The Other Stuff

 I’m a bit behing  on blogging, so this might seem a bit dry as I rush to catch up in this island-priced internet cafe.   I learned the value of journaling  from my grandmother at a young age, and I’m determined to keep up, whether or not I “feel like it.” (which I don’t. 🙂

So, the shock of seeing and experiencing first-hand all of the information about the current state of affairs in Laos usurped everything else that’s been going on.   That said, here it is:

Before I left Luang  Prabang, I had a beautiful morning walk down the “gentrified” streets of  the town  to the tip of the peninsula where the Nam Ka River flows into the Mekong.   I visited several temples along the way, smiling at the monks and pondering the artwork that predates the history of the U.S. by hundreds of years.   I’m always in awe of such places.

After a treasured and pricey phone convo with Pat, I tried to get on the good side of the electric showers at our hostel before check-out time.   No luck.   One ran straight cold water, and the other was either scalding hot or freezing with a few seconds in between the transistion.   It made for a lot of waiting!

Lunch at Big Brother Mouse, besides being informative, was delicious!   All traditional, local dishes.   Some kind of spicy cabbage and chicken dish and another tasty stir fry all eaten by hand with small ball of sticky rice, each ball being formed out of the communal bowl on a per bite basis.

I’m really going to miss seeing the enthusiastic and serious monks everywhere in their bright orange robes as they do their daily errands.   On the way to the Royal Palace Museum, I crossed paths with several.

The Royal Palace Museum is glorious!   The entry hall is drop dead gorgeous, and my mom’s mom would have loved it.   Everything was done up in gold leaf with huge mosaic scenes in japanese glass of deep and varying colors: bright green, teal, copper, blue, silver, and more!   There were boats on rivers of gold, bright green corn stalks, beautiful teal trees, and elephants in copper, blue, and silver.   It all looked like  a Diego Rivera painting but more beautiful!   (and easier to decipher and understand as well).

Other highlights of the palace were a 14th century painting series illustrating the story of one of the ancient monks.   Very similar to the Christian story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his sons.   The low point of the museum was the display area with gifts from other countries.   Australia, Japan, Cambodia, and loads of other countries all sent their best artwork in goodwill.   I like the way Nicole puts it, so to quote her, ” By far, we had the crappiest  gifts offered.   Very ugly pen holders, a small replica of what I thought was a satalite[sic], a large silver paper weight with the US treasury on it.   R. Nixon[‘s]… name was on some [plaque].”   Things like this make me embarassed  to have to announce myself as an American in some of the places I go, and help me understand the lack of respect and the outright disappointment (and unfortunately sometimes disgust) that so many of the world’s people feel about the United States.

The final  stop in Luang  Prabang  was the night market (see gorgeous photos in “Metric Revelations”) before hopping the bus the Vang  Vieng.   If you’re going chronologically, then you know Vang  Vieng  became Vientiane (farther down the road as my sense of responsibility to interact with the Lao people and their history rather than  the Lao landscape grew).   The bus ride was definitely one for the books.   First, it was freezing.   But  I have lots of bus rides at 15,000 feet + without heat, so I can deal with freezing.   We began and ended in the mountains and every inch of the road was curved.   About an hour in, I began to find the curve warning signs quite comical.   They could save an awful lot of money if they just said “We’ll warn you if the road is going to be  straight.” every 100km or so.   Never have I felt so much g-force on my body for such a long period of time.   The driver literally careened around every corner.   The highlight of the ride was the full moon.   We followed rugged ridgelines all night, twisting and turning above moonlit valleys that made me feel like I was in a Salvador Dali painting.

INteresting highlights of Vientiane, besides MAG and COPE:

1) Our sangthew driver at the bus station was really funny.   He got us loaded up in the truck bed, and then proceeded to stall hoping for more passengers by driving about 15 feet and then stopping to go talk to someone for a period of 20-30 minutes.   Mind you, the perimeter of the bus station was all of 400 feet. 🙂

2) Nicole and I separated rather unceremoniously since we were road worn, sleep deprived, and in the back of a pickup.   It was like something out of a surreal French film, waving goodbye on the sidewalk as she rode off into the sunrise.

3) Finding a place to stay was a challenge.   The first place was so bare bones, I just couldn’t stomach it for my first night alone.   The next four places didn’t have rooms.   I asked to plunk my bag down at the nicest of the four and rented a bike to go visit MAG while I waiting.   Upon my return, when a room was available, I CRASHED hard for a few hours before getting on with my day.

4) It dawned on me, as my teeth begged to be  brushed, that I had forgotten my travel toothbrush in the pocket of the pants Nicole let me borrow.   It was quite  an adventure finding a new one.   On the way home, I stopped at an Indian restaurant for some awesome food where I was invited  to eat with Mr. John. and his “brother” Jamoo.   Mr. John and Jamoo  are from Africa.   The “I’ve always been around white people” part of me was stuck  by all the dark, dark, dark men (men only) all over the city.   Mr. John is in Lao on a coffee business trip, and Jamoo  is running a clothing business out of Bangkok.   Mr. John was very flattering, asking lots of questions telling me he wanted to “know me.”   They weren’t very interesting, and I was a bit weirded out, so I politely declined their invitation to coffee after lunch and instead headed to COPE where I spent hours.

5) My hours at COPE led me to four hours of processing and internet time, before I indulged in some western food (beer and pizza) to wrap up my day.

Leaving Vientiane was easy, thanks to the sweet 60-something man who ran the travel agency outside my hostel.   As I was repacking my bag (a never-ending task for the minimalist backpacker), it dawned on my that my forward plans might include Cambodia (visa needed) and I was in the capital.   I firmed up my plans over breakfast and my new friends booked my onward ticket and rushed to get me my visa before I left the capital that night.

I biked  to the must see of Vientiane – the golden stupa – and the Victory monument.   This place is the Washington D.C. of Laos, and incredible.   Their stupa is a lot like the Washington Monument, but prettier.   Not as good as the Lincoln or Jefferson memorial, though.   The night before had been the moon festival, basically the Mardi Gras  of Laos, and the streets around the most patriotic areas (like the Stupa) looked like New Orleans  in the morning of the Mardi Gras week.   Trashed.

I spent the rest of my afternoon at COPE and then piecing together  a dinner of pineapple, fresh and fried spring rolls, and SPICY papaya salad  before boarding the sleeper bus to Pakse.   My bedmate  (a single is twice the price!) was a woman name Pok  who is an obstetrician.   She was great, and we were  quick to share jokes with one another.   The  bed was tiny, just enough room for the both of us, but meant for the height of Asians.   Pat – you are so lucky  you’re not here!    My  poor buddy Scott from  New  York asked me “how do you know which U is the top and which is  the bottom?”   Me: “Umm… U stands for upper.    Both numbers are top.   They’re  double.   You’ll be paired  by  gender.”   The poor 6’3″ man survived the  night, though!

I was happy, despite the  cramped space, to get several long stretches of sleep, interupted  only by a bleary-eyed half-way stop at a main bus station.   When we arrived in Pakse, for the first time  I  didn’t roll up my pant legs for the squat toilets.   My sleepy self noticed the lack of “splashy” feeling on my calves, but didn’t  put two and two together until I stood up and realized I had peed on myself.   Thank goodness for detachable pant legs!

Now I am in Don Det, but I’ll save the rest of the story for a cheaper internet connection.   I heard there is a huge  boat race tomorrow and a party on the next island over.   If I  find some women to go with, maybe I’ll check it out.   Can’t be partying alone!

Take care!

Love, Jema