Now it's darkest February, and even little Laos has had its share of weird weather. We've had three days of unheard-of winter rain ---three days of the stuff, just bucketing down, and then a bit later, another fierce cold spell which sent tourists scuttling inside the warm farang bakery restaurants and the locals scurrying outside to gather round a smoky little fire. Don't know which worked better.
But tonight things are back to normal ---coolish--- and the locals are again thronging the little riverside restaurants, living it up to jaunty Lao folk music---infinitely preferable to those mewling Thai pop songs ----and the tourists are thronging the night market again.
And I am determined to tell you what's going on before it becomes too much to tell.
The other day in my class I was running a quick quiz on opposites and asked for the opposite of 'dark'. And the resounding answer came back--- 'Cat!' Of course. Ummmmmm....??? Yah, they heard dog and decided that any answer was better than none. Well, 'dark' and 'dog', ánd, for that matter, 'duck', all sound pretty much the same to them. We had a good laugh together in the lighthearted way that folks here have of finding fun in almost anything, despite the grim realities in their lives. Warms my heart, it does.
Today, I spent a great deal of time in class labouring through lots of descriptive words, finding opposites, pronouncing, explaining meanings and showing how they could be used in their upcoming, end-of-term piece de resistance, a little talk they must give for the class that all of them are dreading.
They sat in earnest silence the entire time, nodding and occasionally asking timorously, 'Teacher, can you spell that again?'' and smiling wanly when I did something silly to illustrate a point. They really are horrified by the thought of having to speak, even though that's why they are here.
But then we played The Game---I hold out a sheaf of paper slips with simple questions that they must read aloud and then someone must answer with a full sentence---and once they all cottoned on, it turned into a riot.
They suddenly became hugely animated and laughed and called out answers and then collapsed in giggles when I pretended not to hear because they hadn't made a proper sentence. They absolutely sparkled with joy when someone made a mistake or indeed when they made a mistake themselves, because it was another chance for merriment. They leaned over each other to read the slips in someone else's hand and hooted in disbelief when they got it right and competed like mad to be first with the answer.
Even the monks and novices joined right in and no-one minded when I recycled the questions, and they had to do it all over again. I laughed, too, of course and this is fairly unusual teacher behaviour, so they enjoyed that. Then they got cute and started changing the questions slightly to try and trick each other, and sometimes put together really elaborate answers, but that was great because it showed they were thinking as they went and using their heads, instead of just repeating. They were learning and loving it.
I do this a lot these days once I get through the main points of the lesson and it's clear that they relish the chance, not only to have fun, but to show off and compete and speak aloud.
They know an incredible amount of grammar and a fair bit of vocabulary but it's like a basketball team that's been in the locker room or on the sidelines for several years, learning all the plays and every fact there is about basketball and seeing it all happen, without ever getting out on the court. Mainly it's because their own teachers can't speak English either...
Games are great. There's another one where I go around the class and get them to stand up and say who they are and where they are from, and then do it again with My favourite colour or food, and again with What I do best is, or I would like to travel to... and so one with ever sillier questions and soon they start having fun with it and say things like, Hello my name is Crazy Boy and I live under the bridge and my favourite food is rocks....Or they say they want to travel to Australia and their favourite food is meat pies. (Most of them have never been as far as Vientiane)
And they keep coming back to my classes, even though I have days when I feel as if everything I am saying is bouncing off their brains like so many ping pong balls, so I am loving it. And they gather to offer me rides home from classes on their motorbikes. One devoted fellow shows up every evening to take me to school.
The hours are a little crazy, working seven days a week, with about 24 hours of actual standing up in front of classes and almost as much preparing. But that will change soon, now that I have put my foot down and said No More!! And I am have got much better at it, sometimes virtually winging a whole class off the top of my head. (can you do that??)
It was a big gamble for my boss, the Wily Ping, but he seems happy to have me around and has taken me to see the new school he is building for us. Wonderful new building with a great view, but a bit farther from my house than the dirty old wreck we're using now.
His is the biggest of the five private English schools in town and I think I am the only Farang on staff in town. Apparently I am a drawcard. There is an American guy at my school, of Japanese descent, but lives in New York and comes here to volunteer. He was apparently too pushy with the other teachers and then was deeply miffed when I was hired instead of him. He gamely shows up every day and helps the kids, which is a good thing, but he is certainly a living lesson in the value of people skills.
OK, so that's the school part of my life. Then there are the training gigs, which are wonderful. I have very small groups to train intensively for a few weeks preparing them for a specific job. It is hugely rewarding. (No, not in money terms---I only get 3 dollars per hour, per student and sometimes I just get a nice piece of artwork or something from their stock instead) but right now, for instance, I am teaching four young musicians who are learning the very difficult traditional Lao instruments from leathery old masters of the art. I am teaching them just what they need to be able to say to answer the questions that people ask at performances and to be able to introduce the pieces at a concert.
They are all training at a wonderful little house in town under the energetic and extraordinary Nith, who is actually a Lao prince and dedicates his life and his time when he is here to preserving, promoting and developing authentic Lao arts and culture. He lives in Paris part of the year and when he takes a break, the boys will be able to hold the fort for the brief spells when the public visits the house.
It's fabulous, what he does, and I am thrilled to be a part of it. He also wants me to train his director to write proposals and answer correspondence in English, which I think is a great idea, because the diector looks rather like a Lao Patrick Swayze.
The young musos are a real treat, only 17 to 20 years old and they come to my house three days a week for lessons, usually ending up in severe giggling fits when Kongle, the impish Hmong boy who is the class clown and the least proficient at English but one of the better musos, attempts too energetically to pronounce something difficult and inevitably fails. He laughs harder than the rest and we are usually in tears of laughter by the time the lesson is over, but they really do try hard.
Last night, the expats were all invited to a glittering benefit performance at Nith's, Puang Champa House, which means the Garland of Frangipani. It was to raise enough money to buy three beautiful traditional dancing masks, hand-made by old masters, and we each stumped up $20 for an evening of candles, wine, snacks and a performance of the very beautiful and difficult Homlong, a rarely performed masterpiece of traditional Lao music that is played to pay respect to the spirits. It must be played without stopping or making any mistakes, so it's a big deal.
We heard it played by the leathery old masters themselves, and then saw an exquisite performance by five beautiful young girls in their glittering red and gold and blue costumes, all handmade by the dancers. They wore traditional gold headdresses with high points on top and elaborate decoration. It was all quite fabulous, sitting there on little handwoven cushions in Nith's lush green garden, among the huge palms and glowing candles, enjoying this loveliness.
Then a bunch of us went out to a meal at the rather wonderful new Arisai restaurant, where they do beautiful little eggplant roll-ups with fresh salad and balsamic dressing and other Mediterranean specialities. Later, a drink at the wine bar with the usual suspects and then a lift home with my friend Sirivonh, the indomitable and irrepressible wonder woman that I hang out with sometimes, listening to Elvis on her car stereo---our great favourite.
What an evening, and rather typical, I am pleased to report. So you can see why I love it here---the blend of high culture and simple fun, the worldly international artists, colourful locals, idiosyncratic ex-pats, sweet, sweet people and a lot of fun, none of it terribly expensive, all of it interesting, some of it heartbreaking, but definitely the opposite of dark.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Working Girl
Outside, the evening music barrage has begun---a mix of Thai pop and Lao folk music backed by clucking and barking, puttering motorbikes and occasional belated New Years greetings. The sun is sinking into the golden haze over the Me Khong, which is shrinking noticeably daily. The usual vast sand bank is emerging rapidly in front of our place and lush gardens along the riverbanks march ever downwards as the waters recede.
Mornings are misty and cool, days are mild sometimes quite warm, and nights are crisp to bloody cold. Pity the poor monks and novices running around in nothing but a few orange bedsheets.
But they troop faithfully to my classes, where they are very much the stars. Teacher's pets, except that Teacher is not allowed to pet, touch or even hand anything to them, given the vows they have taken. That doesn't mean we don't have fun, as some of them are quite clever and all are sweet and have glorious smiles. As are my civilian students.
The job consumes pretty much all my time just now as I have my five evening classes every week and my two weekend double classes all of which I need to prepare for and now another 8 hours through the week of regular textbook classes, for which I don't really have to prepare anything.
I started out in a regular state of nerves, trying to churn out lesson plans and materials for my own classes, ricocheting between lessons that were too hard and others that obviously bored them stiff but it has been a very useful process as I now realise that some of the not-so-shy ones who sounded good were weak in other ways, that some of the mute terrified creatures of the first week have turned into normal speaking, contributing students. The shyness factor is huge, and they will not believe that I really mean it when I urge them to tell me anytime they don't understand.
