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!)
Category Archives: Laos
Flat Tire
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.
Vay-freakin’-cation
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?
Study Shmudy
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!
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.
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.
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.
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!
Singing in the Rain
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.
Our first snake!
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.”
Color Me Happy
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.
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.
Weenies at Lunch
Highlight of my week so far: I was on supervision duty in the open-air cafeteria, and I noticed quite a ruckus at the first-grade table. Several little boys were standing up and howling with laughter. When they saw me approach, they all sat down quickly and resumed eating their lunches. “What’s going on here?” I asked in my most threatening teacher voice. First graders are terrible liars and big fat tattletales, so they all started pointing fingers. One boy, a very precocious 7-year-old from Singapore, summed it up: “They are showing their penises to each other.” Hmmm… well then … carry on. No, wait! I’m the teacher. I had to intervene. I knelt down and began my “boys-may-take-their-penises-out-of-their-pants-in-the-bathroom-and-at-home-but-nowhere-else” speech, but just then the school nurse, Moe Moe, sauntered by. Perfect. I thought she would probably have a better speech prepared. You know, germs and privacy and body issues and so on. “Miss Moe Moe!” I exclaimed. “These boys are showing their penises to each other. Can you have a little chat with them?” She bent down over the table and said menacingly, “I think we should just cut them all off!” The boys all shrieked and laughed, and that was the end of that.
Hash House Harriers – Take 2
Last night, the Hash run started and ended at the home of Linda, one of our teachers. Her husband was the “hare” who created the route, and it was a crazy one. We walked through a wet market, along muddy little paths in the villages, down more muddy trails next to a creek, through a temple and back home via a busy road.
Linda’s “maybon” had cooked pumpkin soup, stir-fried veggies, chicken stew, and delicious mashed potatoes with pumpkin.
Whetu and I got away without drinking any beer. We had planned to get up early for a bike ride, but alas, it’s pouring rain outside this morning … and that’s why I have time to post on my blog!
Thailand or Bust
Vientiane sits right on the Mekong River, which divides Laos and Thailand. It’s just a short drive (or a 39-minute bike ride) to the Friendship Bridge, which crosses the border. On Saturday, the school arranged a shopping trip for new teachers to see whether the grass is, in fact, greener on the other side.
We all met at school, where a convoy of school vans and personal cars awaited. We took off at 7:30 a.m. At the bridge, we handed our passports and paperwork to our drivers, who took them to the appropriate booths. Staff members who had never been to Thailand before had to wait in line to get their pictures taken, so the rest of us waited for them. Finally, we crossed the bridge with a big cheer: “Hoorayyyyyy…” only to have to stop again and repeat the process on the Thai side.
In Laos, people drive on the “right side” of the road (as in, the North American side), but in Thailand, they drive on the “wrong side” (as in, the Australian side). When you cross the Friendship Bridge, the road criss-crosses to get your car on the correct side!
Once in Thailand, we pulled in to the Mut-Mee Guesthouse in Nong Khai for breakfast around 9:30. (If you’re interested, check out the website: www.mutmee.com.) We sat in their tropical garden on the banks of the Mekong and sipped Lao coffee (strong coffee with sweetened condensed milk), freshly squeezed lemonade and egg sandwiches.
Finally, we drove the last hour to Udon Thani, home of many big stores and malls. We went to just one on this trip, a mall with Robinson’s Department Store. Our goal: Find pants for Tony, who has lost about 50 pounds this year. Just inside the mall, we discovered a store called Export, where we found heaps of clothes made in Southeast Asia and exported to the West. Tony even found the exact same shorts he bought at Target in July, only in a size that fits his new skinny butt (and for only about $10). He also found a few pairs of Dockers pants. Perfect!
Otherwise, we bought a trashcan for our kitchen, and that was about it. We didn’t really need anything. I compared prices of toiletries, and they weren’t any cheaper than in Laos. However, it was nice to wander through Watsons, Boots and even a little Body Shop. There are no Western fast-food restaurants in Laos, so we gorged on junk from KFC, Dairy Queen and Mister Donut at the mall.
In the parking lot, we were all ready to leave when our superintendent, Steve, discovered his car had been blocked in by a white van. A mall security guy showed up with a jack and prepared to haul the van away, but the owners came dashing out just in time. Of course, they were shocked that anyone would touch their car, but they grudgingly moved it so Steve could get out. Ha!
We’ve been told that better bargains are to be found at Tesco or Metro, but those explorations will have to wait for another time. When we first heard of the shopping mecca of Udon Thani, we thought we might head over there a couple times a month, but the border crossing makes the journey a little too time consuming. We’ll likely stick to our little village market until desperation hits.