Shoes and Sweeping

Even moreso than in Hawaii with all its Japanese influence, the Lao folk feel shoes are for protection (and perhaps a bit of fashion!) and definitely for outside. As soon as one goes over a threshold to the indoors, even if it doesn't seem like the indoors, lose those shoes. Maybe that's why girls of all ages ride sidesaddle on the backs of motorscooters; that's about the only place they can show off their fancy footwear. Otherwise, all those heels with rhinestones and sandals of every imaginable design and color of the rainbow are strewn about at the front door and no one but the wearer knows whose Manolo Blahniks are whose.

If you want to make yourself useful in Laos, sweep. You can't go wrong if you pick up a broom and propel whatever seems like dust or debris towards the nearest trash basket, which may be away off as there aren't many of them. I counted when I went to a home for Sunday dinner. The mistress of the manor swept the patio where we were eating five times in a thirty minute period. Shopkeepers are out as soon as the rain stops, sweeping up. A clean front stoop is, at the very least, a sign of good breeding and upright moral standing. And we're not just talking the store front, we're talking to the curb, the gutter and beyond. It is impressive.

Bed Bath and Beyond

I scored bigtime in the linen department at the guesthouse yesterday. Every two to four days, depending on the weather and the opportunity for things to line dry, the beds are changed. I thought I'd done about as well as I could when the avocado number showed up with the blue, green and gold leaves and the soccer balls and flags on my cotton coverlet. However, I returned to my room yesterday to find hot pink daisies with bright yellow centers and white doilies running the length of the sheets and a blue Mickey Mouse-clone coverlet. Cha-ching!

As for the bathroom, if those royal blue towels with the black stitching could talk! They're replaced every day; you get two and you best use them wisely. They've been through a lot and with all the comings and goings of all manner of folk at the guesthouse, the tales they could tell!

Motorcycle riders here wear their jackets backwards when they travel to protect their shirts and blouses from the dust. The secretary showed up with sox on under her high heels and gloves in the ninety degree heat as well; sun protection, she told me as I strapped on my helmet and climbed on the back of her scooter. Every adult has a surgical mask that loops over her ears; they come in all sorts of plaids and prints. They seem to be wash and wear and they are always in a pants pocket or bag somewhere; again, it seems, primarily to ward off dust.

Every day free opaque plastic liter bottles of water show up in the little room refrigerator. They're for teeth-brushing, drinking, tea-making; everyone uses them. They're faithfully delivered by trucks to every part of town. They're even in markets in plastic bags, ready to go. The Mekong may be mighty, but it's not potable.

It's endlessly fascinating to see how differently people live. Different yet the same.

Perfect Storms

Nam (water) poured from the sky for the last twenty-four hours, as if to say, "It's monsoon season and I'm not done yet!" I did my usual mantra, "It's good for the rice crop," but my host, Po, says it's too late, especially for the land rice. They needed this wetness in April, May and June when it was dry. At least I hope it's good for the mighty Mekong, the source of life and commerce for this landlocked country.

Lao folk are matter of fact about making the most of the hand you're dealt. I've been thinking about this as I talked with Po yesterday as to how we move forward. His wife is very ill, being treated out of country and she needs him. He is going to be with his wife. I don't speak Lao or have an international driver's license, plus my time here is limited. What can I do? I can walk to the Center. I can continue to teach and serve as an positive example of American caring and sharing. Somehow it didn't seem like enough.

Then I thought about this post in Laos, which went vacant for eighteen months at least partly because it's so far away and people were afraid to go. I thought about the students who begin showing up at three pm for a five pm English class. I thought about the three little boys who were walking home under an umbrella and who waved to me and shouted, "Bye!" as I traveled past them in the rain.

Notice: Scrambled

This is the sign that shows up on Lao TV screens if the picture freezes up for more than a few seconds. It seemed to describe my take on things this week, too.

A baby has been staying in the room next to mine at the guesthouse for the past few days. The first day, I could hear his mother and older sister cooing at him and his gurgling reply, as if to say, "This is new. This is different. I'm getting attention. I like this." By yesterday, the baby had joined the frozen television screens of the land. Notice: Scrambled.

