It's Saturday morning and the day started quietly - the neighbors calling each other as they went to the Wat, summoned by the booming of the large drum. The monks walked past my house, silently walking in bare feet and carrying their metal begging bowls filled with sticky rice and different kinds of curries.

It's now about 7:30 and the sounds are different - loud music and the whirr of air compressors inflating the bouncy castles. The Si Khai boat races are happening today and by 9 am, the temple yard of Wat Meuang Wa will be filled with people. And at noon, the traditional long boats will be racing.

The tradition of boat racing goes back a long time. During the Buddhist Lent, people are supposed to follow the "Ha Sihn" or the five basic Buddhist precepts more strictly - no alcohol or other drugs, lying, naughty activities, stealing or killing (some people are vegetarian for the three months) - and they should stay close to home and work in the rice fields. While modern life is a little different, the world is quieter during the rainy season; fewer cars on the road and there are only wedding parties if it is essential. At the end of the season, there are many Boun, merit making ceremonies at the temples, which include the above reference temple fair.

And the boat racing. The legend is that the Naga, snake spirits who live in watery areas, also lie low during the rainy season but at the full moon in the tenth month, they are ready to have a little fun. The Naga King had protected the Lord Buddha from a thunderstorm when he was in meditation under the Bodhi Tree and since then, all Naga follow Buddhism. The boat races and special offerings (floating little boats made of banana leaves, filled with flowers, candles and incense) are dedicated to the Naga spirits. And the boat races have a special function - people in villages teams practice during the last month of the rainy season and then compete up and down the river up to the big boat race in Vientiane on the day after the October full moon (that was last Saturday). Not only do villages on the Lao side go back and forth and socialize but teams from across the Mekong river, also compete. In the late 80's, while I was working in a refugee camp in Thailand, I traveled to Nong Khai for the boat races - Laos was just starting to open up after its years of self-imposed isolation so the big thing was seeing the Lao teams competing on the Thai side of the river.

For some reason, the Si Khai races are after the big race in Vientiane. The main race has gotten much more corporate - the teams are not villages but mostly companies. In the past few years, I've skipped the main races but I do like my neighborhood races - they're entirely from villages and the event is smaller and much more fun. Last year, I sat at the finish line with some Lao friends, one of whom was the main sponsor of his village team.

This year, I'm not sure. In a moment, I'll be heading to my office and hopefully will get back for the afternoon activities.

Just a bit about daily life

Friends are always asking about what I do every day. It's difficult to give an example of just one day because I work in three areas of Laos. Our main project, doing medical upgrading and assisting people injured by unexploded ordnance, is focused in the south in the provinces crossed by the old Ho Chi Minh trails. I spend at least half the month there and end up taking the overnight bus to Vientiane, the capital of the country, for meetings and report writing. And then we have work in the north - strengthening the systems of providing UXO survivor assistance which includes immediate medical treatment as well as providing vocational training and economic funds for people who have been injured by unexploded ordnance.

There's a lot of travel involved. So on Wednesday, we returned to Vientiane by truck, an eight hour drive along twisty mountain roads. This is what the road looks like just north of Vang Vieng, one of the most beautiful places in the country:

On a travel day like this, I wake up about 5 am, usually with the intent of going for a run; however, I most often end up packing the things I had forgotten the night before. We planned to leave at 7 am - however during the evening people kept calling, asking to send things with us or trying to get a lift. So starting at 7, my field assistant went around collecting people and things. Then we had too many things, so I told them to unload some bags so we could put the rain tarp on top of everything. So about 8:30, we set off.

Our first stop was at a school, to meet the father of one of the UXO survivors we helped. The child had been taking medication so I wanted to check that he was still doing all right. Problem solving done, we continued on, stopping at another village to check in with another UXO survivor. As usual, we had lunch in Kasi followed by four more hours of driving to Vientiane - where it started to rain. Got home at about 7 pm. I wanted to conk out right away - but NaNo was going to start at midnight. I stayed up and starting writing at midnight. And that was my day!

I'm planning for a lot of writing for November. First, I've vowed to post to this blog daily, cause there are things I like about blogspot and other blogs on blogspot so why not? And I'll still be participating in NaNoWriMo as well. I live in a place where the days get cooler in November and its dusty and dry but the real thing that makes November feel like November for me is NaNoWriMo.

It's going to be a crazy month. We have a big guest coming next week, I'll have to go to the project sites both in the south and in the north, and try to write on top of all that? We'll see how it goes. Always up for a challenge.

In Vientiane

Since my last post, I've been down to the south and back up here to Vientiane. I took the overnight bus in both directions. Every time I travel, there seem to be new bus options. When I first came to Laos, the buses were old, uncomfortable and crowded and while there still are these old buses on the road, there are also newer options. Now, there are sleeper buses - double bunk beds, each bunk narrower than a single bed and two people can sleep on it. Fortunately, in both directions the bus was not crowded so I had a bed to myself.

back home, in time for more rain

kThe return trip always seems shorter. At least this time it was more comfortable - I got an economy plus seat, with no one next to me so I could put my feet up. Watched two movies on the flight, one of them excellent (Away from Her, with Julie Christie, based on a story by Alice Munro). It seemed like no time we were in Tokyo, where we had too much time, like three hours, to wait for the connecting flight.

And readjusting to time zones always seems easier in this direction. Well, I have to stay awake for work so I force myself through jetlag.

When I left Seattle, the weather was gray and rainy. Since I've been home, we've gotten the leftovers from Typhoon Lekima. At least the rain is warm, though a bit of it. This was the view from my bedroom window yesterday afternoon:

In the US for home leave

I've been in the US for a week now. The first few days I walked around in a total daze, but the jet lag is better and I'm feeling more accustomed to being here. I just finished a five day medical conference to get some CME. Very interesting and worthwhile but now what? Will stay the weekend in Seattle then head to California to visit friends in Merced and wander about San Francisco for a day. Visit museums and breathe in the fog.

The picture is of flowers in the Pike Place market. Most of the flower vendors are Hmong, who resettled around Carnation Valley. Last year, their farms got wiped out by floods and bad weather so I was happy to see them selling flowers again. Hmong are the most resilient people.

Monsoon season

This is a beautiful time of the year. I can't believe that after eleven years in Lao that I can still get so excited by the beauty of rice fields - but every day, it's like waking up fresh to the world.

Unfortunately, we feel climate change here. When I first moved here in 1996, the month of August was agony - rain all the time towards the end of the monsoon. My road was ankle deep in mud and I couldn't go anywhere without getting soaking wet. And nothing ever dried.

For the past few years, the rain might start really early before stopping in northern Lao. These past two weeks, it's been hot during the day with a thunderstorm every other day which threatens to tear up the rice plants from the field.

Paddy rice was cultivated in water because it keeps the pests down and has higher yield than rice planted on the hillsides in the mountains. With the water low, the worms and other bugs can get at the roots of the plants, decreasing the yield. If it floods, the rice plants can't survive if they are submerged for more than a day.

The life of a rice farmer is difficult at best, even without the new extremes in weather.

Rainy season

This past week has been the usual frenzy, drove from Salavan to Vientiane on Saturday. Yesterday, I ran around trying to do some laundry, house cleaning and exercise. Did spend an hour at the health club though did not go swimming - too many kids in the pool. Today, I spent a wild morning in the office - although I had a plan about what I would do in the few hours, my boss called a meeting. Final rush to get to the airport where I fly up to Xieng Khouang with a training team who will be doing a workshop on livelihoods development over the next few days.

Once I got home, I walked in circles. And then laid down for a nap most of the late afternoon. Good to be back up north.

It's been raining a lot in Salavan - everything is every shade of green. This picture is from the front porch of my house where I spent the few hours after work on Thursday, reading and gazing at the raindrops.

