Hue: A city of “perfume and purple”

Hue: A city of “perfume and purple”

By Lorie Ann Cascaro and Jesse Pizarro Boga 

Hue women do their laundry at the Perfume River. MindaNews photo by Lorie Ann Cascaro

HUE CITY, Vietnam (MindaNews / 13 Feb) – Our journey to Hue from nearby city Danang in Central Vietnam had us go through a mandatory discomfort in a small, cramped bus (and being puked on by a seat mate) before finding peace in another old city that lives in the present.

By the time we arrived in Hue, it was nighttime but we drowned our worries of dealing with overbooked dormitels by eating heaps of rice and beef.

We didn’t have to worry, really. Hue City Hostel (40 Chu Van An Street) had more than enough space for two weary travelers. The hotel staff was friendly and accommodating; their chic dorm room (with paintings and red/white wall decals) was unbelievably cheap for its kind.

We rented a motorbike to catch up on our flexible (and Wikitravel-based itinerary). We drove to the Thien Mu pagoda and a temple of literature beautifully located by a river.That’s how we ended up sleeping until noon the next day. Clearly, we were getting too comfortable in a dormitel that was so muchbetter than the crappy ones we’ve had in Ho Chi Minh City and Hoi An.

When we could walk around no more, we rested our weary feet.

By the Perfume River, we sat. Until we saw the sun set, marking another day of our tiring travel.

Watching tourist boats that pose a sort of genteel royalty by their designs, anyone couldn’t tell which way the rapid goes. Song Huong, which is translated as river (song) and perfume (Huong), has the calmness of a lake amid the daily traffic of those small sailing vessels under three bridges Trang Tien, Cau Phu Xuan, and Cau Da Vien.

Although river cruises and tours to royal tombs and pagodas keep the food coming to their tables, the locals continue to rely on the river for their everyday life. Fishing boats are still among those docked at the riverbanks. Carrying basins of clothes and detergents, women sometimes do laundry using the river water. The smell of their fabric conditioner did not miss our nose while having late lunch in a riverside restaurant on Thursday. Although its name does not describe the river literally, being there in time for their laundry left us no reason to argue why it’s called the Perfume River. But, some Vietnamese say that “Huong” is a female Vietnamese name.

The river draws a line in the middle of Hue City in Central Vietnam. At the one side, the Imperial City surrounded by moats stand valiant and untouched. Its bricked walls keep the legend of Nguyen dynasty since the 17th Century. The Purple Forbidden City stays protected inside.

It was on top priority of our itinerary and we had to make sure we’d wake up early for it the next day.
Touring the Purple Forbidden City was like attending world history class on June at school. Everything about it is exciting – for the first 20 minutes.

After some time of walking around the ancient, Confucian philosophy-inspired oriental architectures (and after walking under the heat of the sun like students in a Philippine public high school), our curiosity waned.

Exhaustion and hunger started to kick in after we explored the forbidden city of 2.5 kilometers in perimeter and surrounded by moats.

But that’s not to say that we didn’t take notes. We did. And we’re more than ready to ace a pop quiz about the Palace of Supreme Harmony, Thai Hoa Palace, and the Noon Gate.

Tourists pose for a photo in front of Thien Mu pagoda in Hue City, Vietnam. MindaNews photo by Lorie Ann Cascaro

The majestic Noon gate features strong stone brick foundation and five entrances (each for certain kinds of people who reside in the city). The entrance at the center of the gate is solely reserved for the emperor – no one else. That’s why we had to go through the left gate (used by soldiers in the past, and now visiting tourists in the present; the Vietnamese who toured the place pass through the right gate and pay a smaller amount for the entrance fee).

The Palace of Supreme Harmony basks under the sun in its glory: from the Oriental roof decorations, to the lacquered details of dragons in columns, and to the finely crafted gold-plated throne. All these are said to be in harmony of each other, just like the emperor’s relationship with his subjects. Chinese poems about peace and prosperity throughout the Nguyen dynasty can also be seen hung by the ceiling.

All these beauty are reserved for our eyes only; the museum doesn’t allow visitors to take photos. Bummer.
The second part of the tour had us driving around the Imperial City to get to the Hue fine arts museum. It housed a number of ancient relics: from fancy ceramics from China and France, to ancient weaponry and coins.

Spittoons and spears and books with pages of copper became topics of conversation. Soon after, we drove back to the city for some lunch in a food place that Jesse Googled.

We didn’t take naps after eating lunch. Our last few hours in Hue had to be meaningful. We’ve yet to cross the tomb visits in our itinerary.

We visited Tu Duc where we witnessed more old spots of resting places of important people in Vietnam. Emperor Tu Duc was the fourth ruler of the Nguyen dynasty. The tomb that we visited was constructed in three years with some 50 monuments that used to stand erect around it. The area used to be an alternative city where the emperor would go to for “working vacations.”

Tu Duc tomb is said to be one of the finest in Hue. It is an excellent example of Vietnamese Buddhist aesthetics and architecture. It has a lake, wooden pavilions, and temples dedicated to the emperor’s wives and concubines.
The best part of the visit (other than the thrilling motorbike ride) was dressing up with royal clothes and having our photos taken in a throne. We donned replicas of king and queen robes and posed for the camera like we were Asia’s Next Top Model.

At the end of the day, we sulked in the lobby of our hostel and washed our tired souls with Hue beer. Then we realized something: we missed to experience night life in Hue.

A quick Google search gave a solution: a quick visit to Brown Eyes (56 Chu Van An), just a few meters near where we sleep.

Authors Lorie and Jesse dress up as Vietnamese royalty in an old room in Tu Duc Tomb. MindaNews photo

The small bar/nightclub was packed by mostly young European tourists and some Vietnamese. The interior of the bar isn’t something a partyphile would describe as “cool” but that’s the beauty of it. The hodgepodge of graffiti, lights, posters, and flags of different countries make the bar appealing to anyone who wants a good time.

And while we didn’t have to dress up to enjoy some beer and music (the bass in the speakers were a delight and their playlist wasn’t bad, except for the occasional Gangnam Style and Call Me Maybe moments), Jesse was too worried about being stepped on by people wearing shoes. His solution? Dance next to European backpackers who are also wearing flip-flops.

Lorie spotted a Vietnamese bartender who looked like Filipino actor Polo Ravales too. That, along with the temples and ancient architecture, was another great sight in Hue.

(Lorie and Jesse are both fellows of FK Norway’s exchange program in Asia; they’re currently backpacking from the South of Vietnam to the North. Follow their adventures in Instagram @jesiramoun and in Twitter @kalowrie.)

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Hoi An: Old but alive

Hoi An: Old but alive

By Lorie Ann Cascaro and Jesse Pizarro Boga

Lanterns and yellow lights brighten up the streets of Hoi An, which appear bland during daylight. Photo by Jesse Pizzarro Boga for MindaNews

HOI-AN, Vietnam (MindaNews / 5 Feb) – The road to Hoi An, a small city in Central Vietnam, was literally long and winding.

From the south, we took the train to Danang City (where beaches and bridges were the only things of interest), and then hopped on an old bus that drove us to our destination in half an hour.

After the cramped train and bus rides, which we can only describe as blah, we were granted our right of personal space when we reached Hoi An.

When we arrived in the bus station, we found that there really wasn’t much to see. The view from there was an empty Vietnam countryside (with Vietnamese tea and Banh Mi stalls in a corner). We were given the impression that there isn’t really much to see in this small city.

