Fifty two

Although I was only dimly acquainted with the Laotian Capitol of Vientiane and had never heard at all of the town of Luang Prabang, the guidebook persuaded me to go by using words like "captivating" and "spellbinding." 

Perhaps it was guidebook peer pressure, or the fact that we landed at sunset, but I was indeed captivated before the plane even touched down.

The sun was well gone by the time I began to rethink my decision to walk from the airport into town. I had read that it was only a few miles, and knew it was my last chance for an airport walk - I've done them in Estonia and Jamaica (oh! And New York, thanks Andy), but Hanoi will be much too far and in Hong Kong I simply won't have time before orientation for my job begins.

The walk to town was reasonably safe for a main road, and no one bothered me. Even at dusk I was hot in my layered dresses but didn't dare take one off; I wanted to make a pleasant first impression with my shoulders and knees covered. (A sweet thought, but I'm dusty and covered in sweat and it's dark and I'm some nutjob white girl who just walked in from the airport. Literally when I tell a waiter that he looks at me like "wait, I thought I understood English but clearly I missed whatever you just said.")

Immediately, I feel something here for the people that I felt in Costa Rica. I want them to like me, and I want to know them better. Impractical as it sounds, I instantly want to learn to speak Lao.

I can't describe what else is so bewitching about this country. The hills. The foliage and occasional bursts of night-blooming jasmine. The bridge I crossed to get to town, pictured below. The vehemence of concrete and corrugated tin against a season of mud and a season of dust. The whine of jungle insects I can't identify mixed with the singing of a language I can't begin to understand. The slow takeover of night and stars; the carnival optimism of Christmas lights strung in the roundabout on the approach to town.

I also hit a wall in Laos, for reasons I don't fully understand (editor's note: dehydration). I didn't prepare properly, learning only the Lao word for "thank you" and that only when I was already on the plane, so it wouldn't supplant the Khmer version. I didn't have any plan for getting to my lodging even though I knew it was far from the center of town - not walking distance even for me, and not safe for cabs to drive at night on the winding river's-edge road. And I had no Lao money. The Cambodians preferred American dollars and I thought the same would hold here. Dollars are accepted (change given in Kip), but prices are quoted in Kip and the exchange rate boggles me. 

Arriving last night and buying a beer at a bar so I could use their wifi, I was flummoxed. Ten thousand kip for a beer, can I afford that? I have three bucks on me, American.

Also, and I say this with no self-admiration, who DOES that? Who shows up with three bucks and a change of underwear? I've brought more than that to dinner parties. My arrival in Laos was almost like one of those anxiety dreams where you get to class and you have to give a presentation you didn't prepare for. 

Am I glad I walked in with no expectations so Laos could completely blow my mind, like no country has done since Costa Rica? Sure I am. But I didn't do my homework, and I do feel, just a bit, like I don't deserve this place.