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!!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
the Good, the Bad, the Ugly - return to Laos 2007
Ah, Laos
You can be certain you are in the right place when your "to do" list starts
off with 1. Savor, 2. Be Grateful, and 3. Be Present. These are not things
I can cross off, since I cannot complete them (even borderline compulsive
list-makers like me). So they will remain things to do while I am here.
Today I met with the first year interns that I helped train in January.
They were smiling at me for the entirity of rounds; every time I glanced
over I was met with a sea of gleaming white teeth. Lak invited me to his
family's home tomorrow night. There is a Boat Racing Festival here in
Vientiane, and through our jumbled french exchange "cadeaux" became
"bateaux" and then "gateaux". So I think they set fire to cakes and float
them down the Mekong. Either way, I will be part of the fun soon!!
My list of things to do included booking a flight to Cambodia to spend a
weekend with my parents, and another to Luang Prabang to see Deanne.
I've had buckwheat mushroom crepes, homemade (yes, pasteurized, thanks for
asking) yoghurt, caramel pork, and pumpkin souffle. So far. This weekend,
my mission will be mango sticky rice.
the Bad:
road warfare has intensified dramatically. There are low-riders and
motorcycles (albeit with more helmets on top) zipping around like wasps.
Roads are laid. There are crosswalks. There are parking lots. All in 9
months. Instead of having a baby, Vientiane popped out traffic.
the monsoon season has ended, and in its wake is a humidity thick with dust.
The government-regulated "sins" are ankle-length silk skirts that females
must wear in all hospitals. They line them with further silk. I went to
the morning market to buy two more and spent a full charades session
convincing the girls not to line mine. Let's see what happens - double
lining maybe? For those cold canadian winters...
the Ugly:
stupid cellulitis recurred on my ear on the flight to Hong Kong. So I did
get to see the immensity of the skyscrapers, but felt too lousy to impose my
wallet on any of it. Good thing the HK airport has docs who can be
persuaded to sell authentic meds. The facial swelling became Stay Puff
Sized during the international flights, to the point I was lucky to see out
my itchy ballooning eyes when I finally landed here. Over 17 hours of
flying. Not a single decent in-flight movie.
(am much better now, thanks)
You can be certain you are in the right place when your "to do" list starts
off with 1. Savor, 2. Be Grateful, and 3. Be Present. These are not things
I can cross off, since I cannot complete them (even borderline compulsive
list-makers like me). So they will remain things to do while I am here.
Today I met with the first year interns that I helped train in January.
They were smiling at me for the entirity of rounds; every time I glanced
over I was met with a sea of gleaming white teeth. Lak invited me to his
family's home tomorrow night. There is a Boat Racing Festival here in
Vientiane, and through our jumbled french exchange "cadeaux" became
"bateaux" and then "gateaux". So I think they set fire to cakes and float
them down the Mekong. Either way, I will be part of the fun soon!!
My list of things to do included booking a flight to Cambodia to spend a
weekend with my parents, and another to Luang Prabang to see Deanne.
I've had buckwheat mushroom crepes, homemade (yes, pasteurized, thanks for
asking) yoghurt, caramel pork, and pumpkin souffle. So far. This weekend,
my mission will be mango sticky rice.
the Bad:
road warfare has intensified dramatically. There are low-riders and
motorcycles (albeit with more helmets on top) zipping around like wasps.
Roads are laid. There are crosswalks. There are parking lots. All in 9
months. Instead of having a baby, Vientiane popped out traffic.
the monsoon season has ended, and in its wake is a humidity thick with dust.
The government-regulated "sins" are ankle-length silk skirts that females
must wear in all hospitals. They line them with further silk. I went to
the morning market to buy two more and spent a full charades session
convincing the girls not to line mine. Let's see what happens - double
lining maybe? For those cold canadian winters...
the Ugly:
stupid cellulitis recurred on my ear on the flight to Hong Kong. So I did
get to see the immensity of the skyscrapers, but felt too lousy to impose my
wallet on any of it. Good thing the HK airport has docs who can be
persuaded to sell authentic meds. The facial swelling became Stay Puff
Sized during the international flights, to the point I was lucky to see out
my itchy ballooning eyes when I finally landed here. Over 17 hours of
flying. Not a single decent in-flight movie.
