I cannot describe how wonderfully spiritual this country has been for me. I started this journey having no idea what to expect, and in Vietnam got the culture pants high voltage shocked right off me.
Perhaps if I started here in Laos, my feeling would be similar to those I experienced in Vietnam. But this is not where I started, it is where I arrived.
The town of Luang Prabang by size and attitude is Iowa City with a Jimmy Buffet flare. No question the culture is different than Iowa. Duh. But from traffic to noise the mood cultivates ‘calm the hell down.’
Of course, my plane was delayed, and I arrived close to midnight, which appears to be a trend for me.
The plane was late, not cancelled. I was still going forward, not stopped. A very important distinction in life. Everyone is traveling forward. Not every step is on even, paved ground. Chill. You will get there.
So in the morning I started anew. I pulled up my big girl panties and I tried a new country.
My daughter says never to use the word panties. Apparently it is on the dead end of the age scale and holds equal cringe value as the word ‘moist.’ I agree with her opinion on ‘moist.’
After climbing down the mountain:
I arranged a ride to the waterfall for tomorrow.
I arranged to have my laundry done.
I went to the bank and exchanged money.
I was even able to find a grocery store on the block to buy bottled water.
All by my big girl self.
That was one of the things in Vietnam. I have no idea why, but I could not find a shop to sell me a simple bottle of water. It was all coffee shops or food places or beer and souvenirs. Or in the mornings it was a farmers market of fish (alive or dead), lots of veggies, and an assortment of dead animals whole or quartered.
Still shaking my head about the road goat.
Granted, every hotel provides 2 bottles of water a day in your room for free, but I was downing those in minutes.
I needed a Caseys. Not a full blown Piggly Wiggly, but a convenience store. I finally found one on my last day in HaNoi. It was a Circle K, if you are interested. And of course, it was different.
They had coolers full of drinks, and yes, a few larger bottles of water, but despite the cooler, nothing was cold.
I miss ice. I know right now I am in the tropics compared to February in Iowa, but I miss ice. In drinks. Not on the pavement. I wanted to be clear.
But on that last day in Hanoi, I almost cried I was so happy to find a convenience store. I bought water. They did not have over the counter meds like Pepcid or aspirin, but they had a lovely array of shoelaces and hair supplies next to the dumplings and slush machine for some reason.
But I digress. The point is I walked out of the hotel and found relevant and useful things here. I did not find a Circle K, but I did find a shop selling basic groceries, including full cases of water.
I walked down the street without fear of death scooters or honking horns, and it was nice. The fridge in my hotel room actually works, where none of them in Vietnam did, so I bought big bottles of water, chilled them and practically drown myself.
Then I took the opportunity to wander the streets. Upon recommendation of a friend I went to Lum Lum coffee and had a wonderful coffee shake. I wandered along the river and watched people meander by.
And I found Moon Love Batik, a traditional Hmong cloth shop where my friend also recommended I take a Hmong Batik class, so I did.
Hmong Batik is the art of making a design on fabric, then dying it. The design is drawn using a flat bladed copper tipped ‘pencil’ dipped into hot beeswax. The wax drawing washes off in the dying process, leaving the white or natural color of the handwoven hemp fabric in its place.
The designs are special and specific for the Hmong culture, with representations of leaves, seeds and other natural symbols within patterns to tell the story of the Hmong people and their mountainside way of life.
The workshop, as with many things in town, was located overlooking a river with gentle breezes flowing through as I selected and worked a pattern on my little piece of cloth. Workshops range from 1 hour to 2 day, and the basic difference is the size of cloth you get to work on.
I did a 1 hour workshop so had approximately 12” x 12” piece of cloth. The ladies I sat with were a mother and daughter duo from Australia taking a full day workshop so their pieces were the size of a large dishtowel and more intricate patterns.
When I was working, or the kids were in school and had limited breaks, we traveled as time as the driving factor. My husband is 6 foot with long legs and no matter how physically fit I am at any given moment, I always end up walking behind him because he does not do slow for anyone or anything. Our vacations, due to time were never slow. Try to see as much as you can as quickly as you can, because time was always the driving factor of travel.
