On a lighter note, a minor observation I have made of similarities between countries as diverse as Morocco and Laos. Cheese in developing and generally hot countries, is very hard to find. I imagine this is because of a lack of refrigeration in such countries.
May I introduce the Laughing Cow, a synthetic attempt at cheese with an infinite shelf life, available in individually foil wrapped triangles on which a red cow possessing a sinister grin and cheese earrings stares back at you. Ask for cheese in countries across the globe and you are offered the Western delight of a single triangle of Laughing Cow cheese. (May i warn you in advance that it tastes absolutely foul in omelets). What Coca-cola has done for beverages; the Laughing Cow has done for cheese. The Laughing Cow is literally taking over the world.
Saturday, 23 July 2005
Terror around the globe
Well the terrorists are keeping us on our toes aren't they? Those of you in the UK will be tucked up in bed right now, but as I am six hours ahead over here I've already been watching the news. At least two bombs that have gone off in an Egyptian tourist resort. At least 43 dead and 150 injured at the last count, but this is sure to rise. Link here to the story if you haven't already heard.
I would imagine it will turn out to be the workings of an extremist muslin group...in fact I would put what little money I have and my beloved iMac G5 on it.
Iraqis have also had it tough with extensive casualties as a result of a surge in suicide bombings in recent weeks.
Pakistan was the scene of demonstrations against a crackdown on extremism in the wake of the London bombs.
On Tuesday the US embassy in Saudi Arabia warned US citizens there of a potential terror attack.
Fighting and skirmishes have become increasingly frequent in Israel on the run up to the Israeli pull out of Gaza in August. More suicide bombs on the part of Hamas; the Israeli army respond with fire power.
There are many other areas that I could mention.
Then, of course, there is London with our home bred terrorists. According to an ex chief of police, we could have up to three hundred such terrorists living amongst us and he claims the terror attacks could continue for the next twenty years.
So what do I think of it. Well, according to CIA figures, there are 1.48 billion Muslims world wide. Out of a population of around 6.5 billion (6,450,560,687 to be exact), Muslims make up a substantial proportion of the population. Of those 1.48 billion, the majority are living in peace, leading very normal lives. When you place the number of Muslims against the number of terror attacks, terrorists who follow a pervaded form of Islam are a minority. Unfortunately, a single suicide bomber has the propensity to murder many people.
Why do they do it? Who knows. What we mustn't forget however, is that the West has played a huge role in what is happening around the world. The West has had countless fingers in an infinite number of political pies. It has flexed its muscles and used trade agreements to control politics in other countries. The West has taken sides, (supporting Israel over Palestine for decades for example,) we have supported dictators such as Saddam Hussein, supplied him with weapons to fight the Iran-Iraq war and taken advantages of his country's vast oil wealth. When he turned against us, we crushed him. We educated Osama bin Laden. We were instrumental in the Taliban's rule over Afghanistan, providing them with weapons for their war against the Soviet Union. Then we left them to their own devices before crushing them after 9/11. We have had trade agreements with Pakistan and turned a blind eye to the atrocities in Kashmir. I could go on.
Is it any wonder that a minority of Muslims in these areas of the world are feeling like pawns in a Western game of chess? They watch as leaders are alternately supported and then dropped by the world's super powers. They have watched US and British rhetoric of 'the War against Terror' at work, providing excuses for the invasion of Iraq and the killing of innocent civilians in what amounts to a war over precious oil fields.
What we must not forget also is that the news we watch on TV or read in the papers is socially constructed. The stories we are shown are determined by the current political climate, those that are most likely to sell papers and the slant of stories often determined by the political orientation of the media corporation. Our support for the Israelis has been obvious in our one-sided journalistic portrayals of events in Israel.
In many ways, by getting so deeply involved in foreign affairs, we ourselves created the rift that is now being exploited by terrorists in the name of a twisted version of Islam. I do not condone the terror attacks, nor do I condone the atrocities that Saddam or the Taliban were involved in but I do believe that at the backs of our minds we have to be aware of the involvement of the world's super powers in what is now happening on our doorsteps.
