Edición de «TrekShare - Crashing A Laos Wedding - Part 2»

Public Service Announcement:  [http://vtr.org.vn/kham-pha-xu-chua-vang-myanmar.html Tour du lịch Myanmar] Drinking and [http://Www.Guardian.Co.uk/search?q=driving driving] is bad.  <br>With that said I’ve drank and drove a few times in my day<br>and have puked in the back of cars while someone drunker<br>than me was at the wheel.  My question wasn’t meant to be<br>judgmental but rather compassionate.  They were drunk; the<br>streets were dark and littered in potholes.  When all is<br>said and done I know I would have jumped on the back of<br>either of their scooters.  I just needed assurance that we<br>weren’t going to take some drunken steroid infested crotch<br>rocket ride reminiscent of high school.  You’ve got to hate<br>crap like that.  <br>The next portion of our conversation seemed to flow like<br>there was no language barrier at all.  Ton explained that he<br>was careful to make the necessary judgements to drive<br>safely.  This wasn’t one of those times when someone<br>drinking shouldn’t drive.  This was one of those times a<br>person uses his judgement correctly.  The idea of harming<br>himself or another person was foreign to him.  This appears<br>to be the norm in a society built upon few enforceable laws<br>but harsh penalties for living.  His outlook was<br>refreshingly unique.  Most of us live in a world where we<br>aren’t trusted to make our own judgements.  He has no<br>choice.<br>I soon discovered upon exiting the gala that it had never<br>been their intention to drive.  The party was just down the<br>street.  The energy reached a fevered pitch as we rounded<br>the corner and entered the rear of the bride’s house.  I<br>walked stoically onto the back patio with my head held low.<br>I do this for a variety of reasons.  The primary reason I do<br>this is in my everyday life is because I find if I look up<br>the craziest wacko will undoubtebly engage me in a<br>conversation.  <br>I did it in Laos as a sign of respect.  Bowing is an<br>integral aspect of the salutation and this way I was half<br>way there.  The depth at to which you bow and [http://vtr.org.vn/kham-pha-xu-chua-vang-myanmar.html Tour du lịch Myanmar] the duration<br>all reflect your position in life relative to the person you<br>are addressing.  The corresponding hand  [http://vtr.org.vn/kham-pha-xu-chua-vang-myanmar.html Tour du lịch Myanmar] positions are<br>difficult if not impossible to master by anyone except for<br>the natives so I don’t suggest trying.  Just keep your head<br>low and don’t look someone in the eyes unless you are given<br>indication that it’s appropriate to do so.  <br>Two more reasons to keep your chin low.  Let’s just say that<br>walking into a communist country like a goddamn red, white<br>and [http://vtr.org.vn/kham-pha-xu-chua-vang-myanmar.html Tour du lịch Myanmar từ hà nội] blue peacock perpetuates certain stereotypes that affect<br>our relationships with other countries.  The second reason<br>is simpler.  [http://En.Search.Wordpress.com/?q=People%20taller People taller] than the mean height of 5’3" will<br>ultimately take a roof of the house to the noggin sometime<br>during their stay in this vertically challenged land. <br>About 40 people were comfortably dispersed in 4 primary<br>groups.  One group was inside the house and used the back<br>patio door to supply food, drink and a constant flow of new<br>people to the party.  One of the people in this group was<br>Pond’s wife who we unfortunately didn’t get to meet.  She<br>was too busy working behind the scenes.  I assume it’s a<br>traditional bonding time for the mother, bride and her<br>girls.<br>The second group was dancing around a tree just brought out<br>by a woman from inside the house.  It was the Lamvong dance,<br>except they were all circling the tree together.  It was a<br>small space so I can see why.  <br>The third group was a table of primarily older men drinking<br>and a rare 2 smokers.  Not many people smoke in Laos and<br>this was the first time I saw anyone smoking in such a<br>public space.  I greeted what to me looked like the oldest<br>guy at the table.  I would say he was about 48.  