Don Det Notes, Continued

With my last post, Bière de Route (Road Beer) blog just went past 7,000 views! I would celebrate with a Lao-Lao shot...

I was supposed to call Ken today at 8pm (8am one day in the future for him) but Skype wouldn't open... Bo pa nyan.

Without wasting further time:

Friendship Bracelets

When you do something nice for someone here in Laos, they tie a little colourful string bracelet to your wrist as a way to say thank you. I noticed that trend in Cambodia too, to a lesser degree. I really like the concept.

I got my first bracelet (pink) in Angkor Wat after praying to a Buddha statue and making a donation. A Cambodian woman, all smiles, grabbed my arm before I could leave and tied skillfully the string while chanting softly.

I got a head rush from the sheer spirituality.

During my Bolivan plateau loop I stayed in a bungalow by the side of a small, quiet river. The place was very clean and calm and left a nice impression on me.

When I checked out at reception (a desk under a bamboo roof) the next morning I took the time to thank the staff for their welcome and told them how nice their place was.

The lady seemed very happy with my remark: she let out a very american "awwwww", grabbed a small straw pot hanging from the ceiling, reached inside and produced 3 bracelets, 2 bright yellow and 1 half yellow and half brown, which she tied softly to my wrist. She then joined her hands together to her chin and said a cheerful "Kup Chaï Laï Laï" (Thank you very much) to which I replied by joining my hands together up to my nose - the respectful height for a salute to someone older than you - and repeating my best Kup Chaï... they apparently don't have a word for "You're welcome".

I think the mother of the family actually makes them herself and to me it makes them even more significant and symbolic.

I received a lot of those bracelets while attending Don Det parties and weddings (there seemed to be one every week) and sometimes had to take them off because they were tied too loosely. At some point Ken remarked that I was starting to have a lot of them and compared me to Manni, a man from England that had been on the island for 2 years and was pretty much running Happy Bar.

"Have you seen Manni's arms? He has so many friends! So much time for so much friends".

On my last day on Don Det I was eating at the neighbors' restaurant (which had become tradition since I was feeling guilty at making Ban cook for me during her ever-rare time off) when I announced to them that I was leaving. The mother of the family seemed very sad and gave me another 3 bracelets and we took family pictures. The eldest daughter came to me and talked very softly in Lao for a minute - the grandma seemed intent on us getting wed one day - and the kids all laughed.

4 days ago I cut loose my bracelets. I was still carrying most of them to the point where I have a paler spot on my wrist where they were. I had to cut them because I got a new job dishwashing at a friend's bar and I didn't want them to get ruined by the constant water.

They had been a constant reminder of my good times now past and the ones to come as I sometimes struggle to get up in the morning.

Sweet shirt bro

We spend so much time focused on our appearance.

We're built that way. Can't help it.

I come from a family that's never had (that I'm old enough to remember) any real problems with money. I've always tried to look poorer than I actually was though. I think it comes from the fact that when I was younger some kids in my group of friends lived in a trailer park and I was maybe ashamed of the abundance of foodstuff at our house, at all my shoes and pants and shirts and gaming systems so I started changing what I presented to people.

They were the tough kids too. Survival instinct? If I don't look too much like a nerd they won't beat me up?

After that, throughout high school I'd wear army pants, loose t-shirt, black hoodie.

Pretty sure Kurt Cobain had something to do with it too...

We spend so much time searching for just the right article of clothing. We do it so much in fact that we congratulate each other on a fucking t-shirt we bought.

We didn't design it. We didn't sow it. We didn't have anything to do with the creation, production, shipping of that particular product. All we did was walk around on our free time in a giant area dedicated to stuff for our appearance and spend our money on it.

"Fucking sweet shirt bro"
"Thanks man"

I've said it, I've heard it. It gives me a honest feeling of pride and happiness. Yesssss, the dude at Soundcentral likes my new Stormtrooper t-shirt! I remember that day, I was looking for leftover weekend passes to the first Pouzzafest. It was sunny and I was full of pep.

Fucking ludicrous.

I have tons of t-shirts. I gave a lot away to charity before leaving on my trip, about 3 garbage bags worth. The ones left are - for the most part - band shirts bought in live shows. I'd like to think I bought them mostly to support the groups but in reality it's because of what it makes me look like when I wear it - that's why I kept them too, it's my favourite image of myself. Not the comic book geek nor the slightly-outdoorsy guy but the show-goer.

We spend so much time fine-tuning what our outside looks like.

Is it to hide what's inside?

Is it rather to showcase what makes us, us, without having to talk to each other?

What if we started to focus all that time and energy on something else?