Will the terrorists strike again? Of course they will. What is happening today has been simmering for the last twenty to thirty years. It is the culmination of training camps established decades ago spewing out brain washed men who believe they are fighting a global jihad against Israel and the West and ready to die for their cause. Unfortunately, they feel the need to fly the flag of Islam, to the detriment of Islamic communities around the globe. The book Al Qaeda is worth a read for the background on the origins of the training camps.
How will terrorism affect Britain? In many ways despite deaths and the obvious disruption, I think the terrorist acts we have currently seen and those still to come, will eventually benefit our multicultural society. London is a dynamic place where people of all races, religions, creeds and colours live together very happily. The bombs in public transport are targeted at all London citizens, regardless of ethnic origins or religious beliefs. I think, if anything, this indiscriminate bombing will bring our diverse community closer together. It affects everyone and therefore the only way terrorism can be defeated is if we act as a single community together.
Finally, will I be changing my plans as a result. Not a chance.
I would be glad to hear some alternative views so please feel free to comment away on the recent events.
I would imagine it will turn out to be the workings of an extremist muslin group...in fact I would put what little money I have and my beloved iMac G5 on it.
Iraqis have also had it tough with extensive casualties as a result of a surge in suicide bombings in recent weeks.
Pakistan was the scene of demonstrations against a crackdown on extremism in the wake of the London bombs.
On Tuesday the US embassy in Saudi Arabia warned US citizens there of a potential terror attack.
Fighting and skirmishes have become increasingly frequent in Israel on the run up to the Israeli pull out of Gaza in August. More suicide bombs on the part of Hamas; the Israeli army respond with fire power.
There are many other areas that I could mention.
Then, of course, there is London with our home bred terrorists. According to an ex chief of police, we could have up to three hundred such terrorists living amongst us and he claims the terror attacks could continue for the next twenty years.
So what do I think of it. Well, according to CIA figures, there are 1.48 billion Muslims world wide. Out of a population of around 6.5 billion (6,450,560,687 to be exact), Muslims make up a substantial proportion of the population. Of those 1.48 billion, the majority are living in peace, leading very normal lives. When you place the number of Muslims against the number of terror attacks, terrorists who follow a pervaded form of Islam are a minority. Unfortunately, a single suicide bomber has the propensity to murder many people.
Why do they do it? Who knows. What we mustn't forget however, is that the West has played a huge role in what is happening around the world. The West has had countless fingers in an infinite number of political pies. It has flexed its muscles and used trade agreements to control politics in other countries. The West has taken sides, (supporting Israel over Palestine for decades for example,) we have supported dictators such as Saddam Hussein, supplied him with weapons to fight the Iran-Iraq war and taken advantages of his country's vast oil wealth. When he turned against us, we crushed him. We educated Osama bin Laden. We were instrumental in the Taliban's rule over Afghanistan, providing them with weapons for their war against the Soviet Union. Then we left them to their own devices before crushing them after 9/11. We have had trade agreements with Pakistan and turned a blind eye to the atrocities in Kashmir. I could go on.
Is it any wonder that a minority of Muslims in these areas of the world are feeling like pawns in a Western game of chess? They watch as leaders are alternately supported and then dropped by the world's super powers. They have watched US and British rhetoric of 'the War against Terror' at work, providing excuses for the invasion of Iraq and the killing of innocent civilians in what amounts to a war over precious oil fields.
What we must not forget also is that the news we watch on TV or read in the papers is socially constructed. The stories we are shown are determined by the current political climate, those that are most likely to sell papers and the slant of stories often determined by the political orientation of the media corporation. Our support for the Israelis has been obvious in our one-sided journalistic portrayals of events in Israel.
In many ways, by getting so deeply involved in foreign affairs, we ourselves created the rift that is now being exploited by terrorists in the name of a twisted version of Islam. I do not condone the terror attacks, nor do I condone the atrocities that Saddam or the Taliban were involved in but I do believe that at the backs of our minds we have to be aware of the involvement of the world's super powers in what is now happening on our doorsteps.
