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Hi guys - lack of updates: have been travelling through rural southern villages where electricity, water and telephones are a luxury, let alone internet. For now, feast on this:

"Sawadee". "Sawadee". We responded to the huge friendly smile characteristic of this region. It turns out that he is Laotian, and an epitomy of everything that is rumoured about Laotian people. Warm, friendly, highly-loveable and so laid back he'd almost fall over. Traversing and experiencing such beautiful people, one is a far cry from the familiarity of fear and unrest of the West, that it is difficult to believe the world is in certain parts, in turmoil. Ironically, the Democratic Republic of Laos is considered to be one of those countries. And for sure, it has its share of political instability, under-development and economic struggles, but, a certain flame of happiness dances in the eyes of the locals with whom I have interacted - a flame whose light is often missed in the West.

In Laos. In Love.

Asha Patel
2006-08-23 10:48:48

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deep, fully clothed through a fast the fast flowing Nam Song, pushing a tractor led cart from one bank to the other as we loaded and unloaded it with rocks. Reckon I can put this on my CV?? Best part:
the young children labouring with us. Worst part: Cold, very wet, muddy and oh, my trousers ripped! Cringe.

Day Two: woke at 06:30 for 'self-work', yoga etc. Breakfast with Belgian landscape architect; organic lao coffee and a mulberry omlette. Spoke to Julian about his plans for the farm garden. I agreed to help. That was before I'd seen it. I walked through the gates and gaped, open mouthed at the jungle-like mess that lay before me. Wearing white trousers, a flimsy pair of flip flops and thin gardening gloves, I picked up the shovel and got to work. Laboured til 5pm to grab a quick shower before heading off into the village in search of the local community centre where I was to teach Englsih classes. Locals busied themselves with daily open air activities such as farming, cleaning, cooking, and even showering. I learned some time ago that the conception of personal space bears no meaning in Asia. The brown jersey cows stared at me as inquistively as did the children; though once realising my purposeful visit, their laughter rang through the village and they freely came, holding my hands and running beside me, tagging my shirt. They had had various Western teachers in the past, but never a brown-faced one, and so they tested inquistively, my character. As soon as the community centre door was open for class, thirty enthusiastic, jumping Laotian children ran inside screaming and leaping for joy. Wow. A reaction to extra curricular schooling such as that one provides enough energy for any teacher to keep going. Particularly when one is accustomed to the negative approach of Western students. I was joined by some other travellers, and together, we arranged games and lesson plans. An hour passed swiftly and as they walked out into the village ...