I never liked that. I understood it, and I appreciate we went anywhere, but I missed so much trying to experience too much.
I think it is the experience of so many people that you can go places and see things and not be there at all.
I am not claiming I am 100% here, other than physically. I know I am rushing through places I could stay and explore in more depth, but I am also crawling compared to the pace we used to set on vacations.
We went places, and we were presently and actively our culture trampling another. Yes, we went to museums and looked at artifacts (which I do enjoy doing, not bashing museums.) but we diminished or ignored the impact the people standing right next to us were having. From the shop keeper who sold me water, to the driver of the car from the airport; they are here, moving through their daily lives and vital to me being able to function in this space.
Yes, their economy in part relies on tourists, but they are not here to serve me or help me maintain my Americanism in their country.
Or perhaps that is why this trip is so relevant and important. I am here to change. I am here to learn and experience what it is to be Lao, not to be an American in Laos.
Of course, I am doing that not knowing the language, the customs, the anything to be honest. So, I’m flapping my jaw about experiencing Laos, but lofty goals and such.
And back to the point of this tangent. I took a class. I sat in the middle of the day with no intent of rushing off and notching my belt with as many sites as I could see.
In the past, we did not have time to take classes. We did not have time to sit by a river, or an ocean or even on top of a mountain and think. The pace life set in today’s society actively prohibits personal introspection. It forbids the moments to detach and reattach to one’s self, and that is hurting our world, and especially our kids. Think they are tied to their phones and screens? Who exactly do you think put them there?
But… I digress. Again. It is a theme, get used to it.
Anywho, I enjoyed the class and even stayed a little longer than I needed to. They should have charged me double because I think I ended up being there for 2 or more hours instead of the one, but time was irrelevant so I did not note it.
The women spoke of their past and commented frequently about the music being played in the background until they decided they were done with the relaxing piano elevator music and insisted he switch the tunes up to something more traditional, or at least Lao.
He did, but that only lasted 2 songs. They urged him on again and we ended up listening to some kind of Lao rap I think. It had a good beat.
The point came where I could do no more on my cloth, so I bid farewell to the others and wandered back to the hotel where I drown myself in air-conditioning and cold water before deciding I was hungry.
The night market was apparently the place to get food.
My hotel is essentially located on an alley. I am finding that is common in this part of the world.
A nice alley. Make no mistake it is a huge visual upgrade from Vietnam, but only scooters can drive on it.
I wandered down the alley in the direction I was instructed to go, and quite by accident before I realized what happened, I was standing in the middle of a Buddhist Temple grounds.
Probably should have read the sign when I moved under the gate. Lucky I was wearing pants and t-shirt, so knees and shoulders were covered.
In my defense, the alley appeared to end in a parking lot. It did not turn, nor indicate private property (as far as I could tell) and others were walking through as if it were a continuation of the alley to the next street.
But it was odd because there were no cars, only statues, and a building off to each side. After I stood looking around to find my bearings for a moment, it became obvious it was a temple… at the end of an alley… which people walked through to get from point A to B. It was very odd.
But pretty. And Odd.
Nobody around to explain. Nothing open to view, and no signs to read. It felt abandoned to be honest, except it was entirely too well maintained to be abandoned.
Perhaps the monks were all at the night market having dinner. I shrugged off the oddity and moved on.
The next road over was transformed from a main street through town into the Night Market lined with pop up vendors who sold everything from t-shirts to knives. Everything except food.
So I searched for food through the river of vendors.
Admittedly, some things interested me. I do not need any of it. I am trying to downsize, but I was tempted. I found things other people might enjoy, but I did not buy because I wanted to find food.
I did learn, however, if you go early, as I did, and you show interest in something the price will drop until they hook you. Apparently it is bad luck if the first customer of the evening walks away.
I also learned I am really bad at haggling over cost, especially when I am struggling understanding all the zeros they use in their currency.
It took me through dinner to finally get a handle on the fact $1 US is roughly 21,700 Laotian Kip. I paid $1.30 for dinner after I eventually walked almost a mile to find food at the end of the Night Market.
I’m proud I only bought food.
We will see what happens tomorrow night.
