Wanderlust Heaven!

Luang Prabang is a hard place to describe or photograph. It’s a little city – large town really – which is surprisingly expansive, and whose charms reveal themselves slowly, street by street. It’s packed full of wats (temples), more than 60, but the true character of the place is best found in the alleys, once dirt paths, now paved, which connect the handful of main streets. It was the ancient capital of Laos, and had its share of ups and downs, including near-abandonment during the mid-1970s. Even today it has an odd feel – an ancient place that was emptied out and left to rot, but then rescued in a sense (in 1995 UNESCO declared it a World Heritage spot) and re-populated, in many cases by ‘outsiders.’

LPB is, I would think, a great honeymoon spot. It has 4-5 top-notch French and Lao restaurants, and scores of nameless little joints with food nearly as good. There are also 4-5 top hotels and resorts offering colonial-style or local ‘royal style’ accoms. The town itself, larger than you’d think, is perfect for strolling around and checking out local handicrafts – which are quite nice. And, just when you, the adoring couple, are starting to get stir crazy from all the luxury, there are lots of ‘eco-tourism’ adventures on offer, including trekking to hill villages and white-water rafting. ‘Eco-tourism’ is a big word around here…and I suppose that’s a positive, although to me the word really means ‘the locals carry the heavy stuff – rafts, etc. – while the tourists promise not to throw their water bottles in the woods or rivers.’ Call me a cynic…

It being rainy season, LPB was lush and awash in life. My friend Harsh and I walked around for hours, taking in the wats and street life. We were staying at Villa Sokxai #1 – the #1 being material, in that there are now 2 Villa Sokxais – confusing and annoying to the tourist. We, of course, booked at one of them and arrived at the other one, being unaware of the expansion of the Sokxai Empire. But it all worked out and we were free to wander about town. Our guesthouse was smack in the middle of a slew of wats, so we checked those out. Nice, to be sure, but I have a fairly low wat quotient and Vientiane had already come up against it. But for the sake of being illustrative, here’s a shot of the town’s most famous temple, Wat Xieng Thong:

And a typical street view:

Harsh was far more energetic than I in LPB – probably because he had only 5-6 days in Laos, on holiday, whereas I’m on permanent holiday and have as much time as I want here. So he got up early to see the monks receiving their alms from the townspeople – I slept in. He rented a bike and went far afield – I went for lunch down the street. And I did loads of reading – plowed my way through the book Zodiac, based on the serial murder case in San Francisco in the 60s and 70s. Mighty creepy – the movie came out a while back and I quite enjoyed it. No one’s sure who the murderer was/is…he was extremely good at covering his tracks. I imagine it would be difficult to get away with so many crimes nowadays, with DNA testing and so forth – but a good mind can often beat good science, methinks.

I also spent a bit of time beating myself up for missing the rendezvous with the waitress from Don Chan on my final night in Vientiane. Harsh was easy on me – he could have harangued me if he wished. I kind of fancied the waitress, and you don’t always get these chances back. I started considering heading back to Vientiane once more, before proceeding to the adventure town of Vang Vieng. More on that later.

One activity I did undertake was the climbing of Mt. Phousi, which is in the middle of LPB and which offers spectacular views of the area. It’s not a hard climb – 300 or so steps, 10 minutes of medium-level work – but Harsh is not in the best of shape and I could use a bit more cardio exercise too, so we huffed and puffed and got up after some effort and sweat (mostly mine).

There are a couple wats en route and at the top, but the star is really the vista. You can see both the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers from there, and the countryside is bright green and loamy. I said LPB is difficult to describe – that’s probably evident from my crappy prose – and to photograph. Well, you be the judge – here are views from Mt. Phousi:

And there’s a supposed imprint of the Buddha’s foot atop the mount as well. The foot is the size of a dinosaur’s – here it is:

Later, at lunch, I read the Vientiane Times, a particularly unhelpful rag that is the only English-language paper in Laos. I noticed a familiar name and photograph…let me give a bit of background first. Years ago, when I lived in Washington, D.C., I spent a lot of time hanging around with friends Blaze and Scrimp. We were all in the media business and were up on the news, even news from obscure lands, like Laos. One day we saw a piece about the Lao Politburo, and the elevation of a politician to its ranks. His name was something like Sisouluth Thangloon. We all found that surname pretty random and funny – and Blaze came up with a decent joke about a new shampoo called ‘Vidal Thangloon.’ For some reason that story has always stuck with me, and the country of Laos has always been associated in my mind with this one fellow. Well, reading the paper today, I noticed that the selfsame Dr. Thangloun (spelling always variable) was now Deputy Prime Minister and also Minister of something else, probably Finance. And his face was all over the paper. I thought back to my days in D.C., when I never imagined I’d see the day when I’d be sitting in a café in Laos reading about the same guy. That provided a helpful bit of context…

We went out that night to the local hot spot, Hive. Sat outside for an hour, it was humid and I was shvitzing pretty badly. Moved on to one of the two places that have some dancing, this one was called Meungsa and it turned out to be a cabaret/nightclub place much like Anou and Lane Xang in Vientiane. We took a peek, then decided to give it a miss and see what else was around. Which turned out to be very little, so we called it a night.

