Wat Watching, SEA Games, Hanging Wares and Farewell

Last trip to the Center:

Chapter I: Wat-Watching
I was finally dressed appropriately last weekend (skirt, sleeves covering the arms) and visited the wat between the guesthouse and the Center that I have walked past countless times in the last twelve weeks. Wats are too numerous to count in Laos. Even the smallest of bans has one. Larger cities have several and Capital City Vientiane and LuangPrabang (the two largest cities in the country) are dotted with them; sometimes there is one right next door to another. They are far and away the most ornate architecture in the country, always with a concrete fence around them which is painted white with various decorations and which has a fancy arch with a spire under which you pass to enter. There are usually several structures on the grounds: A dormitory for the monks; a small, square ornate tower with three or four levels--the top level holding an impressive gong; and perhaps a smaller replica of the main wat. Trees are a requirement. From the street, a wat is a wat. However, as I entered the grounds, I began to feel I was in a hallowed place. There were monks in their saffron robes studying under trees and on benches. The street noise melted away and the mood was pastoral. I left my sandals at the foot of the stairs and walked into the open-sided temple. There was a lovely breeze from somewhere. There were numerous relics, including a statue of a large golden Buddha in the front. But the best part was the picture story painted in connected drawings where the walls resumed and met the ceiling. It started in the rear with a baby and wound around through childhood, youth and adult good works, ending not too far from the beginning with an old man. I walked back to the steps on the cool tiles, glad I had come.

Chapter II: SEA Games
There are eleven country participants in the Southeast Asia Games. The Games (a kind of mini-Olympics with several added Asian sports) are held in odd-numbered years. This is the 25th contest, the 50th anniversary, and the first Games to be held in Laos. The country is awash in preparations, determined this will not be Laos' last Games and that it will not take another fifty years before the Games return here. The Lao Government TV channel has turned into a veritable infomercial for the Games. Schools have extended their winter holidays so families can participate in the festivities. School grounds are being used for Opening and Closing Ceremonies practices. Shopkeepers are sprucing up their stores. Lane Xang Avenue, Vientiane's main street, was being redone and the median strip replanted when I arrived. There is a large electronic board which advertises the number of days until the Games begin, down to the hours, minutes and seconds. It was inaugurated the day after the last Games ended. When I first arrived, in my ignorance, I thought it was a temperature display: 96 degrees sounded about right. Now the days are down to 18, though the temperature is still around 96 degrees. Yesterday several crews were employed painting the median strip on the street leading from the airport to downtown a bright lime green and installing planters with dok champa (plumeria--Laos' national flower) embossed on the sides. Po's secretary is participating in the Opening and Closing Ceremonies with thousands of others and they have been practicing pretty much every day for awhile. What about one's job, you say? The Government has decreed that SEA Games supercedes work and businesses must release employees for activities related to their participation. Vientiane is strewn with banners and lights. My favorite banner reads: Generosity - Amity - Goodwill.

Chapter III: Hanging Wares
Lao shops and talats hang many of their wares from the ceilings. Homes seem to do this, too, with purses and bags hanging from wrought-iron window coverings, and circular woven tables and pans and pots hanging from nails close to the corrugated tin roofs on patio supports. It certainly makes sweeping and washing down floor surfaces easier and items readily visible. In bike shops, motorcycle tires and inner tubes are hung, covered in their foil wrappings. Chips and packs of gum and Lao treats hang from pink, blue or white nylon ribbons in markets, encased in see-through plastic bags either in multiples or in singles and taken down and removed or cut down when they are sold. When I first saw this, I asked Po if it was protection from water during the rainy season or from bugs and mice. He seemed taken aback and somewhat offended and said, quickly, "No. It's just a good way to display things." I shut up. Fruit, vegetables, canned goods and long loaves of french bread are stacked in pyramids or lengthwise on wooden tables or in bins. Everything else is pretty much hung.

Chapter IV: Farewell
My goodbye to LSMC congregations is as follows:
(I include the last paragraph in phonetic Lao so you can try it; don't worry about the tonalities--if you get close, they'll understand.)