This is old<br>in a country with an average life expectancy is 54 years<br>old.  He was also one of the smokers.  Yeah right…. Smoking<br>kills.  We grabbed two seats at the ends of the "old-guys"<br>table and spurted out  "kop chi li li" another 30 or so<br>times.  <br>A fourth group congregated along a makeshift bar situated<br>behind us on the perimeter of the lawn and street.  This is<br>where the guys who brought us to the party set up camp.<br>Within about 6 seconds of sitting down a 1/3 full glass of<br>BeerLao was between my eyes.  I took a drink and watched my<br>friend Paul try to explain that he would prefer soda water.<br>It was basically a long-running joke at this point into our<br>5-day Laotian trek. I can’t explain how foreign the concept<br>of abstaining from drinking is to the Laotian people.<br>Laotians don’t have any concept of not drinking because of<br>personal choices.  Many people don’t drink often because it<br>doesn’t bode well with their health, but this wasn’t the<br>case. Let’s just say it wasn’t the first time people would<br>be brought into hysterics upon a toast from Paul’s soda<br>water.  It only got funnier each of the 25 additional times<br>he declined a drink. <br>Being able to consume and abuse almost anything at our<br>discretion is not the situation in Laos.  There isn’t the<br>same kind of access to external factors. Their gentle<br>personalities and suspicious nature is a reflection of their<br>lack and oftentimes desire of material goods.  This is<br>ideologically different than western capitalism principals<br>that are slowly being adopted since 1990.  Not to mention<br>the U.S. did conduct a secret war in 1973 that left it the<br>most bombed country of the Vietnam War.  I know you probably<br>don’t want a history lesson, but the rational was to cut off<br>the northern trade routes of the Ho Chi Min Trail in order<br>to curtain the spread of communism.  There I said it.<br>A few short minutes later a sharply dressed Pond walked into<br>the party.  He wore a purplish blue iridescent silk oxford<br>with the sleeves rolled up.  Both his wrists were tightly<br>wrapped in a white cloth rope – traditional Lao boxing<br>style.  He looked like a bad ass as he sat down between me<br>and Paul.  Pond quickly got offered a drink from one of the<br>4 people who were circling the table like vultures looking<br>for sober victims.  A variety of drinks were being served.<br>Variety, however, is a relative word in Laos.  No apple<br>martinis or cosmos - just whiskey and beer.   <br>Up until this point I had only drank Whiskey Lao and Tiger<br>whiskey, which appear to be the two competing, brands.  At<br>8000 kip ($.80) per bottle I was happy to see the party<br>upgraded to a bottle each of Johnny Walker Red and Black.<br>One woman also carried around a pitcher of diluted whiskey<br>and water.  This is what you drank when you wanted to stop<br>drinking.   The great aspect of drinking in Laos is the one<br>glass rule or in this case one glass and one-shot glass<br>rule.  This ensures that when you are given a drink you<br>pound it immediately.  In general when drinking beer in Laos<br>the person who buys the 40’s-esqe glass bottle pours a drink<br>for himself before offering the glass to the surrounding<br>people.  This is brilliant for 2 main reasons.  The beer<br>stays cool and fewer dishes are made for our bride throwing<br>the party.  <br>Pond, myself and the rest of the people at the party<br>continued to drink and speak in whatever means we possibly<br>could.  A lot of time was just spent laughing enjoying the<br>collective moment we were sharing together.  Paul excused<br>himself after the party turned into an alternative version<br>of the century club.  One drink per minute for 100 minutes.   <br>It was probably during the 58th minute when the food came to<br>the table.  Traditional Lao drinking food.  Rather than<br>pretzels and buffalo wings the Lao people make extraordinary<br>hot mango salads to entice drinking.  I’d eaten a super hot<br>mango salad in Thailand just days before so I was aware what<br>I was in for.   The dish was passed immediately to me and<br>the elder at the table began aggressively coaxing me to take<br>a bite.  