We were wrong. Very.Because as soon as we entered the old town, and as the sun sets, lanterns began to light up streets and corners that appeared bland during daylight.

Hoi An, which means “peaceful meeting place,” prides itself to be hailed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site; the city (also known as Faifoo), is home to an ancient town with well-preserved houses and trading ports that date from the 15th to 19th century.

It is located by the Thu Bon River in Quang Nam province.

The traffic was considerably light in the streets of the city. There were no cars (except for the Mai Linh brand taxis that occasionally appear out from a corner; they’re from Danang City).

Everyone, locals and tourists alike, rides their bicycle and motorbike. We didn’t have that option just yet from the bus station when we arrived; that was why we were forced to walk a kilometer with our heavy bags.

We didn’t mind, really – because as soon as we found our accommodation (another shared dorm room), we started getting comfortable and found thrills and charms in every corner.

Night life
Hoi An seemed dim and is unlike the bigger cities in Vietnam. Other than the relatively few number of street lamps bathing old buildings in yellow, the only source of light were the lanterns hung like banderitas on the streets.

We didn’t need a tour guide to take us around the city. Curiosity, Google Maps, and our weary feet took us to places in this city of 120,000 people.

We followed the lights and were led deeper into the old town where there were old houses and shops and old houses made into shops (Jesse saw an ancient house that was made into a “Converse” store).

Somewhere by the riverside, we experienced what night life was like in Hoi An. The city comes alive at night in unique ways.

There were bars playing Western dance and pop music, but these were somehow overshadowed by the collective local vibe in the atmosphere.

The floating restaurants, for instance were a refreshing change of dining experience. A traditional Vietnamese river boat is docked into the river bank and is filled with wooden stools and chairs.

Tourists follow the cue of the tour guide to enter one of the old houses in Hoi An. MindaNews photo by Lorie Ann Cascaro

Faint music from across the river can be heard by anyone in the boat; but the sounds of a guitar played by a local, singing in his language, felt more compelling to visitors. After all, no one travelled all the way here to listen to JLo’s On The Floor. Although we found it disturbing that the river subtly smelled fishy and pungent.

A hand written piece of paper with a list of food items was handed out to us; it’s a typical Hoi An menu. There were Vietnamese specialties like noodle dishes Mi Quang, Banh Bao Vac, Cao Lau, Pho; a filling Com Ga (chicken rice) was also available to order. List of drinks is pretty standard and are the same everywhere: beer, fresh fruit juice, and Vietnamese coffee.

The old ladies selling paper flower lanterns (hoa dang) nearby were also worthy of notice. They were old and their wrinkles were highlighted by the shadows cast from the candles inside the lanterns.

But that’s not to say they’re not strong. If there is someone who defines aging with grace, it’s them.

Locals bought lanterns from the ladies and gently made them float on water after making a New Year wish.

These scenes of old houses, floating restaurants, and dimly lit lanterns follow a repeating fashion throughout the riverfront.

The Old Town continues to brim with European tourists as the night goes on. There were water puppet shows in one corner and a Vietnamese version of Pukpok Palayok; these are probably only a part of the Lunar New Year festivities.

A French photographer, Tardivo Richard, who looks 60-ish, has been in Hoi An for the first time. He expressed his gawky feeling to see how much French influence the city has preserved, such as the baguette bread for sandwiches and architectural designs of old houses. Imagining how the French government tainted a not-so-good memory in this country, he said, for him the Vietnamese seem to have erased that part of their history. “It’s a bit weird feeling to be here,” he said and rubbed his arm to get rid of goose bumps.

At about 11 p.m., something magical happened. The discreet buzzing in the old streets came to an abrupt stop. The crowd literally disappeared as the stores closed, leaving dimly lit alleys empty and almost lifeless. We could clearly hear cicadas like they were the only ones around us.

That was our cue to dash – no, wait – sprint to our dorm. We were too scared to be victims of thieves again.

The beach life

Playing ball at the Cua Dai beach is a favorite past time of the locals at this time of the year. Photo by Jesse Pizzarro Boga for MindaNews

The next day, we rode our rented bicycles to Cua Dai beach, about 4 kilometers from the Hoi An’s old town.
The stretch of the beach was animated by jet skis, parasailing activities, European tourists sun bathing, and Vietnamese playing ball.

There were also Vietnamese hanging out by the shore and clad in their winter sweaters – a beautiful contrast against all the other beach lovers who were dying to take off their underwear just so they can enjoy the sun rays (despite the unusually cool breeze).

After frolicking in the beach, it was time to ride back to the old town before the sun sets.

We were ready to take on the long and winding road to our next stop: Hue City.

(Lorie and Jesse are both fellows of FK Norway’s exchange program in Asia; they’re currently backpacking from the South of Vietnam to the North. Follow their adventures in Instagram @jesiramoun and in Twitter @kalowrie)

Read morehttp://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2014/02/05/hoi-an-old-but-alive/

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Saigon: The city has two faces

Saigon: The city has two faces

HO CHI MINH CITY, Viet Nam (MindaNews/3 February) — The towering buildings, bars, tour agencies, and hostels lined up like sentries can give visitors the impression that Ho Chi Minh (formerly known as Saigon), is a place ahead of every other city in Vietnam.

The fast-paced life in Viet Nam’s financial district, where most of the businesses in the country thrive, is reflective of the towering architectures like the tallest Bitexco building, and franchises of international brands such as Starbucks, Domino Pizza, Dairy Queen, and more recently, McDonald’s.

But this side of the world is not what it seems.

However modern the city appears, it still remains a symbol of unity among people who were once divided by the US during its war of aggression.

Beyond the bright lights and vibrant energy that blanket the city center at night lie forces that bring Saigon’s history back to life. These are best experienced in the iconic landmarks and museums nearby
that walk tourists down a rather rough memory lane.

Museums, museums

The Reunification Palace (in Nam Ky Khoi Nghia Street), for instance, gives visitors a glimpse of then South Vietnam’s presidential palace in the 60s. The five floors of the palace feature the president’s office, bedroom, recreation room, conference halls, and banquet chambers in their exquisite (a tad bit, though) glory.

The palace’s basement has an eerie atmosphere: it is full of communication paraphernalia like phones, radios, and office equipment. These are said to be arranged exactly the way it was back when the
Northern forces took over.

And as if reliving Saigon’s history is not enough in the Reunification Palace, visitors can also check out the War Remnants Museum in Vo Van Tan Street.

It is home to various exhibits and installations that tell stories about the US military, Agent Orange, and life during the Vietnam-American War.

Tanks and jets can be seen in the open area of the museum outside.

Cruelty in the war is also vividly depicted in a makeshift of the “tiger cages;” these are accompanied by lists of torture tactics that were used in prisons back then. They lend a spooky feeling of the gruesome experiences of political prisoners in the hands of the South Vietnamese government.

Photos of war journalists and deformed fetuses that are a result of Agent Orange (a chemical used in an herbicidal warfare program) are also on exhibit on the third floor.

The tunnels in Cu Chi District (of the same name) showcase the ingenuity of the Viet Cong soldiers during the Vietnam War. The network of small passages served as their underground homes, medical
hubs, and communication and weapon routes. According to our tour guide, the design of the tunnels could withstand several attacks by the Viet Cong’s enemies: it has defense mechanisms against water, bombs, and poisonous gases. The tunnels are also embedded with traps for the clueless enemy who attempts to enter.

An interesting breather for visitor would be the newly opened museum dedicated solely for the traditional Vietnamese dress. We sincerely regret to have not visited Bao Tang Ao Dai Museum; it is located in 206/19/30 Long Thuan Street, Long Phuoc ward, District 9.

