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.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
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.
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