The Sliver Lining

When the bed has two wrong sides, how can you ever expect to wake up on the right one?

After tossing and turning all night, I was woken up by load banging at my door at 6:25, a mere five minutes before my alarm was set to ring.  It was Mr. K, waiting for me.  He must have been confused because I was told to be ready to go at 7:30 and I had yet to shower and get dressed.  We need to work on our communication skills.

While he walked back out to the car, I quickly showered, hoping he understood what I meant by the 7:30 AIS.  He had, and when I reemerged at 7:15, he was gone, picking up Viengmany and the government official that comes with us on village visits.

Today was day one of two Village Days.  Growing up, village day meant no school, a big swimming pool, unlimited buffet food and sunshine.  Laos hasn't caught on yet.

Suan Mone, our first stop, is over a two hour drive from Phonsavanh on the infamous winding roads.  The whole trip was brutal as we were squeezed into the back of the truck, sliding back and forth, and Mr. Government has no concept of an indoor voice.  By the time we arrived, I was thankful to have two feet on the ground.

Instead of doing CLTS training, we we visiting to deliver the monthly top up for village health volunteer cell phones (the ones they use to report cases of diarrhea) and get a head start on GPS mapping.  We learned during our visit to Phou San last week, that it is impossible to use the transect walk to double as a GPS activity.  

We set off with the VHV and began walking through one part of the village.  Apparently I missed the memo about recent rain and did not wear shoes with great traction.  It's a daily battle here to decide whether to wear shoes that are weather appropriate or suitable for easy on/off each time you enter a house.  Today I had gone with flip-flops, although my only other choice of chacos wouldn't have been much better.  Needless to say, I slipped, fell and got covered in mud (I hope it was mud, since mapping I don't know whats going on behind these village houses).  It provided a good laugh, but only added to the frustration of the day.  

After two more falls and more shit mud, I decided to stick to the road and not try and trek up to each house.  We were invited into the chief's house for a cup of tea and met his mother who was 98 years old!  As we continued our walk, people became interested in what we were doing and wanted to say hi.  One man gave me two cucumbers and I learned how to say thank you in Hmong. Over an hour later, we settled in for lunch at the VHV's house.  He had prepared pumpkin soup, a Hmong staple, and Viengmany had brought string beans, chicken and enough sticky rice to feed an army.  I stuck to the veggies and avoided the sticky rice (I need a break once in a while).  Towards the end of the meal, the VHV brought out a bottle of Lao-Lao and six shot glasses.  I should have expected it and unfortunately he remembered my last visit where I had been tricked into three shots of the poisonous whiskey.  Luckily, I tried to explain that I didn't feel well and with another 4 hours in the car ahead of us, I didn't want to be sick.  I had successfully weaseled my way out of the Lao drinking game for the first time!

We helped clean up lunch, said goodbye and loaded back into the car.  Ban Leuk was an additional 45 minutes on death road and after being berated by Mr. Gov as to why I hadn't eaten any rice at lunch, I was happy when we pulled in.

At this point, the muddy ground had dried a little and it was easier to participate in the mapping.  We followed one of the VHVs around her part of the village, stopping quickly in her house to go over some of the new cases.  Taking off his shoes, Lahthana realized that a leech had gotten into his sneaker and bit his foot.  I panicked a little and from then on was VERY cautious where I stepped.  

I had had it up to here with Mr. Gov at this point, but the last straw was when we were following a dog along the path and he picked up a piece of bamboo and struck it.  Both the dog and I screamed.  To be honest, I was so upset with him, I hardly made eye contact for the rest of the day.  

Because Ban Leuk is divided into two units, about 2 km apart on the road, we loaded into the car and drove down.  Mr. Gov hopped into the back of the truck on the flatbed.  Between you and me, I wasn't too upset when it started to rain.  He deserved it.

We walked through the second part of the village, now in the rain, and I tried my best not to slip again.  Taking shelter in the other VHVs house, Viengmany shifted to her consumer self and bargained with the woman to sell her some of her weavings for sihn material.  The rain slowed and we finished our walk.  Standing by the car, I started to get bit by hundred of tiny little bugs.  Noticing the blood that was now dripping down my legs, Lahthana said, "oh, those are the bugs that like blood."