A brochure promises visitors that they can see the history and influences of the dress; modern renditions and collections of various designs are to be the delight of anyone interested in style and Vietnamese clothing history.

After a long day of exploring the heritage of South Vietnam, travelers can be whisked back to the present by heading back to the busy street of Bui Vien for some drinks, music and shopping.

Night life

As streetlights incorrigibly chase the fading sunset, Pham Ngu Lao in District 1 continues to welcome all backpackers who enter the city by bus. More and more international bus lines hit their brakes at the side of Zen Plaza as the night creeps in.

Famous for backpackers, the district is always packed with foreigners seated on arrays of Vietnam-style small chairs. They are lined up at both sides of the street in front of closed shops as if spectators of an open theater. The actors are the passers-by either strolling or in motorbikes, and food vendors on bicycles.

The Bui Vien Street is alive with a mixture of tourists and locals who mingle over glasses of Bia Hoi (Vietnamese draft beer) and Muc Chien (dried squid). Blasting music from various western bars add to the din of the street.

But the entire city turned into a spectacular theater last January 30, the eve of Tet (Lunar New Year). Bright lights shaped like flowers in pink with green leaves hovered the Le Loi Avenue stretching to the City Opera House. Its adjacent Nguyen Hue Street had been completely closed, giving space to floral exhibitions. It was led by effigies of running horses in freeze and a big clock behind them.

Some flowers were formed into words like the huge letters traced in bright lights on the facade of a posh hotel, saying, “Chuc Mung Nam Moi” (translated as Happy New Year). A fireworks display of at least ten minutes near the Saigon River signaled the start of the year of the horse.

The city of 10 million people has six million motorbikes, said a tour guide. But only 20 percent of the total number of motorbikes in Saigon was present during our visit. The rest of them had gone to the provinces to celebrate the festival with their families, said a Sudanese businessman, Mr Hassabo Alwahaido.

The relatively low number of people and motorbikes on the streets made it easy for us to rent a bicycle to go around the city without worrying about being run over.

The persisting soundtrack of buzzing motorbikes as they swarm like giant ants in a pack had been overcome by loud music from a kid show in Sen Hong Theater and a concert at the city park as a part of the festival.

Some families who still hold traditional values decorated their houses with various plants and prepared feast to be partaken by close members of the family. Others prefer to go out and party with their friends.

And, some even only hung out in one place and play video games while drinking.

“This is how we celebrate Tet,” Sean Nguyen said; he was with his friends in a video game shop playing Tekken when Jesse met up with him. There were bowls of Vietnamese candies and drinks on the floor, next to a PlayStation 3 console.

Mr Falah Alazmi from Kuwait told Lorie that this year’s festival was a lot bigger and more fun. He has been in and out of the city for business prospects on Agar wood, whose oil is used to produce perfume for Arabic and Indian people.

And no trip to Sai Ngon is ever complete without experiencing theft before your eyes and sometimes literally on you. On their way back to the dormitel after a long night of drinks and chats with new-found friends, Lorie and Jesse were caught off-guard by Vietnamese guys riding in tandem. Their motorbike drove passed Lorie almost hitting her. Jesse thought they were just being drunk.

Relieved that they were not hit nor injured by the motorbike, Lorie and Jesse leisurely walked to their dormitel; their destination was less than a minute away. Surprisingly, the same motorbike riders drove passed Lorie from a corner and this time snatched Lorie’s stringed purse. The swift snatching caused her a minor cut.

Aggression after all still permeates in the street; robberies are just another day in this city. (Lorie Ann Cascaro and Jesse Pizarro Boga/MindaNews)

(Lorie and Jesse are both fellows of FK Norway’s exchange program in Asia; they’re currently backpacking from the South of Vietnam to the North. Follow their adventures in Instagram @jesiramoun and in Twitter @kalowrie)

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2014/02/03/saigon-the-city-has-two-faces/

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Cold Christmas away from home

Cold Christmas away from home

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on December 24 2013 4:57 pm

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews/24 Dec.) — In a small country where majority are Buddhists, Christmas is definitely not elusive.

Back in my home the Philippines, Davao City is already teeming with Christmas decorations. The façade of the city hall, for example, shimmers with colorful lights at night. Almost all buildings and houses are embellished with plastic pine trees and lanterns as early as September.

But in Vientiane, Christmas decorations are barely seen.

Since the beginning of this month, a few restaurants and apartments which are occupied by expats have modest Christmas trees with blinking lights in the evening. Seen along Dongpalane Road are shops selling packages of “Christmas” food ingredients and bottled wines, wrapped in shiny water cellophanes with golden or red ribbons and greeting cards. Garment shops display mannequins in red Santa-inspired costumes.

Amid a bright sunny sky, the temperature sometimes goes down to 12 degrees here. A much colder breeze than the yuletide seasons in the Philippines! Sweaters, scarves, gloves and socks are far more saleable this month at Talat Sao Mall and Quadin Market. Foreign tourists and expats wear their winter clothes. Some begin fixing their hot showers, while others decide they need heaters, which apparently are not available in most accommodation rooms here.

“The cold temperature right now is making me feel at home,” says Ms Suzie Fairley, a volunteer for Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) from the United Kingdom of Great Britain. It will be her first Christmas away from home. She misses her family and friends, “all the Christmas parties”, and the food and drinks, especially mulled wine and minced pies.

“Last Christmas season here was not as cold as now. I’m still wondering,” says Mr Giovanni Solano Villafuerte, a Filipino VSO volunteer and adviser of a non-profit association.

He will not be home again for the holidays this year. He confesses that he is still trying to choose which one to buy: a trench coat or a pair of boots.

“There’s no big celebration here like how Filipinos do it,” he says, adding he misses Noche Buena (midnight meal), with a special mention of fruit salad garnished with keso de bola (cheese) and pancit (Chinese yellow noodles).

“Unlike here, I can feel the spirit of Christmas in my country. Even if you say it’s already commercialized, but it’s still there. Something there that pinches my heart, which I couldn’t find here,” he says.

Somehow, others had done gimmicks to feel the season. For one, a group of young falangs (Lao term for foreigners) in Santa Claus costumes or red clothes accentuated with small bulbs were hopping from one bar to another. They “painted the town red” that night!

Since last month, a few Filipinos who belong to the Sacred Heart Parish choir have been caroling at hotels and other establishments. The Philippine Embassy held last December 11 a little party for kids, dubbed “Mano Po Ninong, Mano Po Ninang”, which is a tradition of gift giving for the children from their godparents.

Despite donating more funds to the survivors of typhoon Haiyan (known as Yolanda in the Philippines), the embassy still found a way to give joy and hope for the kids.

Last Thursday, the British Embassy hosted a public film showing of Wallace and Gromit. Kids squat inside a tennis court where a pedal-driven projector flashed on a big white cloth. A Lao guy dressed like Santa Claus, minus the big belly, was giving lollipops to everyone, young and old.

Mr Andrea Caletti from Italy has been hosting a party for three years now in his restaurant, Soul Kitchen, in Vientiane. His friends, both expats and Lao, usually share a lot of pizza, pasta and overflowing red wine on the Christmas Eve. He says he’s never been back to Italy since he came here.

In Laos, December 24 and 25 are not official holidays. But Mr Souksakhone Vaenkeo of Vientiane Times says they seem to be treated as holidays by the younger generation. “Pubs and night clubs are always packed with teenagers at night,” he said.