Just five months ago, I went through training to serve as an Individual Volunteer in Mission for the UMC. I was looking for a place I might be helpful. I have been a teacher my whole life and I speak some Spanish, so I thought maybe Mexico or Central or South America might be good choices. But God had other plans.
As soon as I stopped speaking and started listening, God said, "Go to Laos." It was as clear as that. I said, "But it's so far from California." God said, "Go to Laos." I said, "But I don't speak Lao." God said, "Go to Laos." I said, "But I am so old." God said, "Go to Laos." Finally, like Isaiah, I said, "Here I am, Lord. Send me."
I asked Po about September, October and November. He said, "Come." I flew on an airplane all night and all day. When I landed in Vientiane, you drove me around. You invited me to your services and showed me your strong faith. You came to class and we worked together and had fun learning English. You told me about Laos and why you're proud to be Lao.

Koi kit hot khoup khoua khong koi, tae mhua koi kup pai ban koi kor khong ja khit hot phuak chao sent kanh, diao nee phuak chao menh penh phark suan nueng khong khoup khoua khong koi. Khoup chai, lae khor, pha chao ouay phone tuk tuk khon.
Here's what you just said:
I miss my family, but when I go home I will miss you, too. You're part of my family now.
Thank you and God be with you.

Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is the name of both a district and a ban in the northern reaches of Vientiane Province and both are lovely. I have come to love the outskirts of Capital City Vientiane, but it is hard to believe how different it looks from Vang Vieng. The most obvious difference is the lay of the land. The Capital City area is flat and Vang Vieng has glorious and unique mountain formations. It's about 3-4 hours from the Capital City, so we started early and picked up a friend to drive the lorry who used to live in Vang Vieng. He bustled us over the mountains with the usual stops at talats along the way. The school children in the mountains, unlike Capital City, are not on hiatus for SEA Games, so we saw many of them with their teachers picking up trash (mostly plastic items) and cutting back brush along the windy road.

When we arrived, we stopped at one of the driver's favorite hahn-a-hahns (restaurants) for Kawpia (I think I finally have that Lao soup right--It's always been delicious, I just never quite knew what it was called or how to phonetically spell it) and kao bpat (fried rice) and nam duum (drinking water). Fortified for the occasion, we headed to Vang Vieng Resort, where you pay kip to get in, then pay kip to go over the suspension bridge, then pay kip to climb the 200 or so steps so you can enjoy the two small shrines overlooking the beautifully valley and separated by a huge cave. There was even a photographer there to take a picture of the seven of us, so we happily obliged, then spent kip when we came down the steps to buy the picture (10,000k, or about $1.25, so it's hard to gripe). The cave was impressive, well lit with cement steps and walks leading to everything, so it was an agreeable experience all around.

We went from lunch and Tham Kham (Kham Cave) up the road a bit to a narrow passage between two of the more striking mountain formations and got out of the lorry at a remote talat to see what was for sale. Fascinating frogs, bats, porcupine, crabs from a nearby river and a multitude of hooves (from cows, I think, but without the cow body, it's hard for a falang to tell) to go with the fresh honey, chips and Pepsi. (There were roasted scorpions and cockroaches at That Luang Festival, but I didn't feel behooved to buy them either.)

