Enter the dragon

Welcome to the year of the dragon! By Vietnamese measure, I am officially 24. Literally since my first day in Ben Tre, I was asked what my Tet plans were. Naturally, I had none. Campus wheels have been turning since then, and I finally get to experience the plans that have been underway since August.

1.20.12
I got back from HCMC in the morning and I was supposed to meet Mr. Luan and his family at 5pm. To be honest, this was the Tet day I'd been most worried about; because Mr. Luan is my supervisor for translations, I associate him with feelings of stress and frustration. However, we got off to a great start. It turns out that when we're one on one and having casual conversation instead of trying to exchange instructions, playing English fill-in-the-blank isn't so bad. I joined him, his wife, his son, and Ms. My (remember her from my early bike riding days?) at the flower market. Everyone thinks the flower market is the most beautiful thing ever and has been talking to me about it for weeks. One street along the river gets overrun by plant vendors selling everything from potted flowers to small flowering trees to pepper plants. It was pretty, but it wasn't as stunning to me as everyone else seems to think it is. We spent most of the time strolling and chatting and exchanging English and Vietnamese names for each plant. They bought me a cotton candy and, I kid you not, after little more than a minute it started melting and crystallizing. Essentially, the extreme humidity in the air was causing it to do what it would normally do in your mouth.

Welcome to the new year's flower market!

Who can spot the flower vendor?

I'm not sure at what point I started feeling unwell, whether it was before the pre-moistened cotton candy or after, but by the time we headed to dinner I was definitely feeling worried. We found a place that sold bánh xèo. I tried to use my sneaky tactic of eating slowly to avoid getting too many refills, but it didn't quite work. At some point, everyone else got full, and it was decided that it was my job to finish what was left. Long before this point, I was already struggling. I was not happy with this decision. Maybe I was too tired to resist, or maybe they were unusually forceful, but I ended up eating way way more than my body was willing to accept. And then we went somewhere else for dessert. I wasn't able to decline ordering dessert, but I did succeed in leaving it unfinished. All of that food ended up making a comeback later that evening. While it was unpleasant, it taught me that I need to be willing to stand firmer when I feel full in the coming days of feasting.

1.21.12
My next Tet stop was Mr. Bao Duy's house. He is the head of the English department. His wife picked me up and when I got to his house I spent a while hanging out with his kids. The whole family speaks English quite well, so socializing was very easy for me. His daughter is 20 and studies accounting at a university HCMC. It turns out that she doesn't really like accounting and is only studying it because she didn't know what to study and her dad recommended it. She's planning on being an accountant, anyway, but what she really likes is journalism, which she is involved in during her free time. His son is still in elementary school but speaks English excellently, though of course somewhat shyly. They have a tiny, adorable, bug-eyed, chihuahua-like puppy that was literally an ankle-biter.

Mr. Bao Duy invited me to photograph him making offerings at his family altar, and then it was time to eat. Very much in contrast with what normally happens, I experienced almost no insistence that I eat more and hardly any food ended up on my plate that I didn't put there myself. I had to wonder if word might have gotten out about the results from the night before. After the meal they saw the impending post-meal-coma in my eyes and offered me a bed to take a nap. Saints! Given that the flower market is pretty much the most exciting thing in all the land right now, I was taken on a second visit before being taken back to my room.

Not all of the courses were out when I took this picture

Flower market again

1.22.12

Have I mentioned that my Vietnamese name is Xuân Mai
(Spring Apricot Blossom)? It is the Tet flower because it
blooms briefly and almost exactlyduring this holiday season.

I woke up at 6am so that Ms. Trang could drop me off at Ms. Hoang's house, and I got in their family car to go to Ms. Hoang's husband's father's house. I should mention, this is the only Vietnamese person I know who owns a car. I didn't have breakfast because I figured we'd be eating soon and a lot. But, I guess 8am is a little early for lunch, even by Vietnamese standards. I was told to sit in the corner but I tried to find ways to be helpful. Ms. Hoang and her son were de-stemming some herbs on the floor and I sat down to help them. I couldn't help but think about the expression, 'the floors are clean enough to eat off of,' and the fact that in Vietnam they're always clean enough to cook and eat off of. I got to slice bread. They set me up for slicing on the floor, but as soon as I lowered myself to the ground everyone laughed as though this were preposterous and insisted that I work at the table.