Well, great.  I was ready to hit the road.  But, of course, we were invited in for Lao Hai and the next 45 minutes were spent scratching my legs and politely declining the rice liquor.  When we finally got into the truck, I was so happy to be heading home.

While we stopped a few times along the way to let people "pick some flowers,"  I wasn't asked to get out of the car until we got to a place that Viengmany kept describing as the cave.  Although the last thing I wanted to do was visit a cave, I got the impression that this place was somehow very meaningful.  I watched Lahthana buy an orange marigold and followed him to a building that was unlocked for us.  The walls were covered with photos from the war and I realized that this was the famous Tham Piu cave that was bombed by US troops who believed there were Vietnamese soldiers hiding inside.  Instead, the bombing killed over 350 people including children, monks and local villagers who had taken refuge inside. The pictures on the walls were graphic, portraying headless child monks and people with their intestines hanging out.  We decided to leave the "museum" and I followed Lahthana and Viengmany up towards the cave.

At the mouth of the cave.

What felt like 500 steps later, we were in the mouth of the 800 meter cave.  I realized that this was a very sacred spot to the Lao who are still haunted by the legacy of war.  The inside is dark and ominous, very spooky if you ask me.  Everyone took a moment of silence and we proceeded back down towards the car.  I was very happy I had put aside the events of the morning, to appreciate this very historic yet horrible site for which my country was to blame.

Inside the cave at a memorial rock.

The silence didn't last long and once we were back in the car, everyone was talking (in their not-so-indoor voice) and telling Lao jokes.  I watched the countryside pass by and it slowly become dark.  And by dark I mean very dark.  Despite our headlights there wasn't even light pollution from the surrounding villages.  

I looked up and saw the most gorgeous moon: a faint sliver of white light in the sky.  Between that and the thousands of bright stars, everything that went wrong today seemed to wash away.

We finally pulled into Phonsavanh and stopped so that I could get something to eat and not have to take the motorbike out later.  I treated myself to a banana roti and Mr. K dropped me back off at the office.  

I'm home safe and sound and clean.  Best part?  I get to do it all again tomorrow. 

Cartography 101

Monday.  

Started morning with a big cup of loose leaf chinese "bird" tea because 

1. I couldn't fathom Nescafe and 

2. Viengmany has ensured me that it makes you "tin."

Settled down at my desk to answer emails and begin reminding Lathtana that he needed to send me the GPS information we collected in Phou San so I can start trying Google Earth mapping.  This was at 8:45.  By 9:30, he had started downloading the GPS software and it was projected to take another 2 hours and 43 minutes to complete.  You got to love Lao internet connections.  

I decided to spend the rest of my morning beginning to prepare a presentation on English language and grammar.  We have decided that the next time I am in Xieng Khouang, we will dedicate a day to teaching english.  Although I am still waiting to find out exactly what my colleagues want to know, I've started by copying all of their emails onto slides and marking them up with edits.  This way, they can see their mistakes in context and the information is guaranteed to be useful.  Having never actually taught english before, it was interesting to try and figure out the best ways to explain some of the intricacies of the language.  To be honest, english is hard.

Lunchtime rolled around and Viengmany invited me to eat spaghetti with her.  Apparently she had been cooking for the last hour and wanted to compare our sauce recipes.  It was good, but I completely struggled eating it with chopsticks.  I realize it shouldn't be any harder than pho, but believe me, it was.

By the time we were done with lunch, the Garmin software had officially downloaded and Lathana was able to convert the information into an excel file.  Thanks to a woman I met in Vientiane who works for UNICEF, I knew of a website that would help me convert everything into a readable Google Earth file.  I followed the steps and after four failures, I was finally able to produce a map.  

Now not only to I calculate shit, but I can map it too!  I'm adding that to my resume.  

Check out my first map!!!

The work day ended and Youla invited me to go on a run, but having only flip-flops and heels, I declined.  I promised him we could go next time.  As soon as he left, the power went out in the office and I retreated to our front porch with my book to catch the last hour of sunlight.  The power returned just as it got dark.  I guess it was good timing after all.

