Sandy Does Southeast Asia

It is impossible to be hungry or sober in Vientiane. In fact, I double-triple dare you to even try. I haven’t been anywhere near either state in the past 24 hours.

Last night Ben and I had a plan to meet in our lobby for dinner at 5:15pm. I was there at 5:14 and he arrived at 5:14 and 30 seconds. We were obviously equally eager for our evening feeding time. I like that.

We went to Nazim’s for an Indian dinner with some enjoyable dishes complimented by garlic nan and saffron rice, and washed down with a couple of Beerlaos that soon became about 10 Beerlaos. Oh you know how it is. You keep ordering 22 ounce bottles of beer that cost about 40 cents each, as you talk and reveal too much and tell each other your best stories and secrets and help each other decide what to do with the rest of your lives, and before you know it the table is so full of bottles that you have to take your show on the road, which may or may not involve throwing darts at balloons, peering into the murky central fountain and contemplating its midnight swimming potential, and drunkenly pontificating on life and literature and the relative merits of various national holidays, until you’re outlasted even the local layabouts.

I woke up this morning relatively unscathed. That was a surprise. On second thought, I was probably still drunk but anyway, I had an egg, ham and egg bagel at JoMa before setting out to the Thai embassy to apply for the visa. The process went smoothly but if you’re planning on doing it, don’t forget to bring along a photocopy of your passport because if you have to get it there, you’ll get fleeced.

I walked back from the embassy so I could get a look at a little bit of Vientiane outside the traveller’s ghetto by the river. I stopped at the morning market and got lost for a while. While it was good to get out and explore, I was also happy to land at my new favorite cafe – Vista – where I sat in the small courtyard that is shaded by a striped awning and protected from the street by a lush row of potted palms, and had a hot chocolate and a pastry.

Embarassingly, I went straight from the cafe to lunch at La Cave des Chateaux (aka French Awesome Snotty French Guy Restaurant on the map my friend Justin drew for me of places to eat in Vientiane). It was a great splurge. Althought this being Southeast Asia, a splurge means a huge three-course meal including a gorgeous steak and enough wine to ward off any looming threat of hangover, for under $10.

I had to stop eating temporarily to meet Ben at 4:05pm back at our hotel so we could make the trek to the Monument (an imposingly squat concrete Arc de Triumph-like structure that takes up a lot of space but doesn’t really work on any level).

The plan was to have a leisurely walk out there, climb to the top, and be there just in time to watch the sunset. We got to the top with plenty of time to spare but unfortunately a man came around just before 5pm announcing, “Closing.” So we more saw the sun get quite close to the horizon rather than watching an actual sunset. Whatev. That just meant I could start eating and drinking sooner. Which we did at a fourth story bar overlooking the Mekong. On the walk back, we decided that gin and tonics were just the thing after the long hot day and the long hot walk, and Ben had just the place in mind. So in the end, we did get to watch the sunset but it was even better, since it involved a) sitting down, b) cocktails, and c) papaya salad.

And that brings you up to date with everything that I’ve been eating and drinking over the past 24 hours. It’s probably a good thing we’re leaving Vientiane tomorrow or else this could get ugly. It is possible, so I’ve heard, to actually get too much of a good thing.

There are many ways to judge a city: how many good restaurants it has, what type of architecture dominates, the quality of its art and culture. But for me there’s only one real criteria and that’s how comforting it would be in the face of hearbreak. And since heartbreak has become my natural state this is hardly a theoretical question.

I thought about this today as I walked down the crumbling streets of Vientiane. This city feels less like a capital than a forgotten colonial administrative post. If you ignore the Internet cafes and block out the light traffic, it becomes very difficult to place yourself in time here. Old leafy trees with twisted trunks lined the street I walked along. A fine layer of dust floated in the air and coated everything. Grand colonial villas lurked behind decaying walls. I decided this was a fine place to be heartbroken. Then I almost fell into one of the many cavernous holes that are scattered randomly in the sidewalks and realized that for sheer self-preservation I’d need a little less dreamy gazing around and a little more paying attention to where I was putting my feet.

Despite that near-death experience, my initial impressions of Vientiane are definitely favorable. Also, I’ve teamed up with a nice young American gentleman named Ben. We met up at the border and have combined our efforts in such adventures as Find the Cheap Bus Into Town and Find the Guesthouse. His plan is to eat often and well over the next few days and that coincides quite conveniently with my own plans. We’re off to dinner soon at an Indian place near our guesthouse.

I will be here until Wednesday or until I manage to obtain a Thai visa or until I fall into one of the sidewalk pits, whichever comes first.