:http://www.visit-mekong.com/laos/shopping.htm |
This week, due to a shortage of time and money I crossed to Laos. Rewind.After a 7 hour windy minivan trip to Bangkok, an overnight train to Nong Khai (that lasted 14 hours due to delay) and a 20 minute tuk tuk bump to the border, I crossed to Laos. After yet another 4 hours in lines for visas, immigration cards and security checks I grabbed a 30 minute local bus across the Thai-Lao Friendship bridge, which would have been a beautiful sight of the majestic Mekong River had I not had my face buried between sweaty bodies and my legs uncomfortably straddling rice sacks in a bus CLEARLY not designed to carry more than 30 passengers (I'd guess there were more than 50 on our bus!)
Absolutely the farthest thing from fresh off the bus, at a bustling bus station in Vientiane, I ventured out for coffee and a baguette (as you do when visiting ex French colonies.) I had exactly 4 hours to kill before I had to trek back to the bridge, pass immigration, cross back into Thailand and catch the 6:30 pm overnight train back to Bangkok. I hopped across the busy avenues, waived off the touts hellbent on selling me tours of the city, dodged motorbikes, rickshaws and buses brimming with livestock and proceeded to a very decayed colonial styled building. The building must have been white at one point in time, but ruin, faulty construction and rain damages stained the walls grey with streaks of cracked black. Not promising on the outside, however experience has taught me to follow the people. And follow I did to a very pleasant sight for sore eyes, a bustling coffee shop just inside the building's entrance!
This is where I meet Fred. 86 years old, a bit lonely, and eager to chat...with anyone it seems.
"You look lost. Are you lost young lady?"
"Well...not really, I'm not going anywhere today" I replied politely.
"Then why don't you pull up a chair and let me tell you about Laos- the People's Democratic Republic of SNAFU!"
Ooooooohhh...I was instantly hooked!
You see, Fred is a diamond in the rough. He's a WW2 Navy veteran, a captain in his day, who remembers steering scientists to the atomic bomb tests in the Pacific. He's been in and out of SE Asia since 1950, and living as a permanent resident in Laos since 1975. (Check your Lao history, because this was a very turbulent time for most countries in this region.) He talks about the pre-Communist era with a tear in his eye, and refers to the old Laos as 'the last shangri-la.' He also refuses to tell me more about his 4 month sting in a Laos prison in the 1970's, but I'm pretty sure this guy's been an angry fighter for most of his life. He's got all the classic qualities of a lovable grandpa: bushy grey eyebrows; waist high shorts; sharp sense of humor. This combined with all the qualities of a disappointed expat: single; angry at the world; full of criticism towards locals, fellow travelers (well just about everyone); and stories that always start with " I can't remember why I came to this Godforsaken country in the first place...."
The crazy old bat talked my ear off for nearly 3 hours (and only because he bought my coffee and lunch or I would have walked out of him a lot earlier in the conversation.) I listened politely and respectfully nodded and smiled when touches in the conversation deemed it necessary, simply because I have been raised to always respect my elders. Truth be told, I have a love/hate relationship with expats like him. Love to hear their stories of what life was like 30-40 years ago in Asia (like when he remembers the Bangkok where you truly could travel only by boat through its complex network of canals and where floating markets was the only way to get your food for dinner) but I hate to hear them bitch and moan about their anger towards locals and local governments. At one point during his speech, he actually pointed to a group of small school girls (10 years old max!) and looked me in the eye saying "these poor girls, I feel so sorry for them, absolutely no future for them." When I ventured back with "you never know, policy can change, economies can grow quickly" he shot me down with a stern look and a lecture that started with "listen here, Missy..." I can't remember the rest, I tuned out. Every time I was ready to walk out on him, he'd reel me back in with stories about the Great War and the developing days of Bangkok when the current king of Thailand came to throne.
After my 3rd black Lao coffee, thick with a creamy mass of condensed milk sticking to the bottom of my glass (pictured above) I asked him point blankly why doesn't he just go home? "I have no money, I couldn't afford to live in American again." And there it is my friends, the same story time and time again for nearly every single expat I have ever met living in Asia. Also, my worst fear. Let's hope this isn't my story in the years to come, and let's hope I have a little more grace the next time I sit down to chat to a stranger.
To all of you self righteous expats out there who have a lot of opinions and complaints, and provide very little help or movement to the communities you're living in...well, Fred suggests you just go home before it's too late.
Cheers from Vientiane,
Laos- The People's Democratic Republic of Situation Normal All F*ed Up!
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