I should mention that we had some superb dinners in LPB. Our first night we went to the top-rated place, L’Elephant, where we had a ‘Lao Tasting Menu’ that turned out to be excellent. LPB has some of its own local specialties, one is ‘river weed,’ which is similar to Japanese nori (seaweed), but is fried and coated in seeds and has a pleasant, slightly sour taste and unusual texture – simultaneously silky and crispy. With a good bottle of French red, the entire meal set us back US$60. Another night, we went to 3 Nagas, which specializes in Laos/LPB delicacies. A very classy place, with red walls and lots of Lao artwork on the walls. I had river fish grilled (somehow) in a banana leaf covering – wonderful in every way. Harsh was not particularly adventurous – I later weighed in on this – and went with the staple laap (chopped salad) with pork. Our third big dinner was at Tamnak Lao – we had actually intended to eat at Villa Santi’s restaurant, but it was dead at 8 p.m. and I never like to see that. With loads of French tourists in town, I prefer to go somewhere with at least a few of them sitting around – the French palate is generally trustworthy. So we went across the street to Tamnak Lao, and tried a few dishes there. Harsh was again going with the laap, I got him to branch out a bit, and we ended up splitting some spicy lao sausage (superb), fried morning glory (refreshing), an odd local dish consisting of pork and veggies stuffed into bamboo shoots and fried (sounded better than it was), and a few other plates. Pretty good, but not up to the level of L’Elephant or 3 Nagas. But perfectly fine.

Random shot of monks in an Internet café…

While walking around one evening we noticed a Western woman sitting outside an Internet café, wearing the sourest look on her face. We were both struck by that…you often see travellers looking exhausted or out of sorts, but this woman looked deeply forlorn and I felt sorry for her companion(s). She may have had reason to look so gloomy, and perhaps I’m ungenerous, but it seemed to me that this was a case of a traveler disliking travel. And that’s not so unusual – some people are cut out for the mayhem and unpredictability, and thrive on it – and others, despite wanting to flourish in bizarre settings and circumstances, really belong at home. And this woman, we both thought, belonged in the second category. I’m pretty sure I belong in the first…

We suspected she was French, given the preponderance of Frenchies around town, and given the French tendency to be critical and gloomy. Anyway, that’s our story, and we’re sticking with it. The French theme was expanded the following day, when we went to the nearby Kuang Si waterfall and swimming area. I was prepared to be disappointed – particularly since we had to go out there with a local outfitter who billed everything as ‘eco-tourism.’ Tourists cannot rent motorbikes in LPB – a scam similar to that in Siem Reap, where ‘accidents’ are the given reason for the ban. So tourists can either take a pushbike out there – and it’s 32 km with lots of hills – or sign on and head out there in a van or tuktuk. Anyway, we sucked it up and went out there in a van with 7-8 other tourists. And we had a great time, really. But when we got there and got the lay of the land, the 2 French girls in our van proceeded to set themselves up on a patio overlooking the falls and spend 30 or so minutes working on their makeup. I didn’t really notice them, but Harsh did (he’s usually more energetic and covers more ground), and he found these two silly and annoying beyond belief. We got some more mileage out of teasing the French, then headed over to the falls to cool off.

Kuang Si, in the rainy season, is impressive. The falls are serious, there’s spray everywhere, and the park itself is nicely done. A few vendor carts outside the main entrance, but nothing offputting, and the place is clean and peaceful. We hiked up to the main promontory, where Harsh (intentionally) got a heavy soakingfrom the falls – see here:

We hung out there for a while, getting soaked, then hiked up a semi-challenging path to the next level, where there wasn’t that much to see. Apparently it’s not easy to get to the very top of the falls, and that registered pretty quickly, so we headed back down and eventually found a good spot to go swimming. All in all, a nice little excursion, far better than expected. Here are a few shots of the falls and park, complete with local cat:

Harsh had to head back to Bangkok, then to India, and we had one final night out together. Ate at Tamnak Lao, described earlier, and then went again to Hive. This time, we sat inside, and after a few minutes we fell in with a Lao woman who was there with some French expat friends. We hit it off quite well…she invited me to her friend’s birthday party the following evening. These are the sorts of things I live for – not just going to the bars every night, but meeting some locals and seeing how they have fun and live their lives. So I accepted without hesitation. And then we moved on to the Dao Fa Disco, the most happening place in LPB.