No pitchurs today

It seemed that every time I stepped out of the house, the rain would zero in on me. I tried to go for a run in the morning - that lasted about five minutes before I ran back home. It continued thunderstorming for a few hours. Later in the afternoon, I brought my umbrella (which usually guarantees that it will not rain) and checked in all visible directions for rain before leaving the house. The sheet of rain sailed in from the direction hidden behind my neighbor's trees.

I continued walking in the rain, pretty much getting soaked. After walking 3 kms. I went back to the house as the sun was peeping out. At the end of the runway, I saw some familiar forms so stopped to talk with a German couple who are running a farm in Salavan. Meanwhile, they let their kids loose on the tarmac - they ran into every puddle and churned up mud with their bikes so that in the ten minutes I talked with the parents, the kids managed to cover themselves with mud. I felt clean in comparison.

Because it was raining so much, I didn't take any pictures. And I think I've taken even monsoon pictures for the year anyway. Or at least that's what I'm thinking today.

Anyway, it's been kind of a diddly weekend. We went into Pakse yesterday and interviewed some job applicants at a restaurant. Had lunch while waiting for the last person to show up (he left Attapeu at 6 am and finally arrived at 3 pm). I finished Harry Potter and the Whatever; pretty enjoyable. I appreciated some of the craft of writing - writing of action scenes, some nifty plot twists and filling in background for non-Potter fans (like myself) with a sentence or two rather than engaging in infodumps.

I also read A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled HOsseini. I liked this book better than The Kite Runner. Well, I liked the first 2/3 of the The Kite Runner for the same reason I liked A Thousand Splendid Suns - both books make Afghani history and culture come alive against the background of the political events. What I didn't like about The Kite Runner was the the bizarre events surrounding the return to Afghanistan at the end of the book - it was too unreal. But A Thousand Splendid Suns sticks with the real situations and how the constant war affected people, bringing out the worst as well as the best. The friendship between Laila and Mariam is well written and heartbreaking. The only weak points of the book is that sometimes the insertion of what was happening was a little rough and kinda didactic.

Moving bamboo

The first time I stayed in Chang Khan, Thailand, I remember the darkness on the Lao side of the river. At night, there was only the tree line against the field of stars. I asked the friend I was staying with why there were not even the lights of cars in the town. "Very few people in Laos have cars and there aren't any roads. Most of the towns on the river use the river."

Things have changed - there are still the slow boats that go up and down the river, sunk low in the water because of the weight of whatever they're transporting. And bamboo is cut up river and floated down to Vientiane, where groups of people working together haul them up on the levee and made furniture, baskets, matting and fencing from the bamboo.

The daughter of a friend of mine missed one question on her final high school exam. The question was "What is the most important kind of wood and why?" She wrote "bamboo" and listed all the reasons why. The correct answer was "teak" because it's expensive and is exported (however, the profits from teak go to only a few). But bamboo - you can't go through a day without touching something made of bamboo, whether it's a floor mat, a sticky rice basket, the house you're living in, a fence made of bamboo where you're hanging your clothes to dry. It's an egalitarian kind of wood.

Bamboo on the shore. In both pictures, the city on the opposite bank is Sri Chiengmai in Nongkhai Province.

Weekends

Weekends never last long enough. I did have a good deal of quality time with house cleaning, organizing my house, washing and ironing. Yes, even in Paradise, we have to do all that. My landlady "helps" me when I'm out in the field. She feeds the cats, washes the dishes and gets into the main part of the house, insisting that she is cleaning. I can never find things after she has helped me. So this weekend, I found the return plane ticket that had gone missing from last year (now I can't even get a refund), half-read books that she had placed in shoe boxes and expired medicines.

Sigh. There's not much I can do other than contemplate beauty. So a few beautiful pictures of my bicycle trips on the weekend are in order.

It's the monsoon season and everyone's planting rice. It seems that people are planting later this year - I think because the nonirrigated fields are not getting enough rain. I've lived in Asia for fifteen years and have seen the cycle of rice that many times. I never get tired of the miracle of the brown hard laterite earth turning green with rice plants.

Happy Friday

I've been running around toooo much with most of my weekends fractured by long train or bus trips. But this weekend, I'm not going any where except to lie on the couch and finish reading the Harry Potter book, followed by as many of the other books in stacks that I can get my hands on and my eyes around.

Today was spent in office work. I try to avoid that as much as possible but it has to be done sometimes. In the afternoon, I visited the nurse trainer who organizing a nursing management course to work out the syllabus and the schedule with her. She's one of the most organized people I know and we've put together programs together for the past ten years so it was a pretty enjoyable visit. I left the hospital feeling satisfied that these nurses will learn things that they'll be able to use.

I wanted to take a picture of the Setthirath Hospital but my secretary who accompanied me, started having some contractions (she's 8.5 months along and having Braxton-Hicks contractions) so we just returned to the office. Later, I took this picture instead of exercising - I just ate dinner and returned home.


A funny, but great, craze that's been sweeping Lao and Thailand has been aerobics. When I first arrived in Lao, I'd go running in the mornings and most folks thought I was daft. "If you want exercise, feed some pigs." Of course, I was not about to buy some pigs but that didn't stop people rolling their eyes. But as the economy has gotten better, most professional people have transferred the farm chores and rice planting to their country relatives. And they have started to get tubby as a result. So a lot of hospitals and social groups have gotten into doing aerobics several times a week.

Around Phonsavanh

I haven't posted any pictures for a while, just haven't had the time when I've been near a fast internet connection. I took this picture when I went for a bicycle ride when I was in Xieng Khouang. At the start of the rainy season, it rains heavily for a short time then the sun comes out and the air is so clear. I like the way the bamboo springs out - the branches look like the tails of frisky young animals.

This picture only about an hour away from my house. The distant hills are about 20 kms away, to the west of Phonsavanh. There's a long of "progress" in Xieng Khouang but there still are quiet places. Ban Vieng, the last village I rode through didn't have electricity and although they had to carry their water from wells, there was water to carry. I stopped and talked to folks and finally had to beg off offers of meals and drinks.

One sobering thought is that later, as I was going though the UXO statistics over the past few years, I noticed that there had been several UXO incidents in Ban Vieng. Even though the war ended over thirty years ago, people's lives are still at risk.

Shadows and Light online

There's an interesting writing contest at the Clarity of Night website. I originally saw the notice at my favorite writing group, Musemuggers and thought I'd give it a go. My submission is here

What happened after the previous entry

I was so eloquent about the start of the Buddhist Lent in the previous entry that I was really shaken by what happened later on in the day.

As I was driving back from the health club, two teenagers on a motorbike rear-ended me. Fortunately, I was driving really slowly. One of these things I'll never forget is hearing the thud of the motorbike hitting the back of the car and looking up in the rear view mirror and seeing the driving of the motorbike hitting the top of the trunk.

Surprisingly, of all the possibilities present, the realities were not so bad. The kids only had cut lips, the police came quickly, followed by the kids' mother. And the insurance guy came to the site and declared the boys at fault for following too closely, a common Lao practice.

I was really shook up though. Since I've lived in Asia, I've seen so many horrible accidents and have lost friends to the flow of traffic. It really could have been much worse.

When I first visited Lao in 1994, Vientiane was a city of creaky one-speed bicycles. There were a few motorcycles then, but they were old and covered with rust and not capable of much speed. As years went on, the roads filled with motorcycles bumping over the rutted dirt roads. The city started to pave the roads which allowed bigger cars to start dominating the streets. The Volgas and Moscowitches gave way to newer used cars. Now, Landcruisers and sleeker modern cars create traffic jams - and when there's no traffic, they race along like maniacs.