What if we started to make our core beautiful?

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.

I don't believe in the concept of a soul.

I do believe in smiles though. It's one of my favourite things. I like to smile, I like to make people smile.

It's contagious.

It's free.

Don Det: The Lost Chronicles continues...

"I ordered steaaaaaaamed rice, not sticky"

The waiter nods and walks away. End of discussion.

The logic behind this: I was out of steam rice, you're still getting rice, yes? What's the problem? Just eat.

I love that. This waiter would get stabbed in Montréal.

This happened every week in our bar and is a reality in Laos restaurants. You might not always get the food you ordered. You won't get a warning. Sometimes, they totally ran out of food but you won't know unless you ask a waiter after about 2 hours of waiting.

I have identified two factors that influence this "eat this instead" outcome.

First: the Laos people don't prepare food for the future, don't over-stock. At the market they buy what they think they will need for the day. When they run out of food, no problems, let's just close the business for the night!
Second: Losing face. This is pretty much the worst thing that can happen in a person's day. It brings terrible shame upon a person and to avoid this they will ignore a problem (you will NOT get food until you order something else), find a debatable solution without asking you (let's bring him chicken instead of fish. Same same) or simply go bat-shit crazy, forcing you to back down (I have heard of the cook coming out of the kitchen with a broken bottle in his hand, ready for a fight). And so, instead of the waiter coming back to tell you they don't have what you ordered (seen as "we fucked up" from the waiter's point of view) they will just bring you something else or more accurately, nothing at all.

This has led me to witness a broad spectrum of emotions displayed by foreigners.

Stuff like:

It's not what I ordered but I'm hungry, fuck it. This usually ends with no further problems until it's time to adjust the bill. You see, the cook will usually replace the item with something easier (thus cheaper) to make but you will still be charged the previous meal's price since there was no communication between the cook and the waiter.

It's not that I ordered and I'm going to complain about it. Ah, 'murica. This usually ends with either the waiter simply walking away mid-sentence, or the waiter listening to everything you have to say with a composed face and then just walk away. Your table will probably not be served until it's time for you to leave.

It's not what I ordered. I WANT WHAT I ORDERED! Vive la France! This usually ends with the foreigner walking out in frustration or an argument that will go nowhere for an extensive period of time. Sometimes the foreigner will ask for a discount and he will never get it. I was faced with this situation once, as the barman and liaison between waiter and cook. The client would simply NOT accept that we did not have any pizza dough left and demanded that we make him one. I simply told him that he should go look for a pizza elsewhere.

It's not what I ordered and it's hilarious. This is my favourite one, usually happens when a young happy couple is the subject in question.

I love this attitude. What? Why are you complaining? There really are worst things in life, don't you think? Besides, you are white and rich, so fuck you.

To be more realistic the real reason is probably that Laos was poooooor for a very long time and it probably influenced the way they react to problems with a "Next Best Thing" attitude.

Another example of the "Next Best Thing" mentality:

One night I was cleaning the bar after closing time and found a Laos business card lying on a table. I picked it up and read the person's name and contact information simply hand-written with a blue pen on a white background.

Out of curiosity I flipped it to discover on the other side a genuine business card printed, complete with graphics and colours.

A big X marked across it with a blue pen.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, the information you want is on the other side! Don't bother with this"

Don Det: The Lost Chronicles

I have had a very lazy week. It's been raining every day it seems, and as a landscaper it means instead of feeling gloomy, I get to stay home in pyjamas and do what I please.

For those of you who are asking, it means looking at different visa types for asian countries (Japan!), pictures of cat on the internet (catbeards!), write this very line you are reading at the moment (4th wall!), work on other little projects (Mountain City!), read comics (Chroniques de Jerusalem, Calvin & Hobbes, Naruto!), and play video games (Civ 5, Fallout NV, Minecraft) or just sit around and de-construct my own mentality.

A healthy mix of productivity and entertainment.

When I first started writing Bière de Route I wanted to post a new text every week. Then during travels - as it was also my own personal journal - I started posting almost every day. I wanted to keep this up when I renewed my activity last week, but I don't have that much to say, and not that much of an exciting life at home, so I will go back to once or twice a week.

Enough details, here's part II of Don Det: The Lost Chronicles

"The Mystery That is Soulith"

Soulith at first glance: a Laos man in his fifties with skin darker than bronze, still fit, wearing nothing but old football shorts.

If he likes your face he'll take you by the hand, asian-squat in the middle of the road, and start to tell you your fortune by drawing signs in the sand and making himself understood with hand gestures. I've had mine done three times now and watched countless other fortunes being told.

