Our hotel is like a colonial French villa. Pale green common areas, cream to pale yellow rooms, large ceiling fans, dark hardwood floors in the rooms, black and white tiled hallways, large shuttered windows, moulded ceilings, spacious rooms and furniture that probably inspired Pottery Barn.
In the morning, we walk through the calm, elegant hallways, and down the large staircase to the courtyard where we enjoy our choice of fantastic breakfasts. Naturally, they include both French pressed and Lao-style coffees. By the time 8:30 rolls around, I feel like a turn-of-the-century colonialist.
Here at the hotel, it's easy to get an idea of what Vientiane might have been like 100+ years ago. The capitol of Laos was a little more than a town beefed up a little by a few French buildings and roads. It's not much more than that today.
Since the end of Sunday, we've asked ourselves several times, "What are we going to do here for 10 days?"
The answer is obvious - we're going to do what they do: nothing. The joy of Lao is the Tao of Lao. It's all about appreciating this extraordinarily gentle, slow, easy culture. And you can only see and appreciate it if you slow down enough to look and listen to it.
The first thing to notice is that there are six Buddhist wats on the main street we walk along each day. They're large and a few were built by the great kings of yore. That's because Lao rulers showed their prestige more through the temples and religious structures they built rather than through palaces and secular edifices. A great Lao honors the Buddha and The Way.
Perhaps that's why there are so many Buddhist monks. In their quiet, unassuming way monks are a major part of Vientiane. They go around all day doing monkly things we don't portend to understand.
Then there are the tuk-tuk drivers. Most of the day, they do nothing. If they aren't driving anywhere, they park their tuk-tuks in clusters in the shade and all pile into one driver's vehicle. There, they sit together and talk - and sometimes don't talk. They just hang out together. There's a lot of smiling, some laughing, but not much noise.
In India, if we saw a group of taxi drivers clustered together, it created annoyance and fear. Without fail, they would descend in seconds trying to get us to take their taxis and even fight among one another over whose customer we were - assuming we wanted to be anyone's customer, which we often didn't.
Here, when we pass the cluster of drivers, MAYBE one says softly, "Sir, you want a taxi?"
I always respond in a friendly tone in Lao, "No, but thank you. How are you today?" To which they invariably say they're good and ask me about me. There are no hard feelings about not using their services - and they go back to their lounging.
I've noticed that in the mid-day heat, the drivers don't even ask if we want a taxi. They prefer not to leave their shaded spots.
Today as we worked in a cafe, I noticed that around the front counter and kitchen areas, the staff didn't talk much and when they did, they spoke softly. In Vietnam, there would have been a loud clatter of voices in the high pitched tones of Vietnamese. In Thailand, people would be joking around and laughing. In Laos, there's a gentle, serene quality to the people and culture.
I realized that in the past three days, we haven't heard anyone yell, raise a voice or act impolitely in any way. This largely undeveloped country has a very civilized, genteel culture. And that's what we're here to enjoy.
Vientiane is sort of a marvel in itself. The busiest traffic is a mild flow. The streets are never crowded or jammed. In Vietnam, we got used to risking our lives crossing through the mad and unending onslaught of vehicles. Here, crossing a street is more like walking to school in the suburb in which I grew up.
"There's no shopping! This is a horrible country for shopping!" Emily said today in frustration after visiting two of the few dress shops in the city. Since we get a dress for her in each country, Emily has been trying to find her Laos dress. It's not going well - limited selection, poor prices on Western-style clothing.
But that's sort of the joy of Laos. There's no built-up shopping. It's not a consumer culture. Even with the advancements of recent years in Vientiane, there's nothing about this small agrarian nation's capitol that feels like an international city.
Vientiane is a relaxed city. It's a livable city. It's a great city to get a visa since there are tons of embassies with consular staffs that have nothing to do. But it's not a place to run around and see. It's a launching pad to other parts of Laos, a place for NGO workers and diplomats to take an easy assignment and a wonderful opportunity to dip into the Tao of Lao.
Unfortunately, Internet binds our feet and keeps us from going any further into the beautiful interior and peaceful villages of Laos. We'll get a motorcycle and tour the areas around Vientiane this weekend.
We've spent the last two days discussing if we want to be this still and chill at this point in the trip. So we considered our alternatives. We could go to a beach in Thailand and experience something "relaxed" in a more lively sort of way - which we've already done several times over.
Or, we can decide to be sabaidee "relaxed and good" like the Lao. We can eat at night markets, walk mellow streets, see 6,400 buddhas sitting in a single temple, exchange pleasantries with the very sabai sabai tuk-tuk drivers and listen to the soft elegance of Lao voices conversing - when they converse at all.
After all, the new and sometimes fancy cars, Starbucks-like cafes, cell phones and "high-speed" (not really) Internet here suggest that no place - not even Laos - is immune to technological change and Western-driven mode of economic development. The world is becoming increasingly technologically advanced, efficient and homogenous. Vientiane is changing and in another 10 years, there may not be as much room for Laos to be as sabai-sabai or quietly elegant as it is today.
