Started work last week - just four and a half hours a week which was blissful, but wouldn't pay the bills, by the start of this week it had increased to 9 and a half hours and it's looking good for going up to fourteen hours next week, which will easily pay the bills and leave money over for plenty of treats. Hooray.
Just as well really, I want to make the house feel like home and buy some 'stuff'! Hooray.
And I am treating myself to luxuries like Weetabix and Campbells soup (oh and maybe Baileys, Gin and tonic and Cointreau too!) which you don't get for Laos prices. It's so good to have the equipment to cook 'falang' (Westerner) food sometimes.
The novices walked around the house, initially fascinated by the things they'd never seen before - a cooker, hot shower, western style loo, a washing machine, and then came through bemused with an egg whisk wondering what on earth it could be used for.
After living on the side of a mountain for several years, it's so lovely to live within walking distance of so many people who just drop in on me. I'm in my element. People work on a different timescale here though - especially the monks. They turn up at 7.30 in the morning, so does the cleaner (obviously I need a cleaner when I work such tremendously long hours!), so I get up early. Everyone here does. I went out for a meal with a friend last week and lost track of time. It was nearly 10pm by the time I left so the roads were almost empty and I couldn't get a rickshaw home. Serves me right for being such a dirty stopout! So the next purchase has to be a bicycle. Can't get one of the local ones - I think I'd flatten it! So I've been told where I can get imported ones from Thailand that are well made. Vientiane is flat and it's small, so that should do me for most things. Just may turn up looking a touch on the warm side sometimes.
Popped over to Thailand again last week. I had to get the right type of visa in my passport to be able to work, so now I'm legal and all is above board - except that my passport had to be sent off - for anywhere between a week to a month, so I can't go anywhere exciting now till I have it back. (You need it to pass between provinces, to stay in hotels, and generally to move around so I'm restricted to Vientiane for now). Still tough life - have to have dinner watching the sun set over Thailand at the Mekong river, visit the Wats, and go to some of the parties that are getting planned for Christmas - I'll cope.
All's fab. More next week, and thanks for the comments.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Dust
We headed off together for one of the novices' homes. He hadn't been back since he was twelve (he's now 19) and hadn't seen his mother for five years. The journey was long but spectacular, zigzagging through mountain ranges for hour after hour.
After the bus journey we changed to a songthaew (like a grown up rickshaw) and proceeded to ingest pounds of the dust that covered everything, turning the leaves, grass, and anything else around, brown. The fashionable look of choice is to be swathed in material to protect your eyes and lungs. I thought I had done well, but my cough suggests otherwise.
His mother was delightful and so welcoming.
We went off for a swim. Having established that anything less than full length trousers and a blouse would be inappropriate, I decided to wear pyjamas so that my clothes didn't end up wet. I was assured that I didn't need to change in advance as there was somewhere there for me to change. This turned out to be the river bank, overlooked by a road bridge and a sizeable crowd had soon gathered to watch - I'm fairly sure I came a little too close to comfort on some drivers no longer watching the road too.
The water was fabulously refreshing and I failed dismally in the race with the monks to the other side. In my defense, pyjama bottoms are not really designed for swimming and I don't think that anyone would have appreciated them coming off.
A Baasii ceremony was held for me. I had thought that this was being held for the monks, but their ceremony was a small one. The main one was for me. We (most of the village) gathered around a tray on which had been placed a golden (coloured) bowl with flowers, money, bananas, a cut up cooked chicken, sugar cane and numerous pieces of white cotton. A ceremonial leader chanted blessings to me, whilst everyone either held the bowl or one another. Then I was given a shot glass to down in one. Apparently this normally has rice whiskey in it, but the monks had intervened on my behalf so water it was (at 8.30 in the morning, and with a dreadful cough from the dust, the interjection was most welcome). Then I had to sit with my hands upright and into them was placed some sugar cane, a banana, some money, some sticky rice, a chicken head, claw and some unidentifyable bit of the chicken. Someone took some of the sticky rice and mystery chicken bit and put them into my mouth. I have no idea what it was, but it was slimy. I moved it to the side of my mouth, desparately waiting for the opportunity to get rid of it without swallowing it - I was fairly sure I wouldn't keep it down! Everyone there then tied a piece of cotton round each of my wrists so that half my arms were swathed in cotton, whilst giving me their blessings and best wishes. Eventually they moved on to offer the blessings to others in the party and I was free to excuse myself and sort out the chicken in the cheek problem.
After leaving the family home, we headed over to the Plain of Jars. Have made a personal note to always double check facts from now on and believe nothing I'm told. This was not on the way home, and was a substantial distance in the opposite direction. Incredible place though.
No one is sure why all these jars dot the plains, the best guess appears to be that they were used as a place to keep skeletons while they decomposed, before the ashes were scattered. We went on to a hot spring, a cave where people had sheltered during Americas war on Laos (and many hundreds were killed after missiles were fired in to them - apparently a combination of civilians and soldiers sheltered together in the caves), and a waterfall. Unfortunately by this point my dust covered lungs were complaining loudly, so I sat in the car and coughed, missing the waterfalls but the monks enjoyed them. Then on to the crater sight.
Two of our party were some distance away before our guide mentioned that this area had not been cleared of unexploded ordinance, and proceeded to show us a couple of bombies - baseball sized bombs lying on the surface. I retraced my four or five steps gently - I know that many people had trodden there before but most of them will have been considerably lighter than me. I was taking no chances. I just wanted to get away from there.
The journey back was uneventful, except for clipping a motorbike, sending the bike and rider sliding into the verge. The bike was now unrideable, so it was carried on to the bus. To exit one had to climb along the armrests, clambering over the motorbike (and fish, chickens, bicycles, and various other bits and pieces cluttering the aisles).
On returning I was offered a job - initially just a few hours a week, but hopefully this will increase substantially next term - and I found somewhere fabulous to rent - just near the school, with a roof terrace, three bedrooms - sort of - and a proper kitchen with a fridge, cooker, freezer and everything! So I'm going home now to cook a 'farang' meal. I bought a filet mignon cut of beef today (a kilo for around 1 pound sterling) and had half of it minced. Also the fridge is full of beans, mange tout, aubergine, squash, potatoes, cucumbers and onions so should be able to throw together something vaguely edible out of that. And then I also have loads of wonderful fruit. The landlady came round in panic after leaving me for around 4 hours as she'd realised that I didn't have rice - she brought about 10 kilos which should last me for a while.
All is wonderful. Going to be in Vientiane now for a while, and hoping that I'll get some visitors soon.
After the bus journey we changed to a songthaew (like a grown up rickshaw) and proceeded to ingest pounds of the dust that covered everything, turning the leaves, grass, and anything else around, brown. The fashionable look of choice is to be swathed in material to protect your eyes and lungs. I thought I had done well, but my cough suggests otherwise.
His mother was delightful and so welcoming.
We went off for a swim. Having established that anything less than full length trousers and a blouse would be inappropriate, I decided to wear pyjamas so that my clothes didn't end up wet. I was assured that I didn't need to change in advance as there was somewhere there for me to change. This turned out to be the river bank, overlooked by a road bridge and a sizeable crowd had soon gathered to watch - I'm fairly sure I came a little too close to comfort on some drivers no longer watching the road too.