The kids' motorcycle was of the new generation of bikes - cheap bikes from China. It disintegrated on the road. I was surprised that my car, a ten year old Korean knock-off, survived with its plastic bumpers.

Anyway, I hope that the rainy season retreat will really mean more mindful driving and fewer accidents.

Buddhist Lent

Tomorrow starts the season of the Buddhist Lent, called Khao Phansaa. During this season, everyone is supposed to be on their best behavior - no alcohol or drugs, no fooling around, no weddings or other loud parties. We had a happy hour at the office yesterday, so we started discussing what we were all going to abstain from over the next three months. For me, no alcohol and I'm going to go back on a high glycemic index diet, exercise daily and lose weight. I've done that before and both my glucose and cholesterol were in much better control. The only problem is in keeping it up - recently, between both work and travel, it's just been too crazy.

The rainy season is mainly a time for introspection. It follows the period of time when the rice has been planted, but people should not be traveling because they should be preparing for the coming year. Monks are supposed to stay at their home monasteries so they do not walk in the fields and kill the tiny animals by stepping on them.

Unfortunately, with modern times and development, the principles of the rainy season are not followed as carefully as before. People have parties and there are even weddings during this time. When I first came to Laos, everything grew quiet during the rainy season; there were few motor vehicle accidents because people stayed at home and did not drink. Now things continue much as before, with some of the elders following the principles of the Buddhist Lent.

Well, life is...

...still carrying me away. Don't have nearly enough time to do the things I have to do. And then there's the things I should do. And a small portion of the day devoted to what I want to do. Job satisfaction? Don't ask.

However, today we had an incredible preparation training for a workshop we're doing next week. The consultant is a good friend and we work well together. I could see the smoke coming out of people's ears, from having to think so much. But I know that it's good for them!

Change of seasons

It can get unbearably hot in Asia - but seems worse than usual this year. Thunderstorms raced across the country during the Lao New Year. A strong windstorm in Khammouane blew down over 100 houses. But after those atmospheric theatrics, the weather calmed.

And grew hotter. The headline story of the Vientiane Times reported on the heat wave, how afternoon school sessions may have to be cancelled for a week because the students were using their school books to fan themselves and they could not attend to lessons anyway.

This evening, the sky blackened and I rushed home. I often like to go to the gym and dawdle downtown afterwards to eat dinner, but tonight I decided I didn't want to drive in the mess. They've been repairing the streets so the danger of potholes on unlit roads is made worse by motorcycle drivers weaving between cars in traffic with their lights off, old men pushing wooden carts filled with scrap metal and plastic bottles, and people driving in shiny SUVS trying to push you off the road.

The storm arrived with high winds and lightening. But it lasted only a few minutes. The cool air lingered. I'll sleep well tonight for a change

A walk around town

Salavan is small - even smaller than Phonsavanh. And it feels small - like today, I went for a run in the late afternoon. In some places, it's very ugly - everything is new because the entire city had been destroyed, totally leveled during the war. Other places, the central part of the city and the areas by the Xedone River are nicer. Teak houses and meeting halls that were built right after the war.

I started off from behind our staff house/ office, off the road into the bushes. A few moments later, I was on the strip of the old airport - small planes used to land here until Lao Aviation cut off the road. Now, it's a place to fly kites and to play badminton.

I ran to the end and past the house that I plan to rent. A few steps later, I ran into (almost literally) into Dr. K, who owns the house. We talked for a few moments about when they'll have the house fixed up and I can move in. I'm very happy about that, because the nightclub next to the office is not endearing itself to me.

A few more steps and my cell phone rang, so I talked, in Lao, with my friend while all the neighborhood kids gathered around to look at a foreigner talking on a cell phone.

I continued onward, deciding to stop in the market to get a phone card. While there, I meet one of the people from the Dept of Education - haven't seen him for a year at least, but he said that he's seen me running. He told me that our education staff were in town, which I hadn't known.

I left the market before someone else recognized me and stopped at a pharmacy to get some aspirin. The woman at the pharmacy asked me if I lived in Salavan and I started talking about our project; turned out she was Dr. K's wife.

Onward - I passed a house which turned out being R's new house. He's one of education staff and he and the drivers were sitting outside so I had to sit with them for a moment. By now, it was starting to get dark so I left. The last mile of my run was in the dark, which is a little scarey because there are no street lamps and I wasn't sure if someone would run me over or whether I'd end up in a ditch.

The folks who went into Pakxe today returned with Indian food. Yummy - better than frogs or deep fried crickets any day!

Nightclubs in the Wilderness

Until I rent my own house here in Salavan, I'm staying with my staff in the combination staff house/ office. So I'm living in the same play where I work, with the people I work with. Don't have to commute far - it's kinda like telecommuting without the tele. Except for television - the guys love to watch the Thai soap operas at night, which give me a headache. But after a hard day at work which involves organizing training, editing training handbooks, and cutting through red tape, they're entitled to watching stories about the fast life in Bangkok.

Our house is just a little out of town - right in a short strip of nightclubs. The one next door is a shack with woven bamboo walls - which do nothing to cut down the constant pop music, mostly Thai. While they do play some songs that I like, from Carabao and Caravan (Thai alternative rock groups), I do prefer to hear the songs only once or twice... and my real preference is to be able to chose my own music.

Fortunately, they stop around 10 pm by which time I'm usually asleep with ear plugs in place. A few weekends ago, they started up the music and really cranked it up at 6 am. The only music that starts that early and plays that loud is for funerals; my staff though that was pretty funny and told the owner of the nightclub. Since then, they decided they would not start up so loud so early.

When I mention the music, my staff go "What music?" Since they all come from large families, I guess that noise is reassuring rather than a problem.

A Dark Night, Stormadly

"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."

--Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

A Dark Night, Stormadly

It was a dark and stormy night, filling the zombie's heart with glee, which even though, as everyone knows, zombies don't have hearts, or at least hearts which don't work in their assigned function of enriching the cells of our bodies, the space in the zombie's chest which once had housed a heart, had been an open pit of hunger and despair. Zombies are night owls and they don't beat around the bush when the sun does down.

The endless rain continued. And continued. As the moon rose, but the endless rain held back the romantic rays of the moonlight. The zombie continued with its mission, filled with glee but also thankful for the freezing temperature, the bite of the cold as sharp as a knife. It did not wish to putrefy any further until its mission was complete.

"Who's there?" Another dark form stood awkwardly by a sodden wall, The zombie floated by. In another life, it would have pounced on the human and would have done what zombies do to humans.

The zombie merged with the shadows. "If you don't come out, I'll shoot."

The zombie laughed and all the dogs in the neighborhood howled in response. "There's nothing you can do to me."

"That's good," the voice said. "I only have a banana for a gun."

Now the zombie shivered with fear, but laughed again to hide its despair. Bananas were good for humans, but were poisonous to zombies. He could just make out the form of the holder of the banana – smallish for a human, and bent-over in an odd posture.

The zombie said, "Just watch out. I'm a zombie, and you know what zombies do to humans."

"Oh, yeah," said the form. "Well, have I got news for you. I'm an aardvark, so how do you like those pickles." The aardvark threw the banana at the zombie, who fled, screamingly away but was not nimble enough on its feet. The banana hit the zombie's back, the potassium reacting with its flesh. For a moment, the dark of the underworld was lit with a flare that make all the shadow creatures run for cover.

The aardvark walked over to the smear decorating the sidewalk. "There goes a good banana," it mused. "I hope this zombie is really dead this time." He pulled out a cell phone, disguised as an apple and pressed a few wormholes. "I suppose we'll have to get an electroencephalogram just to be sure."

Another form trotted up to the aardvark. "Hey, Boss, waddhaya think the zombie was after?"

Fluffy the cat could be so dense, thought the aardvark. "I suspect the jewelry in the castle. That's what they're always after. Not very imaginative."

