Laos…what a country. I only got to see a little bit but what I experienced was amazing. As I was walking down the road one day in the heat of the afternoon sweating like a pig watching the traffic go by I thought of a great way to describe the place, ‘wading through the nitty gritty of reality with nothing filtered out by the soft comforts that so many of us are used to while breathing in the smells of hard work and feeling the burning fire of those around me just trying to make a living.’ That was the Laos I experienced.
Sitting up in my stool at the Borphangyang bar on the fourth floor overlooking the Mekong River I breathed deeply of the cool evening air. I was buffeted by the sounds of a lively drinking establishment on a Saturday night, music, conversation, glasses slammed on tabletops, as I tipped back my ice cold beer. ‘Laos, the Mekong River, Southeast Asia, wow, never thought I’d be here.’ Beside me sat my new friend, Jon Isgar, tipping back his own beer and enjoying the night.
Solo travel, an amazing thing. Putting yourself out there with no one by your side to back you up. Leaving yourself open to anything and everything that might come along. No place to escape to no one to create a protective bubble with. What will happen no one knows but what you do know is that something definitely will. Experienced travelers know the difference between going it alone and having a partner and those difference can be staggering.
Just a couple of days before I had crossed the Friendship Bridge between Thailand and Laos, the difference between the countries, subtle yet large, buffered a bit by my chance encounter with a talkative Australian. Somehow I ended up at the Thai embassy applying for an extended tourist visa, which thanks to the political strife of the last couple years was free. My plans had changed yet again. My original idea of spending only a couple of weeks in Thailand to enjoy the beaches was now looking like a more extended stay in Bangkok with the possibility of looking for some work to recharge the bank account.
I tipped back my $1.25 BeerLao beer, shuddering at the light pilsner flavor I had learned to dislike in Japan. Around me people milled about in a typical Saturday night bar fashion; men looking for women, people playing pool, other just enjoying the cheap liquor around low wood tables, all the while one remix of Lady Gaga after another booming out of the numerous speakers. The only difference between this bar and the ones back home being the obvious hookers, disguised lady boys, and the fact that we were in Laos. I took another sip of my beer chuckling at that thought.
My life in Vientiane, or rather routine, quickly formed itself into a relaxing pattern. Mornings were writing while the rain fell, afternoons were coffee and lunch with a bit of exploring when the sun came out, and evening was back at the guesthouse enjoying food bought at a night market a few streets down as it began to rain again. Sounds hard, doesn’t it? Long term traveling means adapting to the weather and culture around you.
Although there were plenty of things to see in Vientiane, temples and such, I think the real experience of the city was in walking around it. Observing the people as they went about their lives, soaking in the sounds of the street, feeling the grit of the dirt under you shoes as you walked about, that was Vientiane for me. Capital city it may be it is nothing like any other capital I have ever visited. You would be shocked by the small town feel of the place.
Sitting at a small shop at the main bus station enjoying a coffee (with tea on the side) I watched the people scurry about avoiding the large and loud buses roaring in and out of the place. It felt like the only calm was around me under the shade of a small parasol. Dust was everywhere and I could feel a layer of it building up on my skin. The coffee was sweet and thick, a mixture of straight brew and condensed milk, and the caffeine brought all my senses to their peak. The watered down Starbucks coffee for $5 a cup had nothing on this $0.35 cup of roadside stand joe.
It was fun to watch the tuk-tuk drivers run up to everyone and try and solicit business. Whether the people were coming or going didn’t matter to the drivers as they plied their trade. The best part was when a non-Asian came into their sights. Their eyes took on a shark-like glint as they sidled up to the heavy bagged tourist. ‘Where you going? Need a tuk-tuk?’ I could just imagine them asking. They had no shame when cheating a tourist by charging them insane rates and I didn’t blame them. Some people have to learn the hard way to do their research. That was how I had learned a couple of years back in Beijing to do my research and it was a mighty expensive lesson.
My second beer had gotten warm as I reminisced. A wave at one of the tenders behind the bar and my mug was filled with ice. Ice you ask? How could you ever mix beer and ice? Isn’t that some sort of alcohol sin? The answer to that is no. Like I said before the stuff I was drinking was a light pilsner that when it got warm it got nasty. Ice with beer in Asia (excluding Japan) is normal. Beer gets warm, wave your glass at a server and before you know it there’s ice in it. Not like the beer had any flavor to begin with…
A deep sigh as a few other thoughts rolled over me. I wondered if my brother had ever sat at a bar like this looking out over the Mekong one hot summer evening…
A nudge from Jon brought me back to reality and he began to regale me with another interesting story from his life. You know those people that seem to have been everywhere and done everything, a real embodiment of what a Tramp Royal is, well, that is Jon. Actor, miner, fisherman, and I’m sure a myriad of other jobs he hasn’t even told me about (yet), his stories were/are second to none.
My mind wandered to what I’d do for food tomorrow. One of the craziest things I’d experienced food-wise here in Laos was baguettes (like French bread). Here I am in the middle of Asia and what do I see at almost every corner shop? Bread. The last few mornings had been bread with who knows what (spicy, crunchy, cheesy, meat-like goodness) and coffee. I heard that it was even better in Vietnam. Apparently they figure the baguette and coffee to be a Vietnamese style breakfast, go figure. I’m guessing it to be the French influence from way back in the colonial era.
Another sip of my iced beer brought me back to the bar. Vientiane, what had I done here? Seemingly not too much… Sure I walked through bunches of temples, looked at the monuments, and did the touristy things, but it just didn’t bring me the same level of satisfaction that it used to. My mind turned over the possibilities of why that was.
Was I bored? Was I lonely? Was I ready to go home? Maybe I was ready for a new type of challenge?
Sunset on the Mekong had been a moving time for me. Watching the flaming ball of gas which keeps out planet warm slowly descend below the edge of the quickly flowing river while sitting on the banks sipping a beer had given me pause. How had I gotten here? What decisions had brought me to this point? Who could relate to these experiences that I was having?
A tap on my shoulder. ‘Closing soon, please finish drinks’ the waiter said to me. I suddenly took note of the bar around me. The music had stopped and lights were being shut off one by one. On the veranda small groups still huddled around quickly warming beers but the masses of people had left, to where I have no idea. The clock said 12am, ‘still early’ I said to myself and the thought was echoed by Jon as he too checked the clock.
We stood up and stretched, draining our drinks before picking up the bill. I laughed as I saw the total, 26,000 kip, just a little over $4US. Not bad, not bad at all.
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We miss seeing you Mike!
Your blog is an interesting read and I look at it fairly often to see where in the world you are. I’ve not traveled much, only left the country once, when we went to Montreal. Just barely out of the U.S. So I get to travel vicariously through your blog.
Be safe,
Patty
Hi Patty! Thanks for reading through my blog. It’s great to hear people back home are keeping track of what I’m doing
. I’ll try and be safe as I do the crazy things I’m doing.
Love your dialogue. Interesting the way you phrase things. Love your pictures, and envy your experiences. I can imagine your brother, perhaps doing some of the same things, seeing some of the same things, and perhaps thinking of home. We miss him too. Enjoy your travels and do keep in touch. Sorry we missed your call. Love…Dad