By the time we finished ferrying five plates worth of each different dish to the three tables, my appetite was saying bring it on. Again, I was pretty much left to my own devices when it came to serving myself, something I was perfectly happy with. I was certainly encouraged to eat more, but in a very non-aggressive way.

One of the tables

I was informed that one of the teachers I used to teach in the FCE class last semester lived nearby, and we were to go visit him. At first I thought he was just going to come get me and take me to his house, which I was not totally comfortable with given the past joking but forward behavior of my male FCE students, but when I realized that Ms. Hoang would be coming too I went along with the plan. The three of us squeezed onto his motorbike. It wasn't as uncomfortable or precarious-feeling as I was expecting, but I was glad he only lived about 1km away. Of course, he plied us with more food. We went on a tour of his garden/massive yard/orchard. Apparently his land extends across the river, but we didn't go so far.

Three on a bike

Mosquitoes the size of penny-sized apricot blossom petals!

When we got back to Ms. Hoang's I was invited to observe a cockfight. Apparently cockfights are a big part of Tet, not so much because of tradition as because people have nothing else to do. It's illegal to bet on the fights, but of course people do it anyway. The winner becomes more expensive and the loser becomes dinner. I have to say, the fight was neither as dramatic nor as depressing as I was expecting. After the first couple of face offs it was clear that there wouldn't really be a winner, just a less loser. The roosters lost their spunk quickly but the fight doesn't end until one dies, so their handlers kept setting them up again and again. The only reason I stuck around until the end was because Ms. Hoang asked me which one I thought would win and I wanted to stay and find out whether I called it right. I did.

Face of when they still felt like it

Their ankles are taped up with a big metal barb curving outward at the back

1.23.12
It was new year's day and I would be spending it at Trang's parents' house. I arrived and was eagerly greeted by cheers and jumping up and down from Trang's oldest brothers' kids. It felt like coming home to family. The morning started with breakfast and the usual calm and surprising conversation with Trang's dad. We all hung out for a while and, throughout the morning, several of his eleven brothers and sisters (whom I did not previously know existed) and their families dropped by. I watched little kids get goaded into delivering new year's wishes to their elders in exchange for envelopes of lucky money. Money aside, I like the tradition of exchanging thoughtful good wishes. To this end, I learned a few lines in Vietnamese to make sure I could greet my hosts properly.

I had been warned that I would have work to do today. Trang's dad's 8th sibling (who is actually the 7th because Trang's dad, the 1st, is for some reason called the 2nd) invited me to his house to wrap Tet cakes. I'm not sure what distinguishes Tet cakes from any other glutinous rice cakes, especially since I saw several varieties of Tet cakes, but I got to help make them marketable. One woman was doing most of the work: she prepped banana leaves, scooped rice onto them, weighed them to make sure it was the right amount, added the log of filling, rolled it like a giant sushi, and tied banana leaves around the whole thing. Then we would re-tie it tighter, but that makes our job sound easier than it was. I watched Trang do it once and then I got to work. The woman finishing up the ones that Trang and I wrapped was astounded at my beautiful handiwork. She kept holding up my finished Tet cakes and waxing about them in Vietnamese for several minutes at a time. I could only understand her praising tone and frequent use of the word for beautiful. One time I tied it so tight that I squeezed some sort of fluid (ew?) out of the log. Apparently that's a good thing, because everyone was impressed.

The setup

Hard at work

Beautiful Tet cake

Slices of Tet cake, filled with green bean paste and pork fat, which you eat
with pork, broth, and eggs.

Working women and 8th Uncle

Now it was time to go back to Trang's parents' house and take a nap. I didn't need telling twice. A few hours later we headed to Trang's sister's house. Some weeks ago, when Trang was telling me about how superstitious people only want people with 'good names' to visit them on new year's day, and are especially particular about the first person who arrives, we had a funny conversation.

• My mother's name is Good.
• It's good? What is it?
• It's Good.
• Yes, what does it mean?
• It's Good, but my husband's name is Better.
• What is it?
• It's Better.

