A success story - Vientiane, Laos

At a bar in Vientiane, on the Mekong riverfront, a South-Korean tourist is telling me a story. "Have you ever seen some Kolao motorbikes or trucks?" The name rings a bell but it's a little blurred in a cloud of Chinese sub-brands and fakes. "About ten years ago a Korean man came here, he racked his brain and sensed an opportunity: he started to import bikes and vehicles from his country. The idea happened to work, he built up some capital, then changed his strategy and opened his own factory." Nowadays Kolao is a small Laotian Honda. That businessman was nobody when he embarked on that trip, now in Korea he is a success story. This sounds like a tale from a different era, of pioneers, gold races or post-war time. And actually that's what Laos was some years ago: out of endless conflicts...a land of conquest.

Photo of a motorbike at the Buddha Park - Vientiane, by Fabio

That pointed finger - Vientiane, Laos

A knobby vehicle stops by the curb. It's a modified motorbike, with added wheels. The guy who drives it, bony and dark-skinned, gets off and starts to move on all fours. He hangs about the tables of an alfresco café, stops near the customers and waits for their charity. People don't mind him and keep on chatting. A tourist who notices him puts a hand in his pocket, fishes out a note and hands it to him. The beggar doesn't take it and shakes his head. The tourist waits, then puts the money away. The Laotian snorts and makes for the bike, then stops, turns around and starts to yell. He's speaking English, insulting, swearing. People fall silent, the waiters come out. The tourist is stunned, he takes all the abuses, nailed to his embarrassment by that pointed finger. It's a delicate situation, the circumstances are odd, every reaction at hand is a double-edged weapon. He looks away hoping that it will end soon. It was a small denomination note, but it was the only one that was offered to him. 
Why that scene? There can be many reasons. This kind of people have complicated issues: they sink in the abyss of synthetic drugs and alcohol. Another explanation, more general and just as sad, is that Vientiane is no longer a remote destination. Expensive cars, modern gadgets, fashion clothes, new trends. On the other side of the river the lights of Thailand shine. Organizations and tourism bring in money and globalization. Along with living standards, vice and confusion increase. A city beggar is not a montagnard from a village: he can turn down a tip and angrily shrug, point a finger at you and start swearing in English.

Photo of a beggar in Bangkok, by Fabio Pulito

Boosting one's mood for the day - Vientiane, Laos

I look up from my book and focus on a sentence: sometimes Henry Miller can be quite psychedelic. My neck reaches out, a bit giraffe-like, I bite the straw and I pull a sip of the best fruit shake that can be found in town. I look at the street where a bus drives by: the very last window is framing a face. A chubby red oval, a shaven head, only one shoulder is covered by the orange robe: it's a Buddhist novice, one of those child-monks. Tiny hands grab the edge of the glass, while wide-open eyes stare at me or the whole world. I can't take a photo but I nail him to my mind. 

Year-long journeys in countries like Laos - among other things - have taught me this lesson: one just needs to relax and sharpen one's senses in order to boost his mood for the day.

Photo of a young monk in a temple at Chiang Mai, by Fabio Pulito