Will the terrorists strike again? Of course they will. What is happening today has been simmering for the last twenty to thirty years. It is the culmination of training camps established decades ago spewing out brain washed men who believe they are fighting a global jihad against Israel and the West and ready to die for their cause. Unfortunately, they feel the need to fly the flag of Islam, to the detriment of Islamic communities around the globe. The book Al Qaeda is worth a read for the background on the origins of the training camps.
How will terrorism affect Britain? In many ways despite deaths and the obvious disruption, I think the terrorist acts we have currently seen and those still to come, will eventually benefit our multicultural society. London is a dynamic place where people of all races, religions, creeds and colours live together very happily. The bombs in public transport are targeted at all London citizens, regardless of ethnic origins or religious beliefs. I think, if anything, this indiscriminate bombing will bring our diverse community closer together. It affects everyone and therefore the only way terrorism can be defeated is if we act as a single community together.
Finally, will I be changing my plans as a result. Not a chance.
I would be glad to hear some alternative views so please feel free to comment away on the recent events.
Thursday, 21 July 2005
Politics of the third world.
I am officially stranded in Vientiane for the next week. I am not allowed to leave the city. No joke!
As of yesterday, Vientiane is in full blown preparation for the 38th Asean ministerial meeting. Police have noticeably increased, guarding every road junction. Market stall sellers have been ushered off their usual sites and told not to return until after the meeting (apparently they make the place look untidy) and a mammoth operation of dust removal from the roads along which the delegates will pass in their air conditioned, blacked out cars, is underway(never mind the locals who endure the dust on a daily basis or the fact that money would be better spent on schools and healthcare).
Roads are closed, shops, restaurants, bars and schools are closed. No foreigner may enter the city for the entire week (bar delegates and specific journalists with the correct paperwork). Should I leave the city, I would be unable to return. So much for my weekend in Thailand. A short trip across the friendship bridge a few km out of town and I could have savoured the delights of Tescos (yes the British supermarket). Instead I shall probably be sat in my office working on my dissertation...the joys!
Other news. Lao Hmong refugees, who are currently based in no mans land in northern Thailand, have been offered aid by Thailand but have been refused entry to the US. Apparently, many of them crossed the border believing that the US would take them in, as they had 15,000 others. Unfortunately, the US is not planning to take in any more so the refugees are stuck in Thailand. They are seeking political refuge because they claim they are being persecuted by the communist government of Laos.
Also, today is the start of Buddhist Lent, marking the anniversary of the first sermon by Buddha. Lent lasts three months until September, when everyone takes a few days off work and enjoy boat races down the Mekong. The temples look absolutely stunning at the moment with flowers and incense everywhere.
apart from a little insight into the goings on in Laos, I've not been up to much. Working hard and not really playing much. Heading out tomorrow night with a bunch of people for food and drinkies which will make a change. I'm also catching up with an American guy my age, who is based out here teaching English. He seems like a sound guy so hopefully, he'll be able to take me out someplace new. It'll be nice to have someone my age to chat to for a change :) !
The only other thing of consequence that I have noted these last few days, is the reproductive rates of my pet geckos in my hotel room. There seem to be babies everywhere. Today, I even had one in my hair which took me by surprise ! They're fabulous little creatures though and they munch any stray mosquitoes that manage to muscle their way in through the net.
As of yesterday, Vientiane is in full blown preparation for the 38th Asean ministerial meeting. Police have noticeably increased, guarding every road junction. Market stall sellers have been ushered off their usual sites and told not to return until after the meeting (apparently they make the place look untidy) and a mammoth operation of dust removal from the roads along which the delegates will pass in their air conditioned, blacked out cars, is underway(never mind the locals who endure the dust on a daily basis or the fact that money would be better spent on schools and healthcare).
Roads are closed, shops, restaurants, bars and schools are closed. No foreigner may enter the city for the entire week (bar delegates and specific journalists with the correct paperwork). Should I leave the city, I would be unable to return. So much for my weekend in Thailand. A short trip across the friendship bridge a few km out of town and I could have savoured the delights of Tescos (yes the British supermarket). Instead I shall probably be sat in my office working on my dissertation...the joys!