We might as well enjoy the safety, quiet, peacefulness, friendliness and subtle elegance of a culture that still knows the value of a shady spot on a hot afternoon.
In the morning, we walk through the calm, elegant hallways, and down the large staircase to the courtyard where we enjoy our choice of fantastic breakfasts. Naturally, they include both French pressed and Lao-style coffees. By the time 8:30 rolls around, I feel like a turn-of-the-century colonialist.
Here at the hotel, it's easy to get an idea of what Vientiane might have been like 100+ years ago. The capitol of Laos was a little more than a town beefed up a little by a few French buildings and roads. It's not much more than that today.
Since the end of Sunday, we've asked ourselves several times, "What are we going to do here for 10 days?"
The answer is obvious - we're going to do what they do: nothing. The joy of Lao is the Tao of Lao. It's all about appreciating this extraordinarily gentle, slow, easy culture. And you can only see and appreciate it if you slow down enough to look and listen to it.
The first thing to notice is that there are six Buddhist wats on the main street we walk along each day. They're large and a few were built by the great kings of yore. That's because Lao rulers showed their prestige more through the temples and religious structures they built rather than through palaces and secular edifices. A great Lao honors the Buddha and The Way.
Perhaps that's why there are so many Buddhist monks. In their quiet, unassuming way monks are a major part of Vientiane. They go around all day doing monkly things we don't portend to understand.
Then there are the tuk-tuk drivers. Most of the day, they do nothing. If they aren't driving anywhere, they park their tuk-tuks in clusters in the shade and all pile into one driver's vehicle. There, they sit together and talk - and sometimes don't talk. They just hang out together. There's a lot of smiling, some laughing, but not much noise.
In India, if we saw a group of taxi drivers clustered together, it created annoyance and fear. Without fail, they would descend in seconds trying to get us to take their taxis and even fight among one another over whose customer we were - assuming we wanted to be anyone's customer, which we often didn't.
Here, when we pass the cluster of drivers, MAYBE one says softly, "Sir, you want a taxi?"
I always respond in a friendly tone in Lao, "No, but thank you. How are you today?" To which they invariably say they're good and ask me about me. There are no hard feelings about not using their services - and they go back to their lounging.
I've noticed that in the mid-day heat, the drivers don't even ask if we want a taxi. They prefer not to leave their shaded spots.
Today as we worked in a cafe, I noticed that around the front counter and kitchen areas, the staff didn't talk much and when they did, they spoke softly. In Vietnam, there would have been a loud clatter of voices in the high pitched tones of Vietnamese. In Thailand, people would be joking around and laughing. In Laos, there's a gentle, serene quality to the people and culture.
I realized that in the past three days, we haven't heard anyone yell, raise a voice or act impolitely in any way. This largely undeveloped country has a very civilized, genteel culture. And that's what we're here to enjoy.
Vientiane is sort of a marvel in itself. The busiest traffic is a mild flow. The streets are never crowded or jammed. In Vietnam, we got used to risking our lives crossing through the mad and unending onslaught of vehicles. Here, crossing a street is more like walking to school in the suburb in which I grew up.
"There's no shopping! This is a horrible country for shopping!" Emily said today in frustration after visiting two of the few dress shops in the city. Since we get a dress for her in each country, Emily has been trying to find her Laos dress. It's not going well - limited selection, poor prices on Western-style clothing.
But that's sort of the joy of Laos. There's no built-up shopping. It's not a consumer culture. Even with the advancements of recent years in Vientiane, there's nothing about this small agrarian nation's capitol that feels like an international city.
Vientiane is a relaxed city. It's a livable city. It's a great city to get a visa since there are tons of embassies with consular staffs that have nothing to do. But it's not a place to run around and see. It's a launching pad to other parts of Laos, a place for NGO workers and diplomats to take an easy assignment and a wonderful opportunity to dip into the Tao of Lao.
Unfortunately, Internet binds our feet and keeps us from going any further into the beautiful interior and peaceful villages of Laos. We'll get a motorcycle and tour the areas around Vientiane this weekend.
We've spent the last two days discussing if we want to be this still and chill at this point in the trip. So we considered our alternatives. We could go to a beach in Thailand and experience something "relaxed" in a more lively sort of way - which we've already done several times over.
Or, we can decide to be sabaidee "relaxed and good" like the Lao. We can eat at night markets, walk mellow streets, see 6,400 buddhas sitting in a single temple, exchange pleasantries with the very sabai sabai tuk-tuk drivers and listen to the soft elegance of Lao voices conversing - when they converse at all.
After all, the new and sometimes fancy cars, Starbucks-like cafes, cell phones and "high-speed" (not really) Internet here suggest that no place - not even Laos - is immune to technological change and Western-driven mode of economic development. The world is becoming increasingly technologically advanced, efficient and homogenous. Vientiane is changing and in another 10 years, there may not be as much room for Laos to be as sabai-sabai or quietly elegant as it is today.
We might as well enjoy the safety, quiet, peacefulness, friendliness and subtle elegance of a culture that still knows the value of a shady spot on a hot afternoon.
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