"You don't think this one's a decoy." The aardvark had not idea what Fluffy was getting at and wished that he would just go back to sleep.

"Decoy." The aardvark said slowly.

"Meow. You know, maybe the real thief is at the castle right now."

"That's why we should be going there right now, you idiot. What are you waiting for?"

Fluffy sighed and lay down so the aardvark could climb on his back. Fluffy ran like lightening.

They did not glance back at the zombie. Once the dark had descended again and the sounds of silence echoed loudly in the alley, the zombies fingers started to move. They dragged themselves away from the rotting arms, looked at each other, reached out with the pinky fingers to give a hi-five then scurried off after the aardvark and Fluffy.

It would be a long and rainy night, but at the end the forces of good would prevail. And the aardvark would find a name.

Flash Fiction Contest #2

Totems

They floated above her, translucent white shapes which undulated at the edges; they floated and they moved closer to her. Seos felt that the orange spot at the bottom of their forms could sense her; they seemed curious. For a long moment, she and the creatures who inhabited this planet, regarded each other.

"I come in peace," Seos whispered, trying to fill her mind with love. She could sense that they understood her, and the colors on their surface changed. She wanted to go with them.

"Go away!" Jasot yelled, running towards her. The shapes rose, like balloons and a moment later, they had disappeared beyond the forest of purple trees.

Jasot panted as he grabbed Seos's hand. "Are you all right?" She nodded, still staring in the direction the creatures had gone. Not creatures; they seemed very spiritual. They were Priests, she decided.

Jasot swore. "I bet they're sentient. There goes our commission." He shook her arm. "Did you hear me?"

She turned to face him. "Yes. They were beautiful." She felt embarrassed that the Priests had seen Jasot. They must think that she lied to them.

He turned and kicked out at a piece of metal scrap. Seos left him alone. They had been exploring this planet for six months and it was obviously too long for their relationship.

They avoided each other for the next few weeks. Jasot only informed her of power and food usage; they had only a limited time to make their fortune. And that did not look like it was going to happen. Benda was a beautiful world, a near Earth environment which could only be exploited if it were proved that no intelligent life lived on it.

The Priests had made their lives more complicated; she wanted to find them so she could explain.

#

When Seos returned from her latest exploration trip, Jasot was in a good mood. That immediately made her suspicious.

"Let me show you something." He reached for her hand but she moved away. "It's OK. We'll make our money back."

"What?" She gasped, feeling afraid. She could imagine that he had trapped one of the Priests and there would be no way she could apologize to them. Jasot led her into the cargo hold of the ship. A few weeks ago, it had been nearly empty and held only a few last cases of nutrient powder.

Now, a shape filled it. It looked organic, as if it had grown into this twisted shape on its own, but as Seos looked at it longer, she realized that three terrifying forms had been carved into the surface. Though they seemed to have wings, hands and faces, the combination was made by an alien mind.

"What have you done?" She turned on Jasot, raising her hands to strike his face but he pushed her away. She fell against the shape; the surface felt smooth and warm, like skin. She got to her feet slowly, staring at Jasot.

"What's wrong now? It's only a statue." He smiled; she imagined that he was calculating his profit.

"I think it was… is an icon, of religious significance to the natives on this world."

He laughed. "I've been thinking of those creatures we saw. How could they build anything like this? They haven't tried to communicate with us; I don't think they can be that smart."

"A court will have to determine that."

"That would take up precious time, and in the meantime, we could sell this, keep us going until we have our claim here." He wrapped his arms around her. "It will be all right. I know what I'm doing."

She couldn't find the words to express herself, so she stayed silent. Maybe once they returned to their world, she would be able to speak up against him, but now. They had only each other.

#

The time to leave crept up on her slowly and on the final day, everything went too fast. They were sitting in their couches going through the systems check when Jasot started flipping switches.

"What's going on?" He yelled at the monitor, then slammed it. Seos moved the cover off the observation port and saw them.

The Priests swirled around the ship, moving closer and closer. Seos felt thrilled to see them, but suddenly felt a deep despair. They were grieving over something.

"Strap up again," Jasot said. "I'm going to take off through them, if they're not going to get out of the way."

"No." She surprised herself. "They are probably more intelligent than we are. Hurt them and you could get tried for murder."

Jasot leaned back. "So what are we going to do?"

"Return the icon." Jasot started to take a breath then nodded. Seos jumped up to open the hatch again, and return the icon. She thought that Jasot had probably done the calculations and realized that theft and murder were not cost-effective.

As she attached the antigrav lifters to the statue, Jasot followed her. She was about to engaged the lift mode when he shoved her out of the way. "It's not attached right," he said. "Might have fallen on you."

They returned to the edge of the forest and stood it upright as it had rested for thousands of years. As they returned to the ship, the Priests drifted around them. Seos felt they had finally done the right thing.

gems as a second language

I've mined some Gems as a Second Language materials from a new magazine; however, I don't have it here with me. Instead, I received an e-mail from my doctor's office:

Please accept our apology, this is to inform you that Dr. S. will not able come to see all appointments on 3rd September 2006 due to the urgently thing requests.

Sounds serious. Shudder. They gave me an appointment for Monday, when - I hope - the Thing will not make any requests.

Heading back north

It's been a gorgeous day here, and we've gotten a lot accomplished. The training in Salavan is going well, just had a good meeting with the Champassak Dept of Health. Seems like the sun is shining everywhere...

Except I just talked to my boss in Vientiane. He said that it's been raining like crazy up north, and in Louang Prabang, the Mekong has risen 3 meters and looks like it might go over the levee in Vientiane. Groan. Some of the areas that the bus will have to go through tonight are low so I hope the road is not flooded.

Salavan update

It's been a good week so far. We've started our first project management workshop. My staff have been doing the workshop pretty much on their own. The Deputy Director of the Dept. of Health stopped by for a while and we ended up talking in the back of the room. He said he was pretty impressed by the content and the confidence of my staff (especially the female staff) in running the workshop.

Most of the hospital and health dept. folks are ethnic minorities. Salavan province has about 30 ethnic groups and the common language is Lao (fortunately). I've been spending time at the workshop, talking to everyone so they can get used to my strangely accented Lao. In fact, because Lao is a second language, we tend to talk more clearly and use fewer slang words so I can understand them pretty well and they can understand me.

Last thing - it's the end of the rainy season but the rains still come down heavy and for long periods of time. Tried to go for a run at the old airport this afternoon, and got soaked.

In Ruins

In Ruins

Seeing the tombs for the first time, feeling that surprise of discovery, could never be repeated. Marlene felt changed as she walked out of the forest, the sounds of birds and insects silence by the fog cover. The ground sloped towards the ancient courtyard, partially obscured by the mist until a breeze swept it away.

Marlene breathed, filling her lungs with moisture and decay. The tombs had been asleep for centuries, hiding secrets within their vaults. She would not be able to explore them for long, but even knowing the futility of her desire, she entered.

The carefully manicured path led her through a cherry orchard and around a lake. She knew that each view had been chosen carefully to illustrate both the beauty and impermanence of nature. The fog returned, swallowing the sounds of her footsteps, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She felt alien to herself, to be in this land, without reference.

Her watched chimed, reminding her to return to the entrance. "Tee-shirt, mister?" The skinny youth stood at the gate, carrying a closet's worth of clothing on his arms. She tried to recapture the silence of her walk but the motorcycle-taxi drivers gunned their engines and she breathed in exhaust.

She found her driver and sat on the back of the motorcycle. They passed through the kaleidoscope of vendors selling soft drinks and posters along the road. Marlene left the park, and the descendants of the emperors who had built these ruins.

