I am wayyyyy behind on blogging. Here’s my final post about Laos (unless I get overcome by another wave of nostalgia).
Category Archives: Laos
Final Family Night – Lao Kitchen
It’s with a heavy heart that I report on our last Family Night dinner here in Vientiane. As the day approached, we wracked our brains to pick a restaurant worthy of this momentous occasion. Nikki researched a dinner cruise on the Mekong, but most feedback suggested health-and-safety standards were questionable. (After all this time in Asia, I wouldn’t know a health-and-safety standard if it punched me in the face, but I did wonder whether chartering a boat for four people would really be all that fun.)
We finally settled on Mak Phet, a lovely little joint that trains street kids to work in the restaurant industry. We had all been there before and savored several of the delicious Lao dishes. Carol and Nikki arrived at the restaurant first and discovered the menu had changed. Nothing sounded good enough to warrant the unusually high prices, so we held a quick family meeting and moved the party to my favorite restaurant in town: Lao Kitchen.
Lao Kitchen is owned by Noy, a woman who used to work in our school canteen. She and her staff prepare fantastic Lao food bursting with fresh flavors. Some of my favorite dishes include chicken wrapped in pandan leaves (which comes with a to-die-for citrus/chili sauce), curry with tofu, stir-fried morning glory (with an insane amount of garlic), basil stir fry, ginger stir fry and any other stir fry. You almost can’t go wrong. The only thing I didn’t love at Lao Kitchen was the crispy pork (no, it’s nothing like bacon), although I didn’t try the duck bills (been there, done that) or the “chicken knees and elbows.”
That’s Noy in the black t-shirt.
We asked one of the lovely servers to take a photo. Maybe it was her first time?
Carol enjoys a watermelon shake.
Living so far away from home, we often find ourselves craving familiar comfort food like burgers or mashed potatoes or big salads with fancy candied nuts. It’s easy to get bored with the local cuisine; no matter how much you love it, you can only eat so much sticky rice. In Vientiane, we can choose from Italian, Turkish, Chinese, Mediterranean, Indian, Belgian, Thai, German, French, Mexican (well, it’s really more of a brothel), and countless other ethnic culinary options. But I have found myself sipping a cold Beer Lao to wash down that spicy Lao Kitchen curry probably once a week since it opened. That’s a real testament to how fab (and cheap) this place really is.
But I saved the best for last: mango with sticky rice and coconut milk. Possibly the world’s most perfect dessert. It sounds so simple, and yet I have goosebumps of joy as I write this.
Following our final Family Night dinner, we all motored to Walkman Village, a treasure trove of imported knock-off designer crap. We tried on swim caps with Nikki and helped Carol pick out a Prada bag for her teaching assistant.
Finally, we wrapped up the night with Stupid Sticks, an addictive card game Nikki brought from Saskatchewan.
No, that’s not a meth lab. Tony’s crashed on the mattress in our living room and the girls are drinking out of plastic kegger cups because the movers hauled away all our stuff this week.
Farewell from friends makes my heart sing
Our school’s end-of-year party generally features a buffet dinner, a little entertainment and formal farewells to the departing staff. As one of the those departing staff members this year, I was dreading a sappy send-off. Usually I love being the center of attention, but not when the situation turns me into a blithering idiot. (The potential is always there, I know, but good-byes are particularly tricky.)
So when the farewells got under way at our party Saturday night, I tried to keep my mind otherwise occupied with catty remarks to my table mates, snuggles with a friend’s baby, and a trip to the bathroom. Another departing teacher, Terese, had a teary moment with the microphone that nearly broke my own emotional dam, but I held it together. Soon my picture popped up on the screen, and I knew there was no avoiding it. However, instead of the usual videotaped comments from friends and colleagues, my special GFs Carol and Nikki took the mics and announced they had a live farewell for Tony and me.