Anyone can take vacation leave if they want. Even Lao journalist, Mr Phonsavanh Vongsay, who is a Christian, will take time off work to spend Christmas Day with his family in Champassak province. He says sharing time with his loved ones in a nutritious dinner and singing – as they are a talented bunch of individuals – makes him feel the essence of Christmas.

But both Australian editors of Vientiane Times, Mr James McDouglas and Mr Dan Riley will spend Christmas in the newsroom, working. “I’ll probably cover my desk with fake reindeer and bottles of Beerlao,” jests James.

Also from Australia is Mr Thomas Gadsen, who works with Lao Ministry of Education and Sports. He will be working in Luang Prabang province on Christmas day to collect education system data. It will be his first Christmas in Laos and first time working on a day that is a holiday in Australia. He adds that he has recently converted to Buddhism “as part of a process of experiencing different religions”.

Ms Fairley will also be working on December 25. “I will work all day but a friend has invited me for a quiet Christmas dinner in the evening at her house,” she tells MindaNews.

For Mr Villafuerte, a bunch of case study reports deserve his attention during the holidays.

Aside from the cold breeze, the yuletide season here is different from what it’s been in Davao City. Somehow, there is no sense of commercialism here. No midnight sales. No panic buying. No countless Christmas parties and exchanging of gifts.

For Christian expats, attending a morning mass and having dinner with good friends are enough to celebrate Christmas. Perhaps, an online chat with my family and short greetings from friends who remember me in the middle of parties can bring the “spirit of Christmas” here from home.

From the cold, foggy karst hills in Laos, Merry Christmas to everyone!

Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2013/12/24/cold-christmas-away-from-home/

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Another Day: A story about living in Vientiane’s wasteland

Another Day: A story about living in Vientiane’s wasteland

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on November 22 2013 7:39 pm

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews / 22 Nov) – Welcome to “Disneyland”! It is a mosaic of blue, black and white polyester unevenly blended with brown soil surrounded by green shrubs and bushes. It was a gloomy Monday morning and the air is redolent of putrid residues or whatever people in Vientiane would call “waste”.

In a vast land of piled up rubbish that form like small hills, a tiny village hides behind the bushes at the side of a paved road inside the Km 32 landfill in Vientiane Capital. It is as colorful as a playhouse as shanties are thatched with used tarpaulin, posters and plastic curtains that used to be big grocery bags.

A man in his 40s, clad in a camouflage coat and faded black pants, is burning scrap electric wires near his hut. The smoke has blended with the gray sky. His hands are black with soot as he removes the plastic coverings to reveal the metal wires. “I earn 1,000 kip for every kilo of these metals,” says Mr Lumsy Sipanya as his eyes, shaded by a dirty whitish cap, are fixed to the flame.

In front of every house in the village has a black portion on the ground that is a mixture of ashes and burnt soil as a remnant of burning. Their income is quite sustainable for a bachelor like Mr Joy, 30, who has been living inside the wasteland for a year now. They can earn 100,000 kip a day, or at least 2 million kip in a month, for selling used electric wires.

“I don’t want to go back to the city anymore. No job can suit me. Here, I can earn enough for my own needs,” says Joy while fixing his motorbike. He is wearing fake gold bracelet and earrings.

Most of the houses are empty. Smoking cookstoves and soot-coated pots are left on the ground. Some packs of salt and other seasonings, used plates and plastic cups seem to tell that the inhabitants had to hurry after breakfast.

Over 200 individuals are working in a dump site not far from the village, according to Mr Bounkham Luangparn, 35, who is hired to manage a total of 30 households living inside the landfill. Most people who collect recyclable rubbish are outsiders. Some of them rummage plastic bottles, scrap metals and cellophane bags. At least 200 tons of garbage are dumped in the landfill everyday, a garbage collector told Vientiane Times while taking a break outside the small management office.

Children also play in the “Disneyland” in a purposeful manner as they help their parents, who taught them how to scavenge and help gather the collected rubbish that can be sold. It was almost noontime when two boys arrived on a motorbike towing a steel cart full of plastic cellophane. One of them, wearing a Spiderman-inspired sweater, detached the cart from the motorbike, and then the other boy drove away.

A seemingly three-year-old boy walked barefoot while eating a pack of uncooked instant noodles like some chips. When he finished it, he went to an old lady’s house to buy refreshment. He handed a thousand kip bill to the vendor while receiving a plastic bag of brown liquid and ice cubes. His mouth immediately caught the straw and indulged in delight.

Mr Bounkham, who has lived and worked in the landfill since its inception about six years ago, says their children have not had any serious diseases such as malaria, dengue nor diarrhea. The residents get free potable water. A doctor visits them regularly to conduct medical check-up, he says as he sits in a straw hammock tied to a manzanita tree beside his humble abode.

Separated from his wife, Mr Bounkham does not have any plan to live somewhere outside the landfill. He hopes that his kids will get a good education to have a chance to choose another kind of life. But, for the kids who work and live here, they do not go to school. “They’re not interested,” he says.

The sun never comes out but “bor pen yang” (it does not matter). These villagers continue to live each day, seeing hope for survival where most people would find as an utterly stinky and filthy place in Laos.

[Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.]

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/11/22/another-day-a-story-about-living-in-vientianes-wasteland/

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Lao tourists ride “Korean wave”

Lao tourists ride “Korean wave”

The Republic of Korea has become a tourist destination for Lao people who want to see and experience being in a megacity as they indulge in Korean pop culture.

By Lorie Ann Cascaro

SEOUL, Republic of Korea (MindaNews/20 November) — While many Koreans visited landlocked Laos to take a break and find “healing” from buzzing Seoul, nearly 2,000 Lao tourists came here from January to October this year to see for real what they saw in Korean dramas.

More Lao people have become attracted to Korea because of Hallyu or the Korean wave, which refers to the growing popularity of Korean culture, Ms Maniksahone Thammavongxay, head of the Culture and Tourism Unit of the ASEAN-Korea Centre, said while sipping her coffee at Starbucks in Intaewon district. It is also known as “Western Town” where many international restaurants and shopping centers are located.

Amid the increasing number of Korean tourist arrivals in Laos, Korean culture has been promoted in Laos through Thai channels showing Korean drama series and popular bands, also called K-pop, she says, citing the dance fever “Gangnam style”.

In the past most Lao visiting Korea were government officials and students, who availed of the Korean Government Scholarship, said Consul Sungwon Hong of the Embassy of the Republic of Korea to Laos.

As of October 2013, the Korean embassy in Laos had issued 1,789 tourist visas for Lao nationals. The figure increased more than six times from that of 2008 when only 237 tourist visas were issued. This trend, Mr Hong said “is expected to maintain for a while in the future according to the economic development of Laos.” Based on the embassy’s total visa issuance, 2,934 Lao people had supposedly visited Korea this year.

He attributed the increasing number of mutual visitors between the Republic of Korea and Laos to direct flights launched last year by Korean Jinair and Lao Airlines. He also cited Korean travel agencies for their “vigorous marketing promotion that must have added fuel to the trend”.

However, Laos’ Tourism Marketing Department has put more emphasis on promoting Laos to Koreans than encouraging more Lao tourists to visit Korea, according to its Director General, Mr Saly Phimphinith. Since last month, there have been three direct flights to Seoul every week, he said, adding that he had noticed an increasing number of passengers. He has yet to collate the data.