I'm still kicking around Laos. Our project was renewed for two more years and we'll be working in the southern provinces of Laos - Salavan and Champassak. At the same time, we're still providing medical funding and follow-up support for people injured by unexploded ordnance in Xieng Khouang and Salavan. I'm still running back and forth between the provinces of the north and south. Yesterday, we drove from Xieng Khouang to Vientiane. Have a day to rest and write reports before continuing down to Salavan on Monday.

Sunday

I was up late last night, working on my medical anthropology paper, until my eyes blurred. The petanque crowd next door has quieted around midnight so it was nice to work in the cooling humid air. The quiet, humid air.

When I woke at 7 am, the crowd had started their morning games. I drank coffee under the shade of the mango tree and heard one of my cats, Alpha, meowing. She jumped up onto the fence between my house and the petanque players' house. I feel betrayed; I never knew that Alpha liked to gamble. I imagine that she lounges around, a glass of Beer Lao by one paw, and smoking a cigarette with the other, receiving leftover snacks from the participants.

After an exciting bike ride along the river, I left the my house, which is slowing transforming itself into an oven, and came here to the office where the trees keep my room cool and I can write and dream in peace.

Petanque

We're slowly moving towards hot season. In Vientiane, the wind barely moves and the new leaves of the Bodhi tree are still. They are the only sign of life in the temples, where in the afternoons, the tuk-tuk drivers lay down in their vehicles with their feet sticking out, snoozing as soundly as the dogs who sprawl out next to them in the thin strip of shade.

The only movement are the unemployed men who play petanque. It's a game, like bocce, played with metal balls. It's now night, when the village should get quiet. I almost drift off to sleep - and suddenly the hoot of the men wakes me up.

I've played petanque once. A friend had a long tailed boat, so we floated down to a sandbar on the Mekong, ate lunch and after pounding down the sand, had a level playing field. It was fun, mainly because it was a beautiful day with a cool breeze along the river, but I don't think I could play it 24 hours/ day and with the same intensity as my neighbors. To each his own, and they can take petanque.

I do wish they'd be a little quieter about it though.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petanque

Books I've read #4 and #5

Livejournal is on a security vacation, so I'm posting the review of my Book #5 and links here. Book #4 was Catcher in the Rye which I released at the Culi Pub in Hanoi last week - still no takers. I'm not ready to post that review yet. So here, I'm writing about my new favorite book, which starts like this:

When the phone rang, I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along to an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie,' which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.

I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the Long Symphony to its musical climax. Finally, though, I had to give in. It could have been someone with news of a job. I turned down the gas, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver.

"Ten minutes, please," said a woman on the other end.

I'm good a recognizing people's voices, but this was not one I knew.

"Excuse me? To whom did you wish to speak?"

"To you, of course. Ten minutes, pleasse. That's all we need to understand each other."

And so begins The Wind-up Bird Chronicles, by Haruki Murkami. It is a mesmorizing book written in the first person, of the strange life of Toru Okada. It all starts when the cat disappears. Was that the cause of it all or just a point of reference? Searching for the cat leads him into a well, and into himself. In the middle of all this, his wife disappears. In order to find her, find the cat, and even to find himself, he meets strangers who are drawn to him. There's another world of meaning and explanations behind this one and the question is - is a dream or is it real?

I liked the quote on the process of Murakami's writing at the bottom.

Some links to Murakami sites:
Biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruki_Murakami

Main "official" website: http://www.murakami.ch/main_2.html

The Year of Making Spaghetti, a short story: The Year of Making Spaghetti

Another short story: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/content/articles/050926fi_fiction

Random House website (This is cute because the web page opens on to his new book Kafka on the Beach, and has cats walking back and forth at the bottom of the page): http://www.randomhouse.com/features/murakami/site.php?id=xml/books/kafka/about.xml

Interview at Salon, in which he talks about alienation, influence of the West, and how he is intrigued by writing genre fiction, particularly the form of mystery: http://www.salon.com/books/int/1997/12/cov_si_16int.html

New York Times Book Review: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9800EED9133EF931A35752C1A961958260

Quoted from the review:
''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' does have its flaws, principally in its uneven design. Murakami has said that he does not plot his novels beforehand but lets the story reveal itself to him as he writes: it shows, especially in the way that neither Toru nor the novelist seems to know or care whether Toru's adventures are real or illusory. And the juxtaposition of the harrowing, all-too-real war stories with the marvelous, supernatural events in Toru's quest feels contrived. The war narratives were almost certainly composed separately and then inserted into the novel to support its grand aspirations.

Yet what Murakami lacks in finesse is more than compensated by the brilliance of his invention. As it floats to its conclusion, ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' includes an almost Joycean range of literary forms: flashbacks, dreams, letters, newspaper stories and transcripts of Internet chats. And no matter how fantastical the events it describes may be, the straight-ahead storytelling never loses its propulsive force. By the book's midway point, the novelist-juggler has tossed so many balls into the air that he inevitably misses a few on the way down. Visionary artists aren't always neat: who reads Kafka for his tight construction? In ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and one that would have lost a great deal by being tidied up.

Prompts from Daily Life

Walking around Bangkok is a prompt in itself:

Signages -
Massage parlor - "Thai Foot Aroma Oil Massage"

Restaurant - "Birds-eye View Eating-house."

Rental apartment - "Fully Furnitured."

Tailor - "The Bespoke Tailoring"

There are so many more. For fifteen years, I've been telling myself to remember to write them down, but if I have bags in my arms, it's difficult. It's like I've always wanted to get a picture of six on a motorcycle - there they go, down the soi - father driving with a kid balanced between his thighs, mother sitting sideways, baby in arm and two kids squeezed between her hip and the father's back. Never have a camera ready at those times, never.

A long time since the last time...

Haven't been posting very often here, but I'm still alive, still living in Laos. Took a trip to the US during October and spent some time in the Eastern part of the country - Boston, Chicago, Atlanta, NYC, upstate NY and then left from Boston. Although I grew up in New York, I spent most of my last years in the US on the West coast and whenever I go to visit the US, I usually land in Seattle, and head down the coast, crashing into Merced before I bounce back up to Seattle in time to catch the plane back here.

I missed the boat racing festival, not only for Vientiane but also for my village. It's fun when it happens but the build up is kinda agonizing - during the final month before the Big Event, there are many Bouns in the temples, big merit-making ceremonies. At the same time, the villages along the river have their races to select the boats for the race in Vientiane. These are accompanied by a lot of drinking and traffic accidents. That's not fun.

For those who follow the weather, it is now the dust season - a cold wind comes from the north. The mornings are cold and foggy and once the sky clears, it's an incredible shade of blue. It may seem strange that it would get cold in a tropical country but the temperatures can get below freezing in Xieng Khouang, and considering that there's no indoor heating, that can feel pretty cold.

Landmines Conference

I noticed that I haven't posted for quite a while. I've mostly been writing on my Livejournal pages where my daily journals are on public access. I also have stories and stories fragments on my friends list.

I've been in the US for a week, which has been useful. I worked at my home office for a few days in Boston but have been in Chicago since Weds. I've been attending a conference on landmines.

My next stop is Atlanta, followed by New York, then returning to Boston before returning home.

Some photos

We returned from Xieng Khouang on 31 July, a drizzly cool day in the mountains. Mists streaming through the peaks, like a river of air. We stopped at a Hmong mini-mart to buy corn and cucumbers, not only the special of the day, but the only things they were selling that day. The Hmong are mountain people, and prefer to live along the sharpest ridges which have the most spectacular views, and with the solidity of the mountain behind them. Sometimes, the view isn't so great.

Rainy Season Doldrums

At the end of the hot season we all wished for rain to break the relentless heat. Now, we're experiencing the relentless gray and rain of the monsoons. The Mekong surged during the week I was up in Xieng Khouang. When I returned, it looked like it had moved up the side of the levee by about two meters. The water looked like a brown liquid metal as it slid past, carrying trees, styrofoam, and things we don't want to know about in plastic bags.