It didn't take too too long for me to figure out, but it was a real life Who's on First moment. Anyway, we had to wait for Trang's husband to get to her sister's house first before we could arrive. Once we got there, it was of course time to eat again. I've been in Vietnam long enough to recognize the spread as the assortment necessary for a build your own spring roll fest. Yum. After happily re-stuffing myself to the gills and drinking some Russian champagne it was time for gambling. Another Tet gambling endeavor is bingo. I played with Trang, her son, her sister, and her mom; her dad was our bookie. It was decided that it was a great time for me to practice Vietnamese, so after the first round I had to be the caller for the rest of the game. I won once, and Trang's sister won every other game. However, my winnings were enough for me to buy a second mat for the last round and break even at the end of the game.

Sping roll ingredients

My winning row

Receiving my winnings

This whole week I've been a little confused. It's the holiday season here, but it isn't a holiday season in my tradition, but it is a holiday season in the life I'm currently leading. In some ways, it has felt more like a holiday season than Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year's. I had the friends and family, which was wonderful, but I couldn't really carry out any of my traditions. Now I am lacking the friends and family from home, but it feels good to participate in traditions, even if they are not my own. I'm so immersed in it here that when I talk to people back home I'm taken aback when I am reminded that their life is celebration free, business as usual. Today was particularly nice because I felt like a part of the family and a part of the celebrations. When I was talking to Trang's dad in the morning I was remembering that I was doing the same thing five and a half months ago on my first weekend in Ben Tre. I didn't know these people, and yet they took me into their home. Now, I feel like I've been taken into their family, too.

On the way home, Trang and I started exchanging folktales and fables. She told me one that I found particularly striking and will now share with you.

A young woman came to visit her mother. She was overwhelmed by the difficulties in her life and felt like giving up. Her mother listened to her and then got up without saying anything. She set up three pots of water on the stove. In one, she placed a carrot; in the second, she placed an egg. In the last pot, she put some coffee beans. After the pots boiled for some time she asked her daughter to examine the contents of each pot. The carrot had become soft; the egg, hard. The water containing the coffee had become fragrant and flavorful. The mother said to her daughter, "Some people are like the carrot and let life's difficulties change them from being strong to being weak. Some people are like the egg. They start out gentle and sensitive but become hardened under life's burdens. Some people are like coffee beans: they change the circumstances around them into something better. Which one will you be like?"

Given that it is the new year yet again, I will make one more resolution about life in Vietnam and life in general. I will be a coffee bean.

Land of the lotus eaters

"They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-Eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the Lotus-eaters without thinking further of their return."  - The Odyssey 

There is no denying that Vientiane was a sleepy town, but arriving in Luang Prabang felt like being sedated -- with a wonderful, stress-erasing, motivation-canceling sedative. It was lucky we had planned to have no plans for Laos and just go with the flow because, really, that was all we were capable of upon arrival. But let's rewind and start from the beginning, getting from Vientiane to Luang Prabang.

These watches were in nearly every market stall, and after a while
it was clear that this 'watch' is just as relevant in Luang Prabang
as any other.

1.16.12

We loaded up on snacks and, after some anxiety-inducing delays we were on our way on the VIP King of Bus to Luang Prabang. All in all, the eleven hour ride went by more quickly and easily than I expected, and it was more scenic than I'd dared hope. We spent most of the trip winding around mountains. The bumps and bends sometimes made it hard to sleep, but it was worth it to keep my eyes open. The verdure was muted under a dense coating of road dust, and made me feel like I was in an old photograph. We passed clumps of hill tribes that could have almost convinced me that I had been transported to Guatemala. The flora shifted from palm trees and rice fields to papaya groves to unknown deciduous trees. Sunset came in a striking, unbroken palate, and then the stars came. Believe it or not, I see the stars less often in Vietnam than I did in Houston or in the LA area. So, to see the stars from a mountaintop free of light pollution was a sparkling treat.

Riverside karsts accompanied us for a while

After finding a place to stay Kelly and I sought out a place to chill. We ended up at a restaurant across a river that is only accessible via bamboo bridge during the six months of dry season. Neither of us thought we were particularly hungry, but we were wooed by sindad, aka Lao hotpot, Lao BBQ, or Lao fondue. The waiters removed a ceramic tile from the center of our table, fit a pot of embers into the hole, and placed an unusual but ingenious contraption over it. Instead of a flat-bottomed pot, the center is domed up and slotted, creating an outer trench for broth and a dry center area for grilling. We received a kettle of broth; a plate of thinly sliced raw beef; a basket of noodles, cabbage, greens, eggs, and vegetables. Any dinner starting out with my receiving a platter of raw meat is off to a good start, and it was delicious. I topped it off with another new beer and for dessert we played a friendly game of scrabble.