I quickly dashed back to my seat for the surprise performance. As the first notes of “Hotel California” floated from the speakers, I clapped with anticipation. That’s one of my signature karaoke numbers, which I have sung (badly) at many local restaurants and parties. I thought it would be a fitting final tribute, but no, it was even better than that. With the help of accomplished songstress Candice Broom, they had written new lyrics full of references to life here in Laos, special moments we’ve shared in Vientiane and plenty of inside jokes. They knew exactly what I needed: love and laughs, free of sob-inducing gushiness.
I was too thrilled and stunned to think of picking up my camera, but Tony took this photo. If I find out someone filmed it, I’ll post the video later.
Here are the lyrics:
Pinky Beef Pot (sung to the tune of Hotel California)
On a small lonely campus, humid breeze in my hair,
Warm smell of shrimp paste, rising up through the air.
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering Wat.
My head grew sweaty and my clothes grew wet,
Thanks god I got my shot.
The students entered the doorway, I heard the late bell.
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.
While I sipped on a Diet Coke, and tried to show them the way,
There were voices throughout the town; I thought I heard them say,
“Saibaidee to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
Living it up at the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Organ meats and beer
(Organ meats and beer)
You can find it here.”
Her mind is PYP twisted, he’s got the DP bends.
They’re praying that India puts them on the financial mend.
Oh the noise in the courtyard, hide under the ‘squito net.
Some things you want to remember, some you have to forget.
So I called to the mei baan, “Please bring me my wine.”
The students make me so tired I go to sleep before 9.
And still mortgages are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say,
“Lar con to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
No more family nights at Pinky Beef Pot
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Just wish they had French fries.”
Now, here it is again with explanatory notes and shameless plugs for old blog posts.
Pinky Beef Pot (sung to the tune of Hotel California)
On a small lonely campus (Vientiane International School), humid breeze in my hair.
Warm smell of shrimp paste (Southeast Asian staple ingredient), rising up through the air.
Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering Wat (that’s Lao for “temple,” and there’s one on every corner – see my Wat ‘O’ the Week posts).
My head grew sweaty (reference to the scorching heat) and my clothes grew wet (reference to the Pii Mai holiday, when the monks doused me with a hose – see the blog post Wat Watnak – or should I say “Wet” Watnak?),
Thanks god (we picked up the extra “s” from the Turks when we lived in Istanbul) I got my shot.
The students entered the doorway, I heard the late bell.
Then I was thinking to myself this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.
While I sipped on a Diet Coke (Tony’s cocktail of choice), and tried to show them the way,
There were voices throughout the town; I thought I heard them say,
“Saibaidee (“hello” in Lao) to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot (one of our favorite Family Night destinations – see the blog post, Family Night – Pinky Beef Pot)
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
Living it up at the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Organ meats and beer (self-explanatory, no?)
(Organ meats and beer)
You can find it here.”
Her mind is PYP twisted (Primary Years Programme – the convoluted elementary school curriculum framework of the International Baccalaureate Organization), he’s got the DP bends (Diploma Programme – the International Baccalaureate’s curriculum for grades 11 and 12).
They’re praying that India puts them on the financial mend (our new jobs at the American Embassy School in New Delhi, India, come with a big pay raise! Wahoo!).
Oh the noise in the courtyard, hide under the ‘squito net (don’t mess with Dengue Fever).
Some things you want to remember, some you have to forget.
So I called to the mei baan (Lao for “housekeeper,” although ours has never actually brought me a drink of any kind), “Please bring me my wine.”
The students make me so tired I go to sleep before 9 (true dat).
And still mortgages are calling from far away (investing in one of the most oppressed cities in the U.S. might not have been our most fiscally responsible decision … just sayin’),
Wake you up in the middle of the night just to hear them say,
“Lar con (“good-bye” in Lao) to the restaurant Pinky Beef Pot
Such a lovely place
(Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely taste
No more family nights at Pinky Beef Pot
What a nice surprise
(What a nice surprise)
Just wish they had French fries. (I loves me some French fries!)“
Half Cultured
My friend Candice submitted this short film to the Vientianale International Film Festival. It’s a pretty darn perfect comparison of Lao and American culture.