Fall Without Foliage

Sundays are quiet in Xieng Khouang and this one was no different.  Shockingly, Youla was already up and about when I rolled out of my room for a morning cup of Nescafe.  Having told him the night before that I wanted to go to the market, he had prepped the motorbike and was ready to go.  Instead of riding with him, I took the opportunity to drive myself to the market, taking full advantage of the clear Sunday morning roads.  Helmet on, I cautiously followed him through the center of town and made it to the market without any problems.

I hadn't really thought about what I wanted to cook, but vegetables were a priority.  In the end, I bought an onion, some potatoes, ginger, a pumpkin, and some eggs.  In order to ensure the freshness of anything, its important to go to the market really early, and since it was already past 10, any hope of leafy greens was shot.  

We returned to the office and I started cooking.  Starving, I whipped up some home fries and scrambled eggs, using my new best friend, the electric wok.  Not sure how the cook the pumpkin, I decided to first cut it up, peel it (which was the hardest part using my huge butcher knife), and place the cubes into a the steamer tray above the wok.  I filled it with water and let the pumpkin soften.  I diced up some onion and ginger and threw it into the water.  Ten minutes later, my pumpkin was soft and I added half of it into the boiling water which was now a pumpkin ginger soup.  The rest I managed to puree with a fork and eat it plain.  While my soup boiled, I cleaned out the pumpkin seeds and prepared them for roasting.  I wasn't sure how they would do in the wok, but with a little oil and a dash of salt, they came out perfectly.  I had created the perfect New England feast, and with the weather feeling like fall, it made me feel right at home.  

After spending the whole morning cooking, I cleaned up the kitchen, stored all the food in the fridge and headed over to the QLA.  Youla was there working and there were a couple tourists in the visitor center.  I introduced myself and let them know to ask me if they had any questions.  Right now, the center is staffed by volunteers with varying degrees of english and I am trying to set an example for how to make visitors feel welcome.  It is quite the task as many are shy about their english.  

We hung out at the center then wandered around trying to find a french press and coffee.  It was a lost cause and I will hold out until returning to the big city at the end of the week.  Around 4 we returned to the office and Youla prepared some of the leftover noodle soup I brought back from Mr. K's on Saturday.  There are four types of noodle soups in Laos: pho, mee-ka-tee, spring roll noodle and another variety I have yet to try.  These were of the spring roll variety and the broth has a chili kick. It's pretty good and I doubt I could ever replicate the recipe.

I went back to reading my book for a couple hours until Viengmany called and told me she was coming over for dinner.  Its really sweet of her to be so concerned about me being alone.  She arrived around 6:30 and insisted we eat my pumpkin soup.  We heated it up and threw some of the papadums in the wok.  She actually liked the soup, or was just being nice.  While eating dinner we turned on the tv, which gets HBO here, and watched Soul Surfer (which should only be played on buses to Wellesley... thanks KGB) followed by another American chic flick.  It was fun trying to explain the jokes to her and getting to practice my minimal Lao skills.  I'll miss hanging out with her when I'm back in Vientiane, but she will be in the city with her family for my birthday and has promised to celebrate with me!

Monday has GPS on the agenda so stay tuned for my battles with Google Earth and Garmin!

Farang in the House

Friday came and went like any other normal day in the office.  The weekly planning meeting scheduled for 2:00 started promptly at 3:41 without anyone showing signs of concern.  By 5, I found myself back in my room, patiently watching the vice presidential debate as it slowly loaded onto my trusty overworked Mac.  As frustrating as it was to wait for each short segment to stream, I can only imagine how fast neurons in Ryan's brain were firing and the amount of contracting done by his forehead muscles.  Guy's going to have some serious wrinkles later on.

Having missed the group dinner excursion, I found myself eating pasta again, which was fine as I know I'll be back to sticky rice in no time.  Fell asleep watching poorly produced British comedy, but I remember it was funny.

