Am I a Writer?

Time will tell. Note: Quite often, I write about people I know. If any of you object to anything I have written, let me know and I will remove it.

My Photo
Name:

Wannabe. Living in Vientiane, Laos. Has blog to avoid sending lengthy emails.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Sorng deuan






Sorng deuan, two months already. And I've only read three books.

Another long hiatus. Thing is, I’ve lost confidence as I gradually realise how many people read this thing, even just occasionally. I’m deliberately toning down my filthy mouth, feeling cold at the thought of my grandparents logging on every now and again.
I’m not joking- my grandfather was surfing the net practically before it was even invented- he sends me text messages on my birthday!

Anyway, I’ll try and shake off the feeling of people watching me and tell you what’s been going on:

Not that much but the days are packed as usual. Thing is, you never plan your weeks with lists of activities- things just fall into place. A couple of weeks ago, I had breakfast in town with some of my crew, and then spent a couple of hours in a salon getting a pedicure. Then I went home and we decided to go and check out a meditation session at a nearby temple. Then I went and met up with someone from the office and we rode over to someone’s house for another death offering ceremony. This time I took flowers. Then I went with some friends to literally the most expensive restaurant in town. It killed me to hand over that $20 for soup and main. Especially, especially when Kate and Tom and I found a great French restaurant near Patuxai the other week where you can get a steak for $4.

Vientiane gets its very own beach from December to April, when the river goes down and the sandbar across the middle between Laos and Thailand dries out. A sandy bridge appeared one dear, and now people all over town flock down to the sand. We played beach cricket there one weekend, to the complete bewilderment of onlookers.

A nighttime sacrifice
I went out of town last weekend. A bunch of us hired fancy motorbikes and rode out to a village where we stayed at a resort. We had dinner at a floating restaurant.
It was a picturesque scene- in the balmy dusk, a group of young people on the riverbank, a pretty brown cow tethered nearby. We chatted about politics- John Howard, ten years, is it worth going home ever, blah blah blah- about music- there have been no new revolutions in music since punk, not Britpop, not the Strokes, not techno, blah blah blah.

But our over-articulate, over-educated, completely pointless babble was cut short. Suddenly, the young people got up and calmly slashed the cow’s throat. The cow fell to the ground, twitching and gushing blood. The boys waited for it to die, and we watched, horrified, as they cut it a second time to finish it off. It seemed to take forever, it’s poor legs thrashing around uselessly. Then they scraped off the cow’s hair with a spoon- a spoon!!- before covering the whole thing with hay and setting fire to it.

We asked someone, and apparently this is normal. It burns easier when the hair has been scraped off. And better to do it after the sun goes down. Or something.

Caged up
We also went to a zoo. Not just any zoo- the dingiest, most depressing zoo in the whole of South East Asia. About thirty enormous, dopey crocodiles in a bright green pond. Two enormous elephants chained by their ankles in a pen not much bigger than them. A lone hippopotamus standing there with its mouth open, waiting to be fed.
And the kangaroos. “Donated by the Australian Government”, the sign said. One of them limped over to the fence, and stared straight at us. I’m in hell, his eyes said. It's like a zoo in here. Take me back to the bush!
We just stared back- what else could we do? The kangaroo understood this and limped away, painfully, on long, bony feet.

Eat- for health!!
I was sick the week before last. Flu-like symptoms, but it just wasn’t convenient to go to the clinic. Besides all the work I have to do, I really don’t have time to be carted off to Thailand in the back of an ambulance, which is what would have happened.
But work is practically a built-in clinic anyway:
Take these four different brands- probably fake- paracetamol! Get away from the air-conditioner, and don’t under any circumstances drink cold water!
Eat! For health! Eat together, for solidarity! Eat this, it’s tongue! Of cow! They all poked their tongues out and crossed their eyes to make a point. And then the piece de resistance- egg…of ant! A delicacy in these parts!
And above all, please don’t get sick, we need you here!
I stumbled home with their helpful advice ringing in my ears, and slept for 15 hours straight. I woke up feeling better than before I was sick.

One for the ladies
Tomorrow is International Women’s Day, a huge deal here, bizarrely. Khamtay Siphandone, the President of Laos, has declared it a public holiday…for women only.
I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous- everyone knows the world would fall apart if we all took a holiday and stayed at home. Anyway, obviously the news doesn’t stop just because of International Women’s Day, so I don’t foresee a day off tomorrow. We did all get taken out for lunch today, however, and much beer was drunk.

Party Time
Also, in case you’re interested, if you ever get invited to a party in Laos, of any kind for any occasion, this is precisely what you can expect:
• Acres of plastic tables and red and blue plastic chairs.
• An immense set of speakers, with incredibly loud karaoke music pumping through literally at full volume, or, if the hosts are on the ‘wealthy’ side, a band, with someone to sing the karaoke hits just like the recorded version.
• All the girls in the usual skirts and the boys in whatever they want.
• A room set up for paying respects to the host- complete with a village Buddhist elder to chant stuff. You tie a white string around the host’s wrist and/or guest of honour’s wrist, and wish them health, prosperity and, if he or she is single, love. Or if he or she is childless, fertility. Then you get passed a shot of Johnnie Walker, from a glass that has already been passed around to dozens of people, which you have literally no choice but to drink. [I had never drunk whiskey in my life before I arrived here- I’m sure I’ve had the equivalent of a bottle by now].
• A big table full of always exactly the same food- noodles, papaya salad, spicy laap, coconut soup, pork, liver.
• More beer than you could ever drink.
• Absolutely ear-shattering music...and then, the dancing. The ladies stand almost still and move their hands in a particular way and barely smile. Sometimes they will do a line dance, perhaps one of the funniest things you’ll ever see.
• And all the while, it’s highly likely that you will be the only white person there and everyone will stare openly at you and you’ll feel completely out of place. But don’t worry- if you eat the food and wear the skirt and drink the whiskey, everyone there will love you. Love you!

That’s one thing I’ve realised pretty quickly- you can’t overestimate how important it is to people if you eat their food and enjoy it. We found ourselves in a village during a religious festival one the weekend, which people were celebrating in their houses. We were ushered in by near strangers, and fed over and over. Imagine having special food needs!

And the Oscar goes to...
Finally, to finish this mammouth, guilt-born post, I just want to assure everyone at home who knows and loves me that I have by no means lost touch with pop culture. By no means. I’ve even been watching a lot of films- most anything is available in Vientiane’s Chinatown for a mere $1.50 a pop. Many of the new releases open with the message “For your consideration”- obviously pirated Academy copies. And if any of you are in any doubt as to whether or not we are taking our role as Academy representatives for the Lao PDR, hear this now: every single one of my Oscar predictions proved correct, even my assertion that the Gay Cowboys would be too much for the US this year. Correct.
And yes, I immediately went on to the Internet to check out the picture galleries of all the dresses. Reese Witherspoon's dress was atrocious, but unlike my fellow Lao reps, I quite liked Keira Knightley's makeup.
Good day to you.