The water was fabulously refreshing and I failed dismally in the race with the monks to the other side. In my defense, pyjama bottoms are not really designed for swimming and I don't think that anyone would have appreciated them coming off.
A Baasii ceremony was held for me. I had thought that this was being held for the monks, but their ceremony was a small one. The main one was for me. We (most of the village) gathered around a tray on which had been placed a golden (coloured) bowl with flowers, money, bananas, a cut up cooked chicken, sugar cane and numerous pieces of white cotton. A ceremonial leader chanted blessings to me, whilst everyone either held the bowl or one another. Then I was given a shot glass to down in one. Apparently this normally has rice whiskey in it, but the monks had intervened on my behalf so water it was (at 8.30 in the morning, and with a dreadful cough from the dust, the interjection was most welcome). Then I had to sit with my hands upright and into them was placed some sugar cane, a banana, some money, some sticky rice, a chicken head, claw and some unidentifyable bit of the chicken. Someone took some of the sticky rice and mystery chicken bit and put them into my mouth. I have no idea what it was, but it was slimy. I moved it to the side of my mouth, desparately waiting for the opportunity to get rid of it without swallowing it - I was fairly sure I wouldn't keep it down! Everyone there then tied a piece of cotton round each of my wrists so that half my arms were swathed in cotton, whilst giving me their blessings and best wishes. Eventually they moved on to offer the blessings to others in the party and I was free to excuse myself and sort out the chicken in the cheek problem.
After leaving the family home, we headed over to the Plain of Jars. Have made a personal note to always double check facts from now on and believe nothing I'm told. This was not on the way home, and was a substantial distance in the opposite direction. Incredible place though.
No one is sure why all these jars dot the plains, the best guess appears to be that they were used as a place to keep skeletons while they decomposed, before the ashes were scattered. We went on to a hot spring, a cave where people had sheltered during Americas war on Laos (and many hundreds were killed after missiles were fired in to them - apparently a combination of civilians and soldiers sheltered together in the caves), and a waterfall. Unfortunately by this point my dust covered lungs were complaining loudly, so I sat in the car and coughed, missing the waterfalls but the monks enjoyed them. Then on to the crater sight.
Two of our party were some distance away before our guide mentioned that this area had not been cleared of unexploded ordinance, and proceeded to show us a couple of bombies - baseball sized bombs lying on the surface. I retraced my four or five steps gently - I know that many people had trodden there before but most of them will have been considerably lighter than me. I was taking no chances. I just wanted to get away from there.
The journey back was uneventful, except for clipping a motorbike, sending the bike and rider sliding into the verge. The bike was now unrideable, so it was carried on to the bus. To exit one had to climb along the armrests, clambering over the motorbike (and fish, chickens, bicycles, and various other bits and pieces cluttering the aisles).
On returning I was offered a job - initially just a few hours a week, but hopefully this will increase substantially next term - and I found somewhere fabulous to rent - just near the school, with a roof terrace, three bedrooms - sort of - and a proper kitchen with a fridge, cooker, freezer and everything! So I'm going home now to cook a 'farang' meal. I bought a filet mignon cut of beef today (a kilo for around 1 pound sterling) and had half of it minced. Also the fridge is full of beans, mange tout, aubergine, squash, potatoes, cucumbers and onions so should be able to throw together something vaguely edible out of that. And then I also have loads of wonderful fruit. The landlady came round in panic after leaving me for around 4 hours as she'd realised that I didn't have rice - she brought about 10 kilos which should last me for a while.
All is wonderful. Going to be in Vientiane now for a while, and hoping that I'll get some visitors soon.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Gentle week
It's been a gentle week of playing boules, which, together with good bread and wine seem to be some of the best hangovers from the French colonial period here; teaching the novices to play chess - they asked me to play chess with them, then proceeded to play a form of drafts, so after much searching I managed to find a poor quality chess set, not great - the queen looks like a bishop - but at least it's serviceable - I'm just hoping that I've not misled them on castling - think that you move the king to the castle, but I may be wrong; and going for job interviews.
My CV is now with a fair number of schools and most of them reckon that they will have work for me soon. Just got to wait and see now.
Tonight I'm off with the novices again. One of them hasn't been home or seen his mother since he was about 12 and as he's now 18 or 19 he is beside himself with excitement - as is his mother. I don't think we will come across any other Westerners there as the guide books say that it's an arduous journey with nothing to show for it at the end, but that should mean I get to see 'real Laos'! Whatever that means. His mother is holding a Baci ceremony for him before we leave - I think that this involves white string - but somehow suspect that there is somewhat more to it than that! Hopefully it'll create some interesting photo opps.
The weather is getting hotter, and the weight is dropping off - safety pins are proving vital to keep my trousers up now!
I've started to really notice how much cheaper everything has become since my rudimentary language skills have progressed beyond just saying hello - I am already much more likely to get the local price instead of the 'farang' price.
Yesterday I visited a school where I shall probably volunteer once I have sorted out the rest of my life. It's linked to the place that I volunteered in on the Thai Burmese border, where around 10 students where being taught. Apparently that place is now a children's home and teaches around 400 students - this made my day - there were so many kids in need of help there. Brought back many memories too.
It looks like someone has found somewhere for me to live which is really near the temple and away from most of the tourists, which suits - hopefully this will be confirmed when I get back from the Northern provinces.
Better go, more next week
Jo
My CV is now with a fair number of schools and most of them reckon that they will have work for me soon. Just got to wait and see now.
Tonight I'm off with the novices again. One of them hasn't been home or seen his mother since he was about 12 and as he's now 18 or 19 he is beside himself with excitement - as is his mother. I don't think we will come across any other Westerners there as the guide books say that it's an arduous journey with nothing to show for it at the end, but that should mean I get to see 'real Laos'! Whatever that means. His mother is holding a Baci ceremony for him before we leave - I think that this involves white string - but somehow suspect that there is somewhat more to it than that! Hopefully it'll create some interesting photo opps.
The weather is getting hotter, and the weight is dropping off - safety pins are proving vital to keep my trousers up now!
I've started to really notice how much cheaper everything has become since my rudimentary language skills have progressed beyond just saying hello - I am already much more likely to get the local price instead of the 'farang' price.
Yesterday I visited a school where I shall probably volunteer once I have sorted out the rest of my life. It's linked to the place that I volunteered in on the Thai Burmese border, where around 10 students where being taught. Apparently that place is now a children's home and teaches around 400 students - this made my day - there were so many kids in need of help there. Brought back many memories too.
It looks like someone has found somewhere for me to live which is really near the temple and away from most of the tourists, which suits - hopefully this will be confirmed when I get back from the Northern provinces.
Better go, more next week
Jo
Friday, November 10, 2006
Swimming with monks
An amazing week.
I woke up early on Saturday to take some pics of the monks collecting alms and came across a group of teenagers offering alms to some elderly monks. They filled their alms bowls with packets of crisps. Completely filled them so that nothing else would fit in them. Then took a blessing from the monks. They were delighted that I’d been taking their photograph and asked me in to their house. Once in I declined the offers of beer – 6am is a little early for me – but they carried on drinking, as they had been since the night before.