But the rain. I feel lazy when it's time to wake up and the water is pounding on the roof. The clothes on the line are lazy to dry. I would like to ride my bicycle but I'm lazy to get wet.

This is also the season called khao phansaa, the Buddhist Lent. Monks are supposed to return to their home temples and not to travel around. In the past, monks often went on pilgramages where they set up a small mosquito net tent in the field, and talked to the villages, giving teaching and also learning about the hardships. In the monsoon season, they are supposed to stay in the temple and focus on learning and memorizing the scriptures. Another reason for the monks to do this is that they avoid stepping on the life that is re-emerging from the mud such as snakes, eels or frogs.

For Buddhists, the monsoon season is the time to attend to the crops. Also, people are supposed to be reflective and to follow the ha sinh, the Five Precepts - try to avoid drinking, telling untruths, sexual misconduct, killing or stealing. During this time, one should not have loud parties or weddings - and if someone has a wedding, everyone avoids mentioning that it is an emergency situation.

Anyway, at my office, we are being good this year - no alcohol. A group of us is trying to lose weight. Another group is supposed to organize Friday afternoon games for motivation. We're trying to get people to pledge money to motivate the people in these groups - the pledges will go towards our fund for the medical care of people injured by unexploded ordnance (UXO). And if the groups don't make their goals, at the end of the three months, the members of the group will donate money into the UXO patients fund.

Anyway, it's what we call "Fun Raising."

Back again?

What's the story? The Flying Dutchman, where the ghost ship appears and disappears and then reappears? So I guess I should rename this blog the Flying Blogman. I don't have much to say that I haven't already written in the Mekong River Reviews, so I'll just upload some recent pictures.



Lao people are becoming more interested in health, as public health improves and the average life expectancy rises. Recently, the National Rehabilitation Center had a health fair, and a lot of folks came for the music provided by the students at the School for the Blind, the handicrafts sale, and for basic health checks and health information. It was fun as well as useful.

Visible again

OK, so things seem to be working again. The road crew blocked my road into my house because they finally put the coat of tar down. My cat already gave birth to 3 orange kittens by the time I got home, alleviating my fear that she would give birth in a neighbor's attic and then get locked out (happened with the last set of kittens). My paraplegic patient may have decided to accept vocational training. And Blogger seems to be working now.

Some of the other links that I like on Blogger, which I can now view:

No Star Where - about the life of an expatriate in Vietnam: http://nostarwhere.blogspot.com

Linksaplenty - where to go if you need to look at something new to stimulate your mind, writing, or whatever: http://linksaplenty.blogspot.com

That's enough for now. My alternative blog is:
Mekong River Review

Hot Times

I finished my first exam today. I feel better already. Health management on Wednesday, and then I can return to worrying about the other things in my life. Will my pregnant cat have her kittens in an appropriate location (not in a neighbor's attic)? Will the village ever finish the paving of the side streets (they started after the rains started so they are often working in knee deep muck)? When we will be able to start work on the new project? Oh, the list goes on.

Right now, the sky is clearing. After the test, I sat by the pool for a while, then as I was riding my bicycle home, the sky opened up. I ducked into an internet cafe for an hour until the rain stopped and the mists started to rise from the pavement. Now the sky is clearing and the sun's starting its descent to the west. The Mekong is brown and flat.

Health Systems Management

When I visited my old clinic in California, my former colleagues thought I had gone bonkers. I told them that I was working on my Master's degree in 'Health Systems Management.' I have to admit that I agree with them; when we worked together, I just hated the whole concept. I considered myself to be a clinician - willing to work overtime to see more patients, leave my day job to drive an hour to make sure the homeless clinic had a medical provider, set up health clinics at migrant farmworker camps, etc. When we had discussions about financing, quality assurance, and cost-benefit analysis, I went to sleep; it never seemed relevant to me.

Since I've been working in Laos, health systems management has grown in importance for me. I realized - quickly - that if I train medical staff in some skill, and then they can not use this skill, then it's as if they never had the training at all. However, when we have planning meetings, medical staff usually say that they need medical training, and don't address other issues.

An example: One day, in 1998, I was talking with a lab technician in a district hospital. I asked her how many Gram stains they were doing (a staining procedure so you can see bacteria to determine if they are Gram + or Gram - so you can start the decision tree about the probable causitive organism). She said that they didn't do any because she didn't have the chemicals. I remembered giving them a set of premixed chemicals and after rummaging in the cabinet, I pulled it out (unopened!). She then sheepishly admitted that although she knew how to do the procedure, and had the chemicals, the doctors were not ordering it. This led to other discussions that involved changing habits (doctors were not accustomed to ordering other tests because they didn't have the opportunities before) to advocating to patients about the need for the tests to guide treatment.

I quickly realized that upgrading medical treatment is very complex. So to pick up the skills to make the changes in behavior sustainable, I've been working my way through this program.

So next week, I'm taking the exams in Health Economics and Financing and Health Management. For the past few weeks, after studying for an hour, I've been rewarding myself with a half hour of writing. I'm trying to do the same thing this weekend.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

With all my pictures on the sending of good luck for Lao new year, I forgot yesterday's date. I guess that shows how concerned I was about it.

http://skepdic.com/paraskevidekatriaphobia.html has an interesting set of articles on Friday the 13th, starting off with the following:

"Paraskevidekatriaphobia is a morbid, irrational fear of Friday the 13th. Therapist Dr. Donald Dossey, whose specialty is treating people with irrational fears, coined the term. He claims that when you can pronounce the word you are cured."

Nothing unusual happened yesterday, other than I was able to find time to update my blogs and write some. Of course, as I write this, it's still Friday the 13th in the US!

"Haut nam" - for good luck. 

Giving good wishes to the Mor Phone for a good new year and long life. 

Blessing the hearth of the house, using the sticky rice cooker as the symbol. 

"Get off the bad luck of the last year and receive the good luck of the new year."  

Rice field in Phou Kout, where we spent one day of the Lao new year holiday. It's the site of one of the scenes of my story, "The Memories of Old Men." 

4 Baci ceremonies and a funeral

The Lao new year started on 7 April and finished on the 19th. The way to celebrate the new year is to visit, go to a lot of parties, and go to Baci ceremonies. It was entirely too hot to stay in Vientiane, so I went up to Xieng Khouang. The elevation of Phonsavanh, the capital, is about 4,000 ft. so the weather is cooler, drier and breezy.

I arrived on Friday after enjoying a few baci ceremonies in Vientiane. These ceremonies are done at various times of the year for a variety of reasons. The purpose of having a Baci is to call back the minor souls of the body. Depending on who you talk to, there can be three (which includes the spirts of the body, the mind and the emotions) or as many as 32 (one for each of the sense organs and etc.; I've never been able to track down a full list). For various life events, you need to hold onto your souls (weddings, after an illness, arrival to a place, departures, moving to a new house, etc.). In addition, ceremonies for the new years (which starts in December with the international new year, continues through the new year of the Chinese, Tai Dam, Vietnamese and Mien, and then finishes with the Lao/ Thai/ Khmer new years in April) are times to "get off the bad luck and welcome in the good luck."

For most of the ceremonies the schedule is similar. The Mor Phone (wish doctor) recites Buddhist prayers, might recite a fable or a story about one of the past lives of the Buddha and recites good wishes for the person who is having the Baci as a way of enticing the souls to return. This is followed by a free-for-all while all the guests tie strings on each other, bestowing wishes on each other, both normal and outrageous. Fruits or cakes are placed in one of the hands of the recipiant while the other is held in a wei-position of giving thanks. The Lao like to use two oranges (or two eggs) and a banana (go figger).

