June 2011

More than words

June 9, 2011

“What is your name?”

“Do you have family?”

“Where are you from?”

“What is the meaning of hodgepodge?”

I was tutoring English students in Luang Prebang as part of the Big Brother Mouse Literacy Program.

The printed word is rare in Laos. Many children are lucky to have textbooks in school. Very few have ever read a book for fun.

Big Brother Mouse began publishing books in 2006 as a way to change that. The not-for-profit organization makes cheap, accessible books and distributes them all over the country. They host book parties, encourage children to read and demonstrate how reading can improve lives.

But that’s not all. Big Brother Mouse also hosts an open classroom for English practice at their Luang Prabang office. Travelers are encouraged to devote a couple hours each day in helping young students practice their conversational skills. And that’s exactly what I did.

I mostly worked with a 14-year-old named Bousou. Every chance he gets, Bousou rides his bike for over an hour to reach Luang Prabang, hoping that native English speakers will be there for mentoring. Sometimes they are, but often there are no volunteers. Still he continues to pedal to the city, desperate for the opportunity to learn.

When I was first introduced to Bousou, he spoke halting, nervous English. As the hours passed, the words warmed like butter and flowed easily.

“How do you say this words?” We leaned over a workbook with English stories. He pointed to a sentence about a dining room.

“These words,” I corrected. “That’s dining room.” We sounded it out. I explained what it meant. He mastered it.

He had more difficulty with the word “lizard.” I don’t know why we were talking about lizards.

Our conversation whipped back and forth, covering school, siblings, families, hopes, dreams. Bousou likes animals, but he has no pets. He doesn’t know if he can afford to go to school much longer. When he grows up, he wants to be a policeman. Someday he would like to visit Vietnam, the most exotic place he can imagine.

He asked me what is the best thing about Laos.

“You,” I said.

Learn more about Big Brother Mouse here. http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/

A plain mystery

June 8, 2011

The shaggy green hills of Phonsavan are veined with red dirt roads and punctuated with jars.

Yes, jars.

This region in rural Laos is home to one of the world’s greatest — and most bizarre — mysteries. Thousands of ancient stone vessels are scattered over the countryside, but nobody knows the purpose of these enormous jars or how they got there.

Think Stonehenge meets Tupperware.

The disconcerting thing about walking around a war-scarred country is that you have to watch your step. Literally.

These white bricks mark a trail that has been cleared of mines. Wander off the path, and you put yourself at risk. (On the day I visited, the MAG International team cleared 72 unexploded ordinances.)

There is also a long list of things you cannot do at the archeological ruins. Like carve them.

These jars are thought to be at least 2,000 years old. But there is no organic material inside the jars, which prevents carbon dating.

Local legend claims these sandstone containers were created by an ancient king to store massive amounts of lao-lao, the country’s famed rice whisky. Some believe that the area was once inhabited by giants. Or aliens.

Another theory, probably correct, is that these jars were used for funeral ceremonies or to hold ashes.

They are also perfectly Maggie-sized.

When I asked other travelers if I should visit the Plain of Jars, most responded with, “Welllll … it is a plain. Full of jars.” And now I understand their ambivalence.

The site was interesting, but not mythical. It was pretty, but so is the rest of Laos. And the trip involved an 8-hour detour on a nausea-inducing road into an uninspiring town, followed by another 8-hour bus ride back into civilization.

But I did it. Plain and simple.

Hot potato

June 5, 2011

There are five things you need to know about Potato Spicky.

1. Spicky is a potato tube. It springs forth from a potato head.

: Mr. Potato’s final gift to the world.

2. Spicky is fun to eat while sitting at a computer, buying a dress and driving a car/piloting a biplane.

: Whee! Spicky-tastic!

3. Spicky is non fried.

: Fried? Non!

4. Spicky appears to be vegan.

: I don’t see any pork here.

5. Spicky is my favorite Thai snack food.

How to make a dream come true

June 2, 2011

First: Make a list of things to do before you die. Realize that you are always inching toward death and still haven’t done a single thing on that list. Decide to do something about it.

Quit your job. Leave home. Travel around the world.

Tell yourself, “If I make it to Ha Long Bay, this trip will be a success.”

Go to Peru. Go to Bolivia. Go to Argentina. Check off some things from the list.

Meet a couple of Americans and drive around South Africa with them. Live in a village. Learn to carry buckets of water on your head. Hike into Lesotho, the country that nobody else has ever heard of.

Go to Uganda. Ride across the country in a minibus with 24 people and a pregnant goat. Get work as a country-western DJ for the local radio station. Learn to harvest rice.

Go to Rwanda. Spend your days teaching English to genocide survivors. Cry. Teach them to play bingo. Laugh.

Fly to Egypt. See your husband for the first time in six months. Find out your grandmother died. Find out your mom is dying. Fall down an endless tunnel of darkness. Hole up in a yoga camp on the Red Sea.

Go to your mother’s funeral. Wrap yourself in a blanket of grief. Return to Egypt on the day a revolution begins. Feel like you’re comatose.

Take a boat to Jordan. Leave when protests begin. Go to Bahrain. Leave when protests begin. Get the nagging feeling that you are creating a trail of destruction around the world.

Go to Ethiopia. Still feel comatose.

Go to India. Love it. Embrace it. Drink in every hot day, every fragrant spice, every bit of eye-popping color. Move into an ashram. Pray.

Go to Thailand. Work with elephants and cuddle tigers. Meet a friend from home in Bangkok. Travel with her to Cambodia. Have a lot of fun. Say goodbye.

Take a bus to Vietnam. Battle Saigon’s scooter-clogged streets and get a feel for the city. Slurp down bowls of noodles. Take a bus north. When the bus breaks down for 12 hours, sleep at a bus station. When the bus works again, it’s the hottest part of the day and the air-conditioning is now broken. Sweat. Make an unplanned stop in a beach town just because you desperately need a shower.

Take more buses. Take a train. Sleep in a dirty train car on soiled sheets. Arrive in Hanoi.

Schedule a boat tour. Pack up. Get picked up at 7 a.m.

Go to Ha Long Bay.

Spend a night on a boat.

Jump off the boat and into the ocean.

Swim in emerald green water.

Lap up the sunset.

Live your dream.

PHOTOS: Vietnam in living color

June 1, 2011

Some countries have one particular color that shines for me.

Other countries are a kaleidoscope.

Surprisingly, Vietnam falls into that latter category. I say “surprisingly” because I imagined red communist flags would be the only burst of color on otherwise grease-blackened city streets. I imagined tangles of jungle green straight out of “Platoon.” I imagined row after row of matchbox-sized buildings that all look the same.

In some cases I was right.

In many cases, I was deliciously wrong. Vietnam was practically a Skittles package, spilling handfuls of color all around me.

Here’s proof.