Other news. Lao Hmong refugees, who are currently based in no mans land in northern Thailand, have been offered aid by Thailand but have been refused entry to the US. Apparently, many of them crossed the border believing that the US would take them in, as they had 15,000 others. Unfortunately, the US is not planning to take in any more so the refugees are stuck in Thailand. They are seeking political refuge because they claim they are being persecuted by the communist government of Laos.
Also, today is the start of Buddhist Lent, marking the anniversary of the first sermon by Buddha. Lent lasts three months until September, when everyone takes a few days off work and enjoy boat races down the Mekong. The temples look absolutely stunning at the moment with flowers and incense everywhere.
apart from a little insight into the goings on in Laos, I've not been up to much. Working hard and not really playing much. Heading out tomorrow night with a bunch of people for food and drinkies which will make a change. I'm also catching up with an American guy my age, who is based out here teaching English. He seems like a sound guy so hopefully, he'll be able to take me out someplace new. It'll be nice to have someone my age to chat to for a change :) !
The only other thing of consequence that I have noted these last few days, is the reproductive rates of my pet geckos in my hotel room. There seem to be babies everywhere. Today, I even had one in my hair which took me by surprise ! They're fabulous little creatures though and they munch any stray mosquitoes that manage to muscle their way in through the net.
Tuesday, 19 July 2005
A truly multi-national kayak trip!
One German, one Swiss, two Dutch, one Mexican, two Brits, two Canadians and an obligatory couple of Irish folk made up my kayak group on Sunday. About as multinational as it gets out here!
Saturday night I succumbed to a Friends cafe and a pizza, but avoided the happy shakes and the amphetamine-laced cocktails. A warning notice in an internet cafe highlighting the rather regular occurrence of tourists getting arrested, fined and their passports confiscated was enough to put me off. I imagine a Laos prison cell would be a 'site of special interest', but it is not one that I wish to witness. You really don't want to mess with a communist / corrupt police force on your travels.
I spent my evening as a true falang, watching Friends and eating pizza before a not-so-falang early nighter- so much for my experience of Ibiza in Laos. There is something inherently sad about attempting to go clubbing by yourself, (it is not the same as going to a bar and reading a book, which I do on a regular basis) and after my aromatic encounter with a backpacker on the bus that morning, I felt no need to be sociable.
Sunday morning I woke to the sound of torrential rain. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if it had continued throughout the day, such is my luck with water-based activities(I shaln't go into my treacherous boat ride on Lake Titicaca to the Island of the Sun where I then witnessed a snow storm). Thankfully, the rain abated and I spent a great day on the Ngum river, banked on both side by impenetrable jungle. The environment there was absolutely stunning and, at least in that area, completely unspoilt.
I was really surprised at the river's ability to appear perfectly calm one minute, only for it to turn into an angry, roaring, monster around a corner. Ok, that may be a slight exaggeration. The rapids weren't exactly beasts, they were more domestic cat than lion. Still, everyone bar me capsized(because I was with an instructor...not because of a hidden talent for kayaking). I was with an instructor because I was the only singleton there, everyone else was part of a couple. There are certain times when I miss my man; that was one of them.
I managed to keep my bottom firmly inside my kayak for the first our and a half, despite a regular soaking by my hyperactive instructor, who insisted on standing on the back of the kayak and using his paddle to drench everyone. It was worth it to cool down from the glaringly, hot midday sun though.
We ate lunch on the banks of the river before continuing our journey by kayak. In the afternoon, my attempts to resist an encounter with parasitic life in the river were futile(specialising in parasitology as an undergrad was not the best idea for someone who enjoys international travel)as we ended up in a kayak capsizing fight. My instructor had the knack and between us we managed to capsize everyone. As with all cases of warfare though, it was'nt long before everyone ganged up for a revenge attack and I ended up fully immersed in the ominously murky water. It was great fun. After that we had a soggy tuk tuk ride for a couple of hours to the capital.