Woke up, got dressed and flooded the bathroom in the showering process.  No surprise there, just another day in Laos! Was ready to go by 9:45 when Mr. Khampang (our driver) showed up to take Viengmany and I (and Youla and Lathtana) to his house for a meal.  Viengmany rolled up in her distinguished soccer mom mini van with her 11 month old son and after no signs of Youla, we left the office.  Lathtana declined the invitation in person and we drove to Mr. Khampang's sister's house in the middle of town.  We picked up his daughter and a whole array of food including 10 kilos of noodles for pho.  I felt bad as he clearly expected more people to join us.  I ran out of the car to the market to quickly buy some apples so I didn't show up empty handed.

The 45 minutes drive out to Mr. K's house was beautiful.  He lives in Pong village but stays in XK during the week for work.  His house stands on a set of pillars and is one very large room with a kitchen area on one side and the rest open and lined with bamboo mats.  The village is very organized, with fenced off gardens and rice fields surrounding the perimeter.

Walking through Pong Village.

We sat down on the floor and were presented with our first course.  I really didn't understand how much food was going to be served but having a Jewish mother and grandmother I should know to come to any event on an empty stomach.  First round included Lao style papadums which were delicious and some of my apples.  Feeling like I had already eaten enough, we were presented with another tray of food, this time the noodles.

Since Youla and Lathtana didn't come, they joked I had to eat three bowls of pho, but that was not going to happen.  I added the noodles to a bowl, threw in some greens, poured in the soup and squeezed a lime on top.  It was really good! I still struggle to maneuver the chopsticks in one hand and spoon in the other, but such techniques will take time.  

Preparing vegetables for pho.

The last tray of food was brought out and bowls of sticky rice were placed in front of us.  Although I couldn't imagine eating any more carbs, I followed suit, balling up the rice and dipping it in the various sauces.  There was also chicken and grilled fish which I tried.  The soup in the middle of the tray was delicious, but on closer inspection contained two chicken feet, talons and all.  I took some anyways.

Despite assuring them that I was "Im Lai" or very full, they got me to eat more of the papadums before Mr. K's daughter took me on a walking tour of the village.  Worried that I would be too hot, I was given an umbrella to protect me from the sun.  She introduced me to some passers-by and I just smiled. We returned to the house and to a giant cucumber for dessert.  

Village Life.  Peaceful and Breathtaking.

Viengmany's son was getting ready for a nap so we loaded up the truck and got ready to leave.  I was fascinated by the dried garlic we were bringing back to the city and the rice sheller that Mr. K used to mechanically clean the sticky rice.  They asked if I wanted to buy some but since I have no idea how to cook sticky rice, I said no thank you.

Holding a bunch of dried garlic.  Smelled so good!

We returned home by a different road after touring a steel plant, where the workers were busy laying a new cement floor.  I was confused by the stop, but have realized there is no point in questioning anything that happens here.  The ride back was longer and bumpier but through the rice fields which was serene.

Laying down a cement floor. 

 I got back to the office and found Youla watching football.  I gave him the large take-away bag of food that Mr. K's wife had prepared.  It was officially nap time and I quickly fell into a sticky rice induced coma.  

No certain plans for the rest of the weekend, but I'm sure there will be an adventure to be had!

DJ Phetmany

Thursday morning started with an early alarm and a desperate need for anything caffeinated.  While one might assume that in the land of SnakeBomb I might be able to get a good ole' cup of joe, think again.  Coffee as we know it does not exist.  That was until I found out about the Plain of Jars Cafe.

Picked up at 7:30 (I don't understand why we leave so early when the meeting is already set up and scheduled to start at 8:30), I literally threw myself in the backs seat of the truck and we went to pick up Lathtana.  When he got in the car, I seized my chance and practically begged him to let us find a coffee shop before heading to the hospital.  He happily obliged.  

Our first stop was the cafe, which wasn't scheduled to open until 9.  Who wants their first cup of coffee at 9?!?  The guy inside, busily watching a football game, told us that if we waited 10 minutes, he might be able to brew us a cup.  We said we would come back.  We got back in the car and changed our strategy: french press and ground coffee.  And yet, after driving through the Hmong and Lao markets, we were unsuccessful and 15 minutes later found ourselves at Plain o' Jars.  