The That Luang festival was superb. On Sunday morning all the monks gathered around the temple, their alms bowls in front of them and thousands of people gathered to give food, money and flowers. Prayers were offered first – a gentle recitation through the loud speakers, then people queued to offer alms. The monks ended up with bin bags full of sweets and money. I was invited to the back of the temple for breakfast of chicken, eggs and sticky rice. I had been unwilling to eat the eggs I’d seen around the festival ground as they were embryonic – as in just ready to hatch when they were boiled, so basically you eat bones and feathers – nice! I ate with monks and some of the many police who had been drafted in from all around the country to help keep the festival safe. They were all sleeping in and around the temple so it was easy to find yourself wandering around a part of the temple where police were playing cards, their weapons casually propped against walls.
Surreal.
Later in the day people gathered for a candlelight procession. A continual river of people flowed around the stupa – some stopping to leave their offerings of flowers and candles. Some leaving through one of the side entrances to the festival. The monks took the best of the flowers to the temple to offer up to the Buddha images.
One of the novice monks – a lad of nineteen – had invited me to visit his family in Vang Viene. We had to leave early on Tuesday morning to get there early. We visited his grandmother, and ate a delicious meal of fish and papaya salad with sticky rice. They were particularly enamoured by the dressing in the middle of the fish. It took me a certain amount of questioning to establish exactly what this was. When I wasn’t totally clear that I had understood the expression he used of fish waste, he clarified by confirming that it was the fish bowel. Nice. I declined the generous offer of fish poo, sticking simply to the more traditional fleshy bit personally and found myself very quickly not wanting any more to eat. After dinner, we hired bicycles and went out and about. The scenery around the area is spectacular – mountains, caves and deep cool pools dotted around. We cycled to a durian plantation and one of the novices went for a swim, as the rest of us watched from a shady shelter beside the water. We then cycled on to a cave where we left our bikes and walked up the couple of hundred steps into the entrance. The novices – who are half my age and weight – took video on their phones of them running up the steps – then panned round to me exhausted as I struggled up the steps in the heat of the midday sun after the 25km cycle ride through mountains!
The cave was fabulous – it was stunning but had had a concrete floor and lighting put in. After leaving it we went for a swim in one of the caves. The water had a translucent quality from within the cave. As I was with the monks, I swam fully dressed but as I first got in the strength of the current surprised me and I was pulled towards one of them. It is important for them not to touch women so me landing fully against one of them wouldn’t have been good. He dived out of the way just in time.
By the time we cycled back to the town I was exhausted. I asked the novices not to cycle too close to me when we were going uphill as some of my involuntary language wasn’t going to be ideal for them to learn. We collected our bags from grannies place and then set off again. I assumed that we were heading for a tuk tuk but after a while of walking decided I’d better check. The plan was to walk the eight or so kilometres to his family home now. I assumed that they were teasing. I was wrong. Luckily we came across a form of transport – a paired down tractor attached to a cart into which we clambered.
His family weren’t expecting us and I’m sure that they were delighted to see us. I was, however completely exhausted and so, despite how terribly rude it seemed, I fell virtually immediately into a deep sleep. I woke several hours later to see the novice monk’s brother buying something in a black meshlike material. As he pulled the pieces apart four small yellow birds became apparent. They looked like canaries. He started pulling the feathers away. I drifted back to sleep wondering what he used the feathers for. Eventually I woke again and was invited to have some food. I ate the sticky rice balls that are the staple here with a selection of dishes. Later I realised one of these had been canary. I must start asking more what I’m eating – or asking less – or maybe just only asking before I eat or not at all!
They retired to the temple, leaving me too tired to try to converse in Laos so I slept early and awoke at around five am. I went out to the loo and as I crouched, cursing the muscles in my thighs that were suffering from the previous day’s exercise, a dog stuck its head through the gap in the door and watched me, fascinated.
I went back under the mosquito net till after dawn – it’s at dawn and dusk that the mosquitoes that most need avoiding, and read. Eventually I got up and, as everyone else was still asleep, I went for a walk. I met someone who was taking feed out to his ducks so I joined him. We arrived at the temple where the novices were having breakfast and I briefly said hello before trying to continue with the man, only to realise that the bridge he was crossing – or rather the three flimsy looking pieces of bamboo tied vaguely together to serve as a bridge would probably not hold me, even if I could manage to balance my way across. Which was highly unlikely. I went back to the temple just as the monks finished eating. The meal was then given to the people in the temple – someone I didn’t know, together with his father and grandmother. We ate breakfast together in the temple.
After a walk around the village, we decided to go to another cave walking distance from the house. I was asked for some money to buy a picnic (it didn’t exactly break the bank – they wanted $3). They bought a duck. I prefer not to get acquainted with my dinner before it has died but it was carried alive over to the house. And then we set off. Our group consisted of an abbot, three novice monks, the father and the nephew, together with myself. As we walked I asked what was in the bag the father was carrying. It was the live duck. One of the novices was carrying the knife. I guess at least dinner was going to be fresh. Didn’t exactly conjure up images of gingham table clothes though.
While dinner was slaughtered and prepared, we went up to the cave. The route up was incredible – jagged rocks to be clambered up. We met a few people coming down for whom it was just not their thing – you couldn’t really be afraid of heights, and had to be dressed for it. I wished my blouse wasn’t silk as I slid on my bottom to get over rocks.
Once we reached the cave entrance we were greeted by an incredible journey round the cave. I was glad I was with someone who knew the cave well. There were no lights and you clambered over and through stalagmites and stalactites.
Back down later we ate the duck, and I declined the papaya salad after watching the monks nephew reduced to floods of tears after eating some. The fiery chillies burning him.
We went on to the pool - a beautiful natural pond where butterflies danced, dragonflies flitted and the sun warmed the water fantastically. People swung from ropes and dived off tree branches into the cooling water. A couple of the monks swung in from the ropes but after a while some westerners arrived. Many of the women stripped down to their underwear which was hard for the monks so we went further away to a clearing and I lay in the water while the monks swum around.
Then back to the house for another evening with the family. Luckily I wasn’t so completely exhausted this time and so spent the evening asking them to teach me various Laos vocabulary and then slept deeply until 4am when I had to get up for our return to Vientiane.
I woke up early on Saturday to take some pics of the monks collecting alms and came across a group of teenagers offering alms to some elderly monks. They filled their alms bowls with packets of crisps. Completely filled them so that nothing else would fit in them. Then took a blessing from the monks. They were delighted that I’d been taking their photograph and asked me in to their house. Once in I declined the offers of beer – 6am is a little early for me – but they carried on drinking, as they had been since the night before.