Dao Fa was mobbed. We eventually found a place to stand and drink. And after a half hour, my new Lao friend and her crew arrived, and set us up nicely. We stayed there till midnight, closing time, and I was then talked into moving on to the ‘bowling club.’ I had to get up early the next morning for a white-water rafting trip – I can’t get enough eco-tourism, as you already know. So I wanted to turn in, but was convinced to check out the bowling club. Which did have a few alleys, to be sure (built with Chinese capital), but which served a greater purpose, i.e. a place to drink till 4 a.m. We only stayed till 2 or so, but did get a good sense of how Lao youth party. Lots of touching of glasses, as they say in Japan, and lots of passing around half-glasses of beer, each person consuming one. You can imagine how we felt in the a.m.

Solid hangover. Knocked on Harsh’s door, he was also in sad shape. Said our goodbyes, we’ll see each other in a few months in Bangalore or Goa. Headed to the outfitter, Green Discovery, a good operator with outlets all over Laos. Got some coffee and a croissant at the LPB branch of Scandinavian Bakery – as in HKG and China, you see plenty of franchises/branches in Laos, with many companies operating in Vientiane, LPB, and possibly other cities as well. Felt a bit better, drank some water, and entered the store.

There were just 3 tourists on our raft tour – a Canadian woman, an English woman (they were recent buddies), and I. And we had two guides with us, both good fun. The truck ride to the Nam Xeuang (sp?) river took 2 hours, which wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Got a chance to see the countryside – Laos is reputedly one of the poorest countries in the world, and poverty is certainly an issue, but to me even the villages looked clean and solid. Not that much garbage lying around, everyone seemed clean and reasonably well-fed and happy enough. And the general infrastructure wasn’t half-bad – the main roads all had signs and even some guardrails/posts – probably paid for by foreign governments and NGOs, but still, I didn’t feel the back-breaking sense of poverty that you see in Africa, or even in parts of the Philippines. That was fairly encouraging.

En route we were talking about these sorts of topics, and about how pleasant a place Laos is. The Canadian woman said that ‘Laos is the shit.’ And I had to agree with her.

The river was lots of fun. Not that many rapids, and those we encountered were mostly Class 1 and 2, a bit of 3, but there were long stretches of calm, flat waters. During a couple of these stretches we got out of the raft into the river, and just let ourselves be swept along. It was seriously invigorating and fun…the lifejacket kept us afloat, and the river just took us along. We came up with a few songs for collective singing, and spent the entire day in and out of the raft, bouncing along the rapids and floating along the glassy bywaters.

There were really only a couple hairy bits of rapids. The English woman hadn’t ever rafted, and was evidently nervous. She settled down nicely, but one hard stretch forced her off her seat onto the floor of the raft. Upon reaching a calm spot, she sat up and proclaimed that she had ‘nearly died.’ That was meant to be humorous – mostly – and we used that phrase for the next couple hours. If we were drifting along in the river and a small branch floated by, well, we were nearly struck by it and ‘nearly died.’ We all thought that was pretty funny – perhaps you had to be there.

I didn’t bring my camera, which was still drying off from Kuang Si. So I lack photos of the rafting tour…you’ll just have to relive it through my spotty jottings.

Had a few Beer Lao en route to LPB. It was a long day, with plenty of bumpy roads and sore butts as a result, but I’d do the tour again in a heartbeat. And I was happy I forced myself to get up and do it – sometimes I’m too much of a city boy, content to read, eat good meals, check emails, and generally shmy around without doing much of anything. I have been told by more than one person that this slog approximates a Seinfeld (Slonefeld?) script, and that’s probably right. The only problem is that I’m ten years too late, as usual…

Got back to town. Was starving – we did get in some work paddling all day. Proceeded to plow my way through the night market’s food stalls – this has got to be one of Asia’s best things. I’ve long said that the US has the world’s worst fast food (well, the Philippines is up there too). Asian countries all have street vendors selling delicious foods – fried rice balls, chicken skewers, spicy sausages (you’ll never eat a bland, pinkish hot dog again), the local ‘river weed,’ and lots of other offerings. I got a fried riceball (the Italians have their own version of this), a small plate of fresh springrolls with vermicelli noodles, and a boudin-like sausage with fresh herbs. Yum. Opened my stomach up for a later dinner. And I bought a small table setting for the waitress in Vientiane, as a peace offering. I had decided to head back there for a few days, before going to Vang Vieng. Who says I’m not a romantic at heart?

