Dancer
Thep is an iconic figure, and has become almost mythical in our Calgary
circle. He is a most prominent Laotian artist (http://www.junerain.com/), and he
has returned here with his partner Charles. They are our pied pipers,
peddling joyous laughter, flowing wine, and unadulterated gluttony invoking
herbal secrets. We are in Luang Prabang, a town of cobblestoned lanes and
colonial facades spilling bright silk tapestries, with saffron-robed monks
at every turn. Thep will share a treasure with us; his "Private Dancer" is
an unassuming woman named Pinh. We whisk her to our hotel, where she
kneads, slaps, and pulls us until our ball-o'-string muscles are loosened
(more bendy than a yoga class!). Charles had sworn she'd found his G-spot.
I can see why.
Dragonflies
reach dragon-size here, and they divebomb each other like air cadets in
training exercise. Their iridescence simmers in the strong sun as they flit
about, trailing ghostly sparkles.
Dogs
are pets here, and kept with nice coats and some meat on their bones. This
is sometimes unfortunate, since the new Vietnamese immigrants covet this
bulk. They stealthiliy coast by on a motorcycle and snatch them up to
roast. Ting, who does our laundry with a huge grin, has just lost a doggy
to someone's dinner table...
Deanne
makes my soul light. She has a calmness that belies a caustic wit. But her
self-restraint is a barrier that I can penetrate with purring coersion. So
we enjoy a metro weekend of shopping, voracious eating, and tummy-sore
giggles. She has made a beautiful scarf at a weaving class. It is just so
good to be here, with someone to share how lovely it all is. Thanks, Dee!!
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