September 28 - Sabai di, Lao

Our Royal accomodations in the Kingdom of Thailand.

The night between flights.

My eyes opened first this morning at 4 am.  Don’t know what time that is in Seattle, but I have a feeling that as I write this it might still be September 27^th.  I struggled for an extra composite 30 minutes until 6:30 when our wake-up call came in.  I had been too lazy to see the sunrise over the airport, but if I were in the business of watching sunrises I would have died of sleep deprivation 5 years ago.  I rolled out of bed when Sophia came out of the bathroom. Having done the math I had amassed a grand total of 3 hours of sleep to add to my in-flight dozing.

Sophia had said the night before, impatient to get to our Novotel (for you westerners, that’s a big hotel chain) that I could take pictures the next morning.  I’m glad I didn’t listen because as beautiful as this place is during the day, with sunlight streaming in from every angle, it was prettier at night.  You’d think so too if you’re a cool colors kind of person.  Walking into the terminal, a mural of some must-be-important Thai figure overlooked the entrance.  Oh yeah, that must be the King.  Long Live the His Majesty.  Finding security was easier than it at first seemed it might be and soon we were searching for food.  Correction, I was searching for food.  Sophia grabbed a coffee at Starbucks in the American wing, and I sat down to a nice spicy plate of stir fried chicken and basil, a fried egg and sticky rice.  I’m not the kind of person that needs my breakfast foods.  Spice on the tongue puts a fire in your heart.  Something like that, right?  I was pleasantly surprised to see Sophia enjoy a bite without crying about her taste buds O.D.ing on capsaicin.

We made our way through the cement palace, taking a few pictures along the way and boarded our twin prop plane straight from the tarmac at 09:15.

Starbucks



Delicious!

 

Learning Lao





























Leaving on the plane for less humid Lao.
See what I mean?! This is about five seconds after I took my cap off! 



Emerging from the rear bathroom, I planted my forehead firmly into a low ceiling, right in front of the stewardess, who I must admit, may have stolen some of my attention from my general surroundings. That wasn’t the first time that had happened in that 2 minute period.  Despite the small fuselage, the ride was very comfortable, though the flap that was supposed to close over the left landing gear did exactly that.  I don’t mean close.  I mean flap back and forth, dragging us slowly but surely westbound off-course at 30,000 ft and 500 mph.  I know why those are called that now.  Disembarkment went about as smoothly as my bathroom trip.  Conscientious and cautious of the low hanging ceiling around the bathroom and the fold-down steps across from it, I ducked.  And with a bag on each shoulder I banged my left on the doorjam and nearly tripped down the stairs. 

Sophia Touching Down.

Sabai di, Lao.  As my father once said, “My Laotian is very good.”  If you know a Krengel, you know that means I know jack shit of Laotian.  Removing my lens cap I was pleased to see my skylight filter stay dry, crisp, and clean.  The humidity had dissipated, but the heat seemed comparable nonetheless, but allowed for better thermoregulation.  Yes, I do think that way.  Beautiful rolling clouds opened up to blue sky, and I could hardly keep my eyes open it was all so bright.  Don’t believe me?  Look down.

Squinting

Cousins on the Tarmac

Tarmac HDR

This is a joke, right?

After clearing customs Sophia and I made our way down and outside, past a number of solicitous taxi drivers.  Jacqui, our ride, and more importantly our host, who I have already amassed a number of endearing adjectives for was not yet there.  So we headed back inside, past the taxi drivers, feeling like fools, and stared around blankly.  We knew we could do nothing but wait, yet our tired brains raced, pushing our bodies to wander around.  After a few minutes of mindlessness we gathered ourselves and headed back past the taxi drivers and sat down on the curb, waiting.  Some Londoners asked us if $88 US sounded like a reasonable fare into the middle of town: the quote they had received.  I thought I’d read it should be $40 and was about 30 km from the airport.  That was completely wrong, but would have saved them a portion, I hope they didn’t agree to a $40 fare.



After I met Jacqui, and we were on our way to her house, bags in the trunk, camera at the ready, I learned that the center of town, in fact, was 3 km from the airport.  That’s an expensive taxi ride.  Every few blocks a pagoda, set back from the street added more color to the vibrant spots that brightened up the cement buildings in the center of town.  Maybe it’s demeaning to refer to it as a town, but Vientiane, the sprawling cityscape that it appears to be in maps, doesn’t get much higher than 20 meters off the ground.  At over 200,000, it is a city nonetheless, but not by modern, urban-American standards.  My home for the next, foreseeable, 3 months.



Bones, hips they looked like, lined the sidewalk.  Sidewalk, again, should be redefined, or deconstructed, to mean nothing more than the walking space on the side of the road before a fence or a building.  Although, in some place, like in the center of town, it is paved well.  The store we were at was at a three way intersection east of downtown.  I thought maybe there was a butcher shop here, because of the specimens I’d walked through to find the storefront.  Refrigerators lined the path to the inside, and were full of things from yogurt, butter and other dairy to shrink-wrapped meats, cured and sliced or raw.  The first thing I noticed inside was the basket of French baguettes.  Little-known-fact about little-known-Lao: famous for its French bread.  This store was, as Jacqui told us, the place to go for western foods, and the other store, where San shops, for its Laotian.  Either way everything was organic.  San, by the way is Jacqui and Roger’s helper, she cooks, cleans, and, judging by the first meal she’s made, generally balls-out-of-control.  Respect.  Did I mention I can’t wait to start learning the way around a Lao kitchen.  I didn’t think I needed to.  If there’s one thing that can bridge a language barrier, it’s food.

This is ending abruptly.  More to come.

East up the Mekong

P.S. to everyone but my mother:  during lunch I got bit by my first mosquito.  Jacqui says the day ones carry Dengue and have tiger-striped legs.  I didn’t see this one, but I feel fine thus far.  If I stop posting three days from now you’ll know why.