The That Luang festival was superb. On Sunday morning all the monks gathered around the temple, their alms bowls in front of them and thousands of people gathered to give food, money and flowers. Prayers were offered first – a gentle recitation through the loud speakers, then people queued to offer alms. The monks ended up with bin bags full of sweets and money. I was invited to the back of the temple for breakfast of chicken, eggs and sticky rice. I had been unwilling to eat the eggs I’d seen around the festival ground as they were embryonic – as in just ready to hatch when they were boiled, so basically you eat bones and feathers – nice! I ate with monks and some of the many police who had been drafted in from all around the country to help keep the festival safe. They were all sleeping in and around the temple so it was easy to find yourself wandering around a part of the temple where police were playing cards, their weapons casually propped against walls.
Surreal.
Later in the day people gathered for a candlelight procession. A continual river of people flowed around the stupa – some stopping to leave their offerings of flowers and candles. Some leaving through one of the side entrances to the festival. The monks took the best of the flowers to the temple to offer up to the Buddha images.
One of the novice monks – a lad of nineteen – had invited me to visit his family in Vang Viene. We had to leave early on Tuesday morning to get there early. We visited his grandmother, and ate a delicious meal of fish and papaya salad with sticky rice. They were particularly enamoured by the dressing in the middle of the fish. It took me a certain amount of questioning to establish exactly what this was. When I wasn’t totally clear that I had understood the expression he used of fish waste, he clarified by confirming that it was the fish bowel. Nice. I declined the generous offer of fish poo, sticking simply to the more traditional fleshy bit personally and found myself very quickly not wanting any more to eat. After dinner, we hired bicycles and went out and about. The scenery around the area is spectacular – mountains, caves and deep cool pools dotted around. We cycled to a durian plantation and one of the novices went for a swim, as the rest of us watched from a shady shelter beside the water. We then cycled on to a cave where we left our bikes and walked up the couple of hundred steps into the entrance. The novices – who are half my age and weight – took video on their phones of them running up the steps – then panned round to me exhausted as I struggled up the steps in the heat of the midday sun after the 25km cycle ride through mountains!
The cave was fabulous – it was stunning but had had a concrete floor and lighting put in. After leaving it we went for a swim in one of the caves. The water had a translucent quality from within the cave. As I was with the monks, I swam fully dressed but as I first got in the strength of the current surprised me and I was pulled towards one of them. It is important for them not to touch women so me landing fully against one of them wouldn’t have been good. He dived out of the way just in time.
By the time we cycled back to the town I was exhausted. I asked the novices not to cycle too close to me when we were going uphill as some of my involuntary language wasn’t going to be ideal for them to learn. We collected our bags from grannies place and then set off again. I assumed that we were heading for a tuk tuk but after a while of walking decided I’d better check. The plan was to walk the eight or so kilometres to his family home now. I assumed that they were teasing. I was wrong. Luckily we came across a form of transport – a paired down tractor attached to a cart into which we clambered.
His family weren’t expecting us and I’m sure that they were delighted to see us. I was, however completely exhausted and so, despite how terribly rude it seemed, I fell virtually immediately into a deep sleep. I woke several hours later to see the novice monk’s brother buying something in a black meshlike material. As he pulled the pieces apart four small yellow birds became apparent. They looked like canaries. He started pulling the feathers away. I drifted back to sleep wondering what he used the feathers for. Eventually I woke again and was invited to have some food. I ate the sticky rice balls that are the staple here with a selection of dishes. Later I realised one of these had been canary. I must start asking more what I’m eating – or asking less – or maybe just only asking before I eat or not at all!
They retired to the temple, leaving me too tired to try to converse in Laos so I slept early and awoke at around five am. I went out to the loo and as I crouched, cursing the muscles in my thighs that were suffering from the previous day’s exercise, a dog stuck its head through the gap in the door and watched me, fascinated.
I went back under the mosquito net till after dawn – it’s at dawn and dusk that the mosquitoes that most need avoiding, and read. Eventually I got up and, as everyone else was still asleep, I went for a walk. I met someone who was taking feed out to his ducks so I joined him. We arrived at the temple where the novices were having breakfast and I briefly said hello before trying to continue with the man, only to realise that the bridge he was crossing – or rather the three flimsy looking pieces of bamboo tied vaguely together to serve as a bridge would probably not hold me, even if I could manage to balance my way across. Which was highly unlikely. I went back to the temple just as the monks finished eating. The meal was then given to the people in the temple – someone I didn’t know, together with his father and grandmother. We ate breakfast together in the temple.
After a walk around the village, we decided to go to another cave walking distance from the house. I was asked for some money to buy a picnic (it didn’t exactly break the bank – they wanted $3). They bought a duck. I prefer not to get acquainted with my dinner before it has died but it was carried alive over to the house. And then we set off. Our group consisted of an abbot, three novice monks, the father and the nephew, together with myself. As we walked I asked what was in the bag the father was carrying. It was the live duck. One of the novices was carrying the knife. I guess at least dinner was going to be fresh. Didn’t exactly conjure up images of gingham table clothes though.
While dinner was slaughtered and prepared, we went up to the cave. The route up was incredible – jagged rocks to be clambered up. We met a few people coming down for whom it was just not their thing – you couldn’t really be afraid of heights, and had to be dressed for it. I wished my blouse wasn’t silk as I slid on my bottom to get over rocks.
Once we reached the cave entrance we were greeted by an incredible journey round the cave. I was glad I was with someone who knew the cave well. There were no lights and you clambered over and through stalagmites and stalactites.
Back down later we ate the duck, and I declined the papaya salad after watching the monks nephew reduced to floods of tears after eating some. The fiery chillies burning him.
We went on to the pool - a beautiful natural pond where butterflies danced, dragonflies flitted and the sun warmed the water fantastically. People swung from ropes and dived off tree branches into the cooling water. A couple of the monks swung in from the ropes but after a while some westerners arrived. Many of the women stripped down to their underwear which was hard for the monks so we went further away to a clearing and I lay in the water while the monks swum around.
Then back to the house for another evening with the family. Luckily I wasn’t so completely exhausted this time and so spent the evening asking them to teach me various Laos vocabulary and then slept deeply until 4am when I had to get up for our return to Vientiane.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The send off from home was emotional. Far too much alcohol drunk, far too many people who were wrenching to say goodbye to. I had a wonderful last evening with my family – a combination of laughter, alcohol and confessions.
The airport was just a continual queue – a long queue that I’d assumed was for check in but was actually the queue to allow you to join the check in queue. Then the queue for security which went the length of the building and down the stairs. People were only allowed one bag each which was throwing women who had assumed that they would be able to take a piece of hand luggage as well as their handbags – those that had it wrong had to go back down to check in and rejoin all the queues. The flights were long but uneventful – uneventful being how I most like my flights!
Bangkok airport is new – and impressive – though I could probably cope with slightly fewer long live the King signs. Then on to Vientiane.
What an amazing place.
I’ve had just a couple of days here so far but already met so many incredible people.
The fabulous woman who had arranged my hotel came over to fetch me. We headed over to a place for street kids. It gives them an education, food, safety and takes away the need to beg. Mostly the kids were young as the older ones were mainly at school. They were all clean and smart and very cuddly. As we talked to one of the people working there children ran around us. We walked out passing the children as they were having lessons and I found my fingers being grasped tightly by many little fingers who didn’t want to let go.