Note the hotpot pot

Namkhong: I found out later that it is manufactured
by Heineken. And it tastes like it. 'Nuff said.

1.17.12
Having only recently arrived in Luang Prabang, we weren't fully under its spell yet, and managed to have a reasonably thorough first day despite getting started later than we intended. Our first stop was Phou Si, a hill and central landmark in the city. Near the base is Wat Pahouak, built in 1860 and now a UNESCO World Heritage site because of the murals inside depicting local history. At the top there is another wat and an overlook from which you can see the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers responsible for Luang Prabang's peninsular shape. On our way down the hill we passed an assortment of gold Buddha-related statues, a wat in a cave, and what is allegedly a stone imprint of Buddha's footprint (though, as the guidebook snidely commented, if it were real Buddha would have been the size of a brontosaurus).

The very top of the hill and wat

Cave wat

We spent the rest of the afternoon admiring wats strewn across the north side of town. While they may come to look more or less the same after a few dozen photographs, let me assure you that each one had its own unique and intriguing qualities, even if I can no longer remember most of their names.

Mesmerizing gilded entrance at one wat

Tree of life mosaic at another wat's rear

I took a refreshment break on my own and ended up having a very meaningful time. As I begin to think about my post-Vietnam travels, one of my concerns has been whether I can hold up on my own. During this break I met a fascinating expat and, more importantly, proved to myself that I am capable of striking up easy and interesting conversation with someone I don't know. I also browsed a Lao/English dictionary and extracted a few words whose specificity intrigued or amused me.

• bom kuay - to ripen bananas
• pao mon - to blow magically
• pao ya - to blow medically on a patient's ill part
• puad pai bun - to wish ardently to go to the festival
• pen none - to have worms
• pen tum - pimply
• bal - talk in sleep
• bon - to blow bubbles

This seems like a good time for a brief segue into the language, which makes Vietnamese seem easy by comparison. For starters, Lao has its own alphabet, and transliterations into our writing system are wildly inconsistent. In its alphabet (which is technically an abugida), from what I understand, the main characters are all consonants, and special vowel-indicating markings are placed in the vicinity (above, below, to the left or right) of these characters. There are around 50 different vowels and consonants, and there are six tones. Sounds fun, right? Nevertheless, with the expat's help we managed to expand our Lao abilities to include numbers, 'how much', 'beautiful', 'delicious', and 'very'. It's surprising how well these few words can serve you, and how well received they are. Kelly, a fellow linguist, and I were delighted to learn that in addition to using the word for 'very', you can just repeat the word you want to intensify (a language feature called reduplication).

Anyway, on with the day. More wats. Lazing at a riverside cafe. Snacking on Lao sausage at the same bamboo bridge place from the night before. Then we went looking for dinner. One of my favorite moments of the day came around this time. It was already quite dark when a group of teen monks passed us, but one wished us a 'good morning' (something we were repeatedly wished no matter the time of day). Kelly quickly replied, 'no, good evening.' Without batting an eye the monk called back, 'no, good morning tomorrow!'

Crossing the river. Can we all say paradise?

This dinner featured chicken laap (a sort of spicy and refreshing meat salad, emphasis on meat), buffalo orlahm (a stew with many herbs and spicy wood), an accompaniment of sticky rice, and two new beers.

Laap and sticky rice. No orlahm photo, apparently

By an unexpected series of events and introductions, we ended up finding our way to an implausible bowling alley full of foreigners because it is the only place open past the local midnight curfew.

1.18.12
By Wednesday, Luang Prabang insouciance had officially set in. We started at Ok Pop Tok, a nearby weaving village, where we took a quick tour that explained everything from the silkworms' diets to the dying process to the weaving. It was a beautiful, Mekong-adjacent place. We felt compelled to sit a while and try the silk worm poo tea. While we sipped and sunned, a group of women finished their half-day weaving class and their exuberance convinced us to set aside our intentions to visit a waterfall and sign up to weave the next day. At this point, spending four hours sitting would fit right in with the rest of our itinerary.