Some can read perfectly from a text or the board, but haven't a clue what they are saying. One boy seems to be on the verge of a seizure every time I speak to him and just stares at the paper and whispers, usually the wrong answer. But then he smiles meltingly at me, offers me a lift home and carries on a coherent conversation with me all the way home. Turns out he also studies French and is only 17 years old.
Some are just plain exhausted from working all day before class, and the monks, of course, have been up since 3:45 AM praying and are living on two meals a day so it's not surprising that they yawn a bit. Others seem to be rigid with boredom, but smile enthusiastically when they see me and thank me warmly when they leave at the end of class. And sometimes, they are just plain tired from working all day, but still they trudge in to class in the big, cold, ugly, dirty building that is PasaBandith College. I have commandeered a classroom at the end of the building on the second story (first floor to non-N. Americans) and from this hideous edifice I have a stunning view of the apricot sun bathing the little pointy mountains to the southwest every evening.
I have learned to put together lessons that they seem to respond to, using reading, repeating, asking questions and a few games to keep them entertained. There is nothing I can do about the fact that there are so many levels of ability in the same class----I just try to include easy stuff, intermediate stuff and a few challenges in each lesson so they will all get something out of it. I also give them several options on the class exercises, so the bright ones can impress me.
They are very attentive and polite, but one night I divided them into teams and did a rapid fire oral quiz which was a huge success. We had a ball----and I saw them suddenly becoming competitive and really animated, even the monks.
Then during the day I teach four EEA sessions , which is a book of everyday activities, illustrated with line drawings, explaining some simple thing like playing a CD or having breakfast. We drill the vocabulary, I get them to read aloud and ask questions. I pick up grammar and pronunciation points and we do OK, but it's pretty basic. Some kids listen, some murmur among themselves, some ask good questions and really participate, speaking good English, some just titter or look blank. Of the thirty four students on the roll, 4 were there on time, another twenty drifted in over the next half hour, and some arrived an hour into the lesson.
And in the middle of class, a teacher and several student monitors trotted into the room and started checking uniforms, ties, badges etc. and ticking off the students who were not properly kitted out, sending a few off to the office to pay the latest installment of their fees. I was flabbergasted.
And this week I'll have two classes teaching New Headway, a collection of texts with questions and exercises for students. many of them are so complex and culturally inaccessible that I wonder they don't just throw the books out the window and set fire to the school in a fury of frustration.
I asked some of the other teachers about the difficulty level and they agreed with me that it was tough, but they just get the students to translate the stuff into Lao, with their dictionaries. It's pretty pathetic as a curriculum, but at least it means I don't have to worry about the quality of my lessons too much. Anything I give them is at least accurate and topical and geared specifically for them, rather than random blasts of largely incomprehensible gobbledygook from another world.
Of course, the really bright ones will benefit from any exposure to other voices and cultures,----- Hell, they'll learn a lot from reading a beer label----but for 85% of them it is really uphill work.
I cheer them up by explaining some of the cultural refernces to them, teaching them odd words, helping with pronunciation and giving them tongue twisters to practice their pronunciation.
And, yes, I finally have the visa and a Lao ID card and will presumably see my contract and work permit and my first month's pay fairly soon. The wily Mr. Ping is very nice to me, invited me to a family party for his son's birthday and I think I am considered an ornament to the organisation, being the only native speaker on staff.
And I still have a few private students as well, which may just turn out to be a bit too much, but I do enjoy those sessions of specific one-on-one work. Last week, an American tourist phoned me to say that she'd heard that I was doing tutoring and that she'd met two promising young fellows who she thought could benefit from some classes. She's paid me in advance and I'll fit their classes in around the others. One boy is quite bright, the other a bit scatty, but adorable.
OK, that's the pedagogical update. I've been so immersed the whole teaching trip that I haven't had time to do or think of much else, but now I think I have it under control so you'll hear a bit more from me about the rest of the adventure. Now I've got to get away from this computer screen for a bit! Tomorrow is Monday, and I teach from 8 to 12 AM and then again in the evening, so I think I deserve a bit of a veg-out in front of the TV.
Happy New Year to you all..............More soon....
Mornings are misty and cool, days are mild sometimes quite warm, and nights are crisp to bloody cold. Pity the poor monks and novices running around in nothing but a few orange bedsheets.
But they troop faithfully to my classes, where they are very much the stars. Teacher's pets, except that Teacher is not allowed to pet, touch or even hand anything to them, given the vows they have taken. That doesn't mean we don't have fun, as some of them are quite clever and all are sweet and have glorious smiles. As are my civilian students.
The job consumes pretty much all my time just now as I have my five evening classes every week and my two weekend double classes all of which I need to prepare for and now another 8 hours through the week of regular textbook classes, for which I don't really have to prepare anything.
I started out in a regular state of nerves, trying to churn out lesson plans and materials for my own classes, ricocheting between lessons that were too hard and others that obviously bored them stiff but it has been a very useful process as I now realise that some of the not-so-shy ones who sounded good were weak in other ways, that some of the mute terrified creatures of the first week have turned into normal speaking, contributing students. The shyness factor is huge, and they will not believe that I really mean it when I urge them to tell me anytime they don't understand.
Some can read perfectly from a text or the board, but haven't a clue what they are saying. One boy seems to be on the verge of a seizure every time I speak to him and just stares at the paper and whispers, usually the wrong answer. But then he smiles meltingly at me, offers me a lift home and carries on a coherent conversation with me all the way home. Turns out he also studies French and is only 17 years old.
Some are just plain exhausted from working all day before class, and the monks, of course, have been up since 3:45 AM praying and are living on two meals a day so it's not surprising that they yawn a bit. Others seem to be rigid with boredom, but smile enthusiastically when they see me and thank me warmly when they leave at the end of class. And sometimes, they are just plain tired from working all day, but still they trudge in to class in the big, cold, ugly, dirty building that is PasaBandith College. I have commandeered a classroom at the end of the building on the second story (first floor to non-N. Americans) and from this hideous edifice I have a stunning view of the apricot sun bathing the little pointy mountains to the southwest every evening.
I have learned to put together lessons that they seem to respond to, using reading, repeating, asking questions and a few games to keep them entertained. There is nothing I can do about the fact that there are so many levels of ability in the same class----I just try to include easy stuff, intermediate stuff and a few challenges in each lesson so they will all get something out of it. I also give them several options on the class exercises, so the bright ones can impress me.
They are very attentive and polite, but one night I divided them into teams and did a rapid fire oral quiz which was a huge success. We had a ball----and I saw them suddenly becoming competitive and really animated, even the monks.
Then during the day I teach four EEA sessions , which is a book of everyday activities, illustrated with line drawings, explaining some simple thing like playing a CD or having breakfast. We drill the vocabulary, I get them to read aloud and ask questions. I pick up grammar and pronunciation points and we do OK, but it's pretty basic. Some kids listen, some murmur among themselves, some ask good questions and really participate, speaking good English, some just titter or look blank. Of the thirty four students on the roll, 4 were there on time, another twenty drifted in over the next half hour, and some arrived an hour into the lesson.
And in the middle of class, a teacher and several student monitors trotted into the room and started checking uniforms, ties, badges etc. and ticking off the students who were not properly kitted out, sending a few off to the office to pay the latest installment of their fees. I was flabbergasted.
And this week I'll have two classes teaching New Headway, a collection of texts with questions and exercises for students. many of them are so complex and culturally inaccessible that I wonder they don't just throw the books out the window and set fire to the school in a fury of frustration.
I asked some of the other teachers about the difficulty level and they agreed with me that it was tough, but they just get the students to translate the stuff into Lao, with their dictionaries. It's pretty pathetic as a curriculum, but at least it means I don't have to worry about the quality of my lessons too much. Anything I give them is at least accurate and topical and geared specifically for them, rather than random blasts of largely incomprehensible gobbledygook from another world.
Of course, the really bright ones will benefit from any exposure to other voices and cultures,----- Hell, they'll learn a lot from reading a beer label----but for 85% of them it is really uphill work.
I cheer them up by explaining some of the cultural refernces to them, teaching them odd words, helping with pronunciation and giving them tongue twisters to practice their pronunciation.
And, yes, I finally have the visa and a Lao ID card and will presumably see my contract and work permit and my first month's pay fairly soon. The wily Mr. Ping is very nice to me, invited me to a family party for his son's birthday and I think I am considered an ornament to the organisation, being the only native speaker on staff.
And I still have a few private students as well, which may just turn out to be a bit too much, but I do enjoy those sessions of specific one-on-one work. Last week, an American tourist phoned me to say that she'd heard that I was doing tutoring and that she'd met two promising young fellows who she thought could benefit from some classes. She's paid me in advance and I'll fit their classes in around the others. One boy is quite bright, the other a bit scatty, but adorable.
