TrekShare.com - Crashing a wedding in Laos - Part 1Written by Joseph Kultgen
Any reasonable person would think it slightly off-color to crash a wedding. When that wedding happens to be in Laos who is to say if it’s inappropriate or not? Whom am I kidding? I was well aware of potential drawbacks of dropping in on an event that I was clearly not invited. It wouldn’t be first time leering eyes would be cast upon me as I casually pressed my way up to buffet table. Let’s regress for a minute. Some people might not know what word "crash" means in first sentence. For those of you who have been sheltered from large community centers/bowling alleys for duration of your lives I can understand. It’s been my experience that a bowling alley in same venue as a wedding reception brings out largest proportion of uninvited guests or what we like to call "wedding crashers." That certainly wasn’t case here. No bowling alleys in Laos! In particular no bowling alley that doubles as a reception hall. This of course is not a researched fact, but I’m willing to bet anyone 100,000 kip that in two weeks you couldn’t find any sign of leisure sport of drunk. Lawn bowling doesn’t count. For all I know lawn bowling or "bocce ball" is their national sport eclipsed only by badminton and a game of hands-free volleyball played with a wicker ball. The name eludes me almost as much as skill needed to play sport. The truth is I was hungry. A traditional Lao massage administered by blind women in late afternoon completely wiped me out and I had just woken at 11PM from a 4-hour nap. If you’re still reading this you might wonder how does one get "wiped out" from a massage. Aren’t these things supposed to be relaxing? Yeah and no. Primarily NO in my case. It appears that muscles from my toes to my thighs don’t like to be physically manipulated away from bone as massage suggests. For a mere 30,000 Kip or $3 US – an hour massage from a skilled therapist seems like a great deal. That is if sometime in that hour you don’t burst all blood vessels in your face from wincing so hard. If my therapist hadn’t been blind I’m pretty sure she would have thought she was killing me. I would have felt like a puss so I broke out yoga breathing and prayed not to succumb to hyperventilation. Regardless, it was now 11PM and if I didn’t move from my guesthouse quickly there would be little chance of finding any late night eatery in Luang Prabang. Places tend to close after electricity cuts at 9PM. Things looked bleak upon leaving guesthouse. There didn’t appear to be any lights, tuk tuk drivers or for that matter people in site. There was, however, a clear path of music being generated from beyond cement building horizon. Sounded like a party. Parties oftentimes have food. So off we went. At this stage of story I introduce you to my friend Paul who spent most of duration of night within earshot of me. It became clear to me as we rounded first corner that music was definitely coming from this street. It was time to move beyond my usual sloth like pace caused by extreme heat and humidity. I could see a few motor scooters in distance coming and going. As we got closer it became evident that this was real deal. People were hopping on their Chinese mananufactured motor scooters in suits with beautiful Laotian women draped over backs. They sit sidesaddle because their silk skirts or "sins" wraps tightly down to their ankles. A quick decision was needed as we approached entry gate. Just walk in slowly and pretend I’m not with poorly dressed vagabond to my side. This wouldn’t work. We entered gate, saw about 20 people sitting at tables and another 30 or so under a wooden canopy dancing to live music. I noticed there weren’t any people doing drunken "hook-up" stager that are so prevalent at weddings in states. The vibe was comfortable, respectful and fully devoid of my wedding experiences. I made a b-line for 15-foot buffet table. It was definitely path of least resistance. It was obvious that everyone had finished eating at least 2 hours prior and table was in process of being taken down. Seemed fairly logical that I grab a spring roll and dowse it in some spicy papaya sauce before it becomes a leftover. Before I could even put first bite in my mouth a pair of women rounded table and handed us all utensils we needed. "Kop Chi Li Li" or thank you spewed from mouth about 100 times in next 3 minutes. They either liked way I pronounced phrase or had giant hearts because their smiles stretched from ear to ear. The buffet had what appeared to most of staples of Laos diet. There was a type of yellow chicken curry, some
| | TrekShare - Crashing a Laos Wedding - Part 2Written by Joseph Kultgen
