Kuey bai Laos lai Ayutthya.

I have officially been to Laos.  Last Thursday night (the 18th of December) after my evening class, I boarded an overnight train from Bangkok to Nong Kai.  On the train, I sat across from a wonderful Thai woman who was going to visit her mother.  Soon, however, a young man from San Francisco traveling on holiday engaged me.  After a long conversation and many beers in the dining car, I retired to my upper bunk.
Following an early morning arrival in Nong Kai, we headed to the boarder.  Four hours later, I was standing in Laos, 1500 Baht poorer, but one visa richer.  We managed to get a Tuk-Tuk into the capital city, Vientiane.
I met up with my French friend, Serge, and he helped me find accommodations.  An invitation to a party that evening at the French Cultural Center set my plans but left me plenty of time to explore.  I must say that Vientiane is a beautiful city.  It is what one imagines when conjuring images of the French settling in Southeast Asia:  wide boulevards, colonial architecture, and restrained sensibilities.  While not a small city in its own right, compared to the sprawling, congested urbanity of Bangkok, it seems downright quaint.  A peaceful calm pervades.  Sitting at a quiet outdoor cafe, sipping cappuccino and eating quiche was not just unexpected, but nearly unimaginable the day before.
I wandered around on foot, which is not very difficult given its small, well-laid out city heart.  After eating a delicious sandwich of pork pate with radish, cilantro, and chili on French bread, I made my way to the banks of the Mekong River.  Watching the sun set through the banana leaves and looking at the far bank, seeing Thailand, was tremendously relaxing.
There are, in fact, many French people living there.  The influence is impossible to overlook.  French bistros abound, and heavily accented English wafts through the air as readily as the smell of milk being steamed.
Communication with the Laotians living there was very easy; most spoke not only the languages of Thailand and Laos, but also English and French.  The Thai and Laotian languages are very similar, but do have many differences.  This ensured that I would expend about zero effort to learn it.  Everyone was also extremely gracious and eager to talk with me.
Frustratingly, the Laotian monetary unit, the Kip, is tremendously confusing.  One Thai Baht is worth about 250 Kip.  As you can imagine, the amount of Kip required to do simple commerce is immense.  My sandwich cost 5000 Kip.  This would be complicated enough, but the denominations looks nearly identical, with hard to identify values.  They also come in odd sizes:  the nearly worthless 500 Kip note, 1000, 2000, 5000, 10,000, and finally, the 50,000 Kip note.
It was slightly unnerving at first to attend the party at the French Cultural Center, realizing quickly that it was a fairly small community, and that Serge was not actually all that involved with the center.  After some conversational dead-ends (isn't that often the way with French people?) I managed to make some interesting friends.  One was a very impressive young Laos man who is leaving to study in Paris soon.  He speaks English nearly fluently, along with French, Thai, and of course Laos.  There was also the very sweet French woman who will be moving to Cambodia at the end of next month, and a group of Australians, some residing, some visiting.
Roxana (the French one) took me for phu in the wee hours of the morning.  Phu is like the ubiquitous noodle dish of Thailand, kuay te-ow, but offers slightly different noodles, along with tomatoes and sometimes cabbage.  Not as flavorful, it does not offer a true broth, but rather moistens the dish with the liquid used to cook the ingredients a la minute.
The next morning, I rented a 250cc motorcycle and began my journey north towards Vong Vienne.  Driving through the changing countryside was an exhilarating experience.  From the flat rice paddies of southern Laos into the mountains nearing my destination I drove.  Stopping to take pictures, refuel the bike and myself, and seeing what was available in the small towns along the way was an adventure unto itself.  And that's not even mentioning the thrill of the ride, increased exponentially as I entered the winding mountain passes.
Tremendously hot at the outset, as I increased altitude and the sun began to dip lower, the temperature dropped dramatically.  By the time I reached Vong Vienne, just after sunset, it was decidedly cold.  Wishing that I had brought some sort of fleece to compliment my light windbreaker was a good learning experience.
By the time I arrived, it was past dark, so I missed seeing the mountains surrounding it.  Taking care of  my immediate necessities I found a guesthouse for 20,000 Kip (about $8 U.S.) and went off in search of food.  Unfortunately, Vong Vienne is not a great town in my opinion.  Partying college students, drugged up backpackers, and generally ignorant travelers have overrun it.  The identity of what was probably once a beautiful haven in the mountains has been replaced by one where finding traditional food is the exception, not the norm.  Familial establishments can't compete with the many restaurants selling buckets of booze and showing 'Friend's on televisions mounted around the pool tables.
I found perhaps the only restaurant in my area that actually had some Laotian people in it and sat down.  A group of farang beckoned me over, and luckily, they were likeminded.  We had an enjoyable meal together, exchanging life information, and generally lamenting the state of the town.  My guesthouse was quiet and I managed to sleep soundly if not for an extended length of time.
