When I got home from school today, I found Tony lounging on the sofa and our dinner waiting on the table. Daeng had prepared a concoction of stir-fried veggies, cashews and pork with steamed rice. Tony begged me to box it up for tomorrow’s lunch and go out to dinner instead.
Vientiane has a shocking number of restaurants for such a small city, but I’ve found that most online restaurant reviews and guidebooks focus on the same few. I decided it would be fun to venture off the beaten culinary path to check out – and report on – some lesser-known eateries. I was mulling this over in my head when Tony exclaimed, “I don’t want Lao food. I don’t want rice. I don’t want thinly sliced meat in broth. I don’t want vegetables I can’t identify. I want a burger!”
So, for now, the restaurant reviews are on hold. Instead, we’re heading out for burgers at Khop Chai Deu, a popular backpacker restaurant in the heart of town. Its menu features touristy gimmicks, such as insect appetizers. The food is mediocre. But they do have an upstairs deck with twinkly lights, and I am a girl who likes her twinkly lights.
Category Archives: Laos
Wat ‘o’ the Week – Wat Phia Wat
I’ve been stalking one of our second-grade teachers, Catherine, an Aussie who has lived in Laos for several years and shares my love of the local temples. She seems to know everyone in town, and she has some beautiful stories about her experiences here. So I tagged her to be my tour guide today – Laos National Day – on my visit to the Wat ‘o’ the Week. I rode my bike to Catherine’s house, which is next to Wat Si Muang (a temple you may recall from the fabulous That Luang Festival “wax castle procession”). From there, we crossed the street, rode down an alley and popped in to a side gate of Wat Phia Wat, a temple overlooking the Mekong River.
We immediately noticed the presence of many military men, including a few camped out on the steps of the temple’s “sim.”
After poking around the temple grounds a bit, we were greeted by On Aye, a friendly temple resident. He told us that he’s living at Wat Phia Wat while he completes his medical residency in family medicine at a nearby hospital. (Side note: Some of you know about my former career working for the American Academy of Family Physicians, so it was interesting to hear On Aye explain that family medicine is a relatively new specialty in Laos.)
On Aye gave us a primer on some of the temple’s features. We walked to a collection of gilded sculptures, and he explained that they depict Buddha’s life:
First, there’s Buddha’s mother.
Next, we see newborn Buddha taking his first seven steps and lotus flowers blooming in his footsteps.
Here, On Aye tells us about Buddha’s first meditation experience.
Here, Buddha is teaching.
And, finally, people pay their respects to Buddha after his death.
On Aye walked us to a banyan tree, surrounded by more Buddha sculptures. These were similar to the ones Tony and I saw last week at Wat Hai Sok. “You can see everywhere the temple usually have this tree,” On Aye said. Turns out the Buddha statues are “Days of the Week Buddhas.” Many people like to leave special offerings or make a donation to the Buddha that represents the day they were born.
The Monday Buddha says, “Stop, in the name of love!” in his peace-making pose, also known as (seriously, I’m not making this up) his “Pacifying the Relatives” pose.
The reclining Tuesday Buddha symbolizes the moment he entered Nirvana. I loved the little clumps of sticky rice left by worshippers on Buddha’s arm and hand. (If I only had a dollar for every time I woke up to find rice stuck on my arm … or in my hair …)
On Aye and I were both born on a Wednesday. The Wednesday Buddha takes two forms, both related to accepting gifts of food! No wonder I felt an immediate connection with my birthday Buddha. Wat Phia Wat’s Wednesday Buddha is holding an alms bowl under his lovely shawl.
The Thursday Buddha also speaks to me … ommm. He is sitting in a lotus position for meditation, seeking enlightenment.
Friday’s Buddha is standing at the Banyan tree, contemplating how he will explain the suffering in the world to his followers.
Saturday’s Buddha is again sitting in meditation, but this time the Naga King is protecting him.
Sunday’s enlightened Buddha stands still for seven days under the tree to contemplate his achievement of complete knowledge.
As we meandered back to our bikes, On Aye explained that the military was using the temple as a sort of base camp to provide extra protection and help keep the peace until after the Southeast Asian Games – a biennial multi-sport event involving participants from the 11 countries of Southeast Asia, which will take place in Vientiane Dec. 9-18.
