Lao Voices

I am not a “Morning” kinda person. Perhaps it is because I sleep so late, or perhaps because mornings are followed by hangovers.

I live next door to a Bakery, which is just ironic, seeing as I work and live more or less in the same food industry business. I finish work when most people are sleeping, yet the Bakers work when everyone is asleep, including me.

And my neighbour Bakers, like to sing and slam oven doors at 04.00hrs. Sometimes the delivery of Flour arrives at 08.00hrs, and the truck driver cannot get past my car, so I have to haul myself out of bed to move it, and trust me, I am not a “pretty sight” in the early hours.

When I finally stagger back to bed, I have thoughts of life in Vientiane, where it is normal to start the day early.

During my visits to my homeland, I was astounded by the “action” that takes place in the early hours, when the mist is still clearing over the green fields, and the voices of children streak above the sound of the traffic. The aroma of food waffles over the air, it is bright, cool yet sunny, but yet so early.

I hear the sound of my cousins running around, sweeping the front yard, getting ready for the visit of the Monks. (I too have been in the Temple, and remember waking up to the sound of the drums (03.00)).

When I am in Vientiane, I am happy to get up early, to appreciate the cool breeze and hustle and bustle. (A far cry from the sunken face I give the Flour delivery guys!! ).

It seems that I am on a different planet when I am in Laos, where I surrender to the timing of the days, the early starts and early evenings (its so hard to get food after 22.00hrs).

What I can say is “that I love it”. Nowhere and at no time during my travels have I enjoyed waking up so early, or enjoying a full Pho (Noodle soup) before 09.00hrs, Ka-Pi included.

Vientiane has a pace of life that I think is rewarding. Seems to me that everyone is doing their own business, smiling, being friendly (I have yet to meet someone unfriendly, Customs Officers excluded!!).

Sometimes I want to share this feeling with the world, but I am afraid that Vientiane will be swamped, loose its character and become “just another city”. I want it to change, for the better, but am afraid of the change (gawd, I feel like I am talking about a teen-aged daughter ).

During my last visit there were bars and cushions on the banks of the Mekong,

street vendors piling and pushing their goods near the Lane Xang Hotel, solitary women walking around with handheld BBQ´s, grilling dried squid “to order”. Visitors (yes, Farangs if you wish) downing bottles of BeerLao while unknowingly becoming a buffet for the hoards of mosquitoes that are lying (or hovering) in wait.

The smell of Grilled Fish,

the rhythmic sounds of the Pestle and Mortar,

pierced by the sound of “The Ketchup Song” blasting out of cars going past or the “brrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmm” of the Jumbos. The Banks of the Mighty River are indeed alive and well.

And at some point, I remember finishing work in the early hours, trying to sleep and sing-a-long to the “canciones” of the Bakers, and then I realise, I would easily trade it all for a night in Vientiane.