OK, that's the pedagogical update. I've been so immersed the whole teaching trip that I haven't had time to do or think of much else, but now I think I have it under control so you'll hear a bit more from me about the rest of the adventure. Now I've got to get away from this computer screen for a bit! Tomorrow is Monday, and I teach from 8 to 12 AM and then again in the evening, so I think I deserve a bit of a veg-out in front of the TV.
Happy New Year to you all..............More soon....
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Wedding Bells
No, darlings, I have not run off to deepest Luang Nam Tha with a water buffalo herdsman, it's just that life has got even more interesting--- I'm going to be the mother of the groom!
(Semi-retirement? Ha!! OK, one thing at a time.....)
I guess my biggest news is actually the culmination of the past three years of coming here, talking to people, thinking up ideas, wild times in the wine bar with the gay ex-pat gang, (Networking, Sweetie, networking....) and gradually working my way through the various bureaucratic and other hurdles. I am about to start legal, paid employment with a real visa tonight at 6 PM.
Happy Birthday, Molls! Yer momma is following in your footsteps and turning an honest buck!
Well, it's a pretty small buck, but I also have been teaching a lot of private clients and learning SO MUCH about this business. It has been brilliant. I spent a month teaching the staff of a posh hotel/restaurant, and am currently teaching the manager of a restaurant who speaks only German and Lao, a young girl who speaks only French and Lao, a young architecture student who speaks only Lao and a lovely mob of ten new employees at a restaurant which is about to open.
Every day I dream up lesson plans that concentrate on the phrases they need to do their jobs, sell stuff, serve drinks, wait on tables and chat a bit with customers. Each class is quite different from the next, but I swing from the chandeliers, repeat myself incessantly, think of new ways to teach different things and basically talk myself hoarse.
It is fabulous when they cotton on and deeply challenging when they look at me blankly. But it is pure joy to work with these kids. A great moment came over the weekend when my new employer, the wily Ping---he of the sparkling smile-----asked me to accompany a school excursion of two busloads of 18-25 year old students to our rather wonderful local attraction, Kwang Xi waterfall, about 25 k out of town.
The blank looks that greeted me to start with turned to beaming smiles and cheeky grins as the day progressed. I was thinking of it as a chore to start with but soon I was thinking that I didn't want the day to end. We wandered through the beautifully improved park land around the base of the falls and I acted as a walking dictionary----answering questions, explaining words and usage and then we climbed up the nearly vertical track to the middle of the falls where there was no actual path so we scrambled across the face of the falls through the water. They--including one teacher in neat tweed jacket and tie---skipping nimbly over the rocks and through the mud and icy water on its way 50feet downwards and me groping and creeping and staggering along after them, getting quite soaked in the process.
I was helped by the tiny hands of elfin but steel-strong students who were always more concerned for my well-being than their own to the edge of the large pool at the mid point.
Here we found half a dozen novice monks stripped down to orange loincloths over their undies, enjoying the forbidden pleasure of a freezing frolic in the deep pool there. They were doing triple spin cannonballs and leaping from trees above the water and having a whale of a time. What a sight!....as was the view out over the countryside to the north, mountains and fields bathed in sunshine and still green and gorgeous.
Then we slithered our way wetly back to the track and continued puffing our way up to the very top of the falls, where a wide pool of clear cool water flows along peacfully through the trees before the sudden drop of maybe 120 feet,----no, it's got to be more than that---over the edge. Safety considerations are almost non-existent, but no one seems to mind. Then down the other side of the falls we went, scrambling like goats, to the assembled students and a vast picnic of rice, grilled fish, papaya salad, pickled fish, spring rolls and fruit and of course, lots of beer.
Afterwards the kids all sang and played games and did a bit of Lao dancing and all joined in heartily as each teacher led an activity---no one thought anything was too corny, bless ém and finally we piled back into the buses and drove home to Luang Prabang through the golden afternoon.
This time of year is the perfect temperature---balmy but not hot, cool, but not really cold, a perfect climate. I couldn't have had a better day.
But the day wasn't over. Next, having washed off the mud and dressed in my serious Lao Lady gear, I went off to the little shack where my other 'son'' Sunlay lives and where I was to meet his prospective inlaws. I am, of course, his parent, as he has not spoken to his father since dad said "No more education for you, kiddo. Into the rice paddy with you." and his mum is dead.
So there were long speeches---luckily, the girl's uncle, who is her chief guardian---spoke fairly good English, and I had to reply and make speeches back and everything had to be discussed and hashed over until they arrived at a price. This includes the cost of the wedding---food and beer, and the bride price which is paid in gold. This was all worked out in fine detail and recorded in an exercise book and presented to me as a fait accompli.
It was another of those can-this-really-be-happening moments, sitting on the hard concrete floor of a dimly-lit cinder-block one-room house listening to lilting Lao patter while the family sat solemnly and watched me, minor members hopping up occasionally to tend to dinner, have a bath.
My legs are not built for the Lao lady style of sitting; men can sit crosslegged, but women must sit like the litle mermaid with both legs demurely together and folded to one side. Feet must never be pointed at anyone. The Lao skirt makes this operation easy, but after twenty minutes or so, one needs to shift over to the other side, which is not as easy for me what with the aftermath of my broken femur, so after forty-five mnutes, I was happy to get up and bow and nop my farewells to the family, now smiling warmly and treating me like family.
The wedding will be lovely, not least because of the sweetness and joy of the young couple, but it will take place upcountry in a village on the Nam Ou, one of the loveliest rivers around, according to my latest visitors, the intrepid Jena and Stan Lubin who've recently descended same and declared it magical. It's north of Nong Khiaw, and near Muang Ngoi, for those of you with a Lonely Planet guide to Lao.
This will be in early January, around the 6th or so. I am having a new Lao blouse made for the occasion, to go with my blue sinh, which is faintly iridescent and newly altered to fit my no-longer-so-plump shape. I can get into skirts made for Lao ladies, but the tops are all incredibly short in the body for Gargantua here.
Sunlay has saved up a few hundred bucks to buy his bride, but it will of course be up to me to buy the beer and the food, but this kid is the most determined young man I have ever met and will be an asset to this country, so I am happy to help him out. (Anyone who wishes to contribute will not be refused!!)
I rounded out the evening with a delightful dinner with my ex-monk friend Ken from Arizona and his cousin Priscilla from Little Rock Arkansas, who is here for a visit. Ken has a peaceful little place overlooking a rice paddy on the edge of town where he makes little wooden spirit houses to sell abroad. he has added a huge farang-style deck to his house which is great for star-gazing and dancing and watching the rice harvest.
So that's my life, a little of this, a little of that and all a delightful mix. And I haven't even told you about the wonderful sleep-over rice harvest and the little temple on the hill and, oh, so much more...
Meanwhile, today the weather has turned chilly and I have to put on some socks and get my lesson plans in order for my private students and my Big First Class tonight! And also track down the smooth-talking Ping to see if he has finally got my contract ready, not to mention my actual visa. Just a soupcon of reality to leaven the mix...
(Semi-retirement? Ha!! OK, one thing at a time.....)
I guess my biggest news is actually the culmination of the past three years of coming here, talking to people, thinking up ideas, wild times in the wine bar with the gay ex-pat gang, (Networking, Sweetie, networking....) and gradually working my way through the various bureaucratic and other hurdles. I am about to start legal, paid employment with a real visa tonight at 6 PM.
Happy Birthday, Molls! Yer momma is following in your footsteps and turning an honest buck!
Well, it's a pretty small buck, but I also have been teaching a lot of private clients and learning SO MUCH about this business. It has been brilliant. I spent a month teaching the staff of a posh hotel/restaurant, and am currently teaching the manager of a restaurant who speaks only German and Lao, a young girl who speaks only French and Lao, a young architecture student who speaks only Lao and a lovely mob of ten new employees at a restaurant which is about to open.
Every day I dream up lesson plans that concentrate on the phrases they need to do their jobs, sell stuff, serve drinks, wait on tables and chat a bit with customers. Each class is quite different from the next, but I swing from the chandeliers, repeat myself incessantly, think of new ways to teach different things and basically talk myself hoarse.
It is fabulous when they cotton on and deeply challenging when they look at me blankly. But it is pure joy to work with these kids. A great moment came over the weekend when my new employer, the wily Ping---he of the sparkling smile-----asked me to accompany a school excursion of two busloads of 18-25 year old students to our rather wonderful local attraction, Kwang Xi waterfall, about 25 k out of town.
