Me and my life, continued...

Do you want to know what a typical weekend in Vientiane is like? Here goes.
I worked until 5.30 on Friday and went home feeling entirely frazzled. I changed my clothes and made plans to meet up with Sophie and others at Sunset Bar.
But then I realised I was so hungry that I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until I ate. So I poured us some strong gin & tonics and got some pad thai from the V-shop. Suddenly I realised life was complete and there was no need whatsoever to go out, so I stayed at home and watched Hal Hartley’s Fay Grim starring Parker Posey, which I had bought months ago and never got around to watching. I can’t think why- it was so fantastic, and inspiring. I thought back to my days as a wanky film student, writing about Hal Hartley movies with love and adoration.
I slept in on Saturday (until 9am!) and bought breakfast for me and the Island. Read the papers on the Internet, settled down with my book for a while, got a massage (the first in several weeks), and went to the supermarket.
Later, I went to a party, and later still, had dinner on the river and a couple of cocktails at Jazzy Brick, before riding home in the pouring rain and catching the end of Walk the Line on HBO - the sad/happy bit where Johnny proposes to June on stage.
On Sunday morning, I got up early and ate French toast with Mel at Kung’s, and then did some washing. Went to work (grrrr) to finish off Monday’s paper- had my usual tantrums about the fact that nobody had done enough work on Friday. Ate custard éclairs that someone had , bizarrely, brought in to the office. Left. Bought a new sarong at the Kouadin Market, the kind that all Lao women wear around the house, and a new gym bag to replace my old one that stinks. Went home and finished reading Half of a Yellow Sun, which ended badly and was indescribably sad.
I had dinner with the Island’s family, and came home feeling slightly hysterical the way I always do when I ride home during a downpour. His sisters were in paroxysms of hilarity over the eldest brother’s new girlfriend who, according to them, is 21 years old (the brother is 32), snooty and ugly as sin, with a big fat face. They went on and on about it. We ate barbequed fish and chicken soup with sticky rice.

And now I’m going to talk about food…
Without a doubt, one of the best things about Laos is the food. This has been a source of argument between my friends and me- there is enough variety here for people to be able to disguise their dislike for local fodder, or reject it altogether.
I think it rocks- the barbequed fish - which comes with a huge plate of cold noodles, cabbage, peanuts, mint and dill – laap, or papaya salad, which makes my mouth tingle. I love eating fried crickets or pork knuckles as bar snacks. I even love the chewy dried up fish.
Mind you, I never really get sick, apart from the odd bout of giardia, and last year’s sick-on-the-plane fiasco. I can get right into it without worrying.
But not a day goes by when I’m not grateful for not being a vegetarian, and that I like almost all foods as a general rule. No disrespect to the numerous vegos here, or to my lovely vegan friends back home. None at all- I’m just happy that this is an aspect of life I don’t have to forgo here.
I’ve mentioned before that I dislike sharing food, but that’s more to do with ordering a dish from a standard, western-style menu and having to endure plates being passed back and forth while people ‘try’ each other’s meals, rather than just making their choices and sticking with them…
Anyway, it’s completely different for Asian-style meals, obviously. Perhaps it’s just that it almost always hits the spot for me. Eating dinner at work every night is easily the highlight of my day. A typical Lao spread usually includes a meat-based curry, fish, chicken or shredded beef, a couple of vegetable and mushroom dishes, a sauce or two - usually eggplant or tomato - a soup, and sticky rice. There’s almost always a weird western-style dish as well, like potato salad with mayonnaise, or macaroni. But the variety of tastes- and I’ve always tended towards savoury rather than sweet- is just perfect to me, and best of all, there’s no need for decorum. I’m often derided for eating too fast- something to do with an unfounded paranoia about all the food in the world disappearing before I've had my fun. But at any given dinner time here in Laos, I just get right in and sample a dozen tastes all at once, and all I get is congratulations! It’s polite to gobble! And after a year and a half of this, I never ever feel ill after eating Lao food- I always feel completely satisfied.

Romance in the air
A couple of weeks ago, I met by chance the parents of an old school acquaintance, strangely enough, a guy called Hugo who I went to college with in Canberra, and who joined the army for a while, before coming out to do J-school at RMIT like me. He was in the undergrad class. Anyway, his parents, Mary and Peter, explained to us that they had met each other for the first time in Vientiane in 1973. He was at the Aus embassy and she had been teaching in Borneo, when a friend convinced her to come here for a visit.
They took me out for dinner, and told me about how little Vientiane has changed. The sunsets are the same. The streets are still sleepy. The textile shop on Samesentahi where they first met is still there. But back then, before the liberation, when the war was still going, the place was crawling with CIA agents, and no one could leave the city without a military escort.
Obviously a great story, and Mary agreed to come into the paper the next day to do an interview. This was my chance to finally see Ekaphone, my star reporter and thorn in my side, in action.
Together, we cobbled together a couple of questions, and he got hold of a tape recorder, and sat Mary down.
Ekaphone started by introducing himself, and explaining what he does. “I am the features writer,” he said. “I write political reports, profiles and…” he waved a hand in the air, “life stories.”

“Now,” he went on, “tell me about the day you met.” He sat back and pressed his hands together. “Was it raining that day?”

“Um, well, not so much, now that I come to think of it,” she said.

He looked slightly impatient. “Describe the scene,” he commanded. “Was there, how can I say, romance in the air?”

And so it went on. He had clearly half written the story in his head before he had even pressed record. This is something I will have to keep an eye on, when he comes to actually writing the thing. Stay tuned.