Soulith, as I would later learn, is deaf.

The theme is always similar, and through drawings and hand gestures he makes you understand what he sees. I can summarise easily: don't worry about the past, you'll make good money soon. Don't travel during year X because the plane you are on will crash (usually the same year you or your girlfriend is pregnant). You'll get married in year Y. Sometimes he tells you the year you will die, but that wasn't very popular so he didn't do it often.

After a month on the island he has taken a liking to me and me to him. He's especially fond of my beard. If he sees me speaking with a girl he will mime taking my beard and putting it on his on face, then shoot us two thumbs up and start laughing.

Over my stay I was lucky enough to meet two beautiful and laid-back argentinas and Soulith approved of both of them. He would see me walking around with her, come by, check to see if her arms are strong and shoot me two thumbs up. And start laughing. Then he would point at his wrist where a watch should be and spread his hand open. "5 o'clock. Meet me at 5 o'clock" it meant.

I'd usually share a beer with him and then get a massage.

I also knew he approved of the ladies because he would show up at One More Bar while I was "working", sit down with us and start his antics: he'd point at her with the left hand, me with the right, then bring his two index fingers together side-by-side and gesture kissing on the cheeks with the his eyes closed. Then he would start laughing.

He'd follow up by slipping a pretend ring on the appropriate finger, point at me again with a cheeky smile and shoot two thumbs up. He would then direct their attention towards my beard and tattoos - and his lack of both. One night he had me draw on his arm with a pen as he sat very still looking proud as fuck until I was done (I tried to draw a bull skull but red ink on his ultra-dark skin barely showed, wasn't very nice, but he was still happy).

Through mimes and drawings I also learned that in 2009 he was at a party on another island (maybe a temple party on Don Son, those are crazy) but drank too much Lao-Lao and somehow cracked his skull open, and that is how he became deaf.

I was also told by another local that Soulith drinks a bottle of Lao-Lao a day.

One day he was walking around with a big brown envelope. He stopped at One More Bar and showed me a laminated letter of praises he received from a Thaï bridge-building company that hired him in the past.

When I inquired about the letter he rubbed his thumb and index together (the money sign) and mimed accumulating a great pile of it by putting his two hands together horizontally and separating them slowly. Then he started laughing.

A lot of locals thought he was a lunatic and an a little special, wouldn't take his money or let him in their restaurant. I was always very sad when I saw this but thought to myself "There must be a reason". It is very rare that a Laos person is blocked entrance to another's house as in Laos culture, every one is supposed to be welcome anywhere, anytime. Ken later informed me that it is because he is too much like a farang, a foreigner. It is okay for us to behave like we do, but not for him. The way he suggests to people that they marry is considered rude in their culture. He has forgotten his roots.

Over my 3-month stay I learned a good deal about him, more than most people I would like to brag. He was apparently a kick-boxer in the Philippines in his younger days. There is the business of building bridges, and his art of massages that I will cover in a later text... He must have been extensively trained (some say by monks) as there is no one else on the island (or that I've met so far) that does his type of massage.

The legendary man and his shorts

Dépaysagement: phase alpha initiée

Detroit airport. Looking for my gate to my connecting flight towards Tokyo.

Found it.

Neo-style whoa...

There must be 200 people here, and 90% of them are asian.

Sweet! (Also, d'uh)

Waiting to board, I scan the crowd. I don't get why people say asians all look the same. Their faces are full of character!

Overwhelming tablets and smartphones are being used.

Some insanely cute japanese kid is playing Jetpack Joyride.

Now, the tourists.

2 dudes that look like professional stoners are laughing it up.

The quintessential american is sitting next to me.
Faded blue cap of some college football team. Gray shirt, khaki shorts, old white Nike shoes. Freshly shaved. He's making deals on the phone - for realz.

Pretty sure I just spotted Tony Stark too.

Tokyo airport. Pretty awesome. What you expect of the japanese: uber clean, efficient, polite. There's smoking rooms, kids rooms, toy stores, a LOT o perfume being sold. Also, "day rooms" where you can shower and nap. Didn't have time to check it out though.

In the plane to Manila my seat neighbor is a 59-year young man named Soung. He sees my passeport and tells me I'm the first canadian he sees in 40 years.
Canadian demographic questions ensue.

Manila airport seems decades behind in contrast (but then again, so does any airport). A little bit chaotic. There's signs that tell people to form proper lines or risk bringing shame upon themselves. The staff and pretty much everyone is SUPER friendly, maybe because I'm white.

When I go to the toilets there's always 2 staff members that come in with me and hand me paper towels.

And then they murmur "tip tip?". To which I respectfully decline.