Everything was going well and the machine was spurting out what smelled great.  As the barista was finishing my coffee I turned around to say something and in that split second all hope for a good morning was lost.  Almost a quarter of a can of sweetened condensed milk had been added to the cup and its sucrose thickness had ruined everything.  I wasn't going to be a diva, and we were now pressed for time, so I took the cup and got back into the car.

A couple sips was all I could muster before my morning became a wish-wash of caffeine/sugar/fake milk induced migraine.  Lets just say I was happy when the meeting ended and I could get back to the office.  While everyone else joined Bounsong for a celebratory luncheon and cracked open a couple BBL, I forcefully declined every drink and then retreated to the darkness of my room to work.  Although solitary, its actually a good and quiet workplace.  I give a whole new meaning to living at the office. 

The staff convinced Bounsong to stay the night and promised a great happy hour, complete with unlimited BBL, grilled meat and Carly's spaghetti.  When I emerged from my room, a grill had been purchased and the smoke from already charring pork was seeping throughout the office.  I waited for Viengmany and we rode over to the market so I could buy some vegetables for tomato sauce.  $1 later I had a bag of tomatoes, onions, garlic and carrots to spice up some tomato paste that I was weary of opening.  We were unable to find all of the ingredients at the market and Viengmany drove me to a real grocery store which was fabulous! I was able to purchase oatmeal and raisins (my new breakfast staple) and finish the pasta shopping list.  

We returned back to the office and the noise of several happy hour-ers watching the much await Lao v. Brunei football match.  I left them to their reveling and set to work in the kitchen.  I soon realized that no one had any interest in the pasta and I was simply cooking for myself.  Thank goodness because I really couldn't stomach any more fish sauce.  I chopped the onion and diced the tomato with the largest butcher knife I have ever seen before turning on a hot plate that was my one cooking implement.  In the end the sauce turned out great and I was able to wash it out and reuse it to boil water for pasta.  

Dinner success!

A welcome change from sticky rice!

I dished out a bowl and joined the wild crowd.  They quickly poured me a big glass of BeerLao on ice and made sure I got the last drops from the bottle.  Those are considered lucky and the drinker will be rewarded with a handsome boyfriend.   Oh Laos!

Having finally recovered from the morning coffee disaster, I slowly began to partake in the festivities.  It's not really like I had a choice in the matter however.  Beer is forced upon you and you are expected to drink it like water. Nevertheless, one thing led to another and we ended up deciding to have a raging dance party in the office.  I was sent to grab my computer and officially thrust into the role of DJ.

BBL in one hand and a shank bone in the other.  Just your average Happy Hour!

I hate playing DJ in the states, but here the stakes were low so I thought I would give it a go.  Breaking out some speakers we started with "Hotel California," which they have been begging me to play for a week.  They know all the words.  From there we payed respect to Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, Avril, Cascada, Madonna and Rihanna.  It was rough but they loved it and danced all night long.  (Fear not, the playlist entitled "World Education Knows How To Party" has now been transferred on 3 USBs).

I ended up break dancing on the floor and have forever won the hearts of my Lao co-workers.  

Youla busting out some moves.  I laughed all night long!

"Significantly more sober than everyone else" Phetmany for the win!

We finally called it a night and promised to show up to work in the morning. Thirsty Thursday and BBL hangovers are not going to become part of the routine. 

Viengmany and Lathtana! We officially survived week one of shit.

Calculating Shit

Today was the much anticipated village CLTS training.  After spending Monday and Tuesday in a meeting room, running through the steps and practicing different scenarios, everyone was ready to put it into motion.  I left the office a little before 7 and we picked up Lathana and one of the district trainers and headed to PhouSan, one of our RCD target villages about 40 km from Phonsavanh.  When we arrived, we parked outside the house of the village chief and introduced ourselves.  Some of the villagers pulled me aside to teach me how they grind corn for animal feed.  Its a lot harder than it looks... especially in heels!

Pouring the grain into the mill. 

Pouring is one thing. Grinding is a whole other story!

Returning back to the crowd,  I witnessed a bare bottom child squat right in front of me and openly defecate.  I guess thats why we were there.  That being said, I should probably explain CLTS.