I could identify with that baby. I have been scrambled, too. Yes, the honeymoon period is over. I have been greeted and situated and now I have a job to do. Sometimes it's wonderful. Sometimes not so much.

Getting sleep last night helped. The baby's family had departed. Getting up and moving today helped, too. As I snapped on my fanny pack, slung my backpack into place, threw my ESL tote over one shoulder and held my umbrella with my free hand (umbrellas are Lao sunscreen), I walked out the door feeling better. As if to mirror my upbeat mood, a street vendor on a scooter with a sidecar drove past, playing "The Mexican Hat Dance."

Expecting the Unexpected

I am eternally grateful for all those cold showers on the pool deck at the college. Little did I know they would help prepare me for Laos. (There is one knob on the water fixtures here and it does not go left and right--at least not on purpose. The water starts cold and at some point goes to tepid and there you are. If it gets to tepid, you have probably used too much water.) In fact, it seems everything in life dovetails to help you do the next thing. Even hopscotch. Maybe especially hopscotch.

I was packed and ready to move yesterday. I did not move. The lorry taking the ESL students to our new school forgot to pick me up, came back for me, then we found at our new classroom they were not ready for us yet. Come back tomorrow, they said. So we will.

Riding in a lorry during rush hour is a wondrous thing. It was happy hour in downtown Vientiane, so we saw many residents and visitors dining and relaxing and enjoying the cool breezes after a hot day. They lounged in the open restaurants, markets and even just on the sidewalks. Lots of families get on their motorscooters and drive around between four and six pm. There were little ones sandwiched between mother and father or sister and brother. There were folks driving their scooters and talking on their cellphones. Some things are universal. There were lots of minimarks and satellite dishes and shops and colors and all manner of goods for sale. I had each student on the lorry greet me in English and I greeted them back. We compared Lao and English terms for body parts. But mostly I guess you would call what we did yesterday part of a liberal education.

Doing a Good Deed

The office secretary and I were riding home on her motorscooter Friday after class. It was, as usual, a lovely evening. There was a cool breeze and the dark cradled us, plus we felt the relief that comes after the challenges of the day and the week have been met. After rush hour the street traffic is mostly scooters and that makes travel more relaxing as well. All of a sudden, she looked down to check something on the scooter's front. Then she stopped the scooter dead in its tracks. We had a flat front tire. We got off the scooter and started walking it; her steering and me pushing from behind. We were in the middle of a dark patch of road when a man on a scooter came up beside us and started a conversation with the secretary. I girded myself to protect her as she is young and cute. He drove alongside for some time with me wondering how all this would play out when we finally came to a tire shop that was open. Alas. The wife of the owner was in the front of the shop and told us her husband was taking a shower, so he was through for the day. We began pushing again, our new sidekick along with us when, bonanza, we came to an open shop. These owners, luckily, seemed happy to help us and immediately set to work changing the flat. Our new friend disappeared, then reappeared with a bottle of Pepsi for each of us. We skeptically thanked him. "Kawp jai." He had a chat with the shop owner who was replacing the tire and handed him 20,000k. Then he drove off. Shortly thereafter the scooter was fixed and we asked, "Tao dai?" "How much?" The smiling shop owner said the bill had already been paid. We were the cynical recipients of a lovely deed. Food for thought.

Some Things I've Learned

In my little waterpik shower this morning, I reflected upon two weeks of my ongoing Lao education:
I have learned why there is a bucket of clean water with a dipper in the bathroom,
I have learned to put the toilet paper in the trash,
I have learned everything in the bathroom gets wet,
I have learned there is very little kleenex and there are very few trash cans in Laos,
I have learned that Ban Nagao lies between Ban Nongneo and Ban ThongPong,
I have learned the line in the middle of the road is mostly for decoration,
I have learned it's possible to do things you thought you couldn't,
I have learned there are wonderful people everywhere.

Po (my host) is traveling and his secretary is practicing for the SEA Games. I am enjoying the fans in the office and the computer (including internet!) all to myself. Po's secretary has an older brother who is getting married on Monday and her family wishes to be there for the wedding. However, it was a rush decision so there has very little time to prepare. It seems the bride's parents died recently, so she lives alone in a farming village down south with her elderly grandmother. This is not a good thing, so the groom is marrying her before their original date in order to protect her social standing. The secretary's family is poor and they are stretched to deliver the 3,000,000k (about $350) for his dowry as he will take over her house. That plus traveling expenses to get there make it all a dicey situation. We here at the office each chipped in and hopefully the wedding will be attended by all who wish to go. It's been a time of community.