Check it out! Then visit her blog for more details. (She’s my blogmeister guru.)
Dancing through a decade – an ode to my shoes
At the turn of the century, the global panic was all about how our digital world was unprepared for Y2K. Servers were going to crash, all our personal data would be up for grabs, hackers would have a field day. But none of that mattered because I had the most amazing black velvet-patterned platform strappy sandals for the New Year’s Eve party. When you’re wearing smokin’ hot shoes, you can take on the world.
Here’s a shot of 32-year-old me and my sexy date, Tony, in his stylin’ vest at a Y2K party we attended with our friends Kelly and Dale. I still have that dress (black velvet with maribou trim is timeless, people). And those shoes have served me well.
Here’s a shot of 43-year-old me at our school’s end-of-year party last year. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I know you can’t see the shoe very well, but trust me, it’s stunning.
Last weekend, I got a call around 5 p.m. from my friend Paula (pictured above, middle). She had two tickets to the Women’s International Group Ball, a swanky affair that raises money to support underprivileged women and children in Laos. The tickets cost $100 each, which explains why none of my teacher friends were attending (unless they were married to non-teacher spouses who earned notably non-teacher salaries). Paula’s husband, Justin (who is a doctor), was sick and couldn’t attend the soiree that evening, so she was going to give Tony and me both her tickets. I knew Tony would rather poke out his eyeballs with the heel of my awesome shoe rather than attend a ball, so I suggested that we go together. “I’ll pick you up at 6:15!” she said.
That gave me about an hour to look fabulous, which of course, was no problem.
And then disaster struck. I rummaged through a closet to find the box containing my gorgeous Chinese Laundry shoes, but when I pulled one out, the whole sole detached from the strappy upper! My only other shoe option was a pair of black Steve Madden stiletto pumps with a big button on the rounded toe, which obviously was too casual for my low-back spaghetti-strap black crepe dress. Super Glue was the only answer.
I glued the hell out of those shoes and then tentatively buckled them on. I had visions of getting wild on the dance floor and having a shoe snap in half, sending me ass over tea kettle. Broken ankles. Exposed panties. Oh Lord, what was I thinking? But seriously, I didn’t have another pair of shoes quite that hot. So I decided to risk it.
I did get a little wild on the dance floor. But just a little. And miraculously, my old Chinese Laundry platforms went the distance. When I got home, I yanked them off in the kitchen and stumbled to bed. In the morning, I prepared to pack them safely away until another rich person needed a date to a ball, but when I grabbed the strap, the whole shoe split in half. It was a sign from God, the end of an era. Sadly, I took them outside and snapped a photo for posterity and then dropped them in the trash with a little prayer of thanks for so many years of loyal service.
Looks like someone will be doing a little shoe shopping this summer.
Wat Watnak – or should I say “Wet” Watnak?
Today marks the third and final day of Lao New Year and the related festivities. According to the Xinhua News Agency:
Pi Mai Lao (Lao New Year) is celebrated throughout the country each April in accordance with the Buddhist calendar, and is marked by visiting temples to make merit, feasting, drinking and soaking each other with water to wash away sins and cool off.
But I didn’t need to read that to know it’s true.
Tony and I flew back from Vietnam yesterday evening and emerged from the airport to all kinds of craziness. Here are some scenes from our taxi ride home. Needless to say, I kept the doors locked and the windows up!
This morning, my friend Carol and I walked around the corner to the neighborhood temple called Wat Watnak. We hoped to witness the local people washing the temple’s Buddha statues. Again, I’ll quote Xinhua:
The religious aspect of the festival is the washing away of wrongdoing and bad luck from the previous year to start the new year afresh. Homes, temples and Buddha images are washed with water filled with petals before laypeople and novices respectfully tip the scented water over monks to make merit and bless them for the coming year.
