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.