Hi Gram,
Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas from halfway around the world! We got up early this morning with plans of great adventure to celebrate the holiday. The air was crisp and cool when we walked down the street past piles of vans and busses unloading tourists, all eager to partake in the ceremony. A proud realization yesterday when I was looking for tours to book was that we didn’t need them. Many of them offered to pick us up at our hotel and drive us from point to point. I was ready to sign up when I realized that the first stop on the tour was giving alms to the monks a few blocks from where we were staying. Easy enough to just walk, so we’ll meet them at the second stop, right? The second stop was the morning market that I walked through yesterday after passing the rows of stools for alms givers. I kept looking at the stops and realized that we were staying right in the heart of the action and could easily walk from point to point. We could follow our own schedule, avoid the crowded busses, and save the cost of paying the tour operators to drive us all day.

Anyway, we passed these busses and soon arrived at the start of the road closed off to all but pedestrian traffic. One of the vendors immediately saw us, then escorted us to some stools with a prime view (away from that pesky light post a few feet further down the row). We were decorated with sashes, handed small baskets of rice and three baskets of individually wrapped nutrition bars, and shown where to sit. The next person came along and let us know how much it would cost for the alms we had “chosen”. Now on our way in, there was a sign showing the prices of each option. A bowl of rice could be purchased in different sizes, starting at 20,000 kip all the way up to 50,000 kip. A basket of fruit wrapped in banana leaves cost 20,000 kip (which I think the individually wrapped nutrition bars were substituted for). For the assortment of alms we had, she told us that it would only be 200,000 each. That translates to about $12, a bargain if we had actually received the largest bowl of rice and eight baskets of the nutrition bars – we had obviously just paid tourist mark-up prices, so good for them for making a little profit.

We positioned ourselves and prepared our baskets of alms, then talked about being cold and felt a little uncomfortable with all the other tourists who were not participating but taking lots of pictures and video of the line of alms-givers. A short time later, a procession of monks started. We each slipped on our plastic glove with which we reached into the bowl for a pinch of sticky rice for each monk’s offering bowl. I quickly got into a routine of handing rice with one hand to the first monk, then a nutrition bar to the next, alternating back and forth until the rice was all gone, then just nutrition bars for another ten or fifteen monks until they were all gone too. Once I was out, I waited for the end of the line to pass me, nodding and smiling respectfully at them as they passed.

Once the last monk was past me, a woman was there to collect my sash and baskets, as efficient as any assembly line. We stood and continued our walk on the other side of the street, observing the monks continue on for a few blocks. Still feeling a bit of a chill, we dipped into a coffee shop to warm up. We ordered a couple of warm beverages and a cinnamon roll amidst a circus of mayhem. The place was hustling and small, like many a coffee shop first thing in the morning. Layered on top of that, there was a tourist – who I was later informed was Korean – complaining that she had ordered two cinnamon rolls – one roll with cinnamon icing and a second roll with vanilla icing – but had only received the cinnamon one. The clerk answered that they were out of the vanilla ones, and she hadn’t been charged for it. She would point at her receipt and insist that she wanted a vanilla-iced cinnamon roll. The clerk would point at the same receipt to show her that she hadn’t paid for this item that was unavailable, then to the display showing no vanilla-iced rolls, so her order was complete. This went back and forth for a while, and I’m just guessing at what they were saying, based on gestures and tone of voice because I don’t speak Lao nor do I speak Korean. I’m guessing that each half of this two-woman show only spoke one of those languages too, and not the same language as the other. Layered on top of that, there was a New Yorker loudly asking everyone in his crew what they wanted, shouting what he saw in the display case to those further away who couldn’t see. It felt like a dance, telling the clerk what I wanted between her arguing with the Korean tourist and waiting for the New Yorker to take a breath so I could be heard. The clerk was the real hero here, because I’m guessing that she does this dance for hours every day. I only got to play one round of this verbal double dutch.

Once I paid and had my receipt, she and Nattiya exchanged some words in Lao, then Nattiya ushered me upstairs with a table number. We waited patiently for our order, which was delivered in porcelain “for here” cups and on a regular “for here” plate. My plan of quickly grabbing a couple of warm beverages for our cold walk did not succeed, but we did get a fun story out of it. Once we were warmed and fed, we headed downstairs, through the crowd, and out onto the street which was, despite our wishes to the contrary, still cold. Nattiya kept pointing down a side road, trying to steer our walk in a random direction she felt like going while I kept pointing straight ahead because I had planned each of our stops. After reaching the busy road where the night market would later be set up, we looped around to the right and found ourselves on a narrow alleyway packed with other walkers and lined with vendors on either side. We looked, pointed, and talked about all the things we saw along the way until I eyed a stall with jackets for sale.

Nattiya was freezing and I wouldn’t mind another layer, so this looked like a good solution to both of our problems. With the vendors here, as with many markets like this, if you make eye contact they will try to sell you everything they can, tell you all about how you are their lucky first customer, they have a special price for you, and explain the great fortune that has brought you together. It was great fortune indeed, and after trying on a couple of different sizes and a little haggling, the vendor was about 400,000 kip ($20 USD) wealthier and we had matching black puffy coats making us warmer. The zipper on mine almost immediately broke, but what do you expect for a $10 puffy coat? We continued on, shuffling with the other tourists and locals between stalls until we were spit out the other end.