It all sounds so sacred and peaceful, right?
Colorful flags and banners hung from the archway over the temple’s entrance, where a group of monks stood to greet visitors. We approached a bit tentatively and barely had time to wish them “Sok dee Pii Mai” (Happy New Year) before they dumped buckets of water on us and sprayed us with a hose – easily the most exuberant water blessing I’ve ever received.
Carol’s turn!
Local residents paraded in to wash the Buddha statues and receive the water blessing. They all smiled and wished us a happy new year. I loved to see the children participating in this special ceremony. My favorite was this kid, who bathed the Buddhas with his water gun.
Families washing the Buddhas with water full of flower petals.
As temple-goers departed, they received raucous water blessings from the monks. Yes, that monk has strapped on a water-backpack Super Soaker.
The gang in the back of this pick-up called Carol and me over for a few extra “blessings” before they drove off.
Cleansing my chakras
I can’t believe I forgot to blog about this recent energy workshop! It took place on the same day that our high school girls won the basketball championship and my Lao friend Johnny got married. So I guess my brain was full. Anyway, here it is.
The workshop took place in my village at Healing Mudras and was led by visiting energy guru, Guy, who lives in Chiang Mai, Thailand. It alternated between uber-cheesy and nice. We did an awkward group dance to get the energy flowing, and the owner of Healing Mudras offered some fluffy words about our power to transform the world with energy.
But then we made an energy ball, which I loved. I’ve done this before in yoga. You sit on the floor and inhale your arms up with your hands facing each other. Visualize a big ball of energy pulsating against your hands. It really works! Sometimes I like to squeeze the energy ball and imagine all the energy dripping down over my whole body.
We also participated in a group meditation: First, some of us sat in a circle while people took turns hovering their hands above our heads. I really tried to absorb their energy, but the only person who really zapped me was my friend Whetu. I honestly felt a heavy warm vibe when she energized me. Cool. Next, I joined the standing circle and returned the favor to those sitting down. I hope I didn’t kill the collective buzz when I paused to snap some photos.
Here’s a link to Guy’s website – Lanna Yoga, where he posted a video from the energy workshop.
Energy duck duck goose.
I skipped out of the workshop early to watch the girls’ basketball championship game. I gave the team my energy ball, which clearly gave them to boost they needed to win the game!
Happy Lao New Year! Sabaidee Pii Mai!
Floral shirts, silver pots of perfumed water, marigold garlands, mounds of sand, wet hair and a general spirit of excitement can only mean one thing here in Vientiane: Pii Mai Lao!
Lao New Year takes places April 14-16, and the celebrations are just getting started. Friday was our last day of school before a two-week vacation, so we held a special Pii Mai assembly. First, children strung garlands of marigolds and frangipani, the Lao national flower. Primary and secondary kids worked together with the assistance of Lao staff members.
That’s Tony in the blue shirt helping them thread needles.
Then secondary students explained the legend behind some of the Pii Mai traditions, followed by a skit about the annual Miss Pii Mai contest and a water blessing ceremony.
The flower-clad crowd.
The Miss Pii Mai skit.
One of the “contestants” played this beautiful Lao xylophone.
The water blessing.
We sat in a row, and a group of students knelt in front of us, taking turns pouring perfumed water full of flower petals on our hands. We poured a little water back on their shoulders to return the blessing. Beautiful!
I was honored to be one of the teachers chosen for the blessing ceremony. My friend Eric and I commiserated about how we must be pretty special to get selected. Ha! Turns out they picked us to represent the departing staff. (Unfortunately I hadn’t told my students yet that Tony and I are moving to India, so some of the kids were quite confused and thought I was leaving that day.)
After the water blessing demonstration, classes met to bless their teachers. This is one of my favorite experiences of the school year in Laos. The children offer such heartfelt appreciation for their teachers. Very touching.