Community Led Total Sanitation is a unique approach to implementing hygiene and eliminating open defecation in rural communities.  Through a process known as triggering, the villagers will come to their own conclusions about community sanitation, and if all goes well, want to build their own latrines.  In PhouSan, a village of 120 families, there are 20 toilet facilities.  As part of our project, we hope to raise that by atleast 50%.  CLTS has been conducted worldwide and is very effective at stimulating behavioral change.

The first step in CLTS is introducing yourself to the audience.  While the facilitators are there to guide the process, they are by no means lecturers.  Behavioral change does not come about through being talked at.  It is important to tell the villagers that you are not there to change their actions, only to evaluate the current situation.  Its also critical to remind them that the facilitators are not financially responsible for building the latrines, but can act as consultants if necessary.

After determining the purpose of the visit, villagers are asked to take the facilitators on a transect walk.  This walk should stop at the schools, houses, areas of open defecation and water sources.  Today, many people joined in on our walk and were interested in what we were doing.  I was the videographer all morning so I followed many of the village leaders as they pointed out which houses had toilets and which did not.  Along the way we also stopped where we saw signs of open defecation.  The main facilitator would ask the group "Who's shit is this?" and "Why is this here?"  At this point, the villagers became very aware of their behavior and many were embarrassed.  We put a cookie next to the pile of OD and showed how easily it can be transferred when a fly moves between the two.  The villagers were disgusted, everything was going well.  As we walked, Lathana recorded all of the important sites with a GPS so I can start working on the Google Earth imagery of the villages.

The beginnings of our village map.  

The walk brought us back to the chief's house and we stood in a large group in the open area outside.  The next step was to map the village.  Villagers used tapioca powder to represent the boundary and roads in the village.  Next, they added colored cards to indicate where the school was in addition to the houses.  Different colors represented houses with and without latrines.  Finally, we asked the villagers to mark where they openly defecated.  Using saw dust, they made little piles that covered a lot of the map.  On some of the mounds, they placed leaves, representing bushes.  On one edge of the map, one man put a row of ten little piles all covered with leaves.  When we asked him what he thought, he said it was good, that everything was orderly.  Eventually the villagers realized that they were living in each others shit. This was the ah-hah moment.

Woman admits to open defection behind her neighbor's house.  Its all fun and games...

Man adds shrubbery to defection row.  At least it was organized!

After mapping was the activity entitled "Calculate shit." And they did just that.  Using rough approximations, the villagers estimated that they produce about 888,000 kg of shit per year.  Shocked, they then calculated the annual medical bills spent for cases of diarrhea.  They found that the average family spends about 1.8 million Kip on medications for diarrhea, thats almost $250!  With the shit calculated, eight families came forward and signed up to build latrines.  Thats nowhere near 50% of the village, but its a start.

The women looked on as we calculated shit.

As a final activity, we had the villagers play a connecting game and enforced the idea that open defecation travels.  Children were happy to hold up the cards and everyone got a little confused, but in the end, they understood.  Proper hygiene and the use of latrines is essential to a healthy village.

The village children all wanted to get in on the connecting game. 

The kids were able to order the consequences of OD.  They also thought the pictures were funny!

We thanked the village for having us and came back to Phonsavanh for lunch.  We ate at a pho restaurant that also serves mee-ka-tee, a XK specialty.  It has more flavor than pho and despite the crunchy pork chunks, I quite like it.  After lunch, we returned to the office for a meeting with James and Bounsong before I headed to the QLA to check in on Thoummy and progress at the shop.  The scarf supply is dwindling and we are having more problems fulfilling the multiple steps in the supply chain.  I have my work cut out for me on this one.

Me and the Hmong baby I played with this afternoon. She is only 1 month and 5 days old.  The villagers all thought I was too old to not have one of my own.  I think not!!!

I'm heading to dinner at Nisha's tonight (the great Indian place) with James and Bounsong before they leave tomorrow.  Last night we all got pretty tipsy off BeerLao at the grill restaurant (yes, I went back two nights in a row, this time I was an expert!) so tonight will not involve any Lao forced drinking games.  All in all a great day!

Love, Pet

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.