Among four tour operators in Vientiane that offer packages to Korea, the Santhiphap Travel State Enterprise has a growing number of customers flying to Seoul since the direct flights have been regularized. The company’s Managing Director, Mr Amnong Phomphiboun, told Vientiane Times the number of Lao tourists who booked tour packages in Seoul rose from 21 customers in September to 34 in October. The travel agency began organizing group tours in Korea in August this year with a total of 28 tourists.

The tour packages usually cover five or six days and costs from 6,800,000 kip to 8,500,000 kip (US$856 to US$1,000), Mr Amnong said.

Lao tourists visited mostly the big cities Seoul and Suwon, traditionally known as “The City of Filial Piety” and is the only city that has remained totally walled in the country. Most of them also visited Nami Island or Namisun in Chuncheon as it has become famous through the Korean drama “Winter Sonata” in 2002. It is an imaginary country called Naminara Republic and visitors have to pay for their imaginary passports that serve as admission fees.

But, after seeing the megacity, Seoul, and indulging in consumerism at Korea’s shopping districts, most Lao people might not want to visit again. They would not mind taking the trip only once in their lifetime, Ms Manisakhone said and smirked.

“They are not used to big cities and it is enough for them to see for themselves,” she explained. According to some of her friends who also visited, their tour guide took them to a shopping area and subtly forced them to buy cosmetic products.

Others plan to visit again after some years, like Ms Noy from Vientiane, who went to Korea with her family this year. Her favorite places were the public parks and Nami Island. She said she might return to Seoul when her children have grown up. But for now, she plans to visit other countries like Singapore.

For some reason, Lao people are now riding the Korean wave because, Mr Amnong said, they love watching Korean dramas. As the number of Lao tourist arrivals in Seoul will continue to rise in the coming months, more and more Koreans will fly to Vientiane to avail of “healing tours” or to volunteer in schools, hospitals and other organizations in Laos.

(Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is a fellow of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange programme in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2013/11/20/lao-tourists-ride-korean-wave/

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A Filipina and a Lao woman in Seoul

A Filipina and a Lao woman in Seoul

By Mindanews on November 1 2013 3:39 pm

SEOUL, South Korea (MindaNews/1 November)—The Philippines and Laos have been famous to Korean tourists.  Last year, South Korea was the top source of tourists for the Philippines with over one million arrivals, while nearly 54,000 South Korean tourists visited Laos. Here, two foreign students, a Filipina and a Lao woman, have survived the challenges and realized the need to go home after their graduation to help their own countries.

The cold autumn wind gently breezes through a flock of pedestrians below tall, modern buildings in Seoul one late morning. Amid the hustle and bustle of a megacity with over 10 million people, a 34-year old Filipina, Michelle Palumbarit, arrives at our meeting place just on time.  Her breakfast was coffee in a paper cup, holding it like an accent of her fashionable black leggings under a grey skirt and long-sleeve blouse. She mixes up with Koreans like a citizen now after five years of adjusting to their daily lifestyle as she pursues higher education.

“I have learned the system here myself because no one ever taught me,” she says and explains the subway train map at the last page of her pocket calendar. All station names are written in Hangul, the Korean alphabet. The map can also be viewed through mobile applications available for smart phones. She claims, however, that she’s a bit “old school” as her handy is only “smart” enough to make phone calls and send text messages.

It is the same phone she was using when she first came to Seoul for a Korean government scholarship in a master’s degree on Korean Studies at Yonsei University, where she is also currently a scholar for a doctorate degree on Political Science major in Comparative Politics. She finished her bachelor’s degree in History at the University of the Philippines in Miag-ao, Iloilo. “Obviously, I am an Ilongga,” she says proudly. Ilongga refers to native women in Iloilo province, while men are called Ilonggo, which also refers to their dialect.

Palumbarit has been interested in Korea since then, as her first master’s degree was Asian Studies with Korean Studies as her area of specialization at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City. Living in a country that is more developed is more of a boon than a bane. She points out Seoul’s efficient transport systems and high priority on safety and security. “If you are lost, just ask the traffic policemen. They are very helpful,” she advises, recalling her first few days in Seoul. She hopes that some good things here could be applied in her country someday.


She dreams of becoming an educator as her way of “giving back to the people who paid for my education at UP and actively and positively contribute to the country I have always loved.” At times when she was sad, frustrated and lonely, and wanted to give up, she says she thinks of the Filipino people.

“All I ever dream of is to be a good teacher and a person who can inspire others to be the best they can be through education. For now, I am working on that dream,” she says, waiting to get off at the train’s next stop.

Michelle Palumbarit (left)

Missing Laos

Unlike Palumbarit who is familiar with the subway system, Lao student Ms Lattanaphone Vannasouk, 24, barely uses public transport and has not explored South Korea except during a few school field trips since she came here five years ago. In an interview in the evening, this petite woman, also called “Tookta,” in her denim pants and checkered long-sleeves, says she prefers to set meetings in familiar surroundings so she won’t get lost. Her school, the Korea Development Institute (KDI) School of Public Policy and Management in Seoul, sits in a compound after a turn from Hoegi-ro Road. It is not so easy to find.

Tookta was only 18 years old when she arrived in Seoul alone in 2008 to avail of a Korean government scholarship program. She took a bachelor’s degree on business administration, major in trade and industrial policy. Dreaming big after her undergraduate course, she applied in the same school for a new scholarship to pursue a master’s degree on public policy, which she is hoping to complete next year.

Setting a goal helped Tookta cope with a new culture and system of education. “The system of education here is similar to that of Laos, but the students here are different. To compete with Korean students is very hard. I’m not going to compete with them but I have to force myself to study hard, just like them,” she says. Aside from seven other Lao students, Tookta developed friendship among foreign students from Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar and Mongolia.

Although she admits that technology and quality of education, among other development facets, are better in South Korea, she still misses her homeland. “It’s really hard to eat the same kind of food all the time. Lao food is hard to cook here,” she says and laughs. When she misses tam-mak-houng (papaya salad), she makes her own version with green papaya but without padek (fermented fish sauce), making do with some fish sauces found in the market.

“Here, I see a lot of development. Compared to Laos, we are still left behind,” she says. Tookta wants to bring new ideas when she comes back to Laos. She hopes to work in a private company first while waiting for the chance to work in the government, particularly in the Ministry of Planning and Investment. But she admits that it is hard to assert new ideas in her country if she will just be alone.  “It’s hard to change the way they are doing. I will just be one person there. If I am alone, I think it’s really hard but if we have a team, I think we can.”

She points out that Laos has a lot of potential for investment, citing the 4,000 islands in Champassak province. “It’s my parents’ hometown and I personally like the province. Don Khone and Don Khet islands have many prospects for investment,” she says.

Studying hard and being patient are some of the lessons that she learned while in Seoul. “I always tell my cousins and relatives to study hard and if they have the chance to study abroad, [they must] grab the opportunity.” (Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/11/01/a-filipina-and-a-lao-woman-in-seoul/

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On the Lao side, Naga fireballs remain…

On the Lao side, Naga fireballs remain…

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on October 24 2013 5:59 pm

People swarm into a small village in Vientiane to see the Naga fireballs themselves despite others’ belief that the phenomenon is but a legend

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews / 24 Octet) – Somewhere around 7 p.m., visitors and the villagers of Pakngum in Vientiane see hundreds of golden lanterns rising slowly beyond a full moon from Thailand’s Nong Khai province. Between Laos and Thailand, where the Nam Ngum and Mekong rivers converge, an intermittent exchange of fireworks conveys the people’s excitement at seeing the Naga fireballs shoot up from the deep recesses of the river.

