So my only New Year's Resolution is to try and write this blog more than once a year. That may be harder than it appears on the surface. During 2012, not a lot of things happened but a lot of things changed. I got engaged to an ex-prostitute, Mai:
I touched a tiger:
I rode an elephant:
And I spent a whole lot of time doing absolutely nothing.
One of the things I did do was to visit Laos, aka The Lao People's Democratic Republic.
Specifically, I went to Savnnakhet. Well, actually it was a smaller town outside of Savannakhet, but no one knows where that town is. It's like saying Ainsworth, or Carrie, or Geneseo, or even Carmel (although Carmel is suspiciously close to Indianapolis, so I don't know if it's a fair comparison).
Day 1/2
First of all, how did I get to Laos? Well, I went with Mai, and we went via bus.
Yes, a double decker. Yes, amazing leg room. Yes, Stewardess! Yes, Snacks and Water. YES INCLUDED DINNER! No toilet paper in the bathroom (little did I know I would not see toilet paper for 2 weeks). Yes, $30! It was an amazingly comfortable 12 hour trip.
This was the scene in the morning, approaching Mukdahan (still in Thailand). The only thing I didn't like about the trip was (1) my nightlight didn't work so I had to move to the aisle to be able to read, and (2) it was an overnighter, so I couldn't see any scenery.
At the Thai/Lao border, I was a little nervous because I hadn't done my 90 day report, which is a process in Thailand to keep track of foreigners (http://www.immigration.go.th/nov2004/en/base.php?page=90days). The penalty is 2,000 baht if you are found out, possibly 5,000 baht if confronted by an underpaid office agent. However, I got off Scot-free (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/scot-free) and only had to pay the entry visa into Laos (1,500 baht/$50). Once on the Laos side of the border, there was a short bus ride to Savannakhet, then it was a tuk-tuk ride to Mai's family (please notice we are driving on the right hand side of the road).
The first day I didn't think I would have to meet/do anything, because to my (natural) way of thinking we had just endured a bus ride, so we should be able to sleep until tomorrow. WRONG. I got the flash tour of Mai's family (names still elude me), was pulled off to the farm, sat there for a while (plied by beers and children amazed at my hair), then off to a nightclub. I have to say the highlight of that day, the 13th, was getting a a birthday cake (courtesy of Waen, Mai's sister) at a Laos nightclub, complete with "Happy Birthday" songs sung by the house band. The lowlight of that day was that I didn't bring my camera.
Day 3 (aka: Dong Pai, Leow Kwa, Leow Sai, DONG PAI!!!)
Sadly, this day I learned that the mother of the husband of one of Mai's sisters (she has 6) died. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Family had been expecting this so there wasn't any gnashing/wringing, only an acceptance of the death. For me, this unfortunate death meant a trip, with some sisters and an aunt, to the market and the temple. Now, the trip involved driving. The only person in Mai's family who has a large transport vehicle (aka a maxi-van) is her brother. Her brother (I have no idea what his name is) has a baby; he also has a twin, who is a Bhuddist monk (so to differentiate the three, one will be "the baby," one will be "the brother," and one will be "the monk").
We started out at mid-morning (9 am) with the brother, the baby, the monk, me, Mai, Waen, Lat (sister), Keow (sister), aunt (no name). The brother was driving, the monk was in the passenger seat, I was in the middle of the first van row, the sisters were sprinkled around, but the baby was sitting directly to my right, and was being held by Waen. The first 5 minutes of the ride went smoothly, because the baby was sleeping. Then one of the sisters exclaimed something and the baby woke up. And the baby looked at me. And the baby started crying. Not an "I've got a vague sense of general malaise about the world" nor an "I'm a little bit hungry" crying. Full on weeping. At first it was kind of funny. You know, a baby crying a little bit and a van-ful of happy people (except the monk, he didn't talk). Then the baby started yowling. So the natural thing to do was to pass the baby to the brother (the father), to calm her down. It worked a little. But remember, the brother is driving the van (which is a manual), trying to hold a squirming baby, and navigating the roads.