I was finishing the review of a grant proposal at about midnight, when I started to hear weird noises outside my house. Later, I heard a car at my neighbors. My neighborhood in XK is quiet. The following morning I learned that a doctor I've worked with over the past eight years had been run over by a drunk teenager on a motorcycle. That made the rest of the holiday very sad, though it made myself and all my friends appreciate our time together.

For the rest of the holiday, we went to visit friends in Phoukout, in the western part of the province. My friends' relatives emptied their fish pound so we had a feast of grilled fish. The kids enjoyed themselves by throwing water on everyone, including people driving on the road.

The water throwing comes from the idea of washing away the bad of the past year while purifying oneself for the good of the new year. It usually starts gradually, with a young person pouring a few drops of the blessing water, used by the Mor Phone during the Baci ceremony, down the backs of the elder people or over their hands. As the heat of the afternoons wears on, everyone throws water on each other.

In the evening, my neighbors had another Baci. Since so many people return to their home towns during the new year, the Mor Phone conducts part of the ceremony in the kitchen or in the house using the sticky rice steamer as the symbol for the hearth.

The following morning, there was - you guessed it - another Baci ceremony at a friend's mother's house. That was enough, I had strings tied up to my elbows on both arms (they have to be left on for three days, then you can start picking them off, but they have to be untied, not cut).

At the end of the weekend, I went to visit my deceased friend's wife. That was very sad. I couldn't stay for the final day of the funeral and the cremation.


The following two sites tell a little bit about the ceremony and have pictures.

http://www.lib.uci.edu/libraries/collections/sea/seaexhibit/laoam.html

http://www.savannanet.com/baci.htm

Chanpheng

Lao New Year - still!

Lao New Year officially started yesterday. In the morning, people walked to the wat to offer food to the monks then wash the cheddhi housing the ashes of deceased relatives. Many people have Baci (string tying ceremonies) in the late morning. That's when the fun (?) begins - haut nam meaning throwing water, using the same word for watering plants. It usually starts with using a tree branch and flowers to dip in perfumed water and sprinkled on the guests for wishing of good luck. Later, one pours a little bit of water down the back of a guest's shirt and rubs the back of the shirt to rub in the good luck. Just a little bit later (and just a little bit more alcohol later), the container with the perfumed water gets dumped on someone's head. That's the signal to pull out water pistols, complicated Flash Gordon-style water canons and hoses for a free for all. Everyone gets drenched. The next step after that is to take the water fights to the street.

Yesterday, I drove home from the office and cut down a side street. Some kids stood in the middle of the road. I stopped and one young lady asked if she could give a small water offering. So she patted some water and perfumed talcum powder on my face. Another girl joined her and did the same. I didn't notice that a third person snuck up behind them until a whole basin-full of water entered the truck. Agghhh.

As I drove back to the office today, parties of drunk kids of all ages were throwing water all along the Luang Prabang road. My plan was to leave the truck then take a tuk-tuk, a small open sided motorized vehicle, back to the airport. I realized that the water fighting was not a good thing for my computer, so I called a friend who was making the circuit of parties and temples. So I ended up at the airport three hours early - but dry. I sat, drank a beer and wrote, even got in two hours of editing.

It's lovely up in Xieng Khouang now. The sky is clear, the stars are out and I'm happy to be in my little house. The kids are doing an amazing job with planting all sorts of flowers around the house. And I was relieved to find that Khamdee had not cut down the big trees behind the house, just trimmed back the branches a little.

Lao New Year

Although Lao New Year doesn't start - officially - until 14 April, everyone's in party mode right now. Last night there was a party. I went to a party at Friendship Hospital today, and my calender is getting marked up with all the events which will be occurring over the weekend.

Anyway, Sok Dee Phii Mai (good luck in the new year!)

I've got to spend some time rememorizing the new year song.

Start of the rice planting season, Xieng Khouang Province. 

Rice 

Vientiane

Strange weather here. At this time of the year, we're starting to go crazy from the constant dry heat. Any movement of the air stirs up the dust, and sometimes a cloud will fly overhead, discharging a few hard drops of rain which plop in the fine dust, making small craters. This year, a gust of cold weather from China blew in rain clouds and now it feels like the month of May, clammy and cold with drizzle.

The Mekong River has grown, and the mysterious island which appeared in February and now back in the depths. The beautiful old boat which was destroyed when it tipped over, has been dismantled. A few old boards remain where the pier used to be.

It's good to be back home, but I still feel a little disoriented. I enter my house and walk around. Is this really where I live? The strangest places are those familiar ones that we return to after an absence.

Bangkok

From the frigid drizzle of Seattle, I traveled 20 hours by jet to a muggy Bangkok night. Everything suddenly seems much more alive, even on Sukhimvit at 1 a.m. Tomorrow I have to get my Lao visa at the Embassy then Vientiane the following day. Meanwhile, I'm bumping into walls as I endure jet lag for the second time in a month.

On the flight, I did feel organized and awake enough to work on my new WIP, added 5500 words, and it's starting to get good. Once I got to the hotel, I couldn't sleep and wouldn't let my characters sleep either so now over 11,000 words. Also got some time for editing "Time and Chance" but I failed at NaNoEdMo. Better luck next month, where my story lines will probably all meet and implode like matter/ anti-matter right at the time of Lao New Year!

Rainy day in Seattle

It's a very rainy day today, but I'm happy enough. The Seattle-ites have been craving rain; it's been a dry rainy season. I've been writing - the rain helps the flow of ideas. I guess they are water-soluable. When I've been editing my science fiction refugee saga, "Time and Chance," I've also been thinking about how things got the way they did. Now, I'm working on a new book which includes the events leading up to the war, the resistance movement, ending on an uneasy peace. That will be continued in the book I'm working on for 2YN which deals with economic development - how people look at quality of life vs. economic growth and how they achieve it. The trade in scrap metal and explosive remnants of war and its consquences will be a central issue in the book. The bottom line is that people, even when they move out into the universe, will likely remain the same - same noble traits and same tragic flaws.

I'm back in Seattle, came up here earlier in the week on the train. Moua's family had a party at the house - Mee made "Lao spaghetti", khao phung. The sauce is made up of coconut milk, chicken and spices (particularly Lao chiles) over fermented rice noodles. Olga, one of the medical assistants from the clinic, joined us as well as Neng, another Hmong medical assistant. I'm not sure what Olga thought about the noodles, but she enjoyed the Corona beer, so the dinner was cross-cultural. Moua sent me to the station, then a few minutes later, Yong Pao, his younger brother studying pharmacy at Fresno State, arrived with another crowd to say "good-bye". Yong Pao is in his third year of school and is the leader in the class. He wants to minor in community health and maybe get a MPH. That would be wonderful.

The train from Merced to Sacramento was very late, but that wasn't really a problem since the Sacramento - Seattle train was late by 6 hours. A freight train had hit a car on the track in Santa Barbara, killing the person in the car. The trains behind it were delayed. So I worked on "Time and Chance," and watched the other people. There were two homeless guys who came in on bicycles to warm up; it was cold and raining outside. Many people went to sleep; they came prepared with sleeping bags and pillows. One couple took pictures of some of the sleeping people; maybe that was one reason I couldn't sleep.

The train ride itself was beautiful, though I had kind of scratchy feeling you get, like there's sand under your skin from having been awake for two long. I shared lunch with four other people in the dining car. At first, we talked about general topics; I really didn't want to say anything about myself because that can get weird sometimes. But they asked... and after I explained what I had been doing in Lao, one of them did something I never would have expected. He said, "Thank you for doing this work." I was really touched.