The blank looks that greeted me to start with turned to beaming smiles and cheeky grins as the day progressed. I was thinking of it as a chore to start with but soon I was thinking that I didn't want the day to end. We wandered through the beautifully improved park land around the base of the falls and I acted as a walking dictionary----answering questions, explaining words and usage and then we climbed up the nearly vertical track to the middle of the falls where there was no actual path so we scrambled across the face of the falls through the water. They--including one teacher in neat tweed jacket and tie---skipping nimbly over the rocks and through the mud and icy water on its way 50feet downwards and me groping and creeping and staggering along after them, getting quite soaked in the process.
I was helped by the tiny hands of elfin but steel-strong students who were always more concerned for my well-being than their own to the edge of the large pool at the mid point.
Here we found half a dozen novice monks stripped down to orange loincloths over their undies, enjoying the forbidden pleasure of a freezing frolic in the deep pool there. They were doing triple spin cannonballs and leaping from trees above the water and having a whale of a time. What a sight!....as was the view out over the countryside to the north, mountains and fields bathed in sunshine and still green and gorgeous.
Then we slithered our way wetly back to the track and continued puffing our way up to the very top of the falls, where a wide pool of clear cool water flows along peacfully through the trees before the sudden drop of maybe 120 feet,----no, it's got to be more than that---over the edge. Safety considerations are almost non-existent, but no one seems to mind. Then down the other side of the falls we went, scrambling like goats, to the assembled students and a vast picnic of rice, grilled fish, papaya salad, pickled fish, spring rolls and fruit and of course, lots of beer.
Afterwards the kids all sang and played games and did a bit of Lao dancing and all joined in heartily as each teacher led an activity---no one thought anything was too corny, bless ém and finally we piled back into the buses and drove home to Luang Prabang through the golden afternoon.
This time of year is the perfect temperature---balmy but not hot, cool, but not really cold, a perfect climate. I couldn't have had a better day.
But the day wasn't over. Next, having washed off the mud and dressed in my serious Lao Lady gear, I went off to the little shack where my other 'son'' Sunlay lives and where I was to meet his prospective inlaws. I am, of course, his parent, as he has not spoken to his father since dad said "No more education for you, kiddo. Into the rice paddy with you." and his mum is dead.
So there were long speeches---luckily, the girl's uncle, who is her chief guardian---spoke fairly good English, and I had to reply and make speeches back and everything had to be discussed and hashed over until they arrived at a price. This includes the cost of the wedding---food and beer, and the bride price which is paid in gold. This was all worked out in fine detail and recorded in an exercise book and presented to me as a fait accompli.
It was another of those can-this-really-be-happening moments, sitting on the hard concrete floor of a dimly-lit cinder-block one-room house listening to lilting Lao patter while the family sat solemnly and watched me, minor members hopping up occasionally to tend to dinner, have a bath.
My legs are not built for the Lao lady style of sitting; men can sit crosslegged, but women must sit like the litle mermaid with both legs demurely together and folded to one side. Feet must never be pointed at anyone. The Lao skirt makes this operation easy, but after twenty minutes or so, one needs to shift over to the other side, which is not as easy for me what with the aftermath of my broken femur, so after forty-five mnutes, I was happy to get up and bow and nop my farewells to the family, now smiling warmly and treating me like family.
The wedding will be lovely, not least because of the sweetness and joy of the young couple, but it will take place upcountry in a village on the Nam Ou, one of the loveliest rivers around, according to my latest visitors, the intrepid Jena and Stan Lubin who've recently descended same and declared it magical. It's north of Nong Khiaw, and near Muang Ngoi, for those of you with a Lonely Planet guide to Lao.
This will be in early January, around the 6th or so. I am having a new Lao blouse made for the occasion, to go with my blue sinh, which is faintly iridescent and newly altered to fit my no-longer-so-plump shape. I can get into skirts made for Lao ladies, but the tops are all incredibly short in the body for Gargantua here.
Sunlay has saved up a few hundred bucks to buy his bride, but it will of course be up to me to buy the beer and the food, but this kid is the most determined young man I have ever met and will be an asset to this country, so I am happy to help him out. (Anyone who wishes to contribute will not be refused!!)
I rounded out the evening with a delightful dinner with my ex-monk friend Ken from Arizona and his cousin Priscilla from Little Rock Arkansas, who is here for a visit. Ken has a peaceful little place overlooking a rice paddy on the edge of town where he makes little wooden spirit houses to sell abroad. he has added a huge farang-style deck to his house which is great for star-gazing and dancing and watching the rice harvest.
So that's my life, a little of this, a little of that and all a delightful mix. And I haven't even told you about the wonderful sleep-over rice harvest and the little temple on the hill and, oh, so much more...
Meanwhile, today the weather has turned chilly and I have to put on some socks and get my lesson plans in order for my private students and my Big First Class tonight! And also track down the smooth-talking Ping to see if he has finally got my contract ready, not to mention my actual visa. Just a soupcon of reality to leaven the mix...
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Updates from Up here
I am well behind the eight-ball this month as life gets busier and more demanding so the following will be a general post of many tidbits...
How is, you ask...
The Job Front...Was distressingly slow but now have pinned down my bosses and we are meeting on Friday to sort out the nitty gritty of my visa and start dates etc. . Meanwhile, I am chockers with private students---not strictly legal with my visa---which is giving me valuable insights into the challenges I will face when regular classes start.
One thing I have learned is that I love teaching and another is that Lao students are very rewarding to teach, right up until I realised they will do and say anything to please me, even if they are learning nothing. I have learned to surprise them with questions that are not on the lesson sheet and I have also developed an ability to read their faces and see when they don't actually understand, but aren't admitting it. In the end, as long as they develop some confidence in their abilities and don't say fuck when they mean fork, I will have achieved something.
And as I have learned from Molls and Marion---you get days when you feel as if you are talking to a brick wall, and others when the brick wall answers you and pronounces ''çontinental breakfast' faultlessly. Ah!
I avoid the legal ramifications by not accepting money; instead I am paid in kind---a glorious painting I have long desired from an artist whose students I will teach, lovely temple paintings from my Thai friend A who has a shop, (No, that's his name) and so on. Last night I had several glasses of wine at my friendly wine bar for free since I taught the staff there a few lessons. And so on.
My Visa ....at present is maintained by leaving the country once a month and this time I went to Chiang mai in Thailand and took my son Sommay, who is thrilled to bits to have become an international traveller. Chiang Mai, you can have, as far as I'm concerned. Yes, nice mountains, wonderful temples, great markets, nice people, but dirty and crowded and full of traffic and pollution, not least of which is made up of dissolute fat farang travellers who have lost their way, their razors, and their self-respect, as far as I can tell and do the place very little good except for the call girls and drug dealers.
We did some shopping for various necessities for the house that are much cheaper there and came back a day early, mainly because we had a very exciting pieces of news...the boys were both given places at university!
The Boys.....This was welcome news because they've both been hanging out since August when they took the exams and then waiting to hear as various lists went up and their names were not on them yet. I thought this was odd, knowing how bright Sommay is, but then I discovered
the grim truth, which is that it's not only the bright ones who get in but the ones who are able to pay large bribes to teachers and administrators. There are only 600 places for 2500 applicants and Sommay was loath to tell me that we'd have to pay; instead he spent a lot of time visiting his teacher, doing odd jobs for him, painting a fence, and hoping. In the end we still had to pay, but only after the fact, not in anticipation, which sometimes does not get rewarded or returned.
The teachers, to be fair, are very badly paid, and tuition fees are quite low by comparison to the 'gifts'' one gives, but often the university teachers are merely last year's graduates and still rather wet behind the ears themselves.
Then we had a flurry of haircuts and new shoes and shirts as they need to be neatly groomed to go to uni here, unlike the instant slobdom that our kids adopt.
And Joy needed a motorbike, so that was another loan/gift. But lately he's been a paragon of dutiful employee standards getting up at dawn to climb down to the river bank for bags of soil for my pots and much more.
Overall, they are fine and happy and a delight to live with, as ever.
My Social Life...continues to improve, with invitations to all the right parties and gallery openings. The last one was a magnificent photographic exhibition at the posh hotel, where the air-kissing was frenzied---- both cheeks, as we are part-French here----followed by a wonderful dinner for a select 40 or so people at the magnificent riverside home of the artist, my friend Mimi, catered by her friend and mine, the redoubtable Vonnie. She is the daughter of a general and is a hotelier here. She speaks Chinese, Lao, French and pure San Diego American and is a real treat.
Before that was the White Party at the Pack Luck Wine Bar where we all wore white and celebrated the birthday of big Laurent, who works for the Heritage commission and drives a huge Lee-Enfield motorbike. He lives with the very bright and witty Wei Wei, who is from China and she and I share a love of plants.
And before that was the glittering do at Satri Lao House, the home of Ivan and Lamphone, who are the duke and duchess of Luang Prabang. He has the Apsara (listed in Hip Hotels of the World) and employs me to tutor his staff and she has a posh shop and loves to party. Most attendees at her soirees end up in the pool sooner or later, so one has learned to wear swimmers under one's clothes or at least something that won't be ruined by repeated dousings.