When Catherine and I pedaled out the gate, On Aye had joined some of the soldiers for a game of bocce ball.
Just like last week, I am coming up empty-handed in my online search for information about this temple. Darn. So in the absence of information, here are more photos!
Quiz Night
A Brit, an Australian, a New Zealander, an Iraqi and an American go into a bar … sounds like the beginning of a tacky joke, but really it was the beginning of a fun evening – Quiz Night at Sticky Fingers Restaurant here in Vientiane.
Our multi-national team was one of about 12 in the competition, and we comprised a second-grade teacher and librarian from my school (plus the librarian’s husband, who was really only there for moral support although he gave us a couple answers), a middle-school teacher from another school, and me. We dubbed ourselves the United Matrons.
The emcee and restaurant owner, Marnie, also has a yoga studio where Tony and I occasionally take classes. She provided a multi-media quiz covering history, music, movies, celebrities, ancient wonders, English literature, sports and explorers.
I admit to feeling quite stressed all day in anticipation of this event, and I even made Tony test me with the Trivial Pursuit cards. We only realized later that our 10-year-old game might not have provided the best preparation.
Fortunately, each member of our team brought something useful to the table. We really strutted our stuff with English literature, and not surprisingly, ancient wonders (most of which one or another of us had seen in person).
Our team actually took the lead for a short time, only to crash and burn. The celebrities category required us to match baby pictures to the names of famous people. One indication of how badly we did: We thought Demi Moore’s photo was Tom Hanks.
As for sports … Seriously, does ANYONE know how many players are on an Australian Rules football team? History kicked our asses, as well, which is pretty pathetic for a group of teachers who travel all over the world. We had to put a list of 10 historical events in to chronological order. The only American on the team, I’m embarrassed to say, couldn’t quite pinpoint when the Mayflower landed at Plymouth OR when the Salem witches went on trial. Not a proud moment.
In the end, we made a respectable showing and weren’t horribly humiliated. Next time, we may consider throwing the game. The losing team got a pitcher of cocktails as a consolation prize.
The Surreal Life
Here in Vientiane, we get two TV channels that play English-language movies. Star Movies generally shows shoot-‘em-up action flicks or slash-‘em-up horror films. HBO also leans to more violent offerings, but occasionally it shows a classic. On a recent evening, the HBO selection was the original Superman from 1978.
Times like that make me almost numb with the surreal quality of our lives. Here we sat, curled up on comfy sofas we had made in Shanghai and using my giant nutcracker barstool from Germany as an end table. Tony leaned back on the pillows from Turkey, munching on Lao-labeled Oreos and drinking Diet Coke. I sipped red wine from Italy, resting my glass on a tray from the Chatuchak Market in Bangkok, as we listened to Lex Luthor plot to steal kryptonite from Addis Ababa.
The first eight or nine times I saw this movie, I had no idea where Addis Ababa was. Last year, I applied for a job there (International Community School of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia).
A similarly surreal moment happened a few months ago, when we sat in a Chinese dumpling shop here in Vientiane, waiting for our to-go order. It was Halloween weekend, but the restaurant’s TV blared National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. We seemed to have passed through a hole in the time-space continuum.
The fact is these “surreal moments” happen all the time. We see children in the most remote Southeast Asian villages wearing Mickey Mouse T-shirts and Nike shoes. Tuk-tuk drivers crank their radios and jam to Beyoncé. We get take-away “Hawaiian Pizza” from the Swedish Baking House, located about four blocks from the Mekong River. My black-and-red “ethnic-looking” dishes from a tiny shop in China are stamped with the logos for Target and Kohl’s, so I could just as well have bought them in Detroit.
Maybe “surreal” is the new “real” for us.
Thanksgiving – Lao Style
It is American Thanksgiving … in Laos … which is to say it’s just like every other day.
I’ve tried in vain to find a restaurant in Vientiane with a special holiday menu shouting out words like “turkey” and “cranberry” and “stuffing.” At school today – oh, did I mention we had to work on Thanksgiving? – there were no fixins’ on our plastic cafeteria trays. The other North Americans and I decided we would join forces for an American-Canadian Thanksgiving next year at Full Moon Café, a local restaurant owned by an American guy and his Lao wife. But we waited too long to collaborate on a 2009 holiday meal, so Tony and I hopped on the motorbike and headed to town for a traditional Italian Thanksgiving at a new restaurant owned by a fifth grader’s dad. After enjoying some lasagna and another pasta that I’d never heard of (bucatini), we popped in to Joma, a café serving … wait for it … PUMPKIN PIE!! Halleluiah!
