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Thailand II and Laos
Hopelessly lost in another big city, a friendly Buddhist monk offered to lead me to my evening entertainment. Since arriving in Thailand, I've been mesmerized by the large population of monks. Shaven heads and robed in earth-toned sheets, these keepers of the temples intrigued me even in their everyday activities. Sweeping a courtyard, talking on a phone, sitting under a tree, I couldn't help but photograph endless rolls of film. They carry a strong presence in their quiet, solemn lifestyles. A presence so strong, it was hard to view them as regular people. At one point, I tried to approach some monks to ask questions about how they lived, but all I got in return was silent stares. Oh, I could kick myself. Stupid me. Maybe they're under a vow of silence. But unlike the stereotype I had formed, no response was more from their lack of understanding English than a silence vow. A couple of monks that I did chat with explained their way of life to me. I exchanged addresses with the monks, then worrying that their address would change before I arrived back in the US, I asked how long they would be staying at their current temple in Bangkok. "Twelve years," they replied.They know where they will be for the next 12 years, and I don't know where I'll be for the next 12 days. It was these same monks that led me through the streets of Bangkok, boarding and unboarding busses, making our way across the city. When I came to my destination, the monk looked over at me and gave me a nod in an understated way that only monks can do. I stepped off into a frenzied crowd of blood thirsty fans awaiting the next knock-out in Thailand's favorite sport of Muay Thai, better known to us as Thai Kickboxing.
Throughout Thailand, it always seemed I either end up in big cities or heavy tourist areas. It wasn't until I stayed in the small mountain town of Pai, in Northern Thailand, that I was able to find a balance between convenience and isolation. This small town still had a steady stream of tourists, but the surrounding villages offered my first taste of their traditional culture, which was still holding on. Stumbling upon a school yard, I watched and tried to learn the game they played. I witnessed a typical playground scenario where a boy began pestering a younger girl, only to be run off by a fist-wielding older girl. A teacher approached me asking if kids in America like what he was drinking. "What are you drinking," I asked. He thought for a bit, then grabbed his chest. "Oh yeah," I replied. "Kids in America drink milk." Then I realized I was becoming a public service announcement. The teacher began doing hand gestures to show big and strong. So I turned to the kids and said, "Help you grow big and strong, milk does the body good, pass it on." Sure enough, by that time, I had a big crowd of kids gathering around. Trying to break down the barriers, I gave one of the kids a handshake. Besides saying the word "hello," the handshake is the other widely known western custom. So to add a little flavor to the handshake, I taught the kids a variety of shakes and hand slaps. Eventually the handshaking turned into a lesson on how to thumb wrestle. I battled an ever growing line of kids, thumb wrestling- my newest form of diplomacy. Following one match where a kid beat me, I stepped back and respectfully saluted the child in defeat. This in turn garnered a return salute from the child. Then all of a sudden I had a little regiment of village kids standing at attention doing about faces and forward marches to my inaudible commands. Through the center of the playground I marched, high stepping and arms swinging with my new found compatriots marching in line behind me.
In Thailand, my favorite experience was visiting the small mountain villages where they seemed separated from the rest of the world, unlike the people living in the cities. So as I made my way to Laos, I knew it was going to hold so much more, considering that 88% of the country still resides in villages, not in cities. "It's visit Laos Year," I pleaded. "They said I could get a visa at the border," I continued. " They who?" the visa people questioned. I wasn't about to tell them that the "they" was an American girl currently under a self-imposed vow of silence at some temple in Thailand learning meditation. Anyway, I was getting nowhere and I needed to worry about the more important pressing issue that without a visa to enter Laos, and an expired visa for Thailand, where was I to spend the night, floating on the Mekong River between the countries?