Then it was time for Tham Lom (Lom Cave). Kip to park, kip to cross the suspension bridge (at least you got water or Pepsi with the crossing) and kip to explore the cave. The guys begged off and stayed at the river to watch the people tubing and jumping from ropes into the water, but Po's secretary, her seven-year old niece, our hostess for the day and I grabbed flashlights and, along with our two guides, prepared to explore. Something told me this was not going to be quite like Tham Kham. Understatement. As we climbed the large and pointy rocks with bamboo railings (some of them securely anchored to the local flora and fauna and some of them not) to the cave, I was glad I had walked to the Center each day for weeks. We were all breathing hard after twenty minutes of uphill don't-get-distracted-and-watch-your-step. At least the Cave would surely take us back down to ground level. Into the Cave by going over or under a rock formation and on with the flashlights. Apparently there used to be a huge candle illuminating the gargantuan cavern, but someone stole it (no one said how), so it was dark inside. There was one guide in the front of the group and one guide at the back, behind me. We descended several bamboo scaffolds, then found ourselves on rocky terrain again, though a bit smoother rocks than the climb to the Cave. The problem was that some of the rocks were wet and slick. Of course. There was water dripping from the Cave ceiling! I found myself wondering what my insurance covered and whether it would matter, since probably no one would want to bother trying to get me out of there. Concentrate. Slip, slide and jump to a dry spot. At least we're going down. For about twenty-five minutes we pressed forward. When we stopped to shine our flashlights on the walls and ceiling, the rock patterns and sheer size of it all were amazing. Then, we hit a wet area, the size of a small lake and who knows how deep. Hmm. Po's secretary told me the guide behind me was, in fact, just another explorer. In his flip flops, like the guide in the front, I wouldn't have known. And more bad news: No exit below; we had to retrace our steps and go back. Keep panic at bay. Concentrate. I tried not to think of any horror film or book with a cave in it. Stay close to the others. Follow in the guide's (I think) footsteps. Next thing I knew, we were back to the bamboo scaffolding. Then, down the stalagmite rocks--hold onto the secure bamboo railings and be careful of the others!--and, hallelujah, ground level.

I had fallen once and found my shirt-sleeves and jeans pants legs and walking shoes were coated with muck. I absolutely didn't care. Everyone else was matter of fact, but I stuck my face out the side of the lorry for three hours, felt the fresh air rush past and celebrated still being alive.

The Lao Language

Besides the fact that written Lao comes with a multitude of beautiful curlicues, it offers a multitude of words with many meanings. Lao is tonal, which in this case means that the same word means something entirely different, depending upon the way it is said. There are low, mid-range and high tones, plus ascending and descending tones. Each word has potentially five meanings. Low-tone "nam" means water, but mid-range "nam" means beautiful. Watch out or the pretty girl will wonder why you think she's all wet.
The language isn't guttural as I expected, but is interesting and pleasant to the ear. I especially love it when the speaker makes a sustained higher tone, then clucks. It sounds as though something is either in need of reproach or wonderfully provocative. It is fun to speculate which but, unless you're a Lao linguist, probably best to keep that speculation to yourself.

The Lao Zoo

Saturday, scholastic cares behind us, fourteen folks headed for the Lao Zoo. It's on the far northern border of the province, about 70km from of Capital City Vientiane. It took two hours to get there in the lorry, which included five safety checks (license, registration, insurance). The Lao Police were out earning their keep. Luckily, Pastor K was prepared and as soon as they got to us, we sailed through each one. It was not the San Diego Zoo, but I give it an "A" for charm. It also gets high marks for being reasonable; I treated the entire group to entrance passes for the bargain price of hok-sip ha pan kip (65,000k or about $8).
Lush, shaded, meandering paths of wood, brick and gravel led to the various cages and exhibits. In one of the alligator ponds, the five or six animals were covered in green, mossy muck, but in the other, forty-some crocodiles were everywhere, most with their considerable mouths wide open. Very impressive. The observation platform was well-elevated, so when the kids bought and fed them food we were plenty far from their snapping jaws.
The gray elephant and the white elephant were in a very informal paddock where you could touch and feed them. Visitors bought bunches of bananas and the elephants ate them stalks, peelings and all. They just wrapped them up in their trunks and tossed them down the hatch. After ten minutes of eating, the trainer walked the gray elephant to a grass track with a large shade tree in the center. For 5,000k the kids (big and little) took rides, usually three at a time. Our group's three volunteers bravely climbed the steps to the loading platform, straddled the blanket on the elephant's back and around they went. Just one of many Kodak moments.
After a picnic lunch everyone contributed to from the various vendors outside the zoo gates (I had a doctored-up hard-cooked eg in its brown shell and kao niao--sticky rice, a Lao specialty--cooked in a bamboo stalk; just peel back the bamboo and voila!), we headed another forty kilometers to the Nam Ngum Hydroelectric Plant. The dam (government-owned) sells electricity to Thailand and helps power Laos as well. The Nam Ngum River itself and the man-made lake behind the dam were glorious. Everyone was full of national pride.
On the interminable way home, we stopped a couple times, first at a talat (market) for fruit, then at a field for an informal bathroom break. It's an amazing process. The lorry pulls over to the side of the road and everyone with business gets out. Five minutes (or less) later, everybody's back in her/his seat and off we go.
Pastor K gets the Captain of the Day Award. He safely shepherded us all through everything over and back without complaint.
It was a very good day.