As for the SEA (Southeast Asia) Games, they begin in December. As I understand it, they are a kind of mini-Olympics held somewhere in Southeast Asia every four years. Vientiane scored them this year, which is a great coup for the city and country. There will hopefully be much traffic and tourism as the athletes and interested citizens flock to the festivities. The office secretary auditioned and was chosen for the Opening Ceremonies. Each Saturday the participants practice so they can look splendid on national television and beyond! The schools, the offices, the restaurants, everything is getting spruced up and everyone is getting excited.

Reflecting back on the first week of ESL class, I was touched by the little girls all freshly washed, with talc still visible on their necks; the boys looking handsome in their school uniforms or their clean clothing; the earnestness of each student as we struggled together to communicate effectively and learn a language which will hopefully be helpful to them in some way. Their greetings are coming along and I think they will be able to conduct class themselves by the end of November. Singing is still our favorite thing.

Class

I arrived at the Ed. Center Monday afternoon (sweating as usual--no kleenex, no wipes, use sleeves) and set up the chalkboard and workbooks for the folks. 5:00 p.m. and it's Noy and me and Yiasthoj (Yeh-Tawl, of course) and her son, Khorher (Koe-her with barely a whisper of an r). 5:30 p.m. and a few more children show up. Put away the workbooks and go to Plan B. Luckily, I had my trusty ukulele, so the few of us sang and attempted to do the alphabet (some do not know how to spell their names in Lao, so English seemed like a bit of a leap), but we laughed a lot and they mostly had notebooks and pens so we wrote letters, each in our own way. I had picture cards, too, so we talked about A-E and played some games with those. The next thing I knew it was 6:30 p.m., so we repeated a song or two and disbanded until--Tuesday! I now know I am teaching from 5:00-6:30 p.m., Monday-Friday. Last night several of us scrounged for chairs, learned F and G, sang and wrote and talked a bit more. There were four adults. I am hereby calling the class: English for Those from 6-60 and we'll see what happens tonight. We're supposed to be doing greetings, phone numbers and family pictures; it promises to be a full class. We'll see about moving to mats on the floor; harder to write, but much more typically Lao. As I'm sure you've guessed, furniture is scarce.

The latest typhoon from Hong Kong has graced us with its remnants. Crackling thunder and lightning all night long and lots of rain. It's good for the rice crop. Many sprinkles linger on today.
Noy and I shopped yesterday. That's not exactly accurate. I shopped and Noy carried. I now have peanut butter and jelly and bread. It was hard not to be giddy coming out of the store, but I tempered my smile knowing I'd just spent 215,000k (around $26), a good sum of money.

A Good Weekend!

Bahn Tong Pong (my now-home village) has very little intermittent internet; the guest house has none, so I have begun journaling. Pardon me if I am not clear or if I repeat myself as I don't know what I've written where or whom I've already told what. I'm going to call it cultural adjustment. Sounds so much better than old age.

I found a place for noodles just up the street from the guest house on Friday morning. Ah, sustenance. Unfortunately they also sell Coca-Cola. I have yet, however, to see a McDonald's.

Saturday afternoon Po Vang came with a hot pot, some tea bags, an electric cooking pot and a bowl, knife, and spoon. Simple pleasures are the best. He has had a bothersome rash and is getting it treated. Apparently a latent allergy to bamboo shoots which grieves him no end. They are sold here fresh on the streetside; low cal, low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol, but no longer for him! In the interim, I explored Bahn Tong Pong.