They are opening a restaurant in around three weeks which has been set up to give the older kids a trade. They have been taught to cook, wait, and generally run the restaurant, but are being given friends to practice on until the opening day. It was a wonderful place – the food was fabulous and the staff incredibly attentive. They are keeping it all MSG free too. The hot pineapple with coconut ice cream and chilli sweet, quite stunning.
When I took my CV into an English school that had been recommended, I realised that they share a building with Oxfam, so I popped in to see what I could do to help. We’ve swapped email addresses and I’ll see what happens. The school seemed a good one, but they are on holiday now till Monday for the That Luang festival. They were hopeful that they would be able to get me some work.
Vientiane is very different from what I had expected. The streets are wider and the main ones well maintained. There are many more cars than I expected and far fewer bicycles – most people seem to get around by motorbike. And, although I should have realised from the history as a French colony, I hadn’t expected people to drive on the ‘wrong side’! My rudimentary Thai is proving invaluable – rusty and minimalistic as it is. Few of the people I’ve met speak anything more than a couple of words of English.
The main exception to this has been the monks I met at the festival. There is a festival here for the next week. It is based around the temple at That Luang. Everything is beautifully lit and stalls and fairground rides abound. Music screams out from every stall as people throw darts at balloons and win drinks as prizes, kids throw themselves down inflated bouncy castles cum slides and stalls sell amazing varieties of food and trinkets. My usual response at the clothes stalls failed me – I can normally instantly deflect their entreaties to buy by pointing out that their clothes won’t fit me, but when I tried this, the guy brought out a pile of around twenty tee shirts, all big enough for me. So I’ll actually be able to buy clothes here if I want.
Unsurprisingly there were many monks at the festival. They come from all around Laos for the festival. I started talking to some of them as they played around in front of my camera. They are keen to improve their English and a large group joined me. They were young – late teens in the main, and weren’t taking their roles as seriously as most monks I’ve met in the past. One of them started smoking, but then admitted that if the Abbott saw him he’d be in serious trouble. He didn’t hide his smoking at all though. Another ate an ice cream. I was stunned by this as they are not supposed to eat after midday. Apparently ice cream is fine though as it’s almost just water! Quite. I’m going with this in future – I like the reasoning! If a woman passes anything to a monk, it normally has to be given to a man to hand to him as he mustn’t come too close to a woman. They were fairly lax though, taking my camera straight from me and handing things straight to me. They brought me water and we talked for hours. They offered that I could stay at the temple if I wanted and we’ve agreed that I will come over often to see them. They get to practice their English with me and they will help me to learn Laos. When I went back, the following day we talked about where they go to collect alms in the morning. They told me what they most like to get in their alms bowls. They were very exact about it. They like rice and coconut cooked in bamboo. I’m fairly sure that they aren’t supposed to hint like this.
The food so far has been incredible. Pork noodle soup turned into something else. A huge bowl of broth with noodles, pork meat and scratchings, tomato and coriander was served with bowls of beansprouts, basil, mint green beans and lettuce, together with fish sauces, chillies, sugar, vinegar dressings and msg – gave that one a miss. Absolutely wonderful. Chinese dumplings filled with an explosion of flavours. Apple pieces dunked in strings of sugar syrup and smothered with sesame seeds. Served with a bowl of ice water to drop the nuggets into, cooling them and setting the toffee.
It feels like a great way to have been introduced to a country.
The airport was just a continual queue – a long queue that I’d assumed was for check in but was actually the queue to allow you to join the check in queue. Then the queue for security which went the length of the building and down the stairs. People were only allowed one bag each which was throwing women who had assumed that they would be able to take a piece of hand luggage as well as their handbags – those that had it wrong had to go back down to check in and rejoin all the queues. The flights were long but uneventful – uneventful being how I most like my flights!
Bangkok airport is new – and impressive – though I could probably cope with slightly fewer long live the King signs. Then on to Vientiane.
What an amazing place.
I’ve had just a couple of days here so far but already met so many incredible people.
The fabulous woman who had arranged my hotel came over to fetch me. We headed over to a place for street kids. It gives them an education, food, safety and takes away the need to beg. Mostly the kids were young as the older ones were mainly at school. They were all clean and smart and very cuddly. As we talked to one of the people working there children ran around us. We walked out passing the children as they were having lessons and I found my fingers being grasped tightly by many little fingers who didn’t want to let go.
They are opening a restaurant in around three weeks which has been set up to give the older kids a trade. They have been taught to cook, wait, and generally run the restaurant, but are being given friends to practice on until the opening day. It was a wonderful place – the food was fabulous and the staff incredibly attentive. They are keeping it all MSG free too. The hot pineapple with coconut ice cream and chilli sweet, quite stunning.
When I took my CV into an English school that had been recommended, I realised that they share a building with Oxfam, so I popped in to see what I could do to help. We’ve swapped email addresses and I’ll see what happens. The school seemed a good one, but they are on holiday now till Monday for the That Luang festival. They were hopeful that they would be able to get me some work.
Vientiane is very different from what I had expected. The streets are wider and the main ones well maintained. There are many more cars than I expected and far fewer bicycles – most people seem to get around by motorbike. And, although I should have realised from the history as a French colony, I hadn’t expected people to drive on the ‘wrong side’! My rudimentary Thai is proving invaluable – rusty and minimalistic as it is. Few of the people I’ve met speak anything more than a couple of words of English.
The main exception to this has been the monks I met at the festival. There is a festival here for the next week. It is based around the temple at That Luang. Everything is beautifully lit and stalls and fairground rides abound. Music screams out from every stall as people throw darts at balloons and win drinks as prizes, kids throw themselves down inflated bouncy castles cum slides and stalls sell amazing varieties of food and trinkets. My usual response at the clothes stalls failed me – I can normally instantly deflect their entreaties to buy by pointing out that their clothes won’t fit me, but when I tried this, the guy brought out a pile of around twenty tee shirts, all big enough for me. So I’ll actually be able to buy clothes here if I want.
Unsurprisingly there were many monks at the festival. They come from all around Laos for the festival. I started talking to some of them as they played around in front of my camera. They are keen to improve their English and a large group joined me. They were young – late teens in the main, and weren’t taking their roles as seriously as most monks I’ve met in the past. One of them started smoking, but then admitted that if the Abbott saw him he’d be in serious trouble. He didn’t hide his smoking at all though. Another ate an ice cream. I was stunned by this as they are not supposed to eat after midday. Apparently ice cream is fine though as it’s almost just water! Quite. I’m going with this in future – I like the reasoning! If a woman passes anything to a monk, it normally has to be given to a man to hand to him as he mustn’t come too close to a woman. They were fairly lax though, taking my camera straight from me and handing things straight to me. They brought me water and we talked for hours. They offered that I could stay at the temple if I wanted and we’ve agreed that I will come over often to see them. They get to practice their English with me and they will help me to learn Laos. When I went back, the following day we talked about where they go to collect alms in the morning. They told me what they most like to get in their alms bowls. They were very exact about it. They like rice and coconut cooked in bamboo. I’m fairly sure that they aren’t supposed to hint like this.