You already know that I’m a foodie…a.k.a. pig/glutton. But it’s funny, my friend advised me one night that I should consider writing a food blog for a newspaper/magazine, based on his observations of me and my lifestyle. At the same time, I got an email from an old fraternity brother, Ari in Jackson Hole (nice!), telling me that US newspapers are starting to use bloggers more and more, and that I should write a food blog. I thought that coincidence was perhaps significant, and it’s something I wouldn’t mind doing. Not every day, but perhaps weekly or monthly. If you spot any opportunities from where you sit, please let me know.

Booked a flight the next day back to Vientiane. Had my guesthouse make a booking at my favorite guesthouse in Vientiane. The attendant at Villa Sokxai gave me some brochures and cards to handcarry to my Vientiane guesthouse and share with them. All the guesthouses/hotels get a commission when they help you make a booking, and they’re all happy to expand their networks in other locals. I felt good about helping encourage Lao capitalism…although this supposedly Communist country feels pretty normal at the local business level. As I wrote last week, the Communist government’s major effect (that I can see) is to be a ‘mommy’ and prevent decay of morales – i.e., to prevent Laos from becoming the next Thailand.

Went with my new Lao friend to the birthday party that night. Picked up a cake en route – watched the girl at the cake shop hand-letter the cake with an ‘icing stick.’ Pretty cool technique. The party was highly amusing – good mix of Laos and expats, and endless Beer Lao flowing. Someone had prepared a vat of something approaching chicken salad – this was a lifesaver after numerous glasses of beer. Seemed that every NGO in town had someone at the party – I met an Italian guy from a small Rome-based NGO, someone from UNESCO, a guy who runs Tiger Tails tour operator, you name it. Had some serious back-and-forths with a Canadian fellow who was passionate about Burmese democracy, as am I. He was talking so forcefully that spittle flew from his mouth. We also went at it regarding the superiority of Japan vs. Korea. I argued for the former, having lived there for years, he the latter, having worked in Korea for some time. We agreed to disagree and touched glasses quite a few times…

The party went on forever. I passed out at one point, woke up, and rejoined the party. I did have to catch a flight the next day, so wanted to get some sleep. I didn’t see my Lao friend around, but we had exchanged contact info already, so stepped out to find some way back to the guesthouse. Walked (stumbled) for a while…we were a bit out of town. Eventually I came to a major thoroughfare…motorbikes were whizzing by. I must have presented quite the sight…6-foot white boy meandering down the road, looking lost and clueless. Lost, Laos – the next season. One bike with two lads stopped – asked me where I was going. I was about to tell them the name of my guesthouse – then thought better of it and said I was going near Villa Santi, the local 5-star hotel near my place. They didn’t offer me a ride and sped off. I was happy I hadn’t told them where I was staying – perhaps I’m paranoid, but I imagined them heading straightaway to Villa Sokxai, getting a hold of my key, and absconding with my stuff. Laos seem quite honest, but when it’s 4 a.m. on a dark road, you can’t really trust randoms you meet.

Another bike stopped. Again, two guys on board. They offered me a ride, for the equivalent of US$3. I said sure, and hopped on. I had them stop at Villa Santi, got off, paid them, said thanks, and when they were out of sight I loped over to Sokxai and collapsed into bed. I was thankful that I had made it back in one piece – with that much beer and not knowing where the hell I was, it wasn’t a given that I’d end up in good shape and without having lost anything…

Throughout my time in Laos I’ve been gently probing for answers to some political questions. For one, the end of the Lao royal family. The party line is that in 1975 the new government abolished the monarcy. In 1977, the last in the line, with his wife and son, were taken away from Vientiane to prevent any chance of restoration, and led off to Vieng Xai, the eastern area where the Pathet Lao had held out in huge caves for years. After that, the official story goes dark, but by most accounts the royal family died quickly from malnourishment and disease. The government has kept silent on this.

The official line also says that the final king, Sisavang Vong, died in 1959, and his son Sisavang Vatthana was never crowned king. He was the crown prince, and the 1975 revolution prevented his coronation (despite 16 years between his father’s death and the abolishment of the royal system). That’s the official story, and I’ve indirectly and subtly asked a few locals about the inconsistencies therein, never getting a straight answer. It is illegal to talk politics with foreigners in Laos, so I didn’t push hard for an answer. But in LPB I became quite intrigued while visiting the former Royal Palace, now the Royal Palace Museum. In the museum I saw paintings and other items that mentioned ‘King Sisavang Vatthana.’ Hmmm – what was going on here? Was the government opening up…were there factions with competing stories…or was it something else? I again asked around, and got nowhere. And the bookstores here don’t seem to have the more provocative Lao history books, so I guess I’ll need to wait till I get back to Bangkok. Oh well. I suppose I should just drink beer, graze, and shop like most tourists…

Luang Prabang Airport, noon the following day. Another cute/modest little airport. The foreigner checking in just ahead of me actually asked the agent where his gate was. The terminal is the size of a McDonald’s, and the guy needs help finding his gate. The locals must think we’re like big children.