Sunday, Phouvienh picked me up on her motorcycle and took me to her home for talking. As last week, but a bit more upscale (Phouvienh and her husband Phoumah are considered middle class here with a gated multi-room home including a patio and small yard and a store bought birthday cake for her 10-year old daughter Marissa), we met and talked on the living room floor, small but mighty. After conversation and cake celebration, I was invited for Sunday dinner which Phouvienh's sister made practically totally in a squat surrounded by a bucket of fresh water, a cooking pot, vegetables, eggs, meat, noodles, which she seamlessly cut, trimmed, cooked and served in minutes. I honor her. There was a poor, young, neighbor mother and her two children who joined us. The mother's baby was constantly on her knee, in an over-the-shoulder sling, or at her breast. (There is no end to my appreciation of the Lao folk and many of their customs. The baby starts to fuss? Simple. Feed it.) This impossibly slim Asian woman went from cross-legged sitting on the floor to a squat to standing in one fell swoop. Agility and strength are not problems here.

I am currently in the Ed. Center a neighboring village where there is, tra-la, intermittent internet. Tonight, I supposedly start some english teaching with some local folks. Stay tuned.

Laos: Guesthouse

I have moved to the country, so to speak. I am out of Vientiane proper where it is still plenty busy but a bit more rural. (Translation: less pavement; no less cars, trucks and motorcycles) At least I am now out of my dark cocoon at the hotel and into a brighter room with a table and chair so the bed doesn't have to be the desk as well. I wrestle with my affluence in comparison to most of those around me and am ever grateful for gifts I was given through no effort on my part. There is also constantly with me the need to be sensitive and communicative with those nice folks whom I meet each day.

Noy, the Ed. Center secretary, my translator and confidante, is helping me adjust to the new area and giving me some good teaching ideas. I wish my Lao was as competent as her English. Thank goodness for sign language--that and good will.

My host, Po Vang, is ill and that has slowed progress toward ESL classes for the moment. I am busying myself learning the new area and writing an article for the Lao Samphang Newsletter. I am also trying hard not to be an Ugly American.

Laos; Week 2

The internet liked taking Labor Day Monday off so much it decided to take Tuesday and Wednesday off, too. Imagine getting up and sitting down at your computer to find: No Internet Today. So, catch up time. Fortunately, that will not be difficult.

Monday Po Vang helped me purchase a little red cellphone. I like to call it The Little Dictator. That said, with the internet sometimes iffy, it is wonderful to have a more reliable back-up (that and the hotel staff was getting tired of playing 7/24 valet for me). We also went to the village where I will be teaching at the Ed. Center and perhaps a local middle school. I will be working with local folks at the Ed. Center in English and with both a small group of students and the teachers at the school, primarily on improving their pronunciation. We'll see if they learn more English or I learn more Lao. We visited with the village chief to get permission to do this. Interesting system and chain of command.

Tuesday I went with Po Vang to visit the principal at the school to assure him of the propriety of our intentions and to ask him to let us know how and when I can be most helpful. Then we looked at apartments, guesthouses (motels) and an actual house. A visiting family is coming in January and they may have the Ed. Center secretary, Noy, and I make a home ready for them. Noy speaks some English and there is an available house close to the Ed. Center, so that would be ideal. Po Vang and I also went to his doctor's office so I could see where I might get medical care and prescriptions if I need them. The doctor is French and lovely as is his multilingual office staff. There is also a French clinic for emergencies. Knock on wood.

Yesterday, Wednesday, Noy took me for a motor scooter ride to make sure I don't freak out when the van is not available. I think I passed, but then it was not NASCAR and she's a good driver (no drag racing or playing chicken). Oh, and it was not rush hour--that's a really special time when sane people do not want to be on the road. We went to the bank for more kip so I could pay the hotel bill today and she helped me buy a helmet so I can conform to Lao regulations when I am on the scooter (she calls it a motorcycle, so I probably will, too) with her. It was fun.

Today, I am supposed to go--at least for the interim--to a guesthouse which is much closer to the Ed. Center and the school than I am now. I would be glad to walk to both if they will let me. I have to keep reminding myself that I am a decade over the Lao life expectancy; age has its perks!?! I think some keep fearing I will simply drop over dead. That is not my plan.

Did you know "Tom and Jerry" speak Lao? I know they don't speak much, but each morning one of my favorite hotel employees turns on that rascally canine and rodent and laughs uproariously at their antics. It is so reassuring to know there are things which communicate beyond language.

I will miss my morning noodles.

