Sweet Thursday

The bamboo bridge over the Nam Khan

I have a confession to make. By the time I got around to publishing my last post, I had already begun to feel the tide turning on my feelings about Luang Prabang. But you don’t know that because I cut the last couple of paragraphs and pasted them into a new, draft document. This one. I wasn’t able to put my finger on exactly the what or the why of things, so I put it on the shelf and decided I’d work it out another time. Or not. But it left me scratchy and bothered, so that afternoon, as a means of distraction, I took my book, Sweet Thursday, and I went out to eat. And then something happened that was exactly the thing that I needed to happen.

But first this. On Wednesday, I took a group tour to the Kuang Si waterfalls. I walked to the top and back down again before taking a dip in the cool, turquoise water. Whilst drying off, I studied the selfie-stick users and the rock-pool poseurs and tried to fathom them. But I couldn’t. At the time, it didn’t seem much like anything, but now it seems it might have been the beginning of something. Later on that same day, I climbed to the top of Mount Phou Si to see the sunset with, as it happened, just about every other visitor in town. But the shuffling crowd, taking turns to get the perfect solo sunset shot, made me feel a part of something that I didn’t want to be a part of. So I left for a wander around the early stirrings of the night market. I went back to my room that evening and continued the writing that I had begun the night before. But I found it all a little sticky. What I had written so far was real and true, Mum, but now there was more and I didn’t quite know how it fit.

The next morning, Thursday morning, I got up especially early to go and see the daily ritual of the Buddhist monks receiving alms. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but as I approached Sakkaline Road and saw local men and women moving around in the pre-dawn light, whispering and lining up baskets of sticky rice on mats laid out along one side of the road, I began to feel a little like an uninvited guest. Despite being curious to see this 600 year old religious practice, I couldn’t help feeling that I was intruding on something deeply sacred.

I was working all this out when I was approached by gentle old woman who used her best sign language to explain to me that for 2,000 kip, that’s about 20p, I could buy a basket of rice and take my position along with the other alms-givers. I thanked her and used my own best sign language to explain to her that I was there only to watch. I was sure that taking part was a step too far for me, so I went and found myself a quiet, out of the way place to sit on the opposite side of the road.

As the ritual began and the darkness lifted, more and more onlookers arrived. Unsurprisingly, as the long line of orange-robed, barefoot monks was really quite something to see. They walked slowly and silently receiving alms from kneeling devotees and in return bestowing a spiritual blessing or merit. The exchange that took place between the devotees and the monks was something beautiful and was evidently a deeply personal transaction. But I felt ashamed. The bold and intrusive use of cameras and smartphones by the crowds was disturbing. The presence of all of us tourists, myself included, created a kind of spectacle that was at odds with the essence of this ancient ceremony.

After a coffee, I walked to the bamboo bridge over the Nam Khan and sat for a while. It was quiet there and it felt good to be away from the action. And I realised that was exactly what I needed to do. Sit a while. I had a long list of Laos must-sees and must-dos but I felt I was in danger of being caught up in something. I know I am a tourist, but it was beginning to feel like a dirty word and I didn’t like it. I wondered if it was Luang Prabang and the price of the UNESCO stamp of approval. Or if it was me. And if that was the case, what did that mean for the places I had been and the places I was going.

I know this is a ridiculous thing to say when I’m basically on a year long vacation, but I did, I took the rest of the day off. And I mostly sat and read Sweet Thursday. But as I was walking back from a very late lunch, I stumbled upon a place called Big Brother Mouse. I was reading the notices outside when Colin came out and asked me where I was from. And in this instance, England happened to be a very good answer. He asked me if I’d like to come inside and talk with some young Lao people and help them practice their English. Oh, yes please, I said. I would like nothing more.

So I spent the next couple of hours chatting with a group of Lao boys. But mostly with 16 year old Somthone, who just this year had completed five years as a novice monk. He showed me photos and told me what his life had been like in the monastery. Rising at 4am to chant and to meditate before making the alms walk. I asked him about the tourists and he said yes, some were disrespectful but he really didn’t seem as bothered by it as I had been. He was more bothered that during the last five years there had been no music, no sport, and no games. And that he had to be at least a metre away from girls at all times. This, he said, was to keep his mind focussed. Now Somthone was out in the big wide world and although he smiled, it was clear that it was quite an adjustment for him to make. Of course I completely fell in love with him and wanted to take him home with me. Or at the very least, hang out with him some more.

So that’s what I did. I went back to Big Brother Mouse at every opportunity. And met some amazing young men. Like Diamond. Who told me that was not his full name, which inevitably led me to ask what his full name was. Diamond Ring, he said. Of course, I said. He, like most of the boys, was from a Hmong, farming family in northern Laos and wanted to improve his English (and his Chinese and Spanish) to increase his opportunities. I found these young men to be ambitious, determined, funny, and extremely generous. And I had such a good time getting to know them. Discovering Big Brother Mouse made it difficult to leave Laos. Somthone and Diamond and all the young men that I was lucky enough to talk with changed everything. And Luang Prabang might still be my favourite of all the places I have been.

You can read the story of Big Brother Mouse here`:

http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/download/storyofbbm.pdf

Yesterday evening I arrived in Vietnam. Saturday night in Hanoi is quite a thing and I wondered what on earth I was doing here. But I must always remember that when I first land anywhere, it takes me a day or two to find my feet. Even now that it is Sunday morning, everything has already changed. I’m sitting on a cafe balcony overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake and have just had a coconut coffee. The roads are closed to traffic and Hanoi Old Quarter is Sunday promenading. I’m going to walk some more myself and maybe go and find Uncle Ho. And then tomorrow I’m going to Halong Bay. I’m going to be a tourist and it’s going to be okay.