And I finally staged a small event of my own on my little verandah, a mini homage to our legendary Alexandra St. Dos serving , yep, smoked salmon and cream cheese with capers, nuts and crudites all in the glow of a huge number of tea lights. Huge success! I had Vonnie and Mim and the new guys, Chris and Anthony whose shop has just opened and Nith, the artist who is actually a royal and lives partly here and partly in New York and Paris. He's a lovely little man and is also employing me.
My Good Works....Reports from the village I have adopted have been few as they are flat out with the rice harvest and are waiting for the track to dry out after the rains, so we will go up there early inthe new year and see how things are going. My scholarship plans have received a set-back with the death of the dear man who was going to help set it up for me. He was visiting a village upcountry and fell ill, but was too far from medical help to be saved. He was a lovely guy, very gracious and dignified.
I have been busy using my connections to find jobs for various kids, which is very rewarding, and am embarking on a project to trace Sommay's eldest sister who disappeared two years ago, basically taken by a Thai woman as a domestic servant and never heard from since. She had suffered a degree of intellectual impairment after a bout of japanese Encephalitis B so she is a bit helpless. Her husband and children are left feeling totally bewildered and Sommay's mother wept about her missing daughter until the day she died. We think we can trace her if we do some work, and I really feel I must, for the sake of the family.
Meanwhile I am putting together a list of stuff you can provide for those in need here with a smal donation and willpost that soon, rather like the Care Australia Give a Goat for Christmas idea.
And my landlord has been most uncooperative about taking my concerns for the doggies to the village head, but I have been talking it up and my friend Vonnie has agreed to go with me, since she has considerable clout and lives in the same neighbourhood.
My health is fine, I can hear with BOTH ears now, I exist on local food and am having clothes taken in and now that Joy has a motorbike I have taken back the bicycle and am hoping for trimmer calves before too long.
The Garden....is, of course, my real joy and now that we have cleared the rubble out back and the boys have built nice concrete beds, I have a burgeoning crop of veggies that would make even Melinda green---the soil here is fantastic and as long as I control the mealy bugs and the weeds, it's an easy place to garden. My tiny bougainvilleas are now well up over the six foot fence and I've found a village over the river that makes pots and have ten arriving tomorrow---They are literally dirt cheap that way, as long as you don't mind waiting for delivery.
OK, now to post this before the internet signal drops out againand I lose the whole shebang again, then it's cocktail hour here on the misty banks of the Mekong. Sabaidee.
How is, you ask...
The Job Front...Was distressingly slow but now have pinned down my bosses and we are meeting on Friday to sort out the nitty gritty of my visa and start dates etc. . Meanwhile, I am chockers with private students---not strictly legal with my visa---which is giving me valuable insights into the challenges I will face when regular classes start.
One thing I have learned is that I love teaching and another is that Lao students are very rewarding to teach, right up until I realised they will do and say anything to please me, even if they are learning nothing. I have learned to surprise them with questions that are not on the lesson sheet and I have also developed an ability to read their faces and see when they don't actually understand, but aren't admitting it. In the end, as long as they develop some confidence in their abilities and don't say fuck when they mean fork, I will have achieved something.
And as I have learned from Molls and Marion---you get days when you feel as if you are talking to a brick wall, and others when the brick wall answers you and pronounces ''çontinental breakfast' faultlessly. Ah!
I avoid the legal ramifications by not accepting money; instead I am paid in kind---a glorious painting I have long desired from an artist whose students I will teach, lovely temple paintings from my Thai friend A who has a shop, (No, that's his name) and so on. Last night I had several glasses of wine at my friendly wine bar for free since I taught the staff there a few lessons. And so on.
My Visa ....at present is maintained by leaving the country once a month and this time I went to Chiang mai in Thailand and took my son Sommay, who is thrilled to bits to have become an international traveller. Chiang Mai, you can have, as far as I'm concerned. Yes, nice mountains, wonderful temples, great markets, nice people, but dirty and crowded and full of traffic and pollution, not least of which is made up of dissolute fat farang travellers who have lost their way, their razors, and their self-respect, as far as I can tell and do the place very little good except for the call girls and drug dealers.
We did some shopping for various necessities for the house that are much cheaper there and came back a day early, mainly because we had a very exciting pieces of news...the boys were both given places at university!
The Boys.....This was welcome news because they've both been hanging out since August when they took the exams and then waiting to hear as various lists went up and their names were not on them yet. I thought this was odd, knowing how bright Sommay is, but then I discovered
the grim truth, which is that it's not only the bright ones who get in but the ones who are able to pay large bribes to teachers and administrators. There are only 600 places for 2500 applicants and Sommay was loath to tell me that we'd have to pay; instead he spent a lot of time visiting his teacher, doing odd jobs for him, painting a fence, and hoping. In the end we still had to pay, but only after the fact, not in anticipation, which sometimes does not get rewarded or returned.
The teachers, to be fair, are very badly paid, and tuition fees are quite low by comparison to the 'gifts'' one gives, but often the university teachers are merely last year's graduates and still rather wet behind the ears themselves.
Then we had a flurry of haircuts and new shoes and shirts as they need to be neatly groomed to go to uni here, unlike the instant slobdom that our kids adopt.
And Joy needed a motorbike, so that was another loan/gift. But lately he's been a paragon of dutiful employee standards getting up at dawn to climb down to the river bank for bags of soil for my pots and much more.
Overall, they are fine and happy and a delight to live with, as ever.
My Social Life...continues to improve, with invitations to all the right parties and gallery openings. The last one was a magnificent photographic exhibition at the posh hotel, where the air-kissing was frenzied---- both cheeks, as we are part-French here----followed by a wonderful dinner for a select 40 or so people at the magnificent riverside home of the artist, my friend Mimi, catered by her friend and mine, the redoubtable Vonnie. She is the daughter of a general and is a hotelier here. She speaks Chinese, Lao, French and pure San Diego American and is a real treat.
Before that was the White Party at the Pack Luck Wine Bar where we all wore white and celebrated the birthday of big Laurent, who works for the Heritage commission and drives a huge Lee-Enfield motorbike. He lives with the very bright and witty Wei Wei, who is from China and she and I share a love of plants.
And before that was the glittering do at Satri Lao House, the home of Ivan and Lamphone, who are the duke and duchess of Luang Prabang. He has the Apsara (listed in Hip Hotels of the World) and employs me to tutor his staff and she has a posh shop and loves to party. Most attendees at her soirees end up in the pool sooner or later, so one has learned to wear swimmers under one's clothes or at least something that won't be ruined by repeated dousings.
And I finally staged a small event of my own on my little verandah, a mini homage to our legendary Alexandra St. Dos serving , yep, smoked salmon and cream cheese with capers, nuts and crudites all in the glow of a huge number of tea lights. Huge success! I had Vonnie and Mim and the new guys, Chris and Anthony whose shop has just opened and Nith, the artist who is actually a royal and lives partly here and partly in New York and Paris. He's a lovely little man and is also employing me.
My Good Works....Reports from the village I have adopted have been few as they are flat out with the rice harvest and are waiting for the track to dry out after the rains, so we will go up there early inthe new year and see how things are going. My scholarship plans have received a set-back with the death of the dear man who was going to help set it up for me. He was visiting a village upcountry and fell ill, but was too far from medical help to be saved. He was a lovely guy, very gracious and dignified.
I have been busy using my connections to find jobs for various kids, which is very rewarding, and am embarking on a project to trace Sommay's eldest sister who disappeared two years ago, basically taken by a Thai woman as a domestic servant and never heard from since. She had suffered a degree of intellectual impairment after a bout of japanese Encephalitis B so she is a bit helpless. Her husband and children are left feeling totally bewildered and Sommay's mother wept about her missing daughter until the day she died. We think we can trace her if we do some work, and I really feel I must, for the sake of the family.
Meanwhile I am putting together a list of stuff you can provide for those in need here with a smal donation and willpost that soon, rather like the Care Australia Give a Goat for Christmas idea.
And my landlord has been most uncooperative about taking my concerns for the doggies to the village head, but I have been talking it up and my friend Vonnie has agreed to go with me, since she has considerable clout and lives in the same neighbourhood.
My health is fine, I can hear with BOTH ears now, I exist on local food and am having clothes taken in and now that Joy has a motorbike I have taken back the bicycle and am hoping for trimmer calves before too long.
