Footpaths, Scooters and Tuk Tuks

By now you know my next favorite thing in Laos after the people are the modes of transportation. Since I was told, in effect, not to jump rope for awhile, I'm doing some walking every day. If you're lucky, there's a footpath through the grass or dirt berms alongside the road. Shopkeepers are eager to ply their wares, so their shops are creeping ever closer to the streets to lure their customers inside and get a corner on their competitors. This means generally no footpaths on the main drags, but the side streets often have them. As with the rest of Laos, they are colorful--mostly because of who and what uses them. Often I run into school kids who are unlucky or not old enough to have scooters; the elderly (I ruefully realize that includes me) use them quite a bit, too. Young adults will use them occasionally, throwing their two or three words of English my way to get my attention. I smile and keep on walking. I thought I was approaching dogs last week, but it turned out to be goats. We accommodated one another. Yesterday I was walking back from my favorite restaurant to the guesthouse, minding my own business and oblivious to the world with my head down so I could watch my step, when I came face to face with a cow. I think she was startled, too, but decided to blink first and took to the road. I was grateful.

Scooters are always a trip. I love taking them, because the heaviness of the heat which often surrounds us here melts away and a breeze magically appears when you're on one. The best part by far, though, are the families. Couples are fun, but the other day a couple turned into a family when a little boy popped out of his father's camouflage jacket like a joey from a pouch; mom oblivious on the back, probably glad for a break. My favorite so far was the mother driving, her little girl sandwiched between herself and the grandmother, who had a baby in a sling on her chest.

Tuk tuks are endlessly fascinating. I managed my first price negotiation on one today when the driver said, "Hoi sii pan kip," (104,000k) for the trip I had requested. I must have looked as flabbergasted as I felt. A fellow driver stepped in as if to say, "What he meant was..." and I ended up traveling for hok pan kip (60,000k). Much better. We went past the Festival grounds which were rapidly being restored to order following the crowds of the last week. Guess what the clean-up crew was doing? If you guessed sweeping--ding-ding-ding-ding! You win! All the debris was being swept into 100 lb. (or whatever that translates into metrically) rice sacks. On the way home, as we turned into the street that fronts the guesthouse, a small tuk tuk turned onto the main drag with--you'll never guess--a huge pink pig in it! I'm talking, "Fine swine, wish he was mine, Zuckerman's famous pig!" I doubt his name was Wilbur, but he was not happy about his situation, and I was not the only one who looked twice!