A rainbow of natural dyes

A loom. I think I'd cramp my brain trying to figure out how to set up all of the
threads myself.

Silk worm poo tea tastes just like normal tea.

On our way out I spotted a flier for Project Space, an art space featuring traditional and contemporary Lao art. As soon as I walked in it felt right. It smelled like art (and that's a good smell). The ground floor had quilt-like wall hangings made by a woman inspired by her shaman-husband's visions. The next floor had several small collections, including some shadow puppets and many related preparatory drawings, as well as the winning entries of a local photography contest. The very top floor was a rooftop terrace with an incredible view of the city. Naturally, we sat and drank in the peacefulness.

Shadow puppets

View from the top

Our next stop was Haw Kham, the royal palace, which is now preserved as a museum. Naturally, there was a splendiferous wat on the palace grounds. Though all of the members of the royal family had pretty awesome names, the late King Sisavangvong's was my favorite to say. No photos were allowed inside the palace. The public area was an opulent red and gold mosaiced display, making the high-ceilinged but white-walled living spaces seem spartan by contrast. The garage around the back housed the royal family's car collection, almost exclusively courtesy of annual gifts from the US government. A humanizing touch was the gallery of photos and brief biographies of the many royal chauffeurs.

Wat with the ever-popular and fascinating naga motif on the railing

Inside the wat

By now we were starving and more than ready to enjoy some street food noodle soup. I had to note that the buzzing flies and utensils of dubious cleanliness were more inviting than offputting. The soup itself was nothing to write home about, but a cautious dose of maroon sludge (chili sauce) gave it the kick it initially lacked.

1.19.12
Our weaving class forced us out of bed early, and we were on our way to Ok Pop Tok at 8am. We were greeted with bael fruit tea before getting down to business. We chose our silks, had a go at spooling the skeins, and then started weaving.

The skein is spread onto a turning contraption

Guiding the bright blue silk onto the spool

It was slow going at first. You hold the shuttle in your right hand, pressing down on the right pedal with your foot as you pass the shuttle through to the left. You take the shuttle in your left hand, switch your foot over the left pedal, give the weaving a good whack with the beater to get the rows tight, and then repeat the process in the opposite direction. Again and again. Then it was time to add the pattern. First it was just a matter of changing the color every four pass-throughs, but then it got complicated. There are threads at the top that are woven into the loom threads (yeah, my knowledge of weaving vocab is pretty lacking) just like the pattern you want woven into your fabric. You use the woven threads to separate the loom threads according to the pattern, drive in a plank to keep the necessary loom threads raised and lowered, and then pass the shuttle through. That probably didn't make much sense, so you can try reading Ok Pop Tok's more articulate but also more jargon-heavy descriptions on the enlargements of these two pictures:

If that still doesn't help, try watching this video. It didn't really make sense to me until I did it, but afterward I had a much better appreciation of the process when I watched the women who work there. Below, watch me go! This is near the end, when I'd made it through the pattern section and was just sliding the shuttle back and forth. It felt so much easier this time around. Meanwhile, the women who do this for a living put my pace to shame. 

 It was pretty amazing to watch a piece of fabric form before my very eyes. In the morning I had a heap of string. By noon it was a creation.

Me, my tutor, and my masterpiece

We capped off the experience with lunch. Kelly and I shared kaipen, seasoned 'Mekong weed' aka algae, with a dipping sauce of jaew bong, a chili sauce whose notable ingredient is water buffalo skin. My main dish was pork wrapped in lemongrass and then fried. The lemongrass dominated the flavor and texture at first, but after I got used to it it was perfectly enjoyable.
 

And then it was time to go. Time to go back to reality. Our trip back home during Tet season felt a lot like traveling on Thanksgiving weekend, complete with crowded airports and delayed flights, but eventually we made it home. It's never really possible to see everything there is to see in a given place, and I didn't even see everything I could have seen if I had woken up at seven and charged my way through a guidebook's checklist. Still, my experience was richer for it. I think it's a testament to a place that makes you feel like you have unfinished business when you leave, rather than making you feel like you 'got it done.' I saw a lot in Laos; I sat a lot in Laos, and I'd be happy to go back one day and do more of both.

“Most of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting.” – Robert Thomas Allen