Since starting my travels, Laos is the first country I've entered where a prearranged visa is required. Even in Laos, this practice is disappearing, but unfortunately for me, the workers at the border crossing still have a financial gain in requiring tourists to use travel agents to procure the visas. So back to Thailand I went, defeated in an attempt to save the $15 service fee the travel agents charge. On top of that, I would have to pay a fine for overstaying my visa in Thailand. The following day I returned with my travel agent that promised my visa would be ready by 11:00 AM. "Visa not ready. Won't be ready till 2:00 PM," the visa lady said with a grin. I knew this was a conspiracy. I even had my travel agent admit that they do sometimes issue visas at the border. "Visa people in meeting with government people," my travel agent explained. "Yeah, I know what kind of meeting," I said sarcastically while showing the travel agent the pantomime for getting payments under the table. So there I sat, not till 2:00 PM but rather until 4:00 PM. Who knows if thiswas really a legitimate wait, but in protest, I defiantly rested my feet upon the chair next to a sign that said "Do not use your foot on the chair." Unfortunately, my act of defiance was never noticed, since I was left alone, waiting for hours.
Despite the headaches of trying to cross over into Laos, I would soon wholeheartedly classify it as the best country I've visited since beginning my travels. Who could ever dislike a place where its main mode of transportation is by boat? There is something wonderfully Mark Twainish about traveling through a country where their main highway is still the river. In Laos, it seems new discoveries and adventures still await the curious traveler, that is if you're willing to endure the journey to find it. Heading from the northwest of Laos to the central capital, I began my first leg of the journey by cruising the Mekong River. The Mekong River is one of the largest rivers in the world with it beginning high up in the Southern Mountains of China. For boat travel on the river, you can either choose to ride the extremely loud and cramped speedboat, or like me, opt for lounging in a boat they rightly named, "the slow boat." I queried a passenger if we where to go upstream, then I would officially be "On a slow boat to China," but instead I had to accept the designation of just being "On a slow boat from China."
Whatever boat I was on, in the coming days I realized why the river still stands as the most popular mode of transportation. I can guarantee you that Walmart lays more asphalt for parking lots every year than Laos lays for their entire network of roads through their country. I traveled on one road for seven hours reaching a maximum speed of 20 mph on small patches of asphalt only to be jarred by sudden braking while entering into one of the largest and most continuous potholes in the world. I realized that it is the horrible conditions of the roads that slows the migration of Western civilization into the country. So I told myself that I could not complain, but embrace these roads, for they where going to offer me a chance to witness a culture I had sorely missed in so many of the other countries. So I started looking for the positive. For example, Laos is my first communist country that I've entered since traveling, and surprisingly, it is the first country I've entered that actually drives on the right side of the road! That's kind of positive. Also, while traveling down the unbeaten paths, or better described as the paths that give you a beating, it offers a tourist a chance to become a celebrity. My seven hour journey was continually made more wonderful by the numbers of kids noticing the tourist, and running out to the road to wave at me.
My first village I visited was Ban Nam Sang, where they were trying hard to keep their culture alive. Touring the village, I watched a lady working on a loom, making the traditional clothing that most of the villagers still wore. Cruising around, I happened upon a group of kids that wanted nothing to do with my camera or me. Since Ban Nam Sang still holds to their traditional ways, it has become a popular tourist site, probably making the kids feel more like animals in a zoo than people trying to live their own lives. So I decided I was going to hang out and attempt to play with the kids. Since traveling in Laos, I've learned a couple methods of trying to break down the barriers between the locals and myself. One sure fire hit is to make as many sounds with your body as possible. I began making a popping sound by sucking my lips tightly together then opening my mouth. This started to get their attention. Then I did another popping sound by popping the inside of my cheek out with a finger. They were impressed. They hadn't seen that one before. Sure enough, I broke through the barrier and the kids were all making popping sounds and showing me how to use a local plant to make ear-piercing shrills. In no time, the children of Ban Nam Sang began hamming it up for my camera and following me wherever I walked.