Locally known as “bangfai paya nak” and described as pinkish-red fireballs, they surge like rockets every Boun Ork Phansa at the end of Buddhist Lent, says Mr Khamphuan Bouthsingkham, 65, who was the village’s chief 13 years ago, speaking in an interview hours earlier. He says that according to their ancestors, the Naga festival has been a 400-year-old celebration above and “under” the Mekong. “While the human world holds a festival with boat races and fireworks, the Nagas underwater create fireballs to honour the Buddha,” he explains.

Buddhists believe the Nagas are servants of Buddha in the form of water snakes residing in the Mekong River. As Mr Khamphuan imagines, they resemble the structures of dragon-like snakes with golden and green bodies found in the four corners of a small tower inside the compound of the village’s Vat Pra That Yadee Sama Khee Tham Thin Soy. Built in 1570, the temple has a 500-year-old stupa sitting about 50 meters from the riverbank. He points out that the Naga visited the stupa 30 years ago as people discovered its tracks from the riverbank.


The Naga also took a human form, Mr Khamphuan continues. Sometime in 1978 or 1979, a novice monk crossed the Mekong to Thailand before the Naga fireballs appeared and bought two boxes of powder used to make explosives. The young monk has since disappeared, but people believe he was the Naga who used the powder to make fireballs.

The young Khamphuan saw fireballs rapidly emerging from the water and rising up past a big tree before they disappeared. He grew up in a traditional house which is a hundred footsteps away from the confluence of the two rivers. “They came out right from the centre,” he says, and points to an imaginary line in between the two flows. The water from the Nam Ngum is greyish green with a steady flow, while the one from the Mekong is brown and fast.

He has never seen the Naga, but a village fisherman did see it some years ago. Mr Khamphuan tells Vientiane Times that on the day of the festival, the man’s fishing net caught something heavy. Instead of pulling it up, the man was pulled into the river. Thought to be dead by his family and neighbours, the man emerged on the third day after his disappearance and told them about an underwater festival. He was sent back to tell the villagers to honour the Naga by refraining from fishing on Buddhist days, and practicing the precepts of Buddhism such as not telling lies.


The villagers’ strong belief in the Naga and Buddhist teachings might have influenced the emergence of the fireballs. Mr Khamphuan ’s 99-year-old father, Mr Thit Saun Bouthsingkham, says he saw hundreds of fireballs coming out of the river during his younger years. The only one left of his generation, this toothless old man narrates his earlier encounters with the fireballs. He says he could not touch them as they rose so quickly into the sky and there were hundreds of them coming out from the sides of his boat. But, as the environment changes and people’s belief fades, the fireballs seldom show up, he explains.

His granddaughter, Ms Lounee, 28, says she has seen fireballs every year for as long as she can remember. Her two children, a one-year-old and a five-year-old, also saw them last year, she adds. While decorating banana stems with flowers, candles and incense sticks that would be floated on the river later, she says “I expect to see them again tonight,” and smiles broadly.

But 13-year-old Jonas Onthavong from the distant village of Khosaath, who has been visiting Pakngum every year for the festival, has never seen any fireballs. He says he was too busy talking or playing with his friends and didn’t really care about them. Asked whether or not he believes they are real, he looks at the river and scratches his head with his left hand. “Ha-sip, ha-sip (50-50),” he says dismissively.

As the night darkens, everyone waits to see real Naga fireballs while drinking Beerlao and eating tam-mak-houng (papaya salad). Amid whistling firecrackers, a sailing boat loaded with some bubbly locals entertains the hovering crowd on the Lao side of the river. Hours pass as fireworks and flying lanterns continue to amuse the watchers’ eyes. Until, a red light, like a laser point, appears and rises over the silhouette of the dark part of Thailand’s shore. It is too dark and far to figure out if it emerges from the river. The people who see it gasp in awe as the light quickly disappears. A few minutes later, another one appears, coming from the same direction as the first. More people are now looking in the same direction, waiting for another red light to rise. The third one rises after a longer wait. And who knows, how many more red “fireballs” rise that night.

Last year, many fireballs appeared the day after the festival when there was less noise along the river, Mr Khamphuan says, adding that the more visitors there are, the fewer fireballs are seen.

But, the existence of the Naga fireballs remains controversial. Online articles try to provide scientific explanations on how the fireballs could be formed but until then they remain theories. For example, American writer Bryan Dunning said during his weekly podcast, Skeptoid, in 2009 that the “scientific” explanation of the Naga fireballs “is not very scientific at all”.

Dunning argued that there are “two fatal flaws” with the hypothesis that the decomposition of organic matter in the riverbed produces methane gas, which bubbles to the surface, have caused the fireballs. He said “methane can only burn in an oxygen environment within a specific range of concentrations” and “requires the presence of phosphine combined with phosphorous tetrahydride, whose needed proportions are unlikely to be found in nature.” But, he added that even if such conditions did exist in the Mekong, “the combination of oxygen, methane and phosphorus compounds burns bright bluish-green with a sudden pop, producing black smoke” and “under no conditions does it burn slowly, or red, or rise up in the air as a fireball”.

Some people have tried to solve the mystery or prove that the phenomenon is a mere fraud. In 2002, a Thai TV programme showed how soldiers were found on the Lao side firing tracer bullets to produce what those from the other side of the river saw as the fireballs.

Meanwhile, whether or not the red fireballs that people have seen in recent years are actually firecrackers discreetly set off to attract tourists does not matter for Mr Khamphuan . “Why should I care about those stories when I saw the fireballs myself?” Nevertheless, as long as there are still people like the Bouthsingkhams who hope to see them every Ork Phansa, the festival will continue to draw visitors to small villages like Pakngum and let them get to know its humble people.

[Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange programme in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.]

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/10/24/feature-on-the-lao-side-naga-fireballs-remain/

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‘Winning beyond boat racing’

‘Winning beyond boat racing’

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on October 19 2013 11:12 am


VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews/19 October)–In Ban Sai Fong Neua, 17 kilometers south from the city center, at least 40 women, each holding a wooden oar, trekked down a steep slope into the Mekong River barely an hour before sunset on Tuesday. Children and husbands of the village women lingered at the cliff and watched a long traditional boat advancing as the river flows slowly.

The Lao-International Women’s Boat Racing Team prepares for its 20th year of joining the race in Vientiane. MindaNews photo by Lorie Ann Cascaro

They composed the Lao-International Women’s Boat Racing Team, a mixture of the village women and falang (expatriate) women from different countries who are living in Vientiane. Even before the race could begin, the team has already “won” this year’s Dragon Boat Racing Festival Women’s Category.

That is simply because the team has remained intact for 20 years now.

Starting today (Saturday) until tomorrow, they will paddle in unison along the Mekong River near the Vientiane Capital not just to compete with the other teams but most importantly to celebrate the sisterhood that they have strengthened for two decades now.

The boat racing has tightened the connection of the international women to the village people through the years.

“We have never won a race but the women continue to participate,” Ruth Foster, an international teacher in her 50s, told MindaNews during the team’s regular practice at the river bank near the village.

Although they trained hard, the women give more value to their friendship and experience, she added.

Foster had been rowing for the team since she arrived in Vientiane almost a decade ago and years later became the coach for English instructions, while a primary school headmaster, Mr Kibou, who has been training the women for 16 years, commands in Lao language.

Lao Women’s Union members, particularly Khamphao Phimasone and Amphone, are key people who have kept the team going through the seasons, Foster said.

The veteran Khamphao recalled the Lao-International Women’s Boat Racing Team first joined in 1993 with already non-villagers and foreigners as members.