Had a chicken burger at ‘Smile Burger.’ Soaked up the lingering Beer Lao very nicely. Then heard my name on the intercom. That got my attention – I marched over to the counter and they told me I hadn’t yet paid my departure tax – 10,000 kip, or US$1, and I had to pay it before entering my gate. Fair enough, but it was still an hour before departure…and the gate was 10 yards on. I guess they really wanted my $1, so I paid and entered the gate. And sat there for 55 minutes, checking out my fellow passengers. I was, after all, the only one special enough to have been paged…

Read a back edition of The New Yorker. Was interested to read that Pakistani society – often slammed as being fundamentalist and feudalist – has opened up in some ways under General Musharraf, to the extent that ‘The Vagina Monologues’ was recently performed on stage in Pakistan to standing ovations. Not something I would necessarily have predicted…and I haven’t seen the show, so perhaps its time to head to Lahore.

Flew back to Vientiane. The aircraft was an MA60. Never heard of it, must be a Russian make. There was a cute Japanese woman on my flight…of course, I was seated next to a Lao dowager. Got to Vientiane in 40 minutes, got my bag, and met the guesthouse driver. Was pleased to see that the Japanese woman was also staying at the same guesthouse. We chatted in the car – she was amazed that I could speak some Japanese. Considered asking her to dinner that night, but I had already planned to go see the waitress at the Don Chan, so decided to let things play out without planning things to death.

Rented a motorbike at PVO…rode over to Vientiane’s tiny ‘Chinatown’ and had a great lunch at Vieng Savan, actually a Vietnamese place with great BBQ’ed pork meatballs (name neuang) and spring rolls (yam). Awesome stuff. Rode back toto relax…en route I came across an impromptu soccer match played on one of the major roads in the city. Vientiane is a city with soccer games played on its main roads – I love it.

Went out that night for dinner at Alexia, a Tex-Mex place on the river promenade. Food was average…my enchiladas were too chewy and the flavors just weren’t there. The prostitute sitting next to me was a bit annoying…she eventually turned to chat with the guy on her other side. The bartender was rather comely, though – tall, north Asian features, big full lips, and a cute little nose. Just my type. I thought, I’d better get out of Vientiane soon, way too many distractions here. Or perhaps I should just succumb and rent a flat here.

Went for a couple drinks at Bor Pen Nyang, my once and future drinking HQ in Vientiane. Met a Texan (well, from Austin, anyway – that’s an important distinction) who majored at UT-Austin in Philosophy and who had an impressive (to me, at least) command of literary criticism. Had been some time since I heard someone spout theories attributed to Harold Bloom. This fellow, Ben, had visited, and been escorted out of, some truly off-the-map places – Moldova…Pakistan…you name it. Nice nose for the obscure bits of the planet. We had a good chat and found we had a pretty similar worldview.

Started to rain. We decided to check out Don Chan straightaway, before it got too crappy outside. Got to the disco, entered, and found a small standing table. Got our beers and hung out. After a few minutes I saw my lost waitress, codenamed Lana. Walked over and said hi, followed by immediate and profuse apologies for oversleeping the other night and missing our rendezvous. She was very cool about it and seemed to understand. In fact, she had doubted that I’d return – smart girl. I gave her the place setting gift I’d bought in LPB and that completed the healing process. She was pretty busy with work, but came over to our table quite often and we made plans to go out the following night. She was as cute as I’d remembered – always an important bit to verify, given the way the drinks flow at Don Chan. So I was happy and we parted warmly around 2 a.m. Things were going to plan, incredibly. I was feeling good about my decision to return to Vientiane. Acting on the spur of the moment is, after all, my prerogative – why do I need to feel tightly bound to a schedule? In consulting speak (I’m trying to shake this, so bear with me), why should I negotiate with myself?

Said bye to Ben, and to the locals who had invited themselves to join us at our table. There were 3 of them, a good lot, but way too many ‘cheers’ and glass clinking. Plus, they got too close for comfort – I swear one of them went for my crotch at one point. Ben said the same thing. I’m all for cultural diversity, as long as it stays out of my undershorts…

Next day, got ready for my date. Got a haircut – what nature hasn’t shorn from me, the local barber would. Bought a bottle of red from Vins de France. And took a nap. I was hopeful I’d need it.