In Thailand, I learned that the village kids preferred free ink pens I was handing out as a gift far more than the bag of candy someone had suggested I give to the children. So, as I set off for a full day of touring villages in Laos, I bought 40 ink pens to give along the way. After traveling by truck on a dirt road for over an hour, the trail came to a dead end in a very remote village. Walking into this village, I received two distinct reactions. Babies started crying and children pointed at me and ran to hide. That either meant I was really scary looking or that tourists are rarely seen in this area. I assumed it was the latter, so I tried to connect with them in the same way that I had done in other villages. Another barrier breaker I had learned was to show the kids the hair on my arms, which was always a guarantee to get their eyes enlarged in amazement, considering they have little to no hair on their arms. So after walking through the village I began handing out a few of the pens, that was until I asked the driver of my truck if they had any paper. He asked them and shook his head no. They were too poor to even own paper. However, in one village the pens were a big hit, which made me require the very shy children to shake my hand before I gave them a pen. This was a struggle for some, squealing out a laugh while shaking my hand. Of course,it is my duty to at some point single out one of the kids by quietly putting my hand out for a shake, only to scare the individual once they shake my hand. It seemed to always be a crowd pleaser for the kids.
Since the Laos people spoke the least amount of English than any of the previous countries I had visited, I expanded my vocabulary past the usually "Hello" and "Thank you," to also include the statement "It is very hot," considering the sweltering weather was even taking its toll on the locals. As a photographer I also learned the very important word for "Beautiful, very beautiful." This was a great way to persuade older women to allow me to photograph them and their babies. My conversations would go like this. "Sabadee (hello) Nam Lai babee (very beautiful baby) Kawp Jai Lai Lai (thank you very much). Speaking of women and babies, Laos is a country where small children's favorite clothing is their birthday suits and it is also a country where it seems like every woman approaching to sell you vegetables was always breast-feeding her baby.
Luang Prabang is a city recognized as one of the few remaining places in South East Asia where the character of the town still remains unchanged from its earlier colonial days as a French Colony. Luang Prabang is famous for its seemingly endless numbers of Buddhist Temples, known as Wats. Unfortunately, I had already viewed endless numbers of Wats in Malaysia and Thailand and had become what travelers called "Watted out," or what I referred to as "watever." Luckily, the young monks in training did provide a new experience to my long list of Monk-like experiences. Stopping at one temple, I was greeted by a group of the novice monks trying out their English on me. "Hey dude, awesome dude," one kid remarked. Touring their meager living quarters, I noticed a chalkboard used to teach the kids English. "She's a doctor," the first line read. "It is hot." See I'm not the onlyone trying to be bilingual about the weather. The final line was the best, with their lesson teaching them the English words for "they're rich." Starting in Luang Prabang, I began eating some of the best food I've come across since traveling. The food was not really a traditional Laos food, but a combination of Laos, Thai, Chinese, French, Indian and American. It was actually hard to sit down and eat more than two dollars worth of food and drink. In the last year, Laos economy has taken a nose dive, causing the value of their money to slide from 3000 kip to 9000 kip for one US dollar. Everywhere you went, you could either pay in the more stable Thai Baht or US dollar, making their own money less valued. For example, in Laos' capital city of Vientiane, I found myself eating in an Italian restaurant, surrounded by French people, while being asked to pay for my meal in US dollars. It's great to be in a foreign land.
Currently, I'm beginning my tour through Europe after taking a two-week vacation in Holland from vacationing. My plans to travel over land to Europe was met with an escalating cost for the usually low budget train trip from China to Moscow aboard the Trans Siberian Railway. Extreme heat and humidity in Asia and a quickly vanishing summer in Europe coaxed me to jet straight to the Netherlands. Rested up, I'm kicking off my 90 day whirlwind tour of Europe, with Scandinavia as my first destination. I plan to hang with my friend Tor in Norway, for what better way to learn about Scandinavia than to hang with a man named Tor. OK, maybe hanging with a Swede named Inga, would be better, but unfortunately I haven't met any women
named Inga.
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