Laos: Day 4 - Worship and Farewell

I sat in the lobby of my nice Hotel having noodles, little butter sandwiches and tea this morning before getting together with some local folks and savored the experience. Wednesday I leave this nice place for a guest house or apartment closer to where I will teach and I fear no one will make noodles and cut the crusts off my sandwiches there.

Po Vang and P. Manning (aforementioned Computer Angel) picked me up at 7:15 and we were off for worship in the outer province. We picked up a student and some local leaders on the way. Everything in Vientiane is very far, it seems to me; we spend a lot of time in the lorry or the van traveling from here to there. Everyone is very patient with this. I am learning to be patient, too.

Gatherings are small, so Po Vang is in charge of several small groups. This small group seemed pretty typical. Nineteen families with children too numerous to count (when I mentioned Planned Parenthood, Po Vang laughed). The talk lasted an hour-and-a-half or so and the children were remarkably attentive, singing the songs with gusto.

After dropping some people off, we had light lunch and sodas on the bank of the Mekong River, then dropped P. Manning at the airport. I will miss his comraderie and comprehension of English nuance. Now the Lao immersion begins in earnest--glub, glub.

Just a word about the Mushroom Project of my last posting. Local folks are always looking for projects which will help employ and feed the people, hopefully eventually getting them out of a subsistence situation. The Mushroom Project is perfect here. The climate, the available hard workers, and the minimal expenditure for supplies suit it well to Laos. Plastic tube-like bags are filled with a mixture of mulched wood, rice, hulls, and plaster, then they are compacted, covered and steamed (using an ingenious arrangement of empty oil drums as steamers). After steaming, they are stacked for a period of time (one to four weeks) in thatched bamboo huts, during which time they gestate mushrooms, which can then be harvested for 3-4 months. Each individual pod of the project requires $345 and pays enough to employ several families. The mushrooms have been so successful that they have all been purchased by a Thai company before they have even made it to market. It was great fun to see several pods at work, from the compacting through the steaming through the nursery tubing and finally the mushrooms thrusting their jaunty beige coolie caps through the burst tubing tops.

American Embassy visit, orientation and maybe some teaching tomorrow

Laos: Day 2 - I Made It!

P. Manning is a good human! He is a Lao angel from South Carolina who just happens to be here for their very first commissioning talk and wonderfully, he has a little red Dell computer which he is temporarily entrusting to me. The local Hotel computers do not like yahoo and cost money to connect to internet and I have been unable, so far, to find a phone, so bear with me while I am learning to connect to my new umbilical cord. (This computer has a cranky relationship with yahoo as well, but I will not gripe as it seems to be on good terms with blogspot!)
I arrived Thursday afternoon and was greeted by no one, so I made my way through the visa process, then a very user-friendly customs, and while I was changing US$ into Kip (1:8500), a lovely man named 'Vote' approached me with a red-penciled my name on notebook paper. I smiled, he smiled, we loaded my luggage into his small pick-up truck and we were off. My first view of Laos through the airplane windows was, I thought, a golf course. So green, so lovely, so this is Laos! The Capital City Vientiane architecture is very diverse, the old vs. the new, the French vs. the Asian, the colonial vs. the third world emerging into the global economy. Motor scooters are everywhere, darting in and out between cars, trucks and bicycles. The locals seem unfazed. I am glad I am not driving.
It is hot; the sun is unforgiving. People keep pulling me into the shade.
My hotel has become a wonderful cocoon. My room is simple but so much more than I expected. It has a toilet and an A/C unit. I am in heaven. I unpacked and found nooks and crannies for everything. I use half of my double bed as a desk. There were five wonderful women from Malaysia who were here to participate in the commissioning and to see The Mushroom Project (more on that later). Po Vang, my host, P. Manning, my computer angel, the Malaysian girls and I dined together Thursday evening. We had delicious Lao food (soups, meat, the famous sticky rice which I very much liked as you use your fingers). Yesterday we toured Mushroom Project locations and saw the Lao Samphang Center. The people are all ages and sizes and are of uniformly good humor. It is obvious they genuinely care about each other. Every person is family.
The Malaysian girls left this morning. I miss them.
I miss you each and appreciate your thoughts and comments which constantly undergird me. For the moment, I am alive and well and learning to love Laos.