Viang Chan-Lak 52

We spent last night in Lak 52, which was an incredibly enjoyable experience. Lak 52 is a village north of Viang Chan along Route 13. It is the home to the extended family of John Thao, one of my fraternity brothers at TU. John Thao’s parents immigrated to the US from Laos, but his dad’s cousin (and many other family members as we found out) still live in Lak 52, a Hmong village. We were able to get a bus ride there without much trouble. We arrived with one very, very useful thing. A picture of the address sign that hangs above John’s relative’s door. With the help of a person at every corner (pointing one way or the other) we thought we were getting close. But then it seemed like the addresses skipped the address we were looking for. So we walked up to the porch of a house and asked the couple sitting there if they knew where the house was. Now, to be honest, our asking consisted of pointing to the paper and trying to pronounce some phrase out of the guidebook. They didn’t seem to be quite sure where it was, but it clearly wasn’t near them. So, in an act of incredible kindness and hospitality, the man loaded us into his van, and after asking directions from a few people along the way, took us to the front door of the house. Once there, we played the .mp3 file John Thao had recorded for his relatives, showed them a printed off picture of John Thao, and that was more than enough for our ticket in.

Staying at the village was lots of fun and very interesting. Luckily, one of John’s relatives is an English teacher, so he had sufficient English to explain things to us and have some conversations. He even took us to attend one of his classes. It was cool to meet his students and talk with them; they were pretty funny and happy to talk to us, but not nearly as impressed by our ‘foreigness’ as our students in Changzhou. I got a little more practice driving a motorcycle here as well, although this one was a little touchier than the other one. I thus unintentionally let the throttle out about three times and had to restart. We had very good food while there, the main staples being sticky rice and spinach. Sticky rice really lives out its name, and is so sticky that its customary to just grab a clump with your hands from the central bowl. They cook the food in a small hut alongside the house, using wood fires. The house though, was pretty modern. It had nice tile floors, and electricity was installed 8 years ago, but no running water yet. There was a faucet in the outhouse, which was shared by about three or four households. Our bed even came with a mosquito net, which was quite useful. One very interesting thing about the house was the eclectic wall decorations. There were posters of famous European footballers, Lao or Thai movie stars, and portraits of the family’s ancestors. I guess in Laos it’s not a big problem to tape a picture of David Beckham or Ronaldinho on top of the only remaining photograph of your grandmother. A really cool person was the father of Nha Yang (John’s dad’s cousin, the head of the household). He was 88 and still kicking it, his outfit this morning was an old navy blue suit on top of a purple and yellow football jersey, and needless to say he wore it well. Apparently he has paid his dues, so his life consists of sleeping all day, waking for meals, and the occasional chat on the front porch.

Probably the biggest difference I noticed was how incredibly patriarchal the village culture was. We ate each of our meals together with the men at the table. The women only ate after the men, and did so in the kitchen/hut. During the meal the wife and daughter/niece of Nha Yang would frequently come to refill any of the dishes which were empty or becoming empty. I did my best to try and thank Nha Yang’s wife after each meal, but still felt pretty odd not eating wit them. Another interesting thing happened when we had breakfast. As we ate, the English teacher encouraged us to eat until we were full. So we did. After this, we were headed to his house and then were headed to a party for a cousin who was recently married. When we got to his house, we sat down for another breakfast. His wife and mother had cooked us another delicious feast. Despite our protests that just 20 minutes prior we had eaten “until we were full” we went along and ate what we could. We then walked across some fields and part of the village to the party, passing plenty of chickens, ducks, turkeys, and cattle along the way. The party was essentially a bunch of women butchering a pig, cutting vegetables, and cooking rice and soup. True to the patriarchal way of life, the men sat around, talked, and ate whatever the women were done cooking. Immediately upon arrival, we were placed at the main dining table and given more food. We ate a little to be respectful, but made sure the teacher told everyone that we had already eaten two full meals. By about 11 in the morning we were stuffed beyond belief, gave gracious thanks to all of the extended Thao family and made our way out of the village, very happy that we had decided to visit. To get back to Viang Chan, we walked to the main road, stuck our thumbs up, and rode in style. We were able to ride on an empty, air-conditioned bus for half the price of the ride to the village. Apparently the driver was returning the bus empty for some reason, and welcomed the opportunity to make some easy, fast cash.