The Garden....is, of course, my real joy and now that we have cleared the rubble out back and the boys have built nice concrete beds, I have a burgeoning crop of veggies that would make even Melinda green---the soil here is fantastic and as long as I control the mealy bugs and the weeds, it's an easy place to garden. My tiny bougainvilleas are now well up over the six foot fence and I've found a village over the river that makes pots and have ten arriving tomorrow---They are literally dirt cheap that way, as long as you don't mind waiting for delivery.
OK, now to post this before the internet signal drops out againand I lose the whole shebang again, then it's cocktail hour here on the misty banks of the Mekong. Sabaidee.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Birthday Benefactors Bulletin
Time to update all those sweet people who eschewed dreary tasteless coffee mugs bearing jokes about menopause and sagging bosoms as presents at my recent Big Day to give me very generous donations for my one-person-with-lots-of-kind-friends campaign to help the deserving poor in Laos.
This, as I have said, is necessarily a somewhat ad hoc effort at the moment, as I can only deal with the cases I come in contact with, and cannot advertise or work with any agency on this.
But on the principle that ANYTHING is better than nothing in such a desperately poor place, and seeing that I can monitor what happens with what I hand out, I find that this works for now.
So, this is how your gifts did their bit....
Essentially, I like to concentrate on donations for educational purposes, given that people here both need and want education, desperately, at all levels, and the government doesn''t help beyond primary school. (sorry,my apostrophe doesn't work)
And I take it upon myself to assess the character and potential of my recipients, and tend to like to get to know them a bit before I hand anything over. I also usually ask for a detailed list of what they need the money for which is a useful exercise in itself.
OK. the bulk of the money was to pay off the timber and shipping thereof to Naxane village for the folks there to build 100 school desks for the kids in the new bamboo school.
Then there are small amounts that have been used to help young people pay their schoolfees, usually about $65 each.
One case is particularly wonderful, and that is the indomitable Sunlay, who I have mentioned below in earlier dispatches.
He has fought against all the odds and made down here to Luang Prabang from his tiny village, up the muddy trail, (milk chocolate) from Naxane. He phoned me shortly after I arrived back here and about a week later, I met up with him. He took me, wobbling on his borrowed motorbike, to his place, where he has a single room---no windows---in a concrete-block bottom half of a small house in a scrappy, but peaceful village past the markets. He gets free rent in return for keeping the place clean.
At the time he was doing the caretaking of the house, one job in the morning at a hotel, another at a restaurant from 7 to 10 at night AND teaching English classes in his own little schoolroom during the afternoons.
I was gobsmacked to see the neat, simple benches, the white board with the day''s homework written up, and walls covered in conjugated verbs. He has maybe half a dozen students from the surrounding houses, mainly those who can't afford to go to the big private colleges.
That is what I call enterprise. Peter would say he's got Character. Sunlay has essentially disowned his family because he says, "I want an education or I will die.", and he has done all this off his own bat, with only what he can earn and what people give him.
I, of course, was worried about his own education. But Mother, he said, I had to go to hospital for 5 days and so I do not have the money for the fees. (I think it was malaria)
So I gave him 130 bucks of your money for his fees, books and materials and now he is back at evening school, the same one where I will be teaching once I get my visa, called Pasabandith College. He regularly phones me for clarification of grammatical points and meanings of words. (Please, Mother. What is ''çondominium'?)
And then there's a sweet---(I know, they're all sweet to me!!!) ---schoolteacher and father of four who was moved to a different school and was having to walk an hour each way every day, dragging the youngest child as well, just to do his job, rain or shine. So I gave him a half-loan, half gift of $300 to buy a second hand motorbike and he cannot stop beaming with joy.
My friend Som was given his school fees and dormitory rent---he lives in one in a row of concrete block rooms that they use for dormitories for students from out of town. His rent is $200 per year and he sleep on a woven bamboo mat with a lino underlay. No mattress, no pillow, and showers outside in cold water.
So that's how it has gone. I pay for my own boys'' fees, food etc. as well as their wages. They are still waiting to hear if they will be admitted to university but they are both studying English for Tourism at the Teacher Training College as usual every night and spend most of their time doing homework, it seems.
But the need continues. Last night I thought I'd grab a tuk tuk to my usual watering hole and was quoted $1.50 which is highway robbery. They came down to $1, but even that was outrageous , so I strolled off saying that I'd rather walk.
Within a minute, one of the drivers puttered came up behind me and smiled and said, OK, sister, 50 cents, and I accepted, hopping into the front with him, where we had the usual conversation about how I live here and I am teaching and he told me how he has to keep his kids at home because he can't afford to send them to high school with what he earns in the borrowed tuk-tuk. Kids are aged 13 and 16, I think. So, yeah, I gave him my card and he gave me his and I said I'd see what I could do. He will bring the kids around for a chat and Sommay will help me interview them.
There are about 25,000 more stories like that in this dear little place, without even going out into the countryside, so I'll keep doling it out where I see a need and genuine potential.
So that's yer Annual Report, folks...Hope you are all feeling a warm glow from the beaming faces of these very grateful people. I wish I had a photo of Sunlay down on his knees, prostrating himself in a deep, forehead to floor bow of thanks, eyes shining with tears, when I gave him the money. I get all the fun....
This, as I have said, is necessarily a somewhat ad hoc effort at the moment, as I can only deal with the cases I come in contact with, and cannot advertise or work with any agency on this.
But on the principle that ANYTHING is better than nothing in such a desperately poor place, and seeing that I can monitor what happens with what I hand out, I find that this works for now.
So, this is how your gifts did their bit....
Essentially, I like to concentrate on donations for educational purposes, given that people here both need and want education, desperately, at all levels, and the government doesn''t help beyond primary school. (sorry,my apostrophe doesn't work)
And I take it upon myself to assess the character and potential of my recipients, and tend to like to get to know them a bit before I hand anything over. I also usually ask for a detailed list of what they need the money for which is a useful exercise in itself.
OK. the bulk of the money was to pay off the timber and shipping thereof to Naxane village for the folks there to build 100 school desks for the kids in the new bamboo school.
Then there are small amounts that have been used to help young people pay their schoolfees, usually about $65 each.
One case is particularly wonderful, and that is the indomitable Sunlay, who I have mentioned below in earlier dispatches.
He has fought against all the odds and made down here to Luang Prabang from his tiny village, up the muddy trail, (milk chocolate) from Naxane. He phoned me shortly after I arrived back here and about a week later, I met up with him. He took me, wobbling on his borrowed motorbike, to his place, where he has a single room---no windows---in a concrete-block bottom half of a small house in a scrappy, but peaceful village past the markets. He gets free rent in return for keeping the place clean.
At the time he was doing the caretaking of the house, one job in the morning at a hotel, another at a restaurant from 7 to 10 at night AND teaching English classes in his own little schoolroom during the afternoons.
I was gobsmacked to see the neat, simple benches, the white board with the day''s homework written up, and walls covered in conjugated verbs. He has maybe half a dozen students from the surrounding houses, mainly those who can't afford to go to the big private colleges.
That is what I call enterprise. Peter would say he's got Character. Sunlay has essentially disowned his family because he says, "I want an education or I will die.", and he has done all this off his own bat, with only what he can earn and what people give him.
I, of course, was worried about his own education. But Mother, he said, I had to go to hospital for 5 days and so I do not have the money for the fees. (I think it was malaria)
So I gave him 130 bucks of your money for his fees, books and materials and now he is back at evening school, the same one where I will be teaching once I get my visa, called Pasabandith College. He regularly phones me for clarification of grammatical points and meanings of words. (Please, Mother. What is ''çondominium'?)
And then there's a sweet---(I know, they're all sweet to me!!!) ---schoolteacher and father of four who was moved to a different school and was having to walk an hour each way every day, dragging the youngest child as well, just to do his job, rain or shine. So I gave him a half-loan, half gift of $300 to buy a second hand motorbike and he cannot stop beaming with joy.
My friend Som was given his school fees and dormitory rent---he lives in one in a row of concrete block rooms that they use for dormitories for students from out of town. His rent is $200 per year and he sleep on a woven bamboo mat with a lino underlay. No mattress, no pillow, and showers outside in cold water.
So that's how it has gone. I pay for my own boys'' fees, food etc. as well as their wages. They are still waiting to hear if they will be admitted to university but they are both studying English for Tourism at the Teacher Training College as usual every night and spend most of their time doing homework, it seems.
But the need continues. Last night I thought I'd grab a tuk tuk to my usual watering hole and was quoted $1.50 which is highway robbery. They came down to $1, but even that was outrageous , so I strolled off saying that I'd rather walk.
Within a minute, one of the drivers puttered came up behind me and smiled and said, OK, sister, 50 cents, and I accepted, hopping into the front with him, where we had the usual conversation about how I live here and I am teaching and he told me how he has to keep his kids at home because he can't afford to send them to high school with what he earns in the borrowed tuk-tuk. Kids are aged 13 and 16, I think. So, yeah, I gave him my card and he gave me his and I said I'd see what I could do. He will bring the kids around for a chat and Sommay will help me interview them.
