Thailand/Laos/Cambodia II

February 9, 2010

Oh no!! it’s already 9 days into my trip?? How did this happen? Luang Prubang was a dream:

While I sat in the dusty bus terminal in Vientiane, I wondered if it would be hard to procure housing when I got to Luang Prubang late that evening. I made a few calls, but they all were full. I was a little nervous, but the lady I spoke to on the phone reassured me that I would be able to find a place to stay if I told the tuk-tuk to go to the area of the post office.

It was a long hard 10 hour ride. At first, I had some sunlight so I was able to read my book, but when the night descended, I had nothing I could use to distract myself, save for a moment of writing that first journal entry.

We stopped almost every hour and a half—almost for no obvious reason. The bumpy roads wound up and down and the driver blasted and sang along to the LOUD Laotian music (despite the crying baby), and almost everyone on the bus looked at me with a half-smirk, knowing that I was a foreigner who was getting tossed around in the mix of their incomprehensible vowels and consonants and dried frogs.

I was still wearing my sundress from the Bangkok heat and had smoked a cigarette nearly every time we stopped. We stopped for dinner at a random truck area type of place. My status as a non-Laotian made me feel somewhat self-conscious. I was getting stared at. The guy who was taking the tickets laughed at me several times and made rowdy, snickering commentary while looking over his shoulder at his buddies and then pointing in my direction. I simply smiled back and offered him a cigarette. He was more considerate after this.

At about the 5^th time we stopped, the night had gotten inordinately chilly and I asked to get to my backpack so I could cover up. Ticket-master opened the storage space and gave me a hand with my bag.

The night wore on and it grew later and later—I watched the sky and thought about how the clear stars made me think about Tennessee and my old life. Out of caloric necessity, I ordered a bag some strange pastry with a chalky yellow filling. It was pretty disgusting, but I didn’t feel enough fortitude to mime what I wanted to eat at that point. I had been stared at too closely for too many hours at that point.

When I arrived at Luang Prubang at 2am, I felt slightly concerned b/c Laos seemed like it shut down early. Also, I had a moment of apprehension because the guy sitting behind me had pulled out a rifle and slung it across his back. He glanced at me and as he tried to pass. I quickly lifted my heavy backpack and backed up as far as space would allow. Yes. Gun-holders first, of course.

I was ushered into a tuk-tuk with no explanations. The guy across from me asked me where I was from in broken English. I gave him my demographics, figuring he was just a curious Laotian.

Ah. Originally from America but living in Seoul, Korea.

He was from Tokyo, Japan.

Let’s find a hostel together?

He agreed.

When we got to the hostel lane, most of the lights were off, but we confidently strode around with our US dollars figuring there would be some place to sleep. But after knocking on several doors and being turned away (“we’re full”) we both began to worry.

A cute Asian girl with a funky haircut was smoking a cigarette and sitting on the street. When we passed her the second time, she looked up hopefully and then said in perfect English—“I’ve been sitting on the street for the past 2 hours because I couldn’t find a place to stay. Could I join you guys?”

Of course!

Our little motley crew set off as the hour approached 3am, in search for a bed for the evening. We finally found a beautiful little place and paid the exorbitant price of $30USD, but we weren’t homeless for the night. Plus, we roused the sleepy-eyed bedraggled overnight manager at the late hour. The girl (Jackie) and I instantly connected because she lived in Seoul, Korea—and a 3^rd generation Korean American—I’ve never met one of those before. We spent much of the night talking and accidentally got up after only 3 hours of sleep because Jackie had set her alarm to Korean time and not Laos time.

Well, the 3 of us ended up parting ways and finding different hostels to stay in—I ended up at a place on the Mekong River. A bright room with cool breezes and magnolias coloring the sunlight that filtered in. Lovely.

I walked around and found a riverside restaurant with an incredible view. I ordered some laap (Laotian spiced meat) with a huge mound of various delicious greens and cucumbers. After eating, I then walked a little further down the Mekong and decided I wanted a fresh fruit shake. $.80. Amazing.

It was hard to sit still and just read. I still felt so stirred up with life and didn’t know how to slow down and just relax. But somehow, I forced myself for a period. And then, I got up and began to do a little exploring of this beautiful little town.

Bright flora, flapping laundry, rusting corrugated tin, sandwich and fresh fruit smoothie stands, and these beautiful Laotian children laughing and running and smiling and waving, “Sa-bah-dee!”

I had heard about Phusi—that it was one of the places to hit while in Luang Prubang. While I strolled and then saw the sign, I slowly climbed the 400steps to the top. The vegetation crowded around me as I ascended and I enjoyed the frondy respite from the sun. I had no idea what I was going to see, but it certainly more than what I expected:

The city outstretched below me was lit up by the bright sun overhead—the beauty of the people calling out to each other and riding bicycles below the bluest sky and the whitest cottony clouds.

While I attempted to take pictures of myself, a monk dressed in brightly colored orange came and shyly greeted me. Was I willing to talk to him?

Of course!

And so we conversed for about half an hour while my skin began to brown and glisten with sweat.

He was 19 years old, had been in monk school for 2 years and entering his last year. He knew how to speak English because it was part of his training. He asked me if I wanted a picture of myself with the backdrop, and of course I agreed, but then he couldn’t accept the camera directly from my hands. I had to set it on the bench and then he could pick it up. But after snapping the shot, he commented on how beautiful he thought I was. That felt a little confusing.

Eventually, I left for the night market and ran back into Jackie. We ate dinner and then drank beers together at Utopia—a bar that hung directly over the Mekong at the end of a twisty winding alley. We shared our lives and stories and commented about how long it had been since we actually saw stars. I went to bed feeling tired, happy, and slightly drunk.