A quick left then a right found us walking along the river. Boat captains would offer to give us a tour every 20 or 30 feet, restauranteurs would try to lure us in for breakfast once or twice a block, and Nattiya would try to steer us down a side road as a shortcut back to the hotel. It was a nice walk with pretty views and lots of laughter between us. We reached the third planned stop of the morning, a riverside park. The tour descriptions made it sound much larger and more impressive than it was, so we didn’t spend much time there. We continued on, where Nattiya was surprised a block later when we were back at our room. We had just spent a couple of hours building some fun memories and the day had barely begun!

I started looking at the itinerary to plan our next move when Nattiya prompted me to head down for the free hotel breakfast. I’d had a cinnamon roll, chai latte, and an orange juice, so it didn’t occur to me to be hungry but she’d only had coffee. I accompanied her to the lobby – actually a seating area outdoors in front of the lobby – where we each ordered from their breakfast menu and had some of the fruit plate they bring each morning. Full and caffeinated, we headed back to the room for a quick shower and our next adventure. The plan was to go see a few temples next, but we also planned to drop off our laundry. Unfortunately, because my pants were in the laundry and they discourage wearing shorts to temples, the plan was modified to see the temples tomorrow and take our time with some of the other stops today.

I was headed for a laundry shop that I’d seen on our walk yesterday straight down the road our hotel was on. A few blocks later, she pulled me to a side street on the left, saying “laundry”. I had been steering us all morning, so I figured we’ll go to the laundry shop that she had in mind. Many blocks later, almost to the night market area via the long circuitous route, we concluded that the laundry shop she had in mind had taken in their sign and weren’t open. We retraced our steps and ended up at a laundry shop a couple blocks from where we’d diverted our path.

After paying extra to pick up the laundry tonight – so we’d have pants to wear for temples tomorrow – I steered us toward Phousi Hill. Our hotel, the markets, and many other tourist attractions are all on a peninsula packed with shops, restaurants and hotels. In the middle of this peninsula stands a hill with a Buddhist temple at the top. A popular destination for tourists, it provides spectacular views, with the ticket price paying the monks who maintain it. Following Google Maps, we found ourselves following signs that pointed us up and down stairs, between fences, across small plazas, and around buildings. We got to a point where the map said to keep going straight, but that would have been over a wall, up a boulder, and down an embankment.

Our efforts to go around and reconnect with the map proved fruitless so we retraced our steps and got back to the street. On our walks yesterday and this morning, we had seen a couple other entrances to this hill, so we walked around to one of those staircases. I’ve been walking long-ish distances and up lots of stairs for the past few months, so I saw this as a challenge (I didn’t run up the stairs because there’s a sign at the bottom showing a runner with a line crossing through it. I got the message). I walked briskly up a few flights, then paused at a landing while she huffed and puffed to catch up. I’d let her catch her breath a little, then do another few flights. We continued this, stopping to take pictures of and with the statues and views scattered along the climb, until we reached the ticket office about 2/3 of the way to the top. I gladly paid the 20,000 kip ($0.97 USD) for each of our tickets, then kept climbing.

We took lots of cool pictures, I got a good workout, and Nattiya had a chance to pray and make offerings at this temple. In addition, the climb up and down gave her a chance to practice some vocabulary like “I walk up the stairs holding my boyfriend’s hand”, “the view is beautiful”, “I am so happy” and “we walk down the stairs together”. At the bottom of the steps, back at street level, I had one more surprise for her. We headed back towards the hotel (actually a guesthouse, but “hotel” just feels easier to say) along the river, but stopped at a set of stairs that led down to the water. There we met a boat that ferried us across. Dyen sabai, a restaurant on the other side of the river perched up high with a stunning view, was smart enough to offer reimbursement for your boat ride if you dined at their establishment. We walked down some concrete stairs initially, which led to wooden stairs that got both steeper and more rickety as we got closer to the bottom. We waited for the boat to arrive before the last bit of the wooden stairs, then walked down and climbed aboard.

The boat captain pushed off, fired up the engine (which took a few pulls with a rope to get it going), then almost immediately shut it off as we coast to the pier on the other shore twenty seconds later. In the dry season, there’s a floating bridge that crosses this distance, but it’s removed in the wet season when the water is deep enough for other boats to navigate the river. We disembarked, then climbed up equally rickety and narrow stairs to the restaurant. After removing our shoes, we found our way to a table close to the edge overlooking the river. The menu was simple but presented a few options that I had a hard time choosing between. I got the pork larb, a ground pork dish with seasoning and veggies over sticky rice while Nattiya ordered a salad with a tasty dressing and hardboiled eggs. We shared our dishes, talking about Lao food, our plans for her trip to America, and the fruity tea we were drinking. The whole experience felt magical and surreal. The temperature was a nice kind of cool, with a very gentle breeze keeping the bugs away, and the sun shining out over the river while trees kept us shaded.

After leisurely passing a few hours, we headed to grab the laundry. They were a little late with it, so we sat at a table and played with their little puppy which immediately helped me get over my unreasonable aggravation for having to wait around. On the way back with our laundry, which for the first time was not wrapped in plastic, we stopped at the lotus b&b and reserved a room for the next several days. The place we’re in now is decent, but the bed is stiff and the whole place just feels kind of worn.

We put the laundry away, finished up her visa application, then decided to go out on the town. She had a fancy red dress begging to be worn, my button down shirt just happens to be green and it’s Christmas evening. We put on our jackets, then headed over to a restaurant nearby that had indoor seating. As we were leaving the hotel, the zipper pull on my brand new jacket broke off, rendering the zipper useless. For $10, ya get a $10 jacket I guess. We split a cashew chicken dish at the restaurant, followed by an apple tart and ice cream. It was an ideal cap to a very enjoyable Christmas!