Walked over to our planned meeting spot, Scandinavian Bakery, at 6 p.m. A bit early for me, but it was her proposal and I owed her one. Had an ice coffee – didn’t want to sweat too much. Read the paper. Waited and waited. Went outside around 6:30. Still no Lana. I was starting to think she was paying me back for blowing her off the other night. Turnabout is fair play…but not when it happens to me!

Was walking around Nam Phu, the large fountain in front of the bakery, deep in thought, when right in front of me a motorbike pulled up, Lana astride. Her long black hair cascaded down from her helmet…she wore a long snug grey jacket and black boots…she looked like a female assassin from a Bond or Bourne film. I felt like the dorky kid from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, dreaming of Phoebe Cates in bikini while masturbating. By the way, when I just typed ‘masturbating’ I misspelled it, but Microsoft Word automatically corrected it. Cool. Anyway…I looked around the square and there wasn’t anyplace to masturbate, so I just said ‘hi,’ kissed her on the cheek, and got on her bike. I had considered riding mine over, but knew she’d be riding in, so contented myself with riding on the back and getting stares from every Lao in town.

I had offered to take her anywhere she wanted for dinner. I half-expected a ritzy French place, but she took me down to the Mekong riverside, where we sat on cushions and talked. It was humid, the air was still, and I was unfortunately sweating. Lana noticed and laughed…we had a fan brought over which provided some relief. Lana said she would come and sit right next to me, instead of across the little table, but she feared I’d be even hotter. I immediately spilled beer down the front of my shirt, and giggled nervously. As much as I’d like to be a hardy, bemuscled Israeli Jew, I’m more the Woody Allen type – I need to win over my women with wit and self-deprecation, because I won’t do it by acting cool – I can rarely pull that off. But I do have the self-deprecation bit down cold…

She did the ordering – som tum (papaya salad), Lao hotpot with chicken and vegetables, and some beer. I didn’t eat that much, despite it all being tasty – when I’m having dinner with an attractive woman, it’s all I can do to avoid drooling – eating just seems beyond me. I’d rather stare and say stupid things. I can always eat later, after she blows me off. Did I mention I’m a master of self-deprecation?

Actually, the dinner went brilliantly. I stopped sweating…the beer started working…we hit it off wonderfully…and eventually she moved over next to me. I did warm up a bit, but managed to stay in control. We hung out for a couple hours, talking and getting closer. Turned out that she had to go to work for a meeting at 9 p.m., and while I wanted to spend more time with her, it wasn’t a bad thing – I’ve always thought that good pacing pays off in the end. You can try to pick up a girl in a bar and go home with her that very night – but in my experience it’s better, if possible and if you like her, to be patient, get the phone number, and see her again soon. So I wasn’t shattered – particularly when she said she’d get the next night off and we’d really go out. Meowwwwwwwwwwww…..

Cost for the date: US$5.50. About what my Jollibee’s Cebu date costed back in May. You really can’t fault some girls for going after a guy’s wallet, that’s for sure.

I offered to walk home, I didn’t want her to be late for her meeting. But she wanted to drive me back to my guesthouse – I didn’t protest. We pulled up in front…I disembarked…she turned her mouth towards mine, and we had a (most unexpected, at least to me) exquisite farewell kiss. I looked around for the thought police – after all, in Laos foreigners aren’t supposed to get intimate with the locals, and Lao culture forbids public displays of affection. But no one was around, and we kissed a bit more before parting. Now I really felt that coming back to Vientiane was the proper call.

It was only 9 p.m., and I really didn’t feel like sitting around reading. So went out to Bor Pen Nyang (which means ‘no problem’ in Lao). Didn’t see Ben there, was hoping to ‘debrief’ a bit. The night got odder and odder…the skies opened up and I swear the ensuing storm was one of the five most impressive/violent I’ve seen in my life. Number one: driving from Pittsburgh to Newcastle, Pennsylvania many years ago in a rental car…started to pour…within seconds I was driving completely blind and somehow got the car to the breakdown lane, where I sat for 20 minutes while the storm expended itself. Number two: sitting at my desk at the Monitor Group office in Johannesburg, South Africa admiring the late afternoon sky’s hues, when a bolt of lightning came down not far off, the sky went black in 15 seconds, and the rains that followed were biblical.