Public Service Announcement: Drinking and driving is bad. With that said I’ve drank and drove a few times in my day and have puked in back of cars while someone drunker than me was at wheel. My question wasn’t meant to be judgmental but rather compassionate. They were drunk; streets were dark and littered in potholes. When all is said and done I know I would have jumped on back of either of their scooters. I just needed assurance that we weren’t going to take some drunken steroid infested crotch rocket ride reminiscent of high school. You’ve got to hate crap like that. The next portion of our conversation seemed to flow like there was no language barrier at all. Ton explained that he was careful to make necessary judgements to drive safely. This wasn’t one of those times when someone drinking shouldn’t drive. This was one of those times a person uses his judgement correctly. The idea of harming himself or another person was foreign to him. This appears to be norm in a society built upon few enforceable laws but harsh penalties for living. His outlook was refreshingly unique. Most of us live in a world where we aren’t trusted to make our own judgements. He has no choice. I soon discovered upon exiting gala that it had never been their intention to drive. The party was just down street. The energy reached a fevered pitch as we rounded corner and entered rear of bride’s house. I walked stoically onto back patio with my head held low. I do this for a variety of reasons. The primary reason I do this is in my everyday life is because I find if I look up craziest wacko will undoubtebly engage me in a conversation. I did it in Laos as a sign of respect. Bowing is an integral aspect of salutation and this way I was half way there. The depth at to which you bow and duration all reflect your position in life relative to person you are addressing. The corresponding hand positions are difficult if not impossible to master by anyone except for natives so I don’t suggest trying. Just keep your head low and don’t look someone in eyes unless you are given indication that it’s appropriate to do so. Two more reasons to keep your chin low. Let’s just say that walking into a communist country like a goddamn red, white and blue peacock perpetuates certain stereotypes that affect our relationships with other countries. The second reason is simpler. People taller than mean height of 5’3" will ultimately take a roof of house to noggin sometime during their stay in this vertically challenged land. About 40 people were comfortably dispersed in 4 primary groups. One group was inside house and used back patio door to supply food, drink and a constant flow of new people to party. One of people in this group was Pond’s wife who we unfortunately didn’t get to meet. She was too busy working behind scenes. I assume it’s a traditional bonding time for mother, bride and her girls. The second group was dancing around a tree just brought out by a woman from inside house. It was Lamvong dance, except they were all circling tree together. It was a small space so I can see why. The third group was a table of primarily older men drinking and a rare 2 smokers. Not many people smoke in Laos and this was first time I saw anyone smoking in such a public space. I greeted what to me looked like oldest guy at table. I would say he was about 48. This is old in a country with an average life expectancy is 54 years old. He was also one of smokers. Yeah right…. Smoking kills. We grabbed two seats at ends of "old-guys" table and spurted out "kop chi li li" another 30 or so times. A fourth group congregated along a makeshift bar situated behind us on perimeter of lawn and street. This is where guys who brought us to party set up camp. Within about 6 seconds of sitting down a 1/3 full glass of BeerLao was between my eyes. I took a drink and watched my friend Paul try to explain that he would prefer soda water. It was basically a long-running joke at this point into our 5-day Laotian trek. I can’t explain how foreign concept of abstaining from drinking is to Laotian people. Laotians don’t have any concept of not drinking because of personal choices. Many people don’t drink often because it doesn’t bode well with their health, but this wasn’t case. Let’s just say it wasn’t first time people would be brought into hysterics upon a toast from Paul’s soda water. It only got funnier each of 25 additional times he declined a drink. Being able to consume and abuse almost anything at our discretion is not situation in Laos. There isn’t same kind of access to external factors. Their gentle personalities and suspicious nature is a reflection of their lack and oftentimes desire of material goods. This is ideologically different than western capitalism principals that are slowly being adopted since 1990. Not to mention U.S. did conduct a secret war in 1973 that left it most bombed country of Vietnam War. I know you probably don’t want a history lesson, but rational was to cut off northern trade routes of Ho Chi Min Trail in order to curtain spread of communism. There I said it. A few short minutes later a sharply dressed Pond walked into party. He wore a purplish blue iridescent silk oxford with sleeves rolled up. Both his wrists were tightly wrapped in a white cloth rope – traditional Lao boxing style. He looked like a bad ass as he sat down between me and Paul. Pond quickly got offered a drink from one of 4 people who were circling table like vultures looking
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