Back in Vientiane with an unhealthy attachment to this computer. Thankfully it didn't crash this evening.
Saturday night I succumbed to a Friends cafe and a pizza, but avoided the happy shakes and the amphetamine-laced cocktails. A warning notice in an internet cafe highlighting the rather regular occurrence of tourists getting arrested, fined and their passports confiscated was enough to put me off. I imagine a Laos prison cell would be a 'site of special interest', but it is not one that I wish to witness. You really don't want to mess with a communist / corrupt police force on your travels.
I spent my evening as a true falang, watching Friends and eating pizza before a not-so-falang early nighter- so much for my experience of Ibiza in Laos. There is something inherently sad about attempting to go clubbing by yourself, (it is not the same as going to a bar and reading a book, which I do on a regular basis) and after my aromatic encounter with a backpacker on the bus that morning, I felt no need to be sociable.
Sunday morning I woke to the sound of torrential rain. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if it had continued throughout the day, such is my luck with water-based activities(I shaln't go into my treacherous boat ride on Lake Titicaca to the Island of the Sun where I then witnessed a snow storm). Thankfully, the rain abated and I spent a great day on the Ngum river, banked on both side by impenetrable jungle. The environment there was absolutely stunning and, at least in that area, completely unspoilt.
I was really surprised at the river's ability to appear perfectly calm one minute, only for it to turn into an angry, roaring, monster around a corner. Ok, that may be a slight exaggeration. The rapids weren't exactly beasts, they were more domestic cat than lion. Still, everyone bar me capsized(because I was with an instructor...not because of a hidden talent for kayaking). I was with an instructor because I was the only singleton there, everyone else was part of a couple. There are certain times when I miss my man; that was one of them.
I managed to keep my bottom firmly inside my kayak for the first our and a half, despite a regular soaking by my hyperactive instructor, who insisted on standing on the back of the kayak and using his paddle to drench everyone. It was worth it to cool down from the glaringly, hot midday sun though.
We ate lunch on the banks of the river before continuing our journey by kayak. In the afternoon, my attempts to resist an encounter with parasitic life in the river were futile(specialising in parasitology as an undergrad was not the best idea for someone who enjoys international travel)as we ended up in a kayak capsizing fight. My instructor had the knack and between us we managed to capsize everyone. As with all cases of warfare though, it was'nt long before everyone ganged up for a revenge attack and I ended up fully immersed in the ominously murky water. It was great fun. After that we had a soggy tuk tuk ride for a couple of hours to the capital.
Back in Vientiane with an unhealthy attachment to this computer. Thankfully it didn't crash this evening.
Saturday, 16 July 2005
Another Irishman...this time with verbal diarrhoea!
The Chinese used to tie you up and drip water on your forehead to torture you. I have unfortunately stumbled across something far more torturous; a guarantee that you will go mad in less than an hour. An Irish man. Not any Irish man, but a particular festering, dirty, greasy-haired, stinking Irish man who had the verbal runs. He had arrived in Vientiane after a 17hour bus trip from Bangkok, so he smelt. He wasn't just stale, but oozing BO to the extreme. He had decided to head straight to Vang Vieng to my misfortune.
Prior to getting on the bus, he had started chatting to me and I had responded pleasantly, whilst trying to hide my disgust as I observed blackened fingernails and toenails; a nail brush but a distant memory. By the time we had to get on the bus, I was secretly begging for him not to sit next to me. Thankfully, in case this were to occur I had strategically placed myself next to an open window in the hope it would waft away unsavoury aromas once we got going.
Well of course he sat next to me. And then he started. He was the epitome of awful backpackers. For nearly two hours he spoke at me whilst I tried to look as uninterested as possible. It began...'i've been here, I've been there, I've done this, I've done that....me, myself and I...' and so it went on. He even showed me all 500 photos of his two years worth of travelling. In the end, I had to tell him that I had to do some dissertation work...and when he continued to interrupt me, I pretended to fall asleep. And so, instead of admiring all the little villages and the beautiful scenery as we headed into the hills, I had my eyes tightly closed whilst trying not to breathe too deeply in case I was consumed by the stench.
