Sunday, February 25, 2007

Peggy, Me and Mister Thongby Makes Three

Tomorrow is our last day in the charming city of Luang Prabang. Laos' second largest city, but still relatively quiet and intimate. Peggy took a cooking class yesterday; I got really lost on my bike looking for Colonel Kurtz somewhere upriver. Both were memorable. Peggy's class was invigorating, re-educating her as to the origins of most types of Thai food. Seems as if those cheeky Thais have ripped off the culinary techniques and recipes of the Lao people for generations. She's looking forward to busting out the banana leaf and sticky rice for you all soon.

Today we're headed out on a boat to visit the cave of a thousand Buddha. We'll be stopping at a silk weaving village on the way home to get a sense of the local flavor. Our guide is Mister Thongby, a chatty old dude who has spent some of his formative years in the U.S. and A., knowing a little about San Francisco. Mr. Thongby's claim to fame was that we was written up in a two-sentence description in the Rough Guide: Laos Edition back in 1982. Mister Thongby was described as a good person to do guided tours with. Spoke good English. Mister Thongby's knowledge of American politics began and ended with a justifiable disdainful opinion of Richard Nixon. He also mentioned that his mother is 105 years old, only a half dozen off the pace of the world's oldest woman.

The locals here are absolutely nuts for bocce ball, the game which is always changing. There are dozens of courts (square patches of dirt) set up all across town. The men can be found huddled by the dozen around the bocce pits, wagering in what seems to be a jovial and friendly atmosphere. I parked myself court side for a few games, hoping to get the call into action. As some of you know firsthand, my skills at bocce ball are world renown, so I was a bit surprised none of the more professionals didn't recognize me. Their loss.

Last night we attended a puppet and dance show at the children's center, put on by 20 of the local kids. We watched as they did different dances depicting traditional Lao courtship, farming and combat rituals. One of the UNICEF workers and organizers of the even gave us a dinner recommendation, only to join us for a nightcap later on. We again at another french restaurant, great food, cocktails, beer and wine, Cuban cigars. I had the Fillet Mignon, Peggy a traditional Lao dish. Total bill, again, $35. Additionally, the cost of my lunch consisting of noodle soup, rice cakes and bottled water: 85 cents. Feels as if this entire town can be purchased for $10 or less. Although, Bushonomics has plunged the exchange rate from 10,000 to 9,600 kip per dollar. Many locals are weary about accepting the greenback instead of their local kip, can't say that I blame them.

In the mornings, the monasteries have their monks bang on gong and drums as early as 3:30am. This, in chorus with their chanting, wakes up the roosters, both of which in turn wakes up the tourists who wonder what the hell all the racket is about. Everyday the monks line up and receive rice from the town residents, whom place some in every bowl of young monk trainees. This is a way for the Buddhist community to look after one another, the monks don't eat unless people contribute. As with Luang Prabang as a whole, the introduction of the tourist have complicated things somewhat, with 50 photographers on every corner and over-zealous (presumably) non-Buddhists baiting monks with their rice in order to get a candid close-up picture. It would be as if during the Catholic service of communion, a non-follower processed up to the altar, only to break out a camera and fire a strobe flash in the priest's face. Something to meditate on.

posted by ncawthon at 5:04 PM