Lana and I had predicted that it wouldn’t rain – we could see the moon and stars. But we were wrong. Sitting at the bar at Bor Pen Nyang, I realized I had left my umbrella in my room– bad move. Then the lights went out – only the 2^nd or 3^rd time that had happened since I’d been in Laos. Then some water started coming down, through the roof, and dripped onto my pants and chair. Moved to another chair, although these were scarce at the bar because everyone from the tables near the open air had moved inside – the rains were literally coming in sideways and there really wasn’t a dry seat in the house.

It was surreal. Meanwhile, my cheeseburger arrived. I told you I didn’t eat much with Lana, so was starving and in need of a solid food fix. Wolfed down the cheeseburger, with water dripping down on me and whipping across the bar, the lights still out, and everyone chatting away and having a fun time in the dark. Thought that Ben would enjoy this…wondered where he was.

Rain abated a bit, still coming down pretty hard, but it was midnight and the bar was closing. No umbrella, but did have a copy of The New Yorker and decided to use that to cover my head as best possible while walking back to the guesthouse. Cursed my decision to forgo the umbrella. Walked out onto the sidewalk, magazine atop my head. Rain pelted me. Took just a few steps when a motorbike 20 feet away suddenly went down – the rider flew off, onto the street, and slowly got up. A 2^nd bike was down, tangled up in his. Looked like he ran into a parked bike. The rider was OK, just shaken up. No helmet – he was very lucky. My odd night was getting odder. Made sure the guy was OK – some other people had come over and he was in good hands (but I imagine he had to cough up some $ for his bike and for the one he hit). Got home semi-soaked, but OK.

Reflected on the benefits of going out on non-weekend nights. I had met Lana, with my friend, on a Tuesday night when the disco was nearly empty. It’s a lot more work to meet someone when the music is blaring and the place is packed – she would have been running around serving drinks, and there’s just generally a lot more competition. And defense mechanisms are probably at a higher level of alert – when you’re a woman surrounded by dozens of leering men, you have to protect yourself. If it’s a dead Tuesday night and some American guy starts to sweet-talk you, you just might let it continue…

Got up the next morning and answered some emails. Found that my friend Matt, from Tufts, was recently diagnosed at age 40 with prostate cancer and that threw me. He’s very much on top of it, true to form, and is likely to come through fine. But it was hard news and my best wishes are with Matt.

Took it easy the rest of the day – wanted to have energy for date #2 with Lana. She came by on her bike at 7 p.m., long hair flowing behind her. Rrrrrhhhhhhhh. She came up to my room…we polished off a bottle of red wine…I showed her photos from Luang Prabang…and so forth. Her friend called – she had just graduated from Pakpasak technical college and they were celebrating at a Lao restaurant. We rode out there – well off the beaten path and not a place tourists ever find. Had a few beers, ate some snacks, and met her friends. Nice group – limited English, although I had some luck with French.

Got out of there…we all headed to the Don Chan, which is really the only late-night option in town. Not the most sober ride, but Lana did pretty well and I made sure to keep her alert and on track. We were about to get on the riverside drive when we noticed (yet another) motorbike accident ahead. Then Lana saw her brother running around – turns out he knew the accident victim, who looked to be in bad shape, bloody and limp. A bunch of Laos bundled the victim (I couldn’t make out the gender) into a tuktuk, which then sped off to Mahasot Hospital. Lana talked with her brother, who wasn’t involved in the accident, then he sped off to the hospital to take care of his friend. Oh man – what a raw set of experiences I was having. And the bike accidents were having an effect on me – people ride around without a care in the world, expecting Lord Buddha to protect them. I’d rather place my faith in caution and a good helmet, like any good Woody Allen Jew…

Got to the Don Chan. Very crowded, even though it was only a Monday night. The beer was flowing – I was expected to pay for it, too, being the rich foreigner. I had also picked up the restaurant tab, but wasn’t complaining. Nothing good comes for free, and I didn’t want to come across as cheap or difficult. There would be time to display those attributes later on…

Around 2 a.m. we left and went back to my guesthouse. It all happened quite naturally and without any verbalization. As it should be. As we entered the guesthouse I looked around apprehensively – there was usually a night watchman of some sort, but he wasn’t around and I was happy to head upstairs without having to bribe him or, worse, get in hot water with the authorities. Breaking the law is fine, but I prefer to do it behind closed doors.

Got up the next day around noon. Lana had to do some errands, then head to work that night. I also had some important agenda items – namely, eating as much as I could stuff in my stomach, sending a few emails, and finishing my final New Yorker. And taking a nap later on. I planned to have dinner at Le Silapa, probably the best French place in town, then go back to Don Chan to see Lana.