Here are a few things I am thankful for today:
• I am thankful for a family that laughs at ourselves, scoffs at pretense, revels in the spotlight, holds nothing back, values eccentricity, shares in each other’s celebrations but also in the burden of struggles and regrets, and doesn’t get worked up about a phone bill.
• I am thankful for a husband who once scored as my polar opposite in every category on the Myers-Briggs Personality Test but who has stayed the course for nearly 20 years, keeping me grounded and safe when I’m inclined to whirl out of control.
• I am thankful for the title of Aunt Sharon, two snuggly little boys, and the squeaky giggly voice that yells, “Sherrrrryyyy!” when I ask, “Who do you love?”
• I am thankful for the beautiful, strong, supportive, hilarious women in my life. Most of you are way too far away geographically, but I feel so lucky to know you. How would I get by without my BFFs?
• I am thankful for the temples, mosques, cathedrals, monasteries, castles, palaces, fortresses, bridges, cities, villages, mountains, beaches, coral reefs, rivers, jungles, ancient ruins, natural wonders, historical settings, man-made phenomena, museums, galleries, handicraft workshops, art studios, exotic animals, unfamiliar fruits and vegetables, myriad modes of transportation, and the gracious, kind, generous people we’ve encountered in our overseas adventures.
• I am thankful for incredible and fascinating friends around the world, whom we rarely see but truly treasure. The international teaching circuit is a tossed salad of nationalities, and although we may flit in and out of each other’s lives, we know people (from casual acquaintances to dear lifelong friends) in 24 states and 19 countries.
• I am thankful for Skype, Vonage, Yahoo, Facebook, WordPress and every other avenue of interconnectedness that keeps everyone close.
• I am thankful for a career that zings between painfully frustrating and deeply rewarding but offers up something new, without fail, every single day and allows me to give the gift of communication to little people from every corner of the globe.
• I am thankful for the Asian mini-bananas that are golden in color and so much sweeter than any banana that has ever immigrated to America. And if I’m going to get sappy about Southeast Asian fruit, then I have to express my deepest gratitude for Daeng, the young lady who makes sure my fridge is stocked every day with peeled, cut up fresh watermelon, papaya, pineapple, mango, apples, or whatever is in season. I love her.
• I am thankful for the availability of red wine here in Laos, and I can’t help but notice that the more I sip, the more I’m thankful for! How beautiful is that?
• I am thankful for a roof over my head and a big comfy bed … and that’s just too enticing to resist. So off I go.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Wat ‘o’ the Week: Wat Hai Sok
Welcome to The Guide Hog’s new “Wat ‘o’ the Week” spotlight on Buddhist temples in Vientiane! I’ll try to visit a different temple each week with the goal of finding a unique angle or tidbit of information.
All wats comprise a “sim,” the actual temple building where people pray and make offerings, as well as a housing area for the monks, various sculptures, and ornate monuments with the cremated remains of temple-goers. Although visitors are free to walk around the temple grounds, the sim at most wats stays locked unless monks are using it for a ceremony.
Today Tony and I poked around Wat Hai Sok, a small easily overlooked wat that sits in the shadow of a bigger, more important temple. Here’s a view from the street.
The humble entrance was partially obscured by thick bundles of electrical wires that run the length of the road.
I couldn’t find any substantial information online about Wat Hai Sok. Every website lists the same paragraph:
Wat Hai Sok’s soaring five-tiered roof, topped with elegant golden spires, can be seen all the way from Thanon Setthathirat. It is worth stepping just off the main road to enjoy the atmosphere of this neighborhood temple. The windows and facade are beautifully carved in wood. Gilded multi-headed nagas (mythological snakes) flank the steps. There are usually children playing football in the shaded courtyard. Food sellers serve customers from the surrounding wooden houses, sitting at stalls beside the numerous funeral monuments.