The food so far has been incredible. Pork noodle soup turned into something else. A huge bowl of broth with noodles, pork meat and scratchings, tomato and coriander was served with bowls of beansprouts, basil, mint green beans and lettuce, together with fish sauces, chillies, sugar, vinegar dressings and msg – gave that one a miss. Absolutely wonderful. Chinese dumplings filled with an explosion of flavours. Apple pieces dunked in strings of sugar syrup and smothered with sesame seeds. Served with a bowl of ice water to drop the nuggets into, cooling them and setting the toffee.
It feels like a great way to have been introduced to a country.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Landmines and goodbyes
Seven hundred kilos of explosives per person were dropped on Laos during the sixties and seventies. Seven hundred bags of sugar worth of explosive material for every man, woman and child. Put another way, a full plane load of explosives was dropped on Laos every eight minutes, round the clock for nine years. Partly it seems these were dropped to stop the spread of communism, partly to unload planes to make them safer to land. And the incidents of accidents are apparently increasing.
Mind blowing.
Apparently most of the mines are around the size of baseballs. Kids play with them, adults have to move them in order to free the land for farming. They explode, people are killed, limbs are lost.
I’ve been in touch with a landmine charity – No More Landmines Trust. They have active projects in Vietnam and Cambodia, and have given me some contact details for a further charity in Laos that might help me arrange some trips to projects out there. So now just waiting to hear back from them.
Hopefully I’ll be able to take some interesting photographs that I can give to the charities to use.
When I first arrive in Laos there is a long festival near the hotel. I’ve spent half the house proceeds on extra camera equipment (or at least more money than I’d intended) but I now have a wide angle and macro lens, decent flash and some more memory, so hopefully I’ll get some good photos there.
In the meantime, I’m in the midst of something I regret – the saying goodbye thing.
It’s emotionally blasting to go to one friend after another, drink too much alcohol, then have to say goodbye to them till some unspecified time in the future. Said goodbye to Than Tun yesterday – that wasn’t easy. And still another week of goodbyes to go (intermingled unfortunately with doing Tax Return for light relief!).
It’ll be good to be on the plane.
Mind blowing.
Apparently most of the mines are around the size of baseballs. Kids play with them, adults have to move them in order to free the land for farming. They explode, people are killed, limbs are lost.
I’ve been in touch with a landmine charity – No More Landmines Trust. They have active projects in Vietnam and Cambodia, and have given me some contact details for a further charity in Laos that might help me arrange some trips to projects out there. So now just waiting to hear back from them.
Hopefully I’ll be able to take some interesting photographs that I can give to the charities to use.
When I first arrive in Laos there is a long festival near the hotel. I’ve spent half the house proceeds on extra camera equipment (or at least more money than I’d intended) but I now have a wide angle and macro lens, decent flash and some more memory, so hopefully I’ll get some good photos there.
In the meantime, I’m in the midst of something I regret – the saying goodbye thing.
It’s emotionally blasting to go to one friend after another, drink too much alcohol, then have to say goodbye to them till some unspecified time in the future. Said goodbye to Than Tun yesterday – that wasn’t easy. And still another week of goodbyes to go (intermingled unfortunately with doing Tax Return for light relief!).
It’ll be good to be on the plane.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
It's all happening
Well, the house is sold, the possessions given away or trashed, the debts paid off and the flight booked.
I'm heading straight for Laos at the end of the month, then see what way the wind blows!
There's a ridiculous flight plan to get there - flying from London to Delhi, Delhi to Mumbai, Mumbai back to Delhi, then on to Bangkok and Vientiane. The travel agent has no idea why I have to do the superfluous trip to Mumbai, but we decided that I was better doing as shown on the ticket than risking getting left behind in Delhi by Indian efficiency. And Delhi airport is memorable but not for any good reasons. So two unnecessary flights, global warming be damned!
I've sussed which hotel to stay at to start off. I'm going to book in for a month and see what happens from then. There is a festival in Vientiane just after I arrive - perfect!
Just on a round Britain tour now. Seeing favourite lovely people before the trip. Heading today to Manchester from Sheffield, then on down to Gloucester, Bristol, Oxford, London then Brighton.
Then flying hooray.
I'm heading straight for Laos at the end of the month, then see what way the wind blows!
There's a ridiculous flight plan to get there - flying from London to Delhi, Delhi to Mumbai, Mumbai back to Delhi, then on to Bangkok and Vientiane. The travel agent has no idea why I have to do the superfluous trip to Mumbai, but we decided that I was better doing as shown on the ticket than risking getting left behind in Delhi by Indian efficiency. And Delhi airport is memorable but not for any good reasons. So two unnecessary flights, global warming be damned!
I've sussed which hotel to stay at to start off. I'm going to book in for a month and see what happens from then. There is a festival in Vientiane just after I arrive - perfect!
Just on a round Britain tour now. Seeing favourite lovely people before the trip. Heading today to Manchester from Sheffield, then on down to Gloucester, Bristol, Oxford, London then Brighton.
Then flying hooray.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Selling up
Excellent – things are progressing well – love the internet. Someone in Laos is sending me some contact info for some schools, and I’ve planned how to get there.
I feel amazingly relieved. I haven’t been sure for some time about what I wanted to do beyond selling the house and going. But I was in a sweet shop of countries. I’ve been dotting between all the options unable to decide what I wanted. South America and Africa would both give many colourful photo opportunities. That’s tempting. But I felt as though a light shone down on Laos a couple of days ago. Since then it’s been so clear. That’s where I want to go. And my focus is now totally on getting there as soon as possible.
I’m thinking of flying via India – go and visit some friends out there, then on to Bangkok for a trip through my memories. Bangkok is a real marmite city – love it or hate it. After living there for two years, I have to say I love it. But I haven’t been there for twelve years. It’s going to be very different. And I never quite made it to Chiang Mai when I lived in Thailand, actually I never vaguely made it to Chiang Mai, so I thought I’d head up there then cross into Laos, and on to Vientiane – or wherever I end up working. According to everything I’ve read today it’s a chilled place with laid back and friendly people – just stick to the paths – knew that one already –I think it’s had the most bombs per square metre of any country – actually just made that up from half remembered facts from many many years ago – but it’s something to do with bombs being dumped or missing their target or some such event that involved not being at war yet somehow getting thousands of mines and bombs throughout the country. So excited. Just hope the house sale goes through quickly now. I got another interesting fact on Laos today too. Apparently it’s the third largest supplier of opium in the world. Stay away from the poppies. My ex husband is from the Golden Triangle in Burma and as a kid used to slit the stems then go off and play. A little while later he’d return with his friends and they’d suck on the stems. He decided to stop doing this when he turned ten!
There’s a strangely cleansing feeling about selling all your possessions. Or rather almost all of them. I’m keeping a few books and arty ornamenty things but the rest is going. Everything else is just dragging me down. Tethering me to the UK and keeping me from doing all that I want. But it can be so hard to see treasured possessions with their new owners. Most things have a history and a memory attached. I scuppered myself a bit on this – I’d arranged for someone to look after some of my bits and pieces but my plans enthused her, so now she’s going off travelling too and can’t look after my stuff after all. Much better that she is off for an adventure than acting as a storage facility for me. But……….
