Dinner Disaster?

I've been fortunate enough to travel a lot and meet what are said to be the friendliest, nicest, or most hospitable people on earth.  While I certainly have felt welcomed many places, the Lao people are different.  It's not because I'm farang, but it seems like they put in the extra effort to help me and make me feel at home.  Whether its my colleagues, who are always checking in on me and making sure I've eaten, or a street vendor who explains the contents of every single dish before I actually order something, these people make me never want to leave.

I spent all day at the training for facilitators of community led total sanitation (CLTS).  This was Day 1 of a four day program sponsored by World Education to train provincial and district health officials in the CLTS curriculum.  While most the the day was conducted in Lao, every participant took the effort to introduce themselves to me during the coffee breaks and I, in my broken Lao, attempted to respond.  The training was interesting and Viengmany and Lathana kept it upbeat with intermittent ice breakers including telephone, hot potato, and a song and dance.  We will be back in the meeting room tomorrow for our final day of training before we go into the field and perform the triggering activities in a village on Wednesday.  The theory behind CLTS is that villagers need to recognize the effects of Open Defecation on their own, and through several different exercises led by the facilitators, come to the conclusion that they need to improve village hygiene and build latrines.  More to come on Wednesday.

After a long day in the meeting I returned to the office and settled down at a desk.  I was planning on quickly checking email and then running out to grab some sticky rice and vegetables before watching the next episode of Sherlock.  Two hours later I found myself outside, aimlessly wandering the street looking for food.  The sticky rice place that Youla had told me about was no where to be found and I wasn't up for hauling out a motorbike and going to a restaurant downtown.  About 50 meters from the office I saw a sign for a restaurant and I took my chances.

The place was actually busy and I got quite a few interested stares as I entered.  I sat down at an abandoned table and hoped that someone would come take my order.  Except there was no menu.  I looked around.  At the center of each table was a stove, raised at the center and with a little moat around the circumference.  When the waiter came I tried to tell him that I actually just wanted rice and vegetables but clearly that didn't translate.  I resorted to pointing at one of the mysterious grills at another table and crossed my fingers.

Next thing I knew, the tablecloth was ripped off my table, uncovering a stove shaped hole.  A waiter brought a large basket of vegetables, tofu and a raw egg, a bowl of peanut sauce, a large bowl, spoon and plate of what looked like eggplant tempura.  Next came a charcoal stove that was placed in the hole and covered with the pointed cook top.  Finally, he returned with a kettle and a large plate of shaved meat with a couple pieces of questionable pork, or lard, I couldn't tell.  I just sat there.

What do I do with all of this?!?

Overwhelmed and slightly wishing that I had just stayed in with a PowerBar, I began putting the meat onto the grill.  Without trying to stare to much, I kept looking over at the other tables, attempting to figure out what the hell to do with the kettle and veggies.  I was able to grill the meat, and when dipped in the sauce, it was fantastic.  Witnessing my veggie struggles (and what do I do with the egg?!?), the owner/ friendly patron came over to my table, poured the water from the kettle into the moat and signaled for my chopsticks.  He began loading the moat with the veggies, making a sort of soup.  

I gestured at the chair opposite me and asked him to join me.  He obliged (mind you after finishing his cigarette and saying something that was apparently very funny to another table).  Not knowing what to say, I introduced myself.  Koy sue Phetmany.  Pen a sa samaht khong World Education, UXO.  (My name is Phetmany and I work for World Education).  He smiled and introduced himself.  Next I said Koy bohr passah Lao, which means I don't speak lao but is always interpreted as "Wow, that white person knows Lao, let's talk to her!"He turned to the table behind us, a very nice looking family of eight, and introduced them to me.  

He then proceeded to cook my entire meal.  Carefully stoking the fire, grilling the meat, adding the vegetables to the broth and hard boiling the egg, he was my lifesaver.  I was no longer the clueless farang alone at the restaurant.  He instructed me how to eat the soup ("gayt") and dip the meat and tempura into the sauce.  The questionable lard was placed at the top of the grill and used to rub down the grate.  It all made so much sense!

My chef for the evening! Khop Chai Lai Lai!!!

 Although I never thought I would be able to eat everything put in front of me, he kept feeding me even after I said thank you and pretended to draw a very full stomach with my hands.  At this point we had made friends with the table behind us and the husband, who spoke good english, wanted to know where I was from and what I do.  He works as an industrial engineer designing bridges.  And thank god because they need more of those up here.  

My savior chef excused himself, after I tried to at least buy him a BeerLao (he jokingly did the stomach full symbol with his hands), and I was left alone at my table.  The family insisted I have a glass of Beer with them and I was served by their eldest son, who the husband made a point to mention was single.  They asked if I was married and told me I was beautiful.  Keepers, right?!?

I finally finished my meat, soup, egg, vegetables, and tempura.  Although it had been a very awkward start to dinner, it was one of my best meals (and memories) thus far in Laos.  On my way out of the restaurant the family all said good-bye and insisted that I see them again.  I wished them good luck, congratulated the father on his big family and went on my way.

It's these little moments for which Laos will always have a place in my heart.