I didnt make it in last night. Out clubbing too late. From the safety of my veranda this morning drinking juice and coffee and waiting for my morning crepe, a delicious remnant of Laos French colonial past, its a funny story. Earlier in the day, I walked for several hours around the town, in and out of the shops, admiring the temples, sipping coffee at an outdoor cafe, listening for the accents of fellow non-Asians. In Thailand we are farang. Im not sure what we are here. Because Luang Prabang is so small and the tourists are all concentrated in one area, it sometimes feels like there are way too many us. Most of the fair skinned visitors are Europeans and Australians, with a large percentage French. But no matter ones home country, to order a baguette or croissant from a Lao server, you must speak English. This fascinating global world we live in... So, the point again is that I walked for several hours and decided to get a foot massage, even cheaper here than in Thailand at $5 per hour. At a street shop. A full treatment serious spa will set you back a cool million. Ive also realized that these shops are a great place to meet local gay men. Not hook up meet but to socialize. Make friends. So Im talking to the young man now working on me. No gaydar needed. His English is extremely limited, but every once in a while a sentence works and we make huge strides toward some sort of mutual communication. Its an exhilarating accomplishment to learn he is 25. We keep trying. He asked, I think, if I liked traditional Lao dancing. He is a performer, I think. Would I like to come see him perform tonight, I think. I just keep saying yes, yes, even when I am not sure what he is saying. We eventually made plans, with the help of another worker who could understand a few of the words in between our mutual communication. I cant say the name of my guesthouse in Lao and he cant read the English on the map I show him. This stuff is to funny to make up! Ultimately, he would come to my guesthouse at 9 oclock 30, as he said it. A downpour started around 9:20. I waited until 9:40 at the reception desk and told the man that if a visitor came, I would be in my room. Either the rain or our lack of communication might put this night to an early end. At 10 pm, there was a knock at the door. He had a late customer, but hes ready if I am. We jumped on the back of his scooter, I holding an umbrella above us, and headed out. Past the touristy area, past the outskirts where I had walked earlier in the day, past recognition... Where are we going, I thought? Eventually we pulled into a parking lot, not before his scooter died. More on that later. We walk in and its a nightclub. A serious Lao rock music night club with a band of 20 somethings on bass and guitar and drums. And not too bad. I can totally see Ben Socolofsky on stage, complete with hair cut and all. I kind of stick out. About 1-2 feet taller and at least 60 pounds heavier than everyone else in the club, not to mention 20 years older and with a complexion closer to lobster. But nothing is more obvious than the fact that I am drinking Pepsi and not BeerLao. Everyone raves about this stuff and drink it like water. It comes in wine sized bottles poured over ice. Here and in town, if we happen not to be in town at this club, bottles of BeerLao are served with a bucket of ice. Put it in your glass, drink a little, add another couple of cubes, and so on. It would seem to make the beer watery to me, but I dont like beer, so I cant say. And the mandatory sip I took, for fear of not completely offending with my drink order, didnt convince me to start. I kept checking my watch, not the least of which because the music was getting less enjoyable the louder it got. Yes, I am middle-aged. And what happened to pretty melodies!? too? But my biggest concern is that we make it back before the midnight curfew. Laos, or at least Luang Prabang, has a serious curfew. Violations are punishable by jail and tourists are especially targeted. You do not want to mess with Lao police who are notoriously corrupt- especially the tourist police. Read the blogs for the scary and recent stories of scams. So at 11:30 we head out to his scooter, still raining. It wont start. But then it does and we go. And then it quits. And we get off and try again. Over and over. The rain is messing with his old bike. Finally half way home, its dead and over. With all the starts and stops, it is now almost midnight. The streets are completely empty. Even if we could just push the bike home, we couldnt be on the street. The response of the police wouldnt be too help a stranded tourist but to put them in jail for violating curfew. Seriously. You should read the stories. There is a guesthouse up the block so, as bizarre as it sounds, we rented a room to get off the street until morning. $8 per night. And just as glamorous. Considering that I just drank two cans of caffeine laced Pepsi and the general fear of what am I doing here (!!!!???), I figured I wouldnt sleep a wink. But as we watched Thailands Got Talent: Grandmas Edition, just imagine awful and you get the point, I clonked out and awoke to the roosters. The guesthouse owner told my friend that there is a parts store at the end of the block. We pushed the bike there, bought a new spark plug and for $1.02, the bike was back in action. And by this time, I actually knew where we were. We could have easily walked home if it hadnt been nighttime. So there you have it. I didnt make it back home last night because I was out at Furbys Nightclub. And spent the night with a stranger in guesthouse to avoid arrest by the police.
Posted on: Tue, 22 Oct 2013 04:13:58 +0000
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