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.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
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.
Monday, November 9, 2009
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 .
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 2, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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.
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.
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