In fact, on this trip, strangers that I talk to are much more knowledgeable about the world and supportive of overseas work. In the past, people voiced very negative reactions towards Asia - "Those people don't think like us; they don't value life..." etc, etc.

Monday, I'm back on the plane to Bangkok then Laos. Should be quite hot there.

Shaman at work. 

Good wishes for the new baby. 

I arrived in Merced on Friday, after a tiring trip - three hours extended into six. Bad traffic getting out of San Francisco, then then train was late and slow, all irritations further compounded by the rain. At the end of it all, Moua and his family arrived and that made everything worthwhile.

Many friends have been stopping by, mostly Hmong and Lao to find out how things are in the homecountry. On Saturday, I went to the one-month ceremony for Doua's baby. This is a picture of the shaman, one of Moua's uncles doing the soul-calling portion of the ceremony. Afterwards, everyone ties strings on the baby's wrists, and the parents' wrists to help anchor the souls in the bodies and to attach wishes of good luck and prosperity.

I've been talking a lot with everyone; they all have interesting memories of their lives. The children are amazing - the last time I was in Merced was three years ago; since then, the kids have really grown. It's always amazing - adults really don't change that much but you can measure time by how much the children change. Pao Thao's (Moua's older brother) oldest daughter is going to graduate from high school this year; she wants to study anthropology. I talked to her a lot about this; I think I surprised her by taking her so seriously. I'm not sure she realizes how special her perspective is, to understand her own culture and what has changed, what has remained the same.

San Francisco, part II

I survived the recertification exam, but I was amazed. For a poor peasant coming from the upcountry, it was real science fiction. The exam room was down a white corridor, lit by flourescent lamps, no shadows. Everyone was tuned into these computer scenes. I think next time I have to do this - in six years - they'll probably have cables that you can link into your nervous system. That will be for better interface; maybe they'll have us doing virtual reality CPR drills.

By the time I finished the exam, it started to get cloudy. I decided to see a film (one of the advantages that the US has over Bangkok) so saw 'Bride and Prejudice.' It was wonderful - Bollywood films, at baseline, are over the top, but this film really set the parameters for topness. Indian life is so much like Jane Austen - idle women, a lot of conversation and domestic intrigue - so making 'Pride and Prejudice' an Indian film was just perfect. The snobbish Mr. Darcy becomes Will Darcy, the owner of an international hotel chain, who doesn't like India to begin with an makes snobbish remarks about its backwardness. Elizabeth is Lanita, the firey second daughter of the family. James Whitcomb becomes Jimmy Whitcomb, a skuezzy backpacker. The greatest dance number was in staged in the market in Amristsar, perfect.

Today, I walked up to Golden Gate Park and found that the De Young Museum is closed for rennovations. Grrr! Nice walk though, kinda running through my memories of past San Francisco visits. Went to the Asian Art Museum, which has an exhibit of art from Ayutthya. I've seen many of the pieces before, both in the museum in Ayutthya and in Bangkok, but they were radiant in this exhibition hall. Museums in SE Asia are more like someone's closets - the pieces are crowded together, the lighting is poor, and the exhibits tend to interact more with the elements. Meaning totally natural - in the National Museum in Phnom Penh, the hall used to reverberate with the squeaking of the bats, and the air was odoriferous due to the same. So maybe the Asian Art Museum surroundings are more sterile (literally and figuratively) but it's kind like seeing the neighborhood Buddhas dressed up for a special occassion.

To top off the day, I saw another film - the "Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." It is a quiet, understated documentary about parrots. That's all I can say about it.

San Francisco

Just when I thought I was getting over jet-lag, taking the train from Seattle to SF knocked me back into the old time zone again. It was a productive train ride though - studied a lot of medical stuff for my recertification exam which I take on Weds.

It was a beautiful day for a train ride, could see all the giants of the cascades, first Mt. Rainier peaking its head out over the foothills, factories, subdivisions and broad fields of daffodils and tulips. The south end of Puget Sound was clear, a little choppy, a good day for the sail boats out there.

I was joined by a young man who got on at Portland. I got a little bit of a weird vibe but when he introduced himself, I retreated into my book. He just got back from doing missionary work in SE Asia for a particular better-not-named group. Because of the length of the train ride, I didn't get into it with him - Buddhism and animism are the religions in the region. Hands off! I think converting the 'ignorant masses' to the better path would be much better put to use if it were Buddhist missionaries working in the US. Enough said. I read many chapters in my medical text while he read the Bible.

I did have a pleasant dinner with two women about my age. When you sit in the dining car, you sit at the next open spot in a table until it fills up. So by luck, the two women were very interested in the work I've been doing and knew a lot about Asia already. I tend to be very quiet about my work because people usually change the subject quickly; I imagine that they are uncomfortable that what I might say would be difficult to hear. Since I usually don't say much, I was surprised and pleased that my dinner companions were so interested. The dinner restored a little bit of my faith in Americans.

jet lag report 2

Images:
I'm almost up to week 2 in the US, starting to sleep better, thought the whole readjustment schedule will likely be blown with the train ride down to San Francisco.

In front of a grim motel style apartment building on Rainier, I saw an old lady wearing torn beige coat over a shimmering Lao sinh! I greeted her in Lao and she almost fell over. She smiled so broadly, exposing her old, worn, betal-stained teeth. She kept asking me how I came to speak Lao language, hugging me every so often as if to convince herself I was real and not some genie trying to confuse her. In between she explained she had come to the US ten years ago. Her children had since married and she lived alone, which seemed strange for me, that Lao kids would not bring their mother with them. She wanted me to come inside and stay awhile, but unfortunately this is America, home of the clock. I'm not sure if it was a good thing that I talked with her, or whether she'll have strange memories later.

Later, at the bank. The manager is VN, we talked about her home province of Quang Tri, which was heavily bombed during the war. I have been there and visited many ofthe battle sites when I was consulting on a UXO curriculum. She had returned this past year and we talked about the damage of the war to the country. Next to us, I heard another bank mployee talking with a customer in VN.

Today, bus passed SCC. Old bizzarrely dressed man immediately picked up police on his internal fuzz-buster radar. "What they doing there?" A whole line of bike police. In front of SCC, there was a demonstration. "Bush, keep your laws off our bodies."

Later in the afternoon - walked around UW. The cherry trees are blooming and people were lying on the grass, taking pictures, hanging out. A lot of Japanese families were there, taking pictures to send back to relatives, making the connection between the US and Japan in the flowering of the trees.

Much later, saw "Hotel Rwanda" Great film, will review here later.

Jetlag report

The time at the bottom of the entry is the time in Vientiane - and the time my body is running on. So since it's about 5:30 in the afternoon there, I'm wide awake here in Seattle where it's 2 am.

The big event of the day was going to an Eritrean restaurant with some old friends. The restaurant was a shed but the food was wonderful, and the ambiance was appropriate with my state of jet lag.

I haven't been writing as much as I had hoped. Just experiencing, which is strange enough for now.

In the US

I've been in the US for home leave for the past five days. It's very weird - first of all, jet lag. The usual - can't sleep and can't stay away. I've been trying to keep myself awake during the day by walking around downtown Seattle, but I feel like I'm dragging myself from one double latte to the next. Had three today.

There's no place stranger than the familiar place that we return to. I'm see old places but they look different, subtle changes. It hasn't rained very much in Seattle this year, and it's strange to see the Cascades covered in green instead of covered with snow. Friends have changed, aged and I've aged as well.

In the next few weeks, I'll go to California where I take the recertification exam for my PA license. I'm also going to Merced where I used to work with Hmong refugees and Mexican migrant farmworkers. Will be going back to Laos at the end of the month.

In the meantime, I'm working on editing my NaNo novel, Time and Chance and cooking up new stories and poems. If I were so tired, I'd be inspired by all this. I hope I'll be able to put a few words together by next week!