There were, in fact, children playing in the sand next to a small bell tower. As we walked around the sim, we met two more youngsters tussling with a couple puppies. They eagerly showed us their dogs and happily posed for a couple pictures.
The sweet little boy was a tiny bit rough with his puppy.
The temple’s sim had ornate windows on all sides.
I always love the guardian nagas.
Another interesting attraction was a tree surrounded by golden Buddhas in various poses.
Other than the kids and the puppies, the wat was deserted and peaceful. No tourists. No monks. Pretty mellow.
Sunday Morning
There’s something about early morning on a crisp cool Sunday.
The sun shines in a cloudless sky; it’s 66 degrees. Sitting outside in the shade, eating fresh mangoes with yogurt and sipping thick dark coffee, I have to zip up my hoodie against the breeze that tosses dried palm fronds around my yard. Dark blue butterflies the size of my hand land on the white railing of our front porch, and birds chatter in the trees.
Construction on the house next door has momentarily ceased. The tuk-tuk drivers who park under a big shade tree just on the other side of my front gate have inexplicably turned off their music. There’s a dearth of noisy motorbikes.
As I turn the last page of a fun read (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith with a little help from Jane Austen), I take a deep breath of the fresh air and pull my chair into the sun. Days like this, it really doesn’t matter where you are on the planet; it’s just good.
You Don’t Get to Say That Every Day
Here are a few phrases that we would rarely use anywhere else, but that get bandied about here in Laos with regularity:
• “Geez, it’s chilly today. The temp must be down in the 80s.”
• “Don’t walk out there without shoes! You know, there’s that parasitic worm that burrows up into your foot.”
• “No problem, we can fit a couple more people on the motorbike.”
• “Excuse me, do you carry the cough syrup with opium?”
• “Yeah, that salon is a bit pricey. I paid almost $30 for a manicure, pedicure, haircut and massage.”
• “I’ll have the banana flower salad.”
• “We ought to ride our bikes to Thailand on Saturday.”
• “ So I was chatting with this monk…”
• “Dude, there are gecko eggs in my underwear drawer.”
• “Where did that lake come from, and where’s our driveway?”
And my personal favorite, which I actually used today at lunch…
• “I’ll take my noodles without the coagulated blood cubes, please.”
Taste of Laos
When the lunch bell rings at school, Tony and I usually eat leftovers from the previous night’s dinner or we purchase meals from our canteen, which is operated by a local restaurant owner. Recently, the VIS receptionist, Paramy, started providing lunches prepared by her husband and delivered to school – at a third of the canteen’s price.
Yesterday, we had a special treat. Paramy’s mother made our lunch!
“This is real Lao food,” Paramy said. She pulled off the soup pot’s lid to expose clear broth with pale green chunks. “That’s baby cantaloupe soup,” she said. (Actually, she said “cantalook,” but we eventually figured out what she meant.)
Then she handed me a little tub of steamed rice with a banana leaf packet on top.
She removed the toothpick holding the packet together, unfolded the banana leaf and pointed to the contents. “This is a flower from the south of Laos,” she said, explaining that the flower comes from the Dok Khae tree in the rainforest. Her mom spotted these at a market and decided to prepare today’s delicacy.
Minced pork, bits of fish and delicious spices were stuffed into each blossom, and then the whole packet was steamed. The flower itself had a slightly bitter taste, but a few drops of chili sauce gave the dish a fiery kick.
Paramy claims the Dok Khae tree has many medicinal benefits. If I understood her correctly, the flower helps to regulate your metabolism.
As I noshed on Mok Dok Khae and chatted with my Lao and foreign colleagues, I had to smile. You can’t get much more authentic than a Lao mom whipping up lunch in her own kitchen.
Silly Signs
Who doesn’t love a funny sign?!
I pass this one on my way to school every day. Apparently there’s a koi farm behind all the jungle growth, but they transposed a couple letters in their sign. Hee hee.
This one is right on the corner near our house. Nice of Beer Lao to remind people about the dangers of drunk driving. Too bad nobody seems to listen. I just like the punctuation. It’s like, “Hey you! Yeah, you, the big lush! Don’t get behind the wheel. Duh.” The circle with the red X is too small to see here, but it includes a bottle of pills, a champagne bottle with the cork popping off and a wineglass that looks like it’s full of fire.