Water plays a big role in the Pii Mai holiday, so people inevitably get wet (whether they want to or not). In that spirit, our assembly wrapped up with water games on the soccer field.
Other random shots from the day…
Earlier in the day, the Early Years classes (3- and 4-years-old) had made these sand stupas.
Detail from the flower arrangement hanging over the entrance to the assembly.
Tony and me. Yes, he got a new shirt so we didn’t have to look like twinkies in orange again. (See last year’s blog post for a good laugh.)
Carol prepares for her advisory class blessings. (The secondary kids were not nearly as respectful and gentle with the water as the little kids were.)
Pa is a lovely guy who works in the PE department.
I don’t know this little girl, but she’s stinkin’ cute.
Nikki, Carol and me.
Want to know more?
The Lao American Coalition in San Diego has a nice website with a summary of the Pii Mai legend. My blog post from last year’s assembly also includes details about the Pii Mai traditions.
ABC Domino
I’ve been a bit hard up for quality teaching materials here in Laos. Fortunately, I have crates of stuff collected over the years: flashcards, games, activities, books, posters, learning centers, and so on. The problem – and it’s a common one at international schools – is that teachers move on and take all their loot with them. When Tony and I head to India next year, I will leave behind a nearly naked English as an Additional Language classroom. With that in mind, my principal recently picked up a few toys and games at the closest thing we have to a department store, Home Ideal.
My favorite new toy is ABC Domino. Although its name implies a single domino, it actually includes many rough-cut wooden people-shaped dominos, each with one letter of the English alphabet sloppily stenciled on its belly. Young students will enjoy setting up the dominos to spell simple words before toppling them over. But more importantly, I get a big kick out of the packaging. Made in China, the toy features the complicated Chinglish that kept us smiling for four years in Shanghai.
All of the superfluous capital letters and random punctuation are true to the original:
The world how many people want to create a world record, even fake a more beautiful and better quality of enjoyment. You try it out, let the Body show Come, let Art Exhibition Now you and your friends in front of us, so we feel that the United States is more than good!
So what is the goal of this game? Isn’t it obvious? It’s all about ABILITY, apparently:
Educational purposes: to foster the children’s hands and the ability to organize and coordinate the ability to enhance your baby’s ability to think and develop your baby a cool head, good psychological quality, persistent determination; all babies to have a domino effect emotional awareness.
OK, I’m sold! However, children learning the English language need very clear instructions for playing a new game. Good thing ABC Domino comes with an explanation.
Games: Let the baby in a box appearance, is through with the building blocks of the place, arranged and combined with the role of outside force formed under a different shape; arbitrary overturned a wood chip, all the wood all collapsed; can also let your baby Arbitrary who fight and give full play to your baby’s imagination.
How can a child NOT learn English with a toy like this? The box says it all: “Let your baby in the game understand the English alphabetical.”
Mayfly Invasion
As I sat at my dining room table one recent evening, a flurry of activity outside the window caught my eye. Thousands of mayflies swarmed around the exterior light, and a huge gecko skittered across the window frame for the smorgasbord. I took some photos and videos from inside, but Tony insisted I would get better shots if I ventured outdoors.
I opened the kitchen door to find another mayfly mob swirling around the carport light. Many little geckos vied for the treats while trying to avoid their oversized cannibalistic cousin. Wearing flip-flops, I tentatively walked into our dark backyard to shoot the dining room window action. When something wet touched my leg, I froze momentarily but then soldiered on.
As I approached the window, I spotted several more massive geckos, which are incredibly cool but more than a little intimidating. (Lao people believe that if one bites you, it won’t let go until there’s thunder. You have to go to a doctor to get it removed.) Sitting under the window was a toad as big as my head, and a variety of other reptilian and amphibian visitors paraded toward the mayfly buffet.
I am not too proud to admit that I beat a hasty retreat without shooting a single photo. Pathetic, I know. Here’s the movie I made from my indoor shots. I apologize for my cowardice that lead to such poor footage.