Out of all the trouble which could have ensued (man/baby/driving), the least was visited upon us. We were pulled over by a traffic cop, who apparently said you can't hold a baby and drive at the same time (sound advice). But desperation set upon the van: what to do now? The brother can't drive because the baby can't stop crying unless the brother holds her (the baby is a her, I verified later), and nobody in the van can drive. Then Mai pipes up "Tim, you drive." Voices raise, questions are asked (I presume about my driving aptitude, as I'm inept at most other things), and Mai's decision rings through: Tim will drive.
So I slide into the driver's seat, and hit my head because the brother is short, the brother slides onto the console in the middle of the front seat, still holding the baby. The monk, meanwhile, is still beatifically uncaring. I turned to Mai and said "You should have him (the brother) move, because the baby will start crying again."
"No, okay now."
"I think you should ask him to move."
"Okay now."
I tried to put on my seatbelt and was checked by Mai ("Not same America.") Alright, devil may care, let's get this caravan rolling. As soon as I started up the engine, the baby became aware of her surroundings. And started crying again. Harder, Harder, Harder...her little body flailing around and struggling against the brother, then she vomited. A baby cried so hard she vomited just because she was near me. I looked at Mai, she said I was right and motioned for the brother to move backwards in the van. He unseated several sisters so he could be in the very rear of the van, and so we were almost ready. I happened to look over at the monk and he had this big ol'...is there a better way to describe this...shit eating grin.
So now we were ready to go. I checked all the pedals and the gear shift and turn signals and mirrors and everything appeared to be the same as I'm used to, so I started driving. An expectant hush enveloped the van as the time came to shift into second gear. Clutch deployed, gear shift moved, clutch released and gas pedal engaged...sputter, sputter, and then suddenly...velocity. I don't know if I've ever been applauded the way I was when that second gear took hold, but I know I've never felt so appreciated for something I shouldn't be. (Just as an aside, if it weren't for my parents' intractable attitude regarding manual transmissions, this incident would never have happened, as I would have been forced to say "I don't know how to shift gears.")
I'm driving, casually and slowly, in Laos. With no idea where I'm going. (That's not the same thing as the brilliant song "No Particular Place to Go" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtKcdzaqq40) I don't speak Laotian, Nobody in the van but Mai speaks English (and as at least one of my friends can attest, she doesn't speak English very well). What do we do? I told Mai to tell me "Dong Pai" (straight), "Leow Kwa" (right) or "Leow Sai" (left). Unfortunately, Mai didn't really know where we were going either. Meanwhile, the monk is still grinning (I'm sure that's a violation of his orders), the baby is still crying (but no longer vomiting), and all of the sisters are yelling at the brother regarding directions.
Surprisingly, there were no hassles getting to the market. It was a straight drive on the road we were on. I wish I had pictures of it, but sadly I left the camera in the van. We were in the market for a while, apparently buying "good luck" at a particular stall. The only thing I know is I had to spell my name 4 times (3 times written) for the lady giving us good luck. Then back into the van, which the monk hadn't left and the brother was dancing around with the baby to get her to sleep. Now to the temple. And here's where it got difficult.
Living in a different country, surrounded by non-English speakers, I have a tendency to ignore a lot of things people say. Well, not ignore but not pay attention to. Because I know they aren't talking to me, or if they are I know they know I don't know...wait... If someone is speaking to me, he/she will use English, or I will initiate the conversation in Thai, or we will somehow agree that pointing equals some sort of conversation. We all got into the van, me and the monk in the front seat, the gaggle of sisters/one aunt hiding me from the baby's view, and the brother having procured a bottle of baby formula to replenish the baby's energy (expended on revulsion of me). I started driving, Mai calmly saying Dong Pai, or Leow Kwa. Calmly. Until we drove out of town, and no one but the monk knew where to go. Mai asked the monk (her brother, remember) where to go, and he smiled and nodded. So more Dong Pai, until the monk shook his head. Wait...Dong Pai? I slammed the brakes, naturally tossing the baby into hysterics and the brother into another bout of calming her. Mai and the monk exchanged very quiet words, the sisters started getting loud in the back, and I swear, I don't know, but I swear the baby started puking again.