Intending to get started so that I would have plenty of time to stop along the way, I woke up early.  Apparently the best laid plans of mice and men can be thwarted by a dead battery.  The motorcycle would not start.  Unfortunately, because of the early hour, I had to wait for the mechanic to open his doors before I could swap the battery out.  That done, and the spark plug drained, I was once again on my way.
The 150-km return trip to Vientiane was actually a lot of fun.  Mostly downhill, there was no traffic, and the sun hadn’t risen to its blazing pinnacle.  I returned the motorcycle, though, of course not without an embarrassing attempt to drive it up and over a curb (in the center of Vientiane mind you).  It seemed like a good idea to try taking a bus across the boarder so I found the station and got a ticket with 15 minutes before it left.  This time going through customs went much more smoothly and I was in Nong Kai with plenty of time to spare.
My sense of relief at being again surrounded by something closer to what I have grown accustomed to was surprising.  A medium sized boarder city, it has plenty to offer.  From shopping and eating to visiting wats, I could easily spend two days here.  Seeing the cuisine of Isaan collide with the traditional Laotian cuisine was interesting.  Here was the Kuay Te-ow that I was familiar with, but seasoned with shrimp paste and a different chili blend.  First things first though, I changed money and bought a kaa-fee buulon yen within two minutes of having Baht in hand.  A dense, dark coffee left to steep for time unknown is mixed with sweetened condensed milk and canned milk, then poured over ice.  It’s heavenly.
On the train, I made friends with a pair of Thai gentlemen.  They live in Ayuttya, the previous capital of Thailand.  It lies about 70 kilometers north of Bangkok.  One of the gentlemen was a professor at the University, and he spoke English fairly well.  The other, a jolly fat man, sells antiques there and owns another store in Luaprabong, Laos.  Daang Moh (Watermelon) speaks virtually no English, but between my Thai and his friend's translations, we were all having a great time.  The beer and whiskey may have helped a little too.
As the dining car closed, Daang Moh invited me to come to Ayuttya.  He wanted to show me around the city.  Of course seeing as that was a good four hours away, it seemed like a brilliant idea, and I readily agreed.  Returning to my bunk, I made certain to set my alarm.
While the train was running an hour behind schedule, I had no way of knowing this, and was constantly getting up to try to ascertain our position.  Needless to say, it wasn't the best night's sleep ever.  Finally, at 5:00 a.m., the train arrived at Ayuttya, and I stumbled off.  I was greatly relieved to find my new friends on the platform waiting for me.  We secured a Tuk-Tuk to take Suchart home and Daang Moh and myself to his antique store.
Daang Moh's store is rather impressive, and he is obviously tremendously proud of what he has.  Artifacts and pieces range from the commonplace to truly ornate religious pieces several hundred years old, and hail from all over Thailand and Laos.  He showed me many things and with the help of a book, introduced me to the different periods of art and culture in the Chang Mai region.
We also discussed the new house he has just completed in Luaprabong.  He had many architectural books showcasing styles throughout the region and years.  Of course the invitation to accompany him to see his home was extended, and I look forward to having the opportunity to take him up on the offer.
We ate breakfast at his mother's restaurant.  Truly, the adage about a fat man delivering you to great food can be true.  His mother is a fantastic cook.  It is a fun little restaurant overlooking the Chao Praya River as it runs through Ayuttya, making the central area an island.
As the main attractions to visiting tourists are the temple ruins, he made certain that I was properly introduced to those.  Obviously a once thriving center of wealth and prestige, the city is strewn with the remnants a flourishing and expansive civilization.  Founded in 1350, it was one of the most populous cities in the world when it was destroyed by the Burmese army in 1767.
Making sure that I wanted for nothing in the way of hospitality, he took me to his favorite massage parlor, and we had some amazing Thai massages.  Thai massages are great.  They are much more interactive than western massages with more personal movement.  Twisting, turning, and a slight amount of pain all lead to deep tissue work and a great feeling at the end of it all.  Because they are such a big part of the culture, parlors are everywhere and very cheap.
Refreshed, it was time to eat again.  That evening one of Daang Moh's friends met us and we went to a large open-air restaurant serving food from Isaan (the northeast region of Thailand).  Daang Moh's friend, Jason, speaks English pretty well, so that eased some of the pressure of communication.  The food was delicious, and I was introduced to some new things including deep-fried chicken knee cartilage (not unpleasantly chewy) with a pickled onion slaw and shredded, fried catfish.  Whisky, beer, and ribald conversation solidified the new friendships.
As night had long since fallen and the day had been more than full, they accompanied me to the train station and we bid our farewells.  15 Baht to get back to my home station really can't be beat.  After stopping to say hello to my neighborhood friends, I returned home, weary but satisfied with my trip.

P.S.I had planned on including my Christmas celebration in this post, but am finding that to be unlikely.  It's late, and I must work tomorrow.  That, I'm afraid will have to wait for a bit.  Good night, and Happy Holidays to one and all.