(am much better now, thanks)
Vietnam 2007
Houses are tall skinny models in day glo outfits, they stretch ten stories high and crowd each other, crammed into any available space. The bright blues, pinks, and limes are usually only painted onto the front face of the structures - the sides of the homes remain stark cement. You can peer into the hallway to see the extended families cooking pho (pronounced "fur") or speaking loudly in sharp stacatto shrills (the only way I've heard this language). Getting to your room on the "fourth" floor may entail grunting up nine stories worth of stairs with your pack.
Sapa is a fairytale land of hilltribe folk and mountains that look carved out of rice paddies. The farms stretch over the valleys in layers interrupted by brooks. People live simply, growing corn or rice and dying their clothing with natural indigo. They dress in multiple layers of garments, richly embroidered with diamond patterns. Some women shave their heads under a large red hat, and since these ladies might reach one's shoulders - are a funny sight disappearing over the horizon following the tourists with their wares of silver and weaving, like garden gnomes come to life.
The town of Hoi An is made up of beautiful old chinese merchant homes, with carved teak pillars and central courtyards. These structures house the merchants of today - now selling stone carvings or tailoring expertise. Many have become restaurants, where a cooking class may dip into regional specialties of shrimp paste in rice paper or fish cooked in banana leaves. The tailors can make anything you can dream, and often in under 24hours.
The town of Hoi An is made up of beautiful old chinese merchant homes, with carved teak pillars and central courtyards. These structures house the merchants of today - now selling stone carvings or tailoring expertise. Many have become restaurants, where a cooking class may dip into regional specialties of shrimp paste in rice paper or fish cooked in banana leaves. The tailors can make anything you can dream, and often in under 24hours.
Banished to paradise - first trip to Laos 2007
The people I met in Laos have the widest, and whitest, smiles - Cheshire cat grins hover everywhere - floating down the Mekong in a longtail boat, over the tamarind carts, and while pacing their babies in the pediatric ward at Mahosot hospital.
The project I was attached to has now developed 3 of 5 years of a new medical school curriculum. I'm hoping to get involved for the clerkship component, but will see if this works out later. What I did help with was the Orientation Weeks for the new Family Medicine Interns. These grads are still running on the antiquated curriculum, so basically we try to teach an approach to medicine in two weeks. The family med program is also a U of Calgary baby, but the fumbling infants (first grads of the 2 year residency) are being asked to take over its running.
The quote "banished to paradise" refers to the fact that Deanne and I got assigned to go to the Provincial Hospital in Luang Prabang for our stint visiting the teachers at this level. This city was designated a World Heritage site - it sits on the merging banks of two rivers with lush green rice paddies lining the perimeter. There are more wats (buddhist temples) at the tip of the town than you could imagine, and from these at 6:30 am the drums resonate to awaken the drowsy monks. They don bright orange garb, and take an orange tin to fill with the alms they collect from buddhists who line the streets on their knees to give rice or fruit. The wats are only interrupted by early 20th century colonial buildings in white. In front of these architectural wonders will become the bustle of the night market - women from hilltribes selling woven silk and cotton, chinese opium pipes, and Tshirts with communist propaganda.
We ventured to the district hospital north of town, where Deanne met cholera (which officially doesn't exist in Laos, the communists aren't a fan of bad news). She was hospitalized briefly - luckily in the better hospital - and I never even got sick; for those of you taking bets on what bug I'm bringing home, scratch this one off!
The project I was attached to has now developed 3 of 5 years of a new medical school curriculum. I'm hoping to get involved for the clerkship component, but will see if this works out later. What I did help with was the Orientation Weeks for the new Family Medicine Interns. These grads are still running on the antiquated curriculum, so basically we try to teach an approach to medicine in two weeks. The family med program is also a U of Calgary baby, but the fumbling infants (first grads of the 2 year residency) are being asked to take over its running.
