Lilted in Laos

My final few days in Vientianne were ones of pleasant relaxation. The mornings kicked off with a 15 minute walk to a little noodle shop that I had discovered. There was absolutely nothing touristy about it. The Mama finally began to greet my arrival with a smile which I am convinced was a front for astonishment and disbelief that this pharang should return more than once for her pork noodle soup. Her man was brow beaten though, I could see it. He had been assigned duties mainly associated with mopping and sweeping and performed them with his head hung low. He was half the size of Mama. In the back of the shop there was a tv that was frequently tuned to a sports channel. In between his tidying he’d be witnessing world sports events with a fervour that belied his normal dutiful self. In one connecting moment we both ooh’d and aah’d together as black boxers whelted one another on their way to a knockout result. It’s such a warmth I feel when those connecting moments spring into life.

I’d follow the pork noodle soup event with a leisurely walk through the town. Bookshops, coffee, reading, more walking, chatting to tourists. The sunny days were warm, dusty and relaxed. The French influence meant that daytime food was often baguette and pate oriented. More than once late afternoon found me at the riverside stretched out on a mat in the warm late afternoon sun with a fruitshake and a book that after only minutes of inspection would fall crumpled onto my chest as my eyes signed off and I succumbed to a new characteristic of my remodelled existance.. napping.

I was intrigued to note that amongst the many 125cc commuter style motorcycles for rent at extensive outlets across the town there would occaisionally be a trail bike on offer. Frequently that trail bike would be a Honda XR 250. If I had been in Laos a little longer I would have coughed the 25USD a day to have had the reputable machine between my legs as the tool for exploring some of the outlying terrain. I was just pondering this thought whilst admiring a tidy black and silver version of the model when the temporay owner strode up to the machine. The friendly Oz accent inquired of my interest and I shared my thoughts. His response was – DO IT! He’d hired his bike in Luang Prabang and ridden the same route I’d done on the 9hr bus ride with an overnight stop at a small village in the mountains. Now I know why some of these bikes are fitted with outrageously large dual headlamps! Adventurous bugger. I was full of admiration.

On reflection my time in Laos was lullabilic. There was no rush. No stress or tension. The people were mild, friendly and kind. On the day that I rode my bicycle to the Northern Bus Station I happened across a district populated with stylish detached houses in tended gardens and drives that were homes for BMW’s and Mercedes.

The so called communist authorities appeared to have hit on a recipe that most people appeared at the very least comfortable with.

The mixture of French and Asian architecure in the streets of Vientiane was complemented by a food choice that suggested a harmonious balance between the colonial history, the ruling party and the South East Asian location. The weather gave the mornings a bright biting start to the day and mooched it’s way toward balmy book reading afternoons. The dry dusty but litterfree streets encouraged exploration and walking or cycling around the city was a smiling, satisfying experience that always produced an internal warmth more normally associated with early evening cocktails. Fabulous.

I will fly back to KL for a night before visiting friends in Hong Kong via Macau for which I depart on the 20th January 2008.