There are about 25,000 more stories like that in this dear little place, without even going out into the countryside, so I'll keep doling it out where I see a need and genuine potential.
So that's yer Annual Report, folks...Hope you are all feeling a warm glow from the beaming faces of these very grateful people. I wish I had a photo of Sunlay down on his knees, prostrating himself in a deep, forehead to floor bow of thanks, eyes shining with tears, when I gave him the money. I get all the fun....
Friday, October 12, 2007
Fun Trip in a Tuk-Tuk in the Funtok
Some of you may be familiar with my weird phobia about half-dead balloons, but probably only a few are aware of my shopping phobia---especially Marion, who did 99% of our shopping, and my kids, who remember me ringing them up on my mobile, seeking counselling to get through the weekly grocery gathering at Coles.
I really hate trolling up and down the aisles trying to recall the list I left at home, getting more and more depressed by the screaming children, the Miserable Meanderers, the dreadful smells of all those room deoderants, and the squeaking, intransigent shopping trolleys.
But shopping here is another kettle of odiferous dried fish altogether. Mostly I rely on my maid Me, who picks up what we need in the markets on her way in in the morning, or Sommay who goes with me to the Chinese market and bargains ferociously and works economic miracles without a shadow of guilt. Sometimes, Joy is sent out for something, but the other day he came back with, inexplicably, thirty eggs in a plastic bag, many of which arrived unbroken after a wobbly ride in his bike basket, so we don't usually ask him to do that sort of thing any more.
So this past weekend, Joy was left here and Sommay and I went to the Big Smoke--Vientiane, where 234,000 of the 5.5 million strong Lao population lives for a shopping trip. The real destination, however, was Thailand, just over the Mekong, where I needed to renew my visa, and where one goes for shopping---much cheaper, better selection of goods, actual shopping centres.....We very much needed a new router to try and improve our sporadic internet coverage, and the odd wine glass and what-not.
This is a fairly routine trip for most folks; a 40 minute flight, a couple of nights in town bracketing a dash over the Lao-Thai Friendship Bridge to Nong Khai and a 90 minute bus ride down to Udon Thani for the aforementioned shopping.
For Sommay, however, it was a huge, spine-tingling, ear-to-ear-grin moment in his life, as he'd never been to Vientiane, never been on an airplane and never been to Thailand.
It was a delight to watch his little face light up and his eyes dart about as he discovered all the fun things about airplanes, saw the world from the air and landed in the big city for the first time.
The traffic was a real eye-opener, and novelties like traffic lights, which he'd never seen, and he often lost his sense of direction completely which is very unlike him, but to me it's a small, flat, dreary town and I knew it well enough so we got around fine.
We found a centrally located guesthouse for $6 a night each, but soon discovered why it was so cheap. so we moved to a great place reccommended by our taxi driver. Only $9 each and wonderful!
But the real mission was the trip to Thailand, so we got to the bus station early for the 10:30 bus, very comfy, sailed along to the border, and then came to a grinding halt in the thick throng of fellow-border-crossers all trying to thread our way through the undermanned exit and entrance to the two countries. It took three and a half hours to do the 90 minute journey, but it was great seeing Sommay's happy face as we drove across the Mekong and he was suddenly an international traveller for the first time.
He was blown away by the merchandise on offer and by the prices as he scurried about buying various bits and pieces for friends a relatives in his village. I was over come by the sheer volume of goods, people, noise, and the fragrance of buttery coconut waffles being made and sold at several stands in the shopping centre, permeating everything with a golden miasma of toasty-brown cholesterol.
Anyway, we GOT the router and I got some speakers and a couple of tops and Sommay got his phones and it all took forever, so we were starving and decided, rashly, to eat before we ducked back to the bus station to book our bus trip back to Vientiane.
The food was great---BBQ duck, lovely veggies in oyster sauce---and the restaurant was one of those where some bright spark has decided to improve on a good thing and feature dancing waiters...Yes, suddenly the music hit a particularly peppy note and all the staff took up positions in the aisles and boogied away to a smart set of coordinated dance steps, while customers hoed into their steaming hotpots. It was halfway between charming and bizarre.
Less charming, however was the fact that we managed to get back to the bus station shortly after they had sold the last seat on the last bus, so we blinked a few times and asked for a taxi. This is where the adventure began.
The fellow yelled, no, he bellowed across the bus station to another guy who led us to a rank of tuk-tuks. It took a minute to realise he was serious. A tuk-tuk is a far cry from a taxi and great for pottering around town, being basically a three-wheeled motorcycle with covered seating attached to the back, but for a 60 kilometre run...
But, when the devil drives.... Actually, far from being a devil, the driver was a big cheerful solid-looking bloke who was willing, for just under $20 bucks, to drive us the 60-odd kilometres to the border and it was either that or walk....
So in we hopped, cheerfully thinking that it would be a bit of a lark, if a bit juddery. Until we looked in the direction we were headed and saw the blackest sky I've ever seen, getting blacker....
The driver pointed at the doomsday scene ahead and laughed and we joined in, but after the first 15 or twenty k's, it started. Just a fine spray at first, then a proper rain, followed by a deluge, a short period of fine mist and then back to pouring....
There is a roof on these vehicles and plastic curtains along the sides of the seating area, but they tended to flap uselessly under the onslaught of the rain, the splash from the larger vehicles and huge double-trailered trucks that hurtled past us in the dark.
Sommay got a good position right behind the driver and bore up stoically despite wearing only jeans and a T-shirt, so I had to do the same, with only a large plastic carrier bag to protect the side of me that faced the torrents.
At first it was actually refreshing and kind of fun, but gradually the water turned icy because of the speed we were travelling and began to trickle down my back, and I was, for the first time in the entire month I've been back in Asia, chilled to the bone. Also soaking wet.
I kept seeing road signs with the mileage, but soon decided to ignore them as it seemed to get longer between kilometres as we went along and even with only 16 ks to go, it wasn't a lot of comfort. Finally we slowed down as we got into Nong Khai, and it was at this point that we discovered that the driver had no idea how to ge to the bridge. After trundling down several dirt lanes and stopping to holler for directions from people sheltering under trees and roofs, he decided to follow the very obvious signs and we ended up at the bridge, feeling like refugees under the eerie orange halogen lights.
We slopped wetly through the routine of customs, departure, over the bridge, and then through the apply-for-a-visa and wait and then got through immigration and collapsed happily into a nice comfy minivan that took us, shivering in the air-con, the last 25 k into town and up and down several dark wet streets before we finally found our hotel and our nice warm showers and warm dry beds.
The next day was sightseeing and more shopping at a huge traditional market and at ITECC, a Lao style shopping mall, which was basically just a market but inside a brand new exhibition centre just outside of town. We got there after a lot of searching and adventures like running out of petrol on the lousy motorbike that we rented from the hotel and which Sommay distrusted deeply. You actually have to wear helmets in Vientiane so I had to do a lot of hollering in his ear to navigate , but it was a pretty good day, visiting the vast golden That Luang temple and the big lump of concrete that is Patuxai Arch with its fancy dancing fountains.
The best bit of the trip, beside watching the dear lad's delighted face, was getting home, where we celebrated with big bowls of noodles from our favourite (non-dog) restaurant across the road.
I really hate trolling up and down the aisles trying to recall the list I left at home, getting more and more depressed by the screaming children, the Miserable Meanderers, the dreadful smells of all those room deoderants, and the squeaking, intransigent shopping trolleys.
But shopping here is another kettle of odiferous dried fish altogether. Mostly I rely on my maid Me, who picks up what we need in the markets on her way in in the morning, or Sommay who goes with me to the Chinese market and bargains ferociously and works economic miracles without a shadow of guilt. Sometimes, Joy is sent out for something, but the other day he came back with, inexplicably, thirty eggs in a plastic bag, many of which arrived unbroken after a wobbly ride in his bike basket, so we don't usually ask him to do that sort of thing any more.
So this past weekend, Joy was left here and Sommay and I went to the Big Smoke--Vientiane, where 234,000 of the 5.5 million strong Lao population lives for a shopping trip. The real destination, however, was Thailand, just over the Mekong, where I needed to renew my visa, and where one goes for shopping---much cheaper, better selection of goods, actual shopping centres.....We very much needed a new router to try and improve our sporadic internet coverage, and the odd wine glass and what-not.
This is a fairly routine trip for most folks; a 40 minute flight, a couple of nights in town bracketing a dash over the Lao-Thai Friendship Bridge to Nong Khai and a 90 minute bus ride down to Udon Thani for the aforementioned shopping.