The quote "banished to paradise" refers to the fact that Deanne and I got assigned to go to the Provincial Hospital in Luang Prabang for our stint visiting the teachers at this level. This city was designated a World Heritage site - it sits on the merging banks of two rivers with lush green rice paddies lining the perimeter. There are more wats (buddhist temples) at the tip of the town than you could imagine, and from these at 6:30 am the drums resonate to awaken the drowsy monks. They don bright orange garb, and take an orange tin to fill with the alms they collect from buddhists who line the streets on their knees to give rice or fruit. The wats are only interrupted by early 20th century colonial buildings in white. In front of these architectural wonders will become the bustle of the night market - women from hilltribes selling woven silk and cotton, chinese opium pipes, and Tshirts with communist propaganda.
We ventured to the district hospital north of town, where Deanne met cholera (which officially doesn't exist in Laos, the communists aren't a fan of bad news). She was hospitalized briefly - luckily in the better hospital - and I never even got sick; for those of you taking bets on what bug I'm bringing home, scratch this one off!
SE Asia 2006
Cameron highlands in Malaysia are famous for the tea estates that an industrious scotsman created almost a century ago. These little bushes were originally planted through his vision, rising only two feet or so, and rolling over the hillsides like little waves of deep green tea (sea?) leaves. The hills are covered by the mists, only interrupted by the stray strawberry grow-op. The plantation makes all things tea, for example tea"cino" like a cappucino only milder. There are zip lines hanging over the estate, for workers to send bloated bags of leaves down the hills to the factory, where the equipment from 80 years ago still chugs and spits the leaves into fine powder.
Koh Chang is a small island in eastern Thailand, with roads like a ride at the exhibition grounds. The idea to rent a scooter initially conjured statistics about how more tourists die in MVA than any other cause, but realizing these leggo vehicles can go only 40 km/h at full throttle alleviated those fears quickly. or should I say not so quickly... Our helmets were like eggshells in bright easter shades of pink and blue, and not much thicker. We grabbed a quick ice coffee for the road and head down. and then up. and then down. The twists of the pavement are so complex, the mirrors at the pinnacle of the turn simply confuse the driver straining to complete a greater-than-ninety degree curve. But the reward is the most spectacular sunset, dropping like a red chinese lantern over the small islands in the distance. With the added bonus of a few hours away from the europeans who have descended in shiny blond (Timotei? do they still make that stuff?), tatooed droves to our paradise.
Bangkok never sleeps. or at least it sleeps in shifts, and the call schedule is not so desirable. We have arrived back into the smoggy parade after a long bus ride. There is a line of mattresses with mismatched frayed towels stretching across the parking area of a Shell gas station. The station itself has become a bar, with a bright pink VW van with its roof hacksawed off selling cheap liquor. Jack Johnson, the new Bob Marley of the gringo set, hums in waves over Kao san road. We lie on adjacent mattresses, and young thai girls plaster orange-smelling whipped concoctions over our face, apply a mud mask, and finish it off by spooning cucumbers over our fresh complexions. The facials take almost an hour, including the rubbing and pulling of our tired features, and cost less than eight dollars. The tuktuks putting by with neon brakes at eye level, the fake Victoria Beckham jean stalls, the massproduced dredlocks that can be applied to any length hair, the beer tubs that stand three feet tall, the banana pancake skillets (or mango with sticky rice, more my taste), the young thai girls with their old white men, the constant chatter of indian teens trying to entice you into their tailoring shops which promise "armani" suits in 24 hours... all of it melts away for a time. Then it all accosts you in bleats and whines when you leave the incongruous gas station. Time to eat. that will cost about a dollar, and is certain to be one of the best meals you've ever had, with lemongrass, basil, and ginger lingering on the tongue for hours.
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