I grabbed the spoon and took a small bite hoping to<br>overt their attention.  This really didn’t work.  Now I was<br>being ostracized for my lack of bite.  <br>The elder took the large Chinese soupspoon and started<br>burying it deep in the salad.  His eyes and the 12 other<br>leering pairs made it apparent I needed to bring my game to<br>the table.  I grabbed back the large spoon and made a single<br>aggressive swoop into the salad.  The spoonful of salad I<br>pulled out was about as much as the spoon was designed to<br>hold.  Unfortunately it is nearly impossible to dump out any<br>overabundance from the deep metal spoon because of their<br>high vertical edges.  Not much else to do but take the bite.  <br>I don’t remember what happened for the next 3 minutes.  I do<br>remember about 3 minutes later feeling like my head was<br>going to spontaneously combust and that I had probably not<br>been breathing for the three minutes prior.  Once my eyes<br>rolled back around to the front of my head I noticed a very<br>concerned elder offering me a shot of whiskey.  This is only<br>the second time in the evening I refused a drink.  Instead I<br>opted for an outstretched glass of BeerLao.  After a quick<br>shot of beer I lunged for the shot of whiskey and then a<br>glass of diluted whiskey.  It’s a pretty amazing situation<br>when a shot of whiskey is smoother than a hot mango salad.<br>In retrospect I should have taken the shot first.  These<br>guys knew what they were doing.<br>I’m pretty sure Paul had returned by this point to witness<br>my hiccuping frenzy caused by the ridiculouslly hot food.  The guesthouse was locked and instead of waking up the owners twice he opted to come back to the party.  What a considerate guy!  The night progressed in this standard fashion for a while until Pond excused himself from the table.  Much of the rest of the table cleared at this point and headed in separate directions.<br>Group #4 hanging out by the back bar was still in full<br>stride.  It was time for the friends and youngsters to take<br>the reigns of the party.  One of the 10 or so twenty year<br>olds was strumming a guitar and a variety of other guys were<br>intermittently interjecting lyrics.  We weren’t going to<br>leave the party without listening to some tunes.  After the<br>first few songs the guitar was extended our way.  Paul was<br>always up for hacking out some obscure song that no one in<br>Laos had ever heard of.  To be honest unless you knew<br>Betterman by Robbie Williams, a little N’sync or the "it’s a<br>hip - a hop - a hip"  song they probably would have no clue.<br>Paul broke out a funky upbeat song that got the crowd<br>clapping - although at a very different beat than the song<br>suggested.  Next we broke out Creep and some of the guys<br>joined us in singing the melancholy mumbling of Radiohead.<br>It was probably the loudest we ever sang that song.<br>Pretty soon DJ Jacky Joe was at the stereo plugging in burnt<br>CD’s from Malaysia and Thailand.  Most of the music was<br>completely unfamiliar to me, but there was a couple of<br>compilation CD’s that caught my eye.  I recognized 2 songs.<br>The Final Countdown by Europe was the first track and I<br>hadn’t passed this song by since 1985; so why start now?  The<br>crowd seemed to like my selection based on the amount of air<br>guitar I saw being played.  Next up was a little "Beat It"<br>by Michael Jackson.  Unfortunately this was the worst<br>karaoke version of "Beat It" I’ve ever heard.  In retrospect<br>the complete lack of knowledge of Michael Jackson has got to<br>be a good thing for any society.  <br>The party slowly unwound into a sparing match between a<br>4-foot tall Bruce Lee fanatic and myself.  After a few<br>tornado kicks, a mock punch to my nuts and a lot of<br>posturing it was time to go.  <br><br>This experience opened my eyes to a country that first started allowing Westerners to enter in 1989.  Our knowledge and experiences are skewed by the boundaries and institutions we place ourselves.  It was wonderful to escape to a place where those boundaries are outside any field I have ever walked.  <br><br>©2003 TrekShare LLC - Reprint with Permission.