Apparently, I drove past the turn-off. The best part was Mai slapped the monk on the back of his head for not saying anything. So I turned around, and slowly retracked our route. Suddenly, the chorus of Leow Kwa/Sai started. The sisters/aunt all thought they remembered the way, the monk was silent, the brother was shouting Leow Kwa (but only shouting because the baby had re-initiated the convulsions), Mai was telling me "Left! No! Left! No! Left! and I was following the English directions even though it meant I was turning left, then left, then left, when what Mai really meant was for me to go straight. At this point, I was driving the van so slowly we may have been going in reverse. Finally, I had the sense to completely stop the van and ask the monk himself. "Dong Pai," "Leow Kwa," "Leow Sai?" He pointed to the left. I drove left.
The Temple
So those were my first few days there. Later, more Laos. And I promise to myself, more than one posting per year from now on.
I touched a tiger:
One of the things I did do was to visit Laos, aka The Lao People's Democratic Republic.
Specifically, I went to Savnnakhet. Well, actually it was a smaller town outside of Savannakhet, but no one knows where that town is. It's like saying Ainsworth, or Carrie, or Geneseo, or even Carmel (although Carmel is suspiciously close to Indianapolis, so I don't know if it's a fair comparison).Day 1/2
First of all, how did I get to Laos? Well, I went with Mai, and we went via bus.
At the Thai/Lao border, I was a little nervous because I hadn't done my 90 day report, which is a process in Thailand to keep track of foreigners (http://www.immigration.go.th/nov2004/en/base.php?page=90days). The penalty is 2,000 baht if you are found out, possibly 5,000 baht if confronted by an underpaid office agent. However, I got off Scot-free (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/scot-free) and only had to pay the entry visa into Laos (1,500 baht/$50). Once on the Laos side of the border, there was a short bus ride to Savannakhet, then it was a tuk-tuk ride to Mai's family (please notice we are driving on the right hand side of the road).
Day 3 (aka: Dong Pai, Leow Kwa, Leow Sai, DONG PAI!!!)
Sadly, this day I learned that the mother of the husband of one of Mai's sisters (she has 6) died. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Family had been expecting this so there wasn't any gnashing/wringing, only an acceptance of the death. For me, this unfortunate death meant a trip, with some sisters and an aunt, to the market and the temple. Now, the trip involved driving. The only person in Mai's family who has a large transport vehicle (aka a maxi-van) is her brother. Her brother (I have no idea what his name is) has a baby; he also has a twin, who is a Bhuddist monk (so to differentiate the three, one will be "the baby," one will be "the brother," and one will be "the monk").
We started out at mid-morning (9 am) with the brother, the baby, the monk, me, Mai, Waen, Lat (sister), Keow (sister), aunt (no name). The brother was driving, the monk was in the passenger seat, I was in the middle of the first van row, the sisters were sprinkled around, but the baby was sitting directly to my right, and was being held by Waen. The first 5 minutes of the ride went smoothly, because the baby was sleeping. Then one of the sisters exclaimed something and the baby woke up. And the baby looked at me. And the baby started crying. Not an "I've got a vague sense of general malaise about the world" nor an "I'm a little bit hungry" crying. Full on weeping. At first it was kind of funny. You know, a baby crying a little bit and a van-ful of happy people (except the monk, he didn't talk). Then the baby started yowling. So the natural thing to do was to pass the baby to the brother (the father), to calm her down. It worked a little. But remember, the brother is driving the van (which is a manual), trying to hold a squirming baby, and navigating the roads.
Out of all the trouble which could have ensued (man/baby/driving), the least was visited upon us. We were pulled over by a traffic cop, who apparently said you can't hold a baby and drive at the same time (sound advice). But desperation set upon the van: what to do now? The brother can't drive because the baby can't stop crying unless the brother holds her (the baby is a her, I verified later), and nobody in the van can drive. Then Mai pipes up "Tim, you drive." Voices raise, questions are asked (I presume about my driving aptitude, as I'm inept at most other things), and Mai's decision rings through: Tim will drive.
So I slide into the driver's seat, and hit my head because the brother is short, the brother slides onto the console in the middle of the front seat, still holding the baby. The monk, meanwhile, is still beatifically uncaring. I turned to Mai and said "You should have him (the brother) move, because the baby will start crying again."
"No, okay now."
"I think you should ask him to move."