For Sommay, however, it was a huge, spine-tingling, ear-to-ear-grin moment in his life, as he'd never been to Vientiane, never been on an airplane and never been to Thailand.
It was a delight to watch his little face light up and his eyes dart about as he discovered all the fun things about airplanes, saw the world from the air and landed in the big city for the first time.
The traffic was a real eye-opener, and novelties like traffic lights, which he'd never seen, and he often lost his sense of direction completely which is very unlike him, but to me it's a small, flat, dreary town and I knew it well enough so we got around fine.
We found a centrally located guesthouse for $6 a night each, but soon discovered why it was so cheap. so we moved to a great place reccommended by our taxi driver. Only $9 each and wonderful!
But the real mission was the trip to Thailand, so we got to the bus station early for the 10:30 bus, very comfy, sailed along to the border, and then came to a grinding halt in the thick throng of fellow-border-crossers all trying to thread our way through the undermanned exit and entrance to the two countries. It took three and a half hours to do the 90 minute journey, but it was great seeing Sommay's happy face as we drove across the Mekong and he was suddenly an international traveller for the first time.
He was blown away by the merchandise on offer and by the prices as he scurried about buying various bits and pieces for friends a relatives in his village. I was over come by the sheer volume of goods, people, noise, and the fragrance of buttery coconut waffles being made and sold at several stands in the shopping centre, permeating everything with a golden miasma of toasty-brown cholesterol.
Anyway, we GOT the router and I got some speakers and a couple of tops and Sommay got his phones and it all took forever, so we were starving and decided, rashly, to eat before we ducked back to the bus station to book our bus trip back to Vientiane.
The food was great---BBQ duck, lovely veggies in oyster sauce---and the restaurant was one of those where some bright spark has decided to improve on a good thing and feature dancing waiters...Yes, suddenly the music hit a particularly peppy note and all the staff took up positions in the aisles and boogied away to a smart set of coordinated dance steps, while customers hoed into their steaming hotpots. It was halfway between charming and bizarre.
Less charming, however was the fact that we managed to get back to the bus station shortly after they had sold the last seat on the last bus, so we blinked a few times and asked for a taxi. This is where the adventure began.
The fellow yelled, no, he bellowed across the bus station to another guy who led us to a rank of tuk-tuks. It took a minute to realise he was serious. A tuk-tuk is a far cry from a taxi and great for pottering around town, being basically a three-wheeled motorcycle with covered seating attached to the back, but for a 60 kilometre run...
But, when the devil drives.... Actually, far from being a devil, the driver was a big cheerful solid-looking bloke who was willing, for just under $20 bucks, to drive us the 60-odd kilometres to the border and it was either that or walk....
So in we hopped, cheerfully thinking that it would be a bit of a lark, if a bit juddery. Until we looked in the direction we were headed and saw the blackest sky I've ever seen, getting blacker....
The driver pointed at the doomsday scene ahead and laughed and we joined in, but after the first 15 or twenty k's, it started. Just a fine spray at first, then a proper rain, followed by a deluge, a short period of fine mist and then back to pouring....
There is a roof on these vehicles and plastic curtains along the sides of the seating area, but they tended to flap uselessly under the onslaught of the rain, the splash from the larger vehicles and huge double-trailered trucks that hurtled past us in the dark.
Sommay got a good position right behind the driver and bore up stoically despite wearing only jeans and a T-shirt, so I had to do the same, with only a large plastic carrier bag to protect the side of me that faced the torrents.
At first it was actually refreshing and kind of fun, but gradually the water turned icy because of the speed we were travelling and began to trickle down my back, and I was, for the first time in the entire month I've been back in Asia, chilled to the bone. Also soaking wet.
I kept seeing road signs with the mileage, but soon decided to ignore them as it seemed to get longer between kilometres as we went along and even with only 16 ks to go, it wasn't a lot of comfort. Finally we slowed down as we got into Nong Khai, and it was at this point that we discovered that the driver had no idea how to ge to the bridge. After trundling down several dirt lanes and stopping to holler for directions from people sheltering under trees and roofs, he decided to follow the very obvious signs and we ended up at the bridge, feeling like refugees under the eerie orange halogen lights.
We slopped wetly through the routine of customs, departure, over the bridge, and then through the apply-for-a-visa and wait and then got through immigration and collapsed happily into a nice comfy minivan that took us, shivering in the air-con, the last 25 k into town and up and down several dark wet streets before we finally found our hotel and our nice warm showers and warm dry beds.
The next day was sightseeing and more shopping at a huge traditional market and at ITECC, a Lao style shopping mall, which was basically just a market but inside a brand new exhibition centre just outside of town. We got there after a lot of searching and adventures like running out of petrol on the lousy motorbike that we rented from the hotel and which Sommay distrusted deeply. You actually have to wear helmets in Vientiane so I had to do a lot of hollering in his ear to navigate , but it was a pretty good day, visiting the vast golden That Luang temple and the big lump of concrete that is Patuxai Arch with its fancy dancing fountains.
The best bit of the trip, beside watching the dear lad's delighted face, was getting home, where we celebrated with big bowls of noodles from our favourite (non-dog) restaurant across the road.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Action Woman is on the case of the Kanine Kitchen
I thought you'd like to know that after an agonising afternoon yesterday of listening to non-stop barking and howling and that harrowing doggie-type screaming that they do when being clouted unmercifully with a stick, during which I contemplated getting one of those stun guns (Good thinking, Stu, I was only one synapse-firing ahead of you) that humane slaughterpersons use, then moved on to plotting guerrilla action and letting all the poor pooches go under cover of darkness, and finally was about to storm over there like a wrathful Valkyrie and start shouting at the poor bastards, instead I stormed off to town for a curry and a drink with friends and lay more constructive plans......
Obviously, none of the above would actually represent a lasting solution nor would it endear me to the ladies who run these places. And they're not the forgiving types, given an altercation that raged during most of the afternoon between two of the lady proprietresses. Heated invective echoed back and forth across the street, fingers were pointed, barbecue tongs were brandished, fists were shaken.
So, today I went to see my friend Manivonh of the Magnificent Mammaries (Call me Vonnie, baby!). She's the daughter of a general and speaks Chinese, Lao, French, and pure Californian from years spent in San Diego. There I met her friend Mimi, (Off to Paris for a week, but when I get back, I'll be having an opening at the gallery---you must come) and held a conference with these two formidable ladies.
The upshot is that they emphatically endorsed the idea of visiting the headman of our village and politely, diplomatically voicing my concerns about the welfare of the dogs, the tone of the neighbourhood and the international reputation of Luang Prabang---Heritage City---if this were to be played up by some farang travel journo.....Now who would that be, I wonder....
They were horrified and said We are Buddhist we don't cause suffering to animals! They also pointed out that dog restaurants are illegal in Vientiane and while they may not be here, they should not be permitted to do the killing there on site.
So, tomorrow morning, I will kit myself up in my Lao clobber, that I affectionately call my sauna skirt, cos it's so hot to wear in this weather, and Sommay and I will go to see The Man. Let''s hope he will see us and will do something soon, but I no longer feel like a lone voice, crying petulantly in a wilderness of cruelty and feel that I can get on with my life.
Hope you all feel better, too. Thus endeth the lesson.
Obviously, none of the above would actually represent a lasting solution nor would it endear me to the ladies who run these places. And they're not the forgiving types, given an altercation that raged during most of the afternoon between two of the lady proprietresses. Heated invective echoed back and forth across the street, fingers were pointed, barbecue tongs were brandished, fists were shaken.
So, today I went to see my friend Manivonh of the Magnificent Mammaries (Call me Vonnie, baby!). She's the daughter of a general and speaks Chinese, Lao, French, and pure Californian from years spent in San Diego. There I met her friend Mimi, (Off to Paris for a week, but when I get back, I'll be having an opening at the gallery---you must come) and held a conference with these two formidable ladies.
The upshot is that they emphatically endorsed the idea of visiting the headman of our village and politely, diplomatically voicing my concerns about the welfare of the dogs, the tone of the neighbourhood and the international reputation of Luang Prabang---Heritage City---if this were to be played up by some farang travel journo.....Now who would that be, I wonder....
They were horrified and said We are Buddhist we don't cause suffering to animals! They also pointed out that dog restaurants are illegal in Vientiane and while they may not be here, they should not be permitted to do the killing there on site.
So, tomorrow morning, I will kit myself up in my Lao clobber, that I affectionately call my sauna skirt, cos it's so hot to wear in this weather, and Sommay and I will go to see The Man. Let''s hope he will see us and will do something soon, but I no longer feel like a lone voice, crying petulantly in a wilderness of cruelty and feel that I can get on with my life.
Hope you all feel better, too. Thus endeth the lesson.
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