First, went to PVO to extend my bike rental. Then walked over to the riverside food vendors – got a riceball and some spring rolls. I meant to just order 2 rolls, but was misunderstood and 5 came. I sat down and consumed the entire set. Then rode to Sticky Fingers for my originally-planned lunch. Got the house special, crispy fish. Given that this was my 2^nd lunch, I couldn’t finish it off, so got a doggy bag. I can’t remember the last time I did that – it’s rare I don’t finish my plate, as well as that of the person sitting next to me. I figured I’d have a chance to devour the contents of the doggy bag soon enough.

Went back to …read for an hour…practiced yoga for 45 minutes…showered. Rode over to Le Silapa. What a nice little place – two stories of understated bliss. A very different sort of place from Le Cote d’Azur, which is more down-to-earth and homey. Le Silapa is more classy, and of course pricey. Had a glass of Bordeaux…scallops (noix de St-Jacques in French – I love it) carpaccio with a very tasty mustard garlic sauce…then breast of duck in maple sauce for the main. Absolutely delicious. I sat there in near rapture, taking it all in. Here I was in Vientiane, Laos, eating superb French food – and the tab eventually came to US$22, including two glasses of wine. Bring it on.

Called American Airlines to try to push back my Bangkok-Mumbai flight from mid-September to mid-October. I need more time in Indochina, needless to say. No dice…award seats are fully booked. No surprise there. Well, will try again but if I can’t get what I want, I’ll just blow off the rest of my AA round-the-world itinerary and take it flight-by-flight from then on. The longer I’m on this journey, the fewer constraints I want.

Rode over to Bor Pen Nyang to see what was up. No Ben, place was semi-full but no interesting characters around. Sent a text to Bob in Bangkok – he called me, and we caught up. Traded women stories…talked politics…made some plans. Then I rode to Don Chan to see Lana. The place was quiet, but starting to pick up – this place really does a good business nearly every night – save the night I met Lana there. My good fortune.

Had a few beers there. Lana was working but we had time to hang out and chat. Found out she used to be a hand model in Vientiane, and still did occasional jobs. Hand model – random. I don’t suppose that’s a huge calling card – I seem to recall a rotund girl at Tufts who got jobs as a hand model. I might even look into getting my own hands in some photos soon…

It was getting close to closing time. I was tired, and to be honest in need of a night alone – the previous night had been a long one. Lana asked me if she could come over – I gently suggested we take a night off, and meet the following night – she agreed. Anyway, her parents had been bugging her about her whereabouts – she lives with them, so needs to keep that bit cool.

I kissed her goodnight, promised to see her the next, and rode off. I was hungry, it now being 2 a.m. Drove over to a place I’d been with my friend the previous week, a good fe noodle joint near the Wind West bar. The night air was damp and cool…I felt the power of the bike under me, offering to take me anywhere I wanted. And I knew where to go – I had a sense of the city, by now, and I felt happy about this knowledge. I felt a little bit of power, of being king of my domain, or Antoine de St-Exupery at the very least – a Little Prince of the city.

I rode on…a working girl on her own motorbike importuned me to join her. I smiled and rode up to the stoplight, ready to take a left. The tuktuk driver on my right said hello, where was I going, the prostitute rode up behind me and whispered in my ear, I sat there listening to the sounds of the city and my own breath. The light turned green…I took a left, leaving my new friends behind, and pulled into the fe place and sat down to a bowl of steaming noodles.

I think I’m particular good at burrowing into a city. I’ve lived in, and visited, dozens of places over the years, and have always done well at making new friends and getting into the seams of a city. And I’ve always left feeling that I met the right people and did everything I should have. It’s taken hard work and a bit of luck, but I think I’ve got enough of those to sail through most circumstances.

Here I was, in the obscure yet amazing city of Vientiane, Laos. I was staying at a terrific French colonial villa…eating wonderful, inexpensive food every day…dating a lovely young Lao woman…drinking the perfect cup of coffee. Hmmm…why I am leaving? Answering that question is something that’s still beyond me.

Got up this morning and got the paper. It’s ‘People’s Uprising Day,’ August 23. Back in 1975, this was the day that the right-wing government fell after street protests provoked by the Communists in Vietiane. Interesting timing.

Checked my email – read in Mizzima.com, an online Burmese news agency, about street protests in Rangoon, Burma. The military junta just randomly doubled fuel prices, and peoples’ lives have been massively disrupted. The junta has reacted somewhat cautiously to these protests, the largest in a decade. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. The Mizzima editor was literally writing the article as the government agents were entering the room to arrest him. You can’t make this shit up – you can only hope that the forces of light will prevail. And on that note, good night and good luck to you all. Over and out.

Tags: Travel

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