave, the biggest cave in Vang Vieng. Inside, the guide encouraged us to close our eyes and stay very quiet, not an easy feat for 10 year olds. When we emerged from the cave, Paula asked the kids to pick a partner and compare the ecosystem inside the cave with that on the outside. It was amazing to see how much they knew and how eager they were to tackle the subject. At the bottom of the hill, the kids played an impromptu game of soccer.

Our hotel overlooked the Nam Song River and beautiful rock formations. The kids played in the pool while we watched the locals zip by in their dragonboats, training for the upcoming holiday races.
After dinner, we had a “bonfire.” By North American standards, it was really just a regular-sized campfire, and the kids were woefully uninformed about s’mores, but they had a lot of fun singing songs and debating the best methods for roasting marshmallows.

We enforced “lights out” at 8:30 p.m., and the students were pleasantly compliant. That gave Paula and me a chance to enjoy a Beer Lao on the balcony overlooking the river. While we were relaxing, a HUGE insect (very nearly the size of a velociraptor) landed on the wall nearby. We tried to ignore it, but occasionally it would leap across to the opposite wall and freak us out. Finally, we summoned the front desk clerk, who caught the bug and took it to the kitchen to fry it up as a snack.

Sunset!

The next morning, we toured an organic farm that raises silkworms and produces mulberry tea, fruit wines and goat cheese. Students got to cut and roast mulberry leaves for tea, make organic fertilizer (aka goat poo), peel starfruit for wine, and milk a very patient goat. After lunch at the farm (where we munched on fried mulberry leaves with honey – yum!), we hiked to the river and crossed the water in a longboat. The Green Discovery guys gave a quick demo of knot making and rock climbing techniques. Then we all grabbed a harness and gave it a go.
Kids were only allowed to climb up to 5 meters, but I decided to show off and climb to the top. The kids were shrieking, “Go Miss Sharon! Go Miss Sharon!” At one point, I couldn’t find a handhold, so I shouted down to the belay dude that I wanted to come down, but he said, “No, keep going!” My leg started shaking uncontrollably, which was a little embarrassing, but eventually I made it to the top and then rappelled back down. One little girl said, “You’re the bravest woman EVER!” As if.

Another quick dip in the pool for the munchkins and then we all marched into town for dinner. One of Vang Vieng’s claims to fame is the unfortunate presence of many, many TV restaurants. Customers sit on cushions at elevated tables and watch episodes of Friends or Family Guy. When you walk through the town, those two shows are playing at nearly every restaurant! The kids were glued to Friends on the big-screen TV as they slurped spaghetti. Kinda fun, kinda sad.
On our trip back to Vientiane, we took a motorboat for about 2.5 hours on the Nam Ngum Reservoir, which was created when the Nam Ngum River was dammed in 1971 to generate hydroelectricity. We passed forested islands (formerly the tops of small mountains) and fishing villages. At the power plant, we met our bus and drove the rest of the way home.

Boat ride

If you plan to do any adventure travel in this neck of the woods, I strongly recommend Green Discovery.
The kids had a fantastic time, and so did the teachers!

Daily Life, Laos

Singing in the Rain

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As the poster child for Seasonal Affective Disorder, I am a girl who knows rain. I know exactly how much rain it takes to put me in a funk (3 hours of nonstop drizzle). I know exactly how much precipitation must fall before I move from the funk to a near-vegetative state (24 hours of steady rain). And I can tell you how many dreary rain-filled days I’ll wait before plugging in the good ol’ Happy Light to bask in its simulated sunshine (7).
Therefore, the bliss I feel these days is truly unprecedented. Folks, it’s rainy season in Laos. And you ain’t never seen rain like this.
When we lived in Kansas, I once drove my Chevette with its rusted-out floorboards in a massive thunderstorm because I needed to pick up a Prozac prescription. At one point in my crosstown journey, the water in my car was up to my knees. But, I swear, that “downpour” was a mere sprinkle compared to the daily deluge here.
I later totaled my Saturn by driving through our church parking lot-cum-lake in another one of those famous Midwestern storms. Yet, again, I must insist that such spittle would not even qualify as “rain” in Southeast Asia.
In Laos, there’s really no such thing as “raindrops.” You can’t see individual drops because the water is literally gushing from the sky like an open fire hydrant.
And then … quite suddenly … it stops.
The rains cease; the skies clear; and the sun gets to work. The temporary pond that blocks my front gate drains away, and within hours even the mud dries up. Most of the time, those wild raucous house-shaking storms happen at night, and by morning, the air smells fresh and the roads are just a wee bit damp for my bike ride to school.
Occasionally, like today, the rains douse Vientiane all … day … long. You might fret that, by now, I must have moved from funk to comatose, but I feel remarkably upbeat. The sun’s promise to return soon has kept me sane so far.
Singing in the Rain

Daily Life, Laos

Our first snake!

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Our gardener weed-whacked this poor little guy. That’s Tony poking it with a stick.
I asked Ae (the gardener) if it was poisonous … OK, lacking the Lao vocab for “poisonous snake,” I actually gestured a snake biting me on the arm and then me dying dramatically … but he just laughed and shook his head. Now I’m not sure if his head shake meant, “No, it’s not poisonous.” or “Holy crap, you’re a freak.”
Our first snake!

Daily Life, Laos

Color Me Happy

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Update on my weekly Dash-to-the-Friendship-Bridge bike ride: On Saturday, I beat my previous record by more than 2 minutes! 37:47 Sweet!
I often use little mental tools to distract myself because I despise exercise with every fiber of my being. This week, I consciously focused on the colors I encountered on my ride. This may seem cheesy, but I’m going to list some of the thoughts that ran through my head during those 37 minutes.
• Wispy low-lying pink clouds glowed against the barely blue sunrise sky. Slowly, slowly the powdery blue deepened to a glorious cobalt while gentle breezes swept away any threats of rain.
• Ubiquitous brown … the dry shade of woven baskets overturned like massive wicker bowls to keep the speckled chickens from roaming … the alternately dark reddish mud and pale dusty dirt of the unpaved roads … sun-bleached wooden stilts protecting homes, restaurants and shops from the encroaching water … shiny dark hair pulled into a thick ponytail, gleaming coffee-colored eyes and golden skin of the smiling woman selling cold drinks at a roadside stand …
• The rainy season’s gift of green in every hue includes the crackling fronds of the coconut trees, the nearly teal floating pads of the water lilies, the waxy dark leaves of the magnolias, the yellow-tipped fluorescence of the rice plants, the seafoam-colored potted plants with twisted prickly stalks, and the bright tufts of doomed little weeds in fields where oxen graze.
• In a landscape of mostly muted earth tones, orange provides a welcome jolt. It pops from the wooden spirit houses, where villagers hang delicate offerings made from banana leaves, tiny white lilies-of-the-valley and vibrant marigolds. It brings a whole neighborhood to life when monks parade single-file (their humble yet dazzlingly bright robes swishing around their feet, baskets swinging by their hips). They pause to bless the locals who kneel at the roadside and then accept the donations of food.
• Glossy red and yellow Buddhist symbols adorn the gilded gates of temples, reflecting the sun’s persistent rays, begging me to stop and soak up some zen.
• Fuchsia blossoms of bougainvillea spill over the top of fences and splash down the dull white walls.
Aw, geez, I could do this all day.

Color Me Happy

The voice of my far-away mother, an artist, resonated in my head the whole ride, describing the acrylic paints she’d squeeze onto her palette to re-create the scenery. I pictured her waving her finger at that morning sky and saying, “OK, so we need some cerulean with alizarin crimson and a dab of titanium white.”
Next week … smells? Maybe not.