Peter and Me

Yesterday was not a good day. Wanting to go over lesson plans for the last four evenings of class, I abandoned them to replenish food and kip supplies instead. Finding one of my favorite tuk tuk drivers at the corner, he said, "Nam Phou," I said, "Dii," fare was quickly agreed upon and we were off. Vientiane is full of falang (westerners) at this time of year as November's weather is usually the most agreeable. I am falang, too, but in my ban and for several bans around, I don't have to deal with them, so my attitude is one of reluctant acceptance and barely-concealed animosity. I think it's the attitude of entitlement that galls me. At any rate, we reached Nam Phou, parked at an agreed upon spot, and I said, "Sip-ha natii (fifteen minutes)." Just then a young French woman asked a policeman on the corner, in English, where the Morning Market was. He didn't seem to want to deal with her and shrugged. I stepped in to try to give directions. I said, "Talat Sao, Morning Market," just to make sure she knew the Lao if she needed it. Then I proceeded to point and explain. She was obviously uncomfortable with all my English and finally asked, "Can you go with me?" I was close to my tuk tuk driver and he was nodding when I said, snippily, "I'm not going that way." The driver looked momentarily taken aback (it would have taken, maybe, ten minutes), then resumed his usual protective impassivity. I headed for the ATM. Somewhere in Vientiane, a cock crowed. After finishing my run through the western grocery store for bread and milk, I headed back to the tuk tuk to return home, but not before a man with no lower legs crawled past me, a furtive expression on his face. I wanted to give him kip, but I was paralyzed. With Herculean effort, he vaulted himself onto his modified bicycle and the moment had passed. He was gone. I had the entire trip home to replay my missed opportunities. On this particular journey, the cardinal commandment is: Your mission (the task) shall not get in the way of your purpose (the people). Falang. That's me. Given my druthers, I would choose Ruth. Yesterday, I was far more like Peter.

Supermarkets vs. Talats

For efficiency, it's hard to beat Vons or Ralphs, but for adventures in shopping, there's nothing like a talat anyday! Po's secretary took me to get some little packages of colored pencils to give to the students on our last day, Friday, and we headed out on her scooter to my favorite place, a couple bans down the road. It's 2000k (about 25 cents) to park under awnings in the shade and those black scooter seats get hot awfully fast, so we opted to splurge. Then we headed through the vendors selling vegetables, the vendors selling fruit, one of the several clothing stands, past the beauty products. Watch your step! Rarely are the aisles level; there's usually a step up or a couple down--or both. The smells from the hot food vendors were pungent. Anyone for fish on a stick that looks like fish on a stick? Not quite the same as hot dog on a stick, for some reason. Around several corners, there were the school supplies, in all their glory--Tinkerbell rulers, Hello Kitty notebooks, alphabet erasers, pens and highliters of every stripe, and there are the colored pencils! Six choices were almost too many, but we finally settled on Barbies and rainbows and let the students' choose. We negotiated the price, retraced our steps, bought water from an enterpreneurial gal who knew you'd probably need it coming or going, put on our helmets and we were off .

The Path

Linen Update: Perhaps it was hot pink overload, but the baby blue sheet and pillowcases dotted with tiny white hearts are a cool and welcome change. There are also royal blue larger heart outlines filled with royal blue mum-like blossoms and daisy chain runners down each side, under the favorite burnt red and yellow plumeria-patterned coverlet. Once again, it's a visual buffet.