I hope that I will never want any of this stuff again. Actually I hope that I’ll never be back again. In the meantime I’m busy selling and giving away everything I own. Anyone want a sandwich toaster?
I feel amazingly relieved. I haven’t been sure for some time about what I wanted to do beyond selling the house and going. But I was in a sweet shop of countries. I’ve been dotting between all the options unable to decide what I wanted. South America and Africa would both give many colourful photo opportunities. That’s tempting. But I felt as though a light shone down on Laos a couple of days ago. Since then it’s been so clear. That’s where I want to go. And my focus is now totally on getting there as soon as possible.
I’m thinking of flying via India – go and visit some friends out there, then on to Bangkok for a trip through my memories. Bangkok is a real marmite city – love it or hate it. After living there for two years, I have to say I love it. But I haven’t been there for twelve years. It’s going to be very different. And I never quite made it to Chiang Mai when I lived in Thailand, actually I never vaguely made it to Chiang Mai, so I thought I’d head up there then cross into Laos, and on to Vientiane – or wherever I end up working. According to everything I’ve read today it’s a chilled place with laid back and friendly people – just stick to the paths – knew that one already –I think it’s had the most bombs per square metre of any country – actually just made that up from half remembered facts from many many years ago – but it’s something to do with bombs being dumped or missing their target or some such event that involved not being at war yet somehow getting thousands of mines and bombs throughout the country. So excited. Just hope the house sale goes through quickly now. I got another interesting fact on Laos today too. Apparently it’s the third largest supplier of opium in the world. Stay away from the poppies. My ex husband is from the Golden Triangle in Burma and as a kid used to slit the stems then go off and play. A little while later he’d return with his friends and they’d suck on the stems. He decided to stop doing this when he turned ten!
There’s a strangely cleansing feeling about selling all your possessions. Or rather almost all of them. I’m keeping a few books and arty ornamenty things but the rest is going. Everything else is just dragging me down. Tethering me to the UK and keeping me from doing all that I want. But it can be so hard to see treasured possessions with their new owners. Most things have a history and a memory attached. I scuppered myself a bit on this – I’d arranged for someone to look after some of my bits and pieces but my plans enthused her, so now she’s going off travelling too and can’t look after my stuff after all. Much better that she is off for an adventure than acting as a storage facility for me. But……….
I hope that I will never want any of this stuff again. Actually I hope that I’ll never be back again. In the meantime I’m busy selling and giving away everything I own. Anyone want a sandwich toaster?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Decisions
Okay, I’ve finally decided. Well maybe not finally, but enough for now. As soon as the house is sold – and that’s looking good so hopefully only a few weeks to go now – I’m going to get a cheap flight to Morocco – Easyjet do them for just a few pounds and mooch around there for a while.
I’ve been checking the TEFL websites – looks like it won’t be a problem finding English teaching out there – whilst I might be solvent after the house sale, I don’t want to blow it – so many opportunities out there – so really want to work my way round the places I go. Then, when I’ve been out and about a bit in Morocco – really keen to play with the camera there – I’m going to head off further afield.
I’ve always had a regret over a missed opportunity. I was offered a teaching job by the forestry commission in Laos and I couldn’t take it. Like all my past regrets and bad decisions it involved a man in my life who couldn’t have gone too. (Note to self: stop living your life for anyone else, ever). I didn’t think that there was any way that an opportunity like that could ever come up again – but it now looks like it won’t be a problem to get work there. Laos and Vietnam (and Cambodia, come to that) all really appeal. I realised this yesterday as I was poring over the atlas trying to decide where to head off to.
I had been planning on joining some others on a journey down through West Africa by Landrover, through to Dakar, then on to Mali and to the Festival of the Desert there in January. This is very much in the planning stage – and will probably go ahead, but a few things have been bothering me about it. Mainly, I have to admit that my control freakery means that I don’t like not being the one making the decisions. I have always travelled alone and this has worked for me for a number of reasons. Firstly I think it’s safer. You can always extract yourself from situations easier if there is no one else to consider. You can tell whatever lies help you out of danger without the concern that there might be someone else who has given away something different. And people really want to protect you if you are a woman alone because they perceive you as being at risk. Secondly I realise more and more how much happier I am alone (and I think most people are, if they are honest – looking at couples travelling together, it amazes me how rarely they both seem happy – especially when they are not in self absorbed mode). When I’ve been on holiday with close friends or even stayed with them, or them me for more than a few days, I need a long, long break from them afterwards. That’s not normal, I realise, but it’s how I am, so if no other advantages come from age (and many many advantages do come with age) then at least I can recognise this. And behave accordingly. How awful might it be to spend six or seven weeks with people if you ended up not liking them or, maybe worse, if they don’t like you. I love spending time with people, between big chunks of aloneness. Funny that – it must be me being unusual, but the only times I’ve ever been lonely or bored have been times with people I care about.
There were also the risks being taken on this trip. I am not risk averse – oh God I sound like a financial advisor now – but I like the risks to be my risks, not someone else’s. I’m not convinced that travelling by car through Algeria – or through Western Sahara, Mauritania and Mali are safe – even if there are two cars travelling together. Maybe if this festival had been a dream of mine, it would be worthwhile, but, whilst it appeals, I don’t think that it appeals that much!
There’s another factor. I looked at going to South America too – thought of taking a Spanish course out there, then travelling for a while through Peru and Chile, maybe over to Venezuela. No matter how interesting and exciting West Africa or South America sound, I keep feeling really drawn back to South East Asia. I lived in Thailand for a few years in the early nineties and loved it. I have no real interest in going back there, but the idea of travelling round, or more relevantly, living in some of the other countries in the region really appeals. So maybe I fly to Thailand, catch a train over to Laos, then, when I’ve been there a while, carry on to Vietnam, and then on up to China (oh and maybe throw in Cambodia sometime along the way too – could just head down there for a holiday I guess). That should keep me occupied for a few years. I must look up what the borders are like round there. Can I skip from one country to the next?
Part of me wonders why I would go to Morocco first, and if I didn’t want to take photos there, I probably wouldn’t bother, but it’s an itch I want to scratch before the main adventure.
I wonder if I’ll ever come back.
I had intended to go over to North Africa, have a while there, then come back to the UK for the festivals next summer before heading off in August next year for more adventurous climes, but……
Now I’ve got a bit more of a firm plan in my mind, I don’t think I want to head off that late. Part of me wonders about going to Morocco at all. It’s almost like a holiday before going travelling. And if I’m going to do that, wouldn’t I be better doing it in Laos, or Thailand – I know – I never got up to north Thailand – maybe I could finally visit Chaing Mai.
Oh no, confused again.
Anyway, I’ve got to tidy up. It’s no good time wasting like this. I must tidy up. And in what world did I think spending the last 45 minutes perfecting to sing along to the Ladies of the Court of King Caractacus was a good way to spend time. I may now be able to almost keep up with Rolf Harris talking about the fascinating witches who put the scintillating stitches in the britches of the boys who put the powder on the noses of the faces of the ladies of the harem of the court of King Caractacus but the people who are buying my house are coming round soon – and the house has degenerated into it’s usual messy state since the weekend.