While foreign team members were transitory, membership from the village hardly changed year after year. Thus, there is a “surprising amount of continuity” of the group, Foster said.

It is easy to join the team. One can try out and see if she can pursue the training. It is towards the big race day that permanent members get their respective places on the boat.

Women boat racers trek down to the Mekong River to practice for the Dragon Boat Racing Festival women’s category this year. MindaNews photo by Lorie Ann Cascaro

The boat racing festival is held every Boun Ok Phansa, the end of Rains Retreat, which is a three-month fasting of Buddhist monks in the rainy season. It has been a tradition for the Lao-International Women’s Boat Racing Team to bring food and alms to the monks in the morning before going to the race.

“Every year, we went to the temple with our finest, wearing best sinhs with the mandatory scarf over one shoulder and takbat bowls full of offerings for the monks,” Foster said.

But the women fear they could not continue their tradition in this year’s festival.

The competition for women’s category will be held in the morning on the same day that they have to visit the temple. She points out that the race seemed to become “commercialized” in the last two years. The village members find it costly to go the center twice as the boat racing will run for two days with men and women categories being done on separate days.

Nevertheless, the team will surely make it on the race day and paddle at their best.

The tree

Foster recounted their sleepover in a temple at Ban Nakham, about four hours ride from Vientiane in 2009.

There they saw “the tree,” which was eventually turned into their racing boat to replace a 50-year old one.

Boats that are used for the racing festival are made of a single tree. Villagers believe that the spirit of a tree will be transferred to the boat. They pay respects to the spirit by keeping the boat inside the village temple until the next racing festival.

The monks organized the boat making in exchange for the funds that the women raised from sponsorships to build a structure inside the temple compound.

Since they cut a tree, the villagers from Sai Fong Neua and Nakham planted more trees in the area. The relationship between the two villages has grown strongly since the making of the team’s new boat.

Most international paddlers are interns from a range of organizations or individuals working or studying here for a short period, while local members are professionals, employees and market vendors. The race has been a break from their normal day-to-day lives when they can show their extraordinary skills.  (Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)  


Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/10/19/winning-beyond-boat-racing/

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Eating raw vegetables: a ‘healing’ experience

Eating raw vegetables: a ‘healing’ experience

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on June 11 2013 2:56 pm





VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews/11 June) — A plateful of raw mint, basil leaves, cabbage, sliced string beans and lime was served on my table ahead of the rice noodle (feu) soup that I ordered.

Then small bowls of raw bean sprouts and suki, a sauce made of ground peanuts and garlic cooked in oil with a dash of chili powder, arrived before I finally got my noodle soup.

It was my first day after arriving in Vientiane a month ago. My colleagues from the Vientiane Times, Pou and Samly, took me to a popular noodle restaurant here.

I needed a heavy meal at the time, but eating those raw vegetables piqued my appetite. I already knew though that Lao people eat raw vegetables, either with noodle soup or any dish. Despite my strong desire to try everything they eat here, it was totally different when you were about to actually do it.
Lao people eat raw vegetables and leaves that we don’t usually eat in the Philippines, or at least in my hometown.

They wrap dumplings with wild betel leaves aside from cabbage and lettuce. They eat raw morning glory, string beans, broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus, dragon-bone beans, and young leaves from mango trees.

Some people also eat bergamot leaves, which are often cooked with fried meat or insects. Most Lao dishes contain raw garlic, along with other seasonings.

The first time that I ate them, I was worried that my stomach couldn’t digest all those raw vegetables. I grew up thinking that meat and vegetables have to be cooked for good digestion and to kill bacteria with heat.

Eating my first raw vegetables with a supposed “delicious” noodle meal was nostalgic—I felt like my mother was staring at me when I was a kid, chiding, “Eat your vegetables!”
As they say, “There’s always a first time.” But, after a month, I have been craving raw vegetables every meal every day. They really taste so good, especially if dipped in a variety of sauces or mixed as salads.

I learned from reading online and health tips from friends in the medical field that eating raw vegetables allows one to consume more nutrients. They said cooking vegetables destroys vital nutrients and kills enzymes that aid digestion.

Most vegetables that Lao people eat without cooking contain folic acid (vitamin B9), which is an important nutrient to prevent many types of cancer, fetal deformities, Alzheimer’s disease, and depression, among other mental conditions.

Dr. Somchine Singharaj, head of the Food and Drug Division of the Vientiane Health Department, said folate, the form of folic acid in food, is essential for the brain and nervous system to function properly as it is needed for cellular growth and regeneration.

The health expert said uncooked vegetables contain higher amounts of folic acid and antioxidants, including lycopene, beta-carotene, and vitamins C and E.

Many varieties of tropical fruits that are also rich in antioxidants and folic acid are sold in the streets here at reasonable prices.

As a city girl, I badly need detoxification from the processed and junk foods I eat almost every single day for lack of time and creativity. Surely, I will need a lot of folic acid!

But, Singharaj said, you cannot get all the folic acid you need from food alone. If you badly lack folic acid and other nutrients, it is important to seek your doctor’s advice. But you may still want to experience Lao food while you can.

You will not only regain your sense of well-being while enjoying a calm and stress-free life in the countryside but will also restore or reinforce your good health and youthfulness.

With the way people here eat their vegetables, Laos is indeed “a place for healing.”

(Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is a fellow of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)
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How my handwriting changed in four months

How my handwriting changed in four months

I didn't notice it until recently when I jotted notes in my pad. My strokes look different now. I used to write in very tiny letters, especially if they're cursive. But, now, I can barely write a complete short sentence in one line. I write in chubby letters now and my strokes became more curvy but aggressive than before.

I wonder if this is because I've been practicing how to write Lao characters, and the new strokes influenced my old style of writing.

My first round of learning Pasa Lao at Vangvieng

And driving a motorbike everyday, gripping a not-so-smooth accelerator knob, has also made the difference of my handwriting. Two callouses have appeared to be permanent in my right palm.

So much must have changed in me after four months here in Laos. I noticed my arms are darker now than the part under the sleeves. I think there are also some changes in me beyond my skin.

To catch up with some personal stuff that I did in this landlocked country, I will post my previous articles published on MindaNews.

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Making friends in Laos by '11 Bus'

Making friends in Laos by '11 Bus'

 

I was walking along the bricked sidewalks at corners Chao Anou Road and Rue Setthathilath in Ventiane, Laos, when I met Hee Su Jung, a 29-year old Korean lady who was completing her 15-day vacation here all by herself.

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon (May 7), my fourth day in Laos, and I had been interviewing foreigners for the newspaper column "Streetwise" of Ventiane Times about what they can say about the World's Best Tourist Destination for 2013 title that the European Council on Tourism and Trade (ECTT) officially awarded to Lao People’s Democratic Republic on Thursday.

ECTT chairman, Professor Dr. Anton Caragea, said among the reasons for awarding Laos the title the preservation of its historical and cultural patrimony that comprises wonderful sites, including religious sites of world significance and value; and, promoting a new concept of community-based tourism.

I was looking for my third interviewee when I saw Hee Su, curly blonde hair, spaghetti-strapped blue sleeveless top that matched those loose cotton pants, donning her sunglasses and earphones on. I was hesitant to approach her at first as she seemed to be enjoying her moment in a sunny weather with temperature over 30 degrees Celsius.

Surprisingly, she agreed to be interviewed. And, that was the start of our friendship.

The interview was only brief, but I learned more about her when we met later for dinner.

Her trip to Laos, particularly 12 days in Vangvieng---a small town in Vientiane province that she reached by bus for four hours from the city---had been a therapy for her.