The daily trek from the guesthouse to the Center and back could be fascinating because of the animals and the traffic, which are endlessly entertaining. It could be refreshing because of the brief respites from the heat provided by Ketsana, Parma, Lupit and Mirinae, the typhoons which drowned the Philippines, inundated Vietnam and periodically sprinkled Vientiane. It could be engaging because of items like the litre bottles filled with water mixed with red food coloring which stand on plastic stools and wooden boxes and signify that the shop behind them carries gasoline, just in case one runs out after the gas stations close and needs a few litres to get his car or scooter home. However, it is most interesting because of the human snapshots which take place on it. Yesterday, two seven-year old boys walked past me, their arms draped companionably around each other's waists, sharing the stories seven-year old boys share. While I was negotiating at the tailor's, a man asked for kip for hawpia (noodle soup). After considering for a moment, I handed him 5000k, which is what I pay. The tailor's daughter subtly nodded and smiled. I was happy to be affirmed. Last week, two middle school boys walked by, one with his hand on the other's shoulder. It took awhile before I realized he had a white cane and was being guided by the other as they chatted. There are a pair of sandals which have a large blossom imprinted on the sole and a smaller one on the heel. They are almost always indented in the dust on my journey and I smile as I walk parallel to them. Someone special has traveled the same path before me.

That Luang Festival

According to Google, a stupa is a mound-like structure containing Buddhist relics. This particular stupa is far more than a mound. It has spires, is painted gold, is impressively large and is said to contain an actual hair from the Buddha's head. It shimmers in the sunset. It will serve as the logo for the upcoming SEA (Southeast Asia) Games, to be held in Vientiane from December 9-18, 2009. For one week during the twelfth month of the lunar calendar, the faithful make a procession around the great stupa. They carry miniature temples created from the stems of banana trees and decorated with little orange blossoms and larger yellow blossoms made of wax and beautifully-folded kip notes woven together like the tails of kites, fluttering in the breeze. The carnival/bazaar/festival peaks on the morning of the full moon with the Takbat ceremony where monks from all over the country receive alms. All Lao cultures participate, dressed up in their ethnic garb. Many schools and villages have banners and bands with drums, keyboards and pipes and join in the parade, marching around That Luang three times, then laying their gifts carefully at the foot of the stupa with the thousands of others. At night they carry candles.

There were crowds on Sunday afternoon when I went with Po's secretary to observe the festivities. I saw more westerners than I've seen my entire trip--times ten. The celebration finished Monday night with an extensive stage show, a feast and a firework display. Both Lao TV stations covered it. If you ask a Lao person about the great stupa, they will not know what you're talking about. But every Lao knows That Luang.

The Wedding Reception

He works in the copy shop where all our educational supplies are prepared. She happens to be one of Po's secretary's best friends. Yesterday they got married and I was lucky enough to be there for the wedding reception. The invitations were engraved on pale pink paper. Imagine a bunch of Lao curlicues announcing: thefamiliesofthebrideandgroominviteyoutobepresentfortheweddingoftheirchildrenon31october2009 and you have some idea of how it looked. (Lao rarely capitalizes and there are no spaces between words.)

The two just happened to live next door to each other, so the wedding was set up in their adjoining yards, open only to family and close friends. Then another couple hundred people descended upon the premises and the Beerlao and the Pepsi started flowing. The reception had begun. Every woman looked lovely in custom-made silk sinhs (Lao skirts) and tops of every persuasion; the men wore suits and dress shirts. Sandals and high heels co-mingled and hair ran the gamut from spiky to exquisite braids.

The groom was resplendent in a white suit and white shoes which went spectacularly with his wide smile. The bride was in her glory in Lao finery of the highest order: Her ivory sinh and ivory silk top were highlighted by a red and gold embroidered sash (worn over one shoulder, the ends meeting on the opposite hip). Her hair was a perfect tight black beehive bedecked with gold filament. She and her new husband looked regal. They greeted each guest, then took group pictures with guest families as people departed.

The food consisted of fifteen to twenty special nuptial dishes, including soups, salads, fresh fruit, and bountiful quantities of kao (rice) and fresh French bread. Delicious delicacies were enjoyed by all. No one went away hungry.

There was a disc jockey and there was a singer and they took turns entertaining the masses with danceable music. Guests formed small circles and moved gently to the music with both their hands and their feet, smiling in a congenial manner.

The catering staff and the valet folks had platters of food delivered to them as well, and when all the ice buckets were full and all the scooters were parked, they ate and swayed in time to the music.

I didn't stay long and I didn't understand much that was said, but I did bathe in the overflowing joy and contentment. May the bridal couple's hearts have captured enough to last a lifetime.