"Okay now."
I tried to put on my seatbelt and was checked by Mai ("Not same America.") Alright, devil may care, let's get this caravan rolling. As soon as I started up the engine, the baby became aware of her surroundings. And started crying again. Harder, Harder, Harder...her little body flailing around and struggling against the brother, then she vomited. A baby cried so hard she vomited just because she was near me. I looked at Mai, she said I was right and motioned for the brother to move backwards in the van. He unseated several sisters so he could be in the very rear of the van, and so we were almost ready. I happened to look over at the monk and he had this big ol'...is there a better way to describe this...shit eating grin.
So now we were ready to go. I checked all the pedals and the gear shift and turn signals and mirrors and everything appeared to be the same as I'm used to, so I started driving. An expectant hush enveloped the van as the time came to shift into second gear. Clutch deployed, gear shift moved, clutch released and gas pedal engaged...sputter, sputter, and then suddenly...velocity. I don't know if I've ever been applauded the way I was when that second gear took hold, but I know I've never felt so appreciated for something I shouldn't be. (Just as an aside, if it weren't for my parents' intractable attitude regarding manual transmissions, this incident would never have happened, as I would have been forced to say "I don't know how to shift gears.")
I'm driving, casually and slowly, in Laos. With no idea where I'm going. (That's not the same thing as the brilliant song "No Particular Place to Go" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtKcdzaqq40) I don't speak Laotian, Nobody in the van but Mai speaks English (and as at least one of my friends can attest, she doesn't speak English very well). What do we do? I told Mai to tell me "Dong Pai" (straight), "Leow Kwa" (right) or "Leow Sai" (left). Unfortunately, Mai didn't really know where we were going either. Meanwhile, the monk is still grinning (I'm sure that's a violation of his orders), the baby is still crying (but no longer vomiting), and all of the sisters are yelling at the brother regarding directions.
Surprisingly, there were no hassles getting to the market. It was a straight drive on the road we were on. I wish I had pictures of it, but sadly I left the camera in the van. We were in the market for a while, apparently buying "good luck" at a particular stall. The only thing I know is I had to spell my name 4 times (3 times written) for the lady giving us good luck. Then back into the van, which the monk hadn't left and the brother was dancing around with the baby to get her to sleep. Now to the temple. And here's where it got difficult.
Living in a different country, surrounded by non-English speakers, I have a tendency to ignore a lot of things people say. Well, not ignore but not pay attention to. Because I know they aren't talking to me, or if they are I know they know I don't know...wait... If someone is speaking to me, he/she will use English, or I will initiate the conversation in Thai, or we will somehow agree that pointing equals some sort of conversation. We all got into the van, me and the monk in the front seat, the gaggle of sisters/one aunt hiding me from the baby's view, and the brother having procured a bottle of baby formula to replenish the baby's energy (expended on revulsion of me). I started driving, Mai calmly saying Dong Pai, or Leow Kwa. Calmly. Until we drove out of town, and no one but the monk knew where to go. Mai asked the monk (her brother, remember) where to go, and he smiled and nodded. So more Dong Pai, until the monk shook his head. Wait...Dong Pai? I slammed the brakes, naturally tossing the baby into hysterics and the brother into another bout of calming her. Mai and the monk exchanged very quiet words, the sisters started getting loud in the back, and I swear, I don't know, but I swear the baby started puking again.
Apparently, I drove past the turn-off. The best part was Mai slapped the monk on the back of his head for not saying anything. So I turned around, and slowly retracked our route. Suddenly, the chorus of Leow Kwa/Sai started. The sisters/aunt all thought they remembered the way, the monk was silent, the brother was shouting Leow Kwa (but only shouting because the baby had re-initiated the convulsions), Mai was telling me "Left! No! Left! No! Left! and I was following the English directions even though it meant I was turning left, then left, then left, when what Mai really meant was for me to go straight. At this point, I was driving the van so slowly we may have been going in reverse. Finally, I had the sense to completely stop the van and ask the monk himself. "Dong Pai," "Leow Kwa," "Leow Sai?" He pointed to the left. I drove left.
The Temple
So those were my first few days there. Later, more Laos. And I promise to myself, more than one posting per year from now on.