She said Laos is a place for healing, for people to spend time by themselves and think deeply. She read about Laos two years ago from New York Times but at the time she could not decide to give herself a break. It was only last year when she began preparing for the trip after making a major decision---quitting her job as an English teacher to pursue her passion for music.

She played Surdo 1 in a band, Rapercussion, which had several concerts in Seoul and some provinces in South Korea for five years now. She said doing what she loves is liberating for her despite her parents' worrying about her financial stability. Since her vacation here, she has taken rest from the band to think about what she really wants for her life.

She said people tend to miss the target and make themselves busy getting rich or accumulating material things. “Most people complained about their jobs everyday but never dare to quit because they need money,” she continued.

She said most of them don't know how to find peace of mind, and instead they indulge in travelling or sports. "Life is good and a gift from God," she said, adding that everybody has the choice to live and think freely.

Hee Su told me about her Facebook page, “11 bus” (spelled in Korean), which she started last month. In search for her life’s meaning, she decided to talk to strangers and listen to their stories, then share them in her page. She treated all the people she interviewed as her mentors.

She said most of the tourists she met in Laos also went here for soul-searching and to find peace of mind.

She explained that “11 bus” means her two legs, which resemble number 11 when standing, and walking as a form of transportation. By walking, she said, one can meet a lot of people who have their own struggles and stories of success. It only takes one’s willingness to approach a person and the latter’s openness to create a connection and learn from each other.

Actually, she interviewed me in return to talk about my purpose in Laos and how I became a journalist. I told her that maybe my stay in Laos has a stronger purpose than simply completing my assignments under the 11-month exchange program. I’m looking forward to discover such.

I had been walking from my apartment to the office since Day 2, and indeed, I met a lot of strangers, both Lao people and foreigners.

Although I have my officemates at Vientiane Times, which is my host organization in an exchange program of the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists, making friends outside the work place takes confidence and openness to talk to strangers.

On my way to work last Wednesday, I met Sara Holcombe, a photojournalist from Alabama, USA. She introduced me to her friend Dave, an American freelance journalist in his 50s, who has lived here for years. He promised to show me good places here and share some points about journalism.

That was a good start with my own “11 bus.”

Hee Su planned to visit Gangjeong village in Jeju Island, south of Seoul by May or June this year to take part in the protest of residents and activists against the construction of a naval base. Jeju is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the New Seven Wonders of Nature.

She said she realized during her stay in Vangvieng that she can show support for the people’s fight to protect the natural beauty in Gangjeong by simply visiting the village and be together with them.

Getting updates from each other through Line (an online social networking I registered in only when I arrived here), Hee Su and I continue the connection we began when we were on our “11 bus”.

My budding friendship with her reminds me of a journalist friend in Davao City, Philippines, Mick Basa, who taught me a quote from William Butler Yeats that goes “There are no strangers, only friends you haven’t met.”

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My first night in Laos

My first night in Laos

This is about my first night in Laos. But, I promise to answer all Jesse's questions to me later.

I was afraid of ghost inside my room. I never thought of anything like
it until I woke up in the middle of the night after I thought somebody
shouted at my ear: "Huy!" or was it "Oi!" I didn't turn off the lights
and TV to make me feel safe. At first, I thought it was only something
that I heard from the TV show. So, I went back to sleep and after a
few minutes or hours (I'm not sure anymore), I woke up again after I
thought I heard the same thing. And, at the time, the voice coming
from the TV was of a soft-spoken woman. That was when I thought, it
was not the TV...

Since then, I've been afraid to stay in my own room. Worse, my room is
in between two empty rooms. The other door in front of mine, just a
meter away, is always locked. The guard, Sumnek, told me the owner
keeps it closed because the other door in the opposite side is the one
being used. Despite that, I always think nobody occupies the room
until now. Since I arrived, only one window of that room has been
open. And, I can't see any shade of light coming from that room every
single night.

Fortunately, the other room near the staircase is now being occupied
by a couple, one from New York and the other from Israel. The American
guy, Benjie, is staying for a month like me. I will have to move in
another apartment after a month. My mentor said an Indian-Australian
volunteer, Step, will be staying with me in another house by June. So,
until now, I'm still struggling to be comfortable in my room.

Last week, a Filipina friend, Ellen, invited me to stay with her in
her apartment, which is at the top floor of a 6-story building. Like
me, she is also afraid to stay alone in an apartment with two rooms.
She lets me occupy the other room.

But, I can only stay there until this week. A former tenant asked her
to rent the extra room next week. This means, I will be back to my
apartment.

Two days ago, I took some clothes from my room. I realized that the
gloomy ambiance of my room might be brought by the weak light from a
small bulb, the only light I have. My bathroom has a bigger one,
fluorescent lamp. I asked Sumnek if it's possible for him to provide
my room a fluorescent lamp to brighten the room. He said, yes, and so
I expected it to be fixed before I go back.

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Sabaidee: Hello, Laos!

Sabaidee: Hello, Laos!

 

May 12, 2013

Sabaidee means Hello in Lao language. My officemates in Vientiane Times brought me to a house blessing right from the airport last May 4. That was such an exciting way to welcome a guest!

I've been here in Vientiane, Laos for eight days already. It took me more than three weeks since I arrived in Bangkok before I got the interest to write in this blog.

Maybe, I was still so overwhelmed after flying miles away from my homeland. Or was it culture shock?

When I first landed in Vientiane, I immediately fell in love with its French-influenced architecture. I never thought this place is so sophisticated because I was told it's more like a province back home.

But, the Talatsao Mall, it's lone shopping mall, looks like one of our small air-conditioned markets though. Most products cost thrice higher than the ones in Bangkok, where most stores here got their stuff.

The foods taste good---spicy and salty. Parsley is always present in almost all of their dishes, except for fried ones. But, expect that there's parsley in the dipping sauce. Lao people eat noodles, sticky and steamed rice as their staple food. But, what's so interesting is that they usually eat raw green and leafy vegetables.

I was advised by Ma'am Amy, my mentor in the Philippines for this exchange project, to drink Coke to get away from taste fatigue and to taste like home. Because I'm not a Coke drinker, I drink beer. And, since my first day here, I fell in love with Beerlao, which tastes better than our beer but still makes me feel like home. Honestly, I haven't had a Coke since I arrived.

It's sunset here now. My view from the roof top of a 6-story building and the chirping birds reminded me that home is near.

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From archipelago to landlocked

From archipelago to landlocked

The beach days are over. ... for awhile.

Twenty days to go before my journey to Bangkok, Thailand, from where I will enter Vientiane, Laos, will begin. This may sound familiar to my fellow Filipinos who are used to traveling abroad. But, mine will be slightly different because my journey to Laos is a part of my job. Travelling like a tourist will only be an incentive.

It will be my first time to fly outside the Philippines, outside my comfort zone. And, like I said, this flight won't be just an ordinary holiday for an amateur traveler. This will be the beginning of the next 365 days of my life in a landlocked country.

How is that for a woman, who had not missed the beach and island escapade in each of her 29 years in the archipelago?

But, I'll be missing much more if I will not spend a year in a country that will let me see a different world, than a day in the beach.

This journey is an opportunity for me to be the window of my fellow people in Davao City, and the country in general, to have a glimpse of the uniqueness of the people and places in Laos.

Allow my senses, heart and mind to convey the "beauty and wonders" of another Asian land in a way that I know I can be exact---writing and taking photos.

Welcome to my new blog! Your window abroad.

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