I seem to have an amazing ability to whirlwind around rooms creating the most incredible mess out of nothing. When I arrive at hotels I seem to make the room embarrassingly disordered before I’ve done much more than arrived and taken off my shoes. And no, putting my shoes back on doesn’t help. So with a whole house to play with the opportunities for destruction seem almost immeasurable. And it takes such a long time to sort out the mess. So really should go now.
But just before I do, I’ve been sorting all my cds on to my laptop in preparation for boxing them up before travelling. And then instead of just dumping them on there are so many more excellent procrastination techniques. Not only do the songs need labelling, but also grading between one and five (and the ones that have slipped on from compilation cds like Kylie singing how she should be so lucky, obviously need dumping!) but then there are further opportunities to say the type of music, the album, oh and I’ve just discovered that I can add two freeform categories – do I want to know female or male vocalist, decade the song came out, whether it’s Irish chilled music against Irish lively music, if it’s African reggae, Caribbean reggae or UK reggae, or if the cd has a pretty cover. So many options.
And actually I haven’t made full use of the labelling already set up for me - whilst I understand acoustic, hip hop, techno, and even at a push acid jazz, what is trip top, primus or porn groove. Especially porn groove. I can’t get a tune in my head that could fit that description – maybe it should be a mission to find out.
After I’ve tidied up.
I’ve been checking the TEFL websites – looks like it won’t be a problem finding English teaching out there – whilst I might be solvent after the house sale, I don’t want to blow it – so many opportunities out there – so really want to work my way round the places I go. Then, when I’ve been out and about a bit in Morocco – really keen to play with the camera there – I’m going to head off further afield.
I’ve always had a regret over a missed opportunity. I was offered a teaching job by the forestry commission in Laos and I couldn’t take it. Like all my past regrets and bad decisions it involved a man in my life who couldn’t have gone too. (Note to self: stop living your life for anyone else, ever). I didn’t think that there was any way that an opportunity like that could ever come up again – but it now looks like it won’t be a problem to get work there. Laos and Vietnam (and Cambodia, come to that) all really appeal. I realised this yesterday as I was poring over the atlas trying to decide where to head off to.
I had been planning on joining some others on a journey down through West Africa by Landrover, through to Dakar, then on to Mali and to the Festival of the Desert there in January. This is very much in the planning stage – and will probably go ahead, but a few things have been bothering me about it. Mainly, I have to admit that my control freakery means that I don’t like not being the one making the decisions. I have always travelled alone and this has worked for me for a number of reasons. Firstly I think it’s safer. You can always extract yourself from situations easier if there is no one else to consider. You can tell whatever lies help you out of danger without the concern that there might be someone else who has given away something different. And people really want to protect you if you are a woman alone because they perceive you as being at risk. Secondly I realise more and more how much happier I am alone (and I think most people are, if they are honest – looking at couples travelling together, it amazes me how rarely they both seem happy – especially when they are not in self absorbed mode). When I’ve been on holiday with close friends or even stayed with them, or them me for more than a few days, I need a long, long break from them afterwards. That’s not normal, I realise, but it’s how I am, so if no other advantages come from age (and many many advantages do come with age) then at least I can recognise this. And behave accordingly. How awful might it be to spend six or seven weeks with people if you ended up not liking them or, maybe worse, if they don’t like you. I love spending time with people, between big chunks of aloneness. Funny that – it must be me being unusual, but the only times I’ve ever been lonely or bored have been times with people I care about.
There were also the risks being taken on this trip. I am not risk averse – oh God I sound like a financial advisor now – but I like the risks to be my risks, not someone else’s. I’m not convinced that travelling by car through Algeria – or through Western Sahara, Mauritania and Mali are safe – even if there are two cars travelling together. Maybe if this festival had been a dream of mine, it would be worthwhile, but, whilst it appeals, I don’t think that it appeals that much!
There’s another factor. I looked at going to South America too – thought of taking a Spanish course out there, then travelling for a while through Peru and Chile, maybe over to Venezuela. No matter how interesting and exciting West Africa or South America sound, I keep feeling really drawn back to South East Asia. I lived in Thailand for a few years in the early nineties and loved it. I have no real interest in going back there, but the idea of travelling round, or more relevantly, living in some of the other countries in the region really appeals. So maybe I fly to Thailand, catch a train over to Laos, then, when I’ve been there a while, carry on to Vietnam, and then on up to China (oh and maybe throw in Cambodia sometime along the way too – could just head down there for a holiday I guess). That should keep me occupied for a few years. I must look up what the borders are like round there. Can I skip from one country to the next?
Part of me wonders why I would go to Morocco first, and if I didn’t want to take photos there, I probably wouldn’t bother, but it’s an itch I want to scratch before the main adventure.
I wonder if I’ll ever come back.
I had intended to go over to North Africa, have a while there, then come back to the UK for the festivals next summer before heading off in August next year for more adventurous climes, but……
Now I’ve got a bit more of a firm plan in my mind, I don’t think I want to head off that late. Part of me wonders about going to Morocco at all. It’s almost like a holiday before going travelling. And if I’m going to do that, wouldn’t I be better doing it in Laos, or Thailand – I know – I never got up to north Thailand – maybe I could finally visit Chaing Mai.
Oh no, confused again.
Anyway, I’ve got to tidy up. It’s no good time wasting like this. I must tidy up. And in what world did I think spending the last 45 minutes perfecting to sing along to the Ladies of the Court of King Caractacus was a good way to spend time. I may now be able to almost keep up with Rolf Harris talking about the fascinating witches who put the scintillating stitches in the britches of the boys who put the powder on the noses of the faces of the ladies of the harem of the court of King Caractacus but the people who are buying my house are coming round soon – and the house has degenerated into it’s usual messy state since the weekend.
I seem to have an amazing ability to whirlwind around rooms creating the most incredible mess out of nothing. When I arrive at hotels I seem to make the room embarrassingly disordered before I’ve done much more than arrived and taken off my shoes. And no, putting my shoes back on doesn’t help. So with a whole house to play with the opportunities for destruction seem almost immeasurable. And it takes such a long time to sort out the mess. So really should go now.
But just before I do, I’ve been sorting all my cds on to my laptop in preparation for boxing them up before travelling. And then instead of just dumping them on there are so many more excellent procrastination techniques. Not only do the songs need labelling, but also grading between one and five (and the ones that have slipped on from compilation cds like Kylie singing how she should be so lucky, obviously need dumping!) but then there are further opportunities to say the type of music, the album, oh and I’ve just discovered that I can add two freeform categories – do I want to know female or male vocalist, decade the song came out, whether it’s Irish chilled music against Irish lively music, if it’s African reggae, Caribbean reggae or UK reggae, or if the cd has a pretty cover. So many options.
And actually I haven’t made full use of the labelling already set up for me - whilst I understand acoustic, hip hop, techno, and even at a push acid jazz, what is trip top, primus or porn groove. Especially porn groove. I can’t get a tune in my head that could fit that description – maybe it should be a mission to find out.
After I’ve tidied up.
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