I am now in Vang Vieng, or as my boss appropriately calls it 'Ibiza in Laos'. I wouldn't say it is quite Ibiza just yet, but give it a few years and it will be. I'd call it 'the town of 1000 pizzerias'. That's all they seem to have here. Manky western food for manky, smelly, backpackers. All the pizzerias have different episodes of 'Friends' blaring out from loud TVs, in an attempt to lure the falangs in.
The town itself is however, in a stunning setting with giant limestone karsts surrounding it. Accommodation is stupidly priced. I'm paying $3 for a double, ensuite with a fan...thats about 1.75 quid (no pound sign on this keyboard). It is also ridiculously hot. It must be at least 40C today.
Vang vieng is the town for all things active. You can go caving, tubing, kayaking, hiking, climbing...you name it. I've decided, rather than risk the bus again, to spend the day kayaking back to Vientiane. I've been assured that despite the river being up due to it being wet season and the fact that there are a number of rapids, I will be in safe hands. Well, we'll see. They'll be a group of 5-6 of us and we share the kayak with an 'instructor', so at least if anything happens I won't be stuck on a boat on my own. $15 for the day and I get breakfast and lunch. We arrive in Vientiane around 5pm. I'm looking forward to it...although the rapids sound a little scary!
Prior to getting on the bus, he had started chatting to me and I had responded pleasantly, whilst trying to hide my disgust as I observed blackened fingernails and toenails; a nail brush but a distant memory. By the time we had to get on the bus, I was secretly begging for him not to sit next to me. Thankfully, in case this were to occur I had strategically placed myself next to an open window in the hope it would waft away unsavoury aromas once we got going.
Well of course he sat next to me. And then he started. He was the epitome of awful backpackers. For nearly two hours he spoke at me whilst I tried to look as uninterested as possible. It began...'i've been here, I've been there, I've done this, I've done that....me, myself and I...' and so it went on. He even showed me all 500 photos of his two years worth of travelling. In the end, I had to tell him that I had to do some dissertation work...and when he continued to interrupt me, I pretended to fall asleep. And so, instead of admiring all the little villages and the beautiful scenery as we headed into the hills, I had my eyes tightly closed whilst trying not to breathe too deeply in case I was consumed by the stench.
I am now in Vang Vieng, or as my boss appropriately calls it 'Ibiza in Laos'. I wouldn't say it is quite Ibiza just yet, but give it a few years and it will be. I'd call it 'the town of 1000 pizzerias'. That's all they seem to have here. Manky western food for manky, smelly, backpackers. All the pizzerias have different episodes of 'Friends' blaring out from loud TVs, in an attempt to lure the falangs in.
The town itself is however, in a stunning setting with giant limestone karsts surrounding it. Accommodation is stupidly priced. I'm paying $3 for a double, ensuite with a fan...thats about 1.75 quid (no pound sign on this keyboard). It is also ridiculously hot. It must be at least 40C today.
Vang vieng is the town for all things active. You can go caving, tubing, kayaking, hiking, climbing...you name it. I've decided, rather than risk the bus again, to spend the day kayaking back to Vientiane. I've been assured that despite the river being up due to it being wet season and the fact that there are a number of rapids, I will be in safe hands. Well, we'll see. They'll be a group of 5-6 of us and we share the kayak with an 'instructor', so at least if anything happens I won't be stuck on a boat on my own. $15 for the day and I get breakfast and lunch. We arrive in Vientiane around 5pm. I'm looking forward to it...although the rapids sound a little scary!
Thursday, 14 July 2005
some 'customs' are just beyond me!
Imagine the situation. You've just spent thirteen hours in front of a computer and you decide enough is enough and it is time to head home. You are starving; it has been 9 hours since you last ate. Opening the front door of the office, you realise a) that torrential rains are busy turning the road, once again, into the red sea, b) that you are wearing freshly laundered, cream combats and c) that flip-flops and red mud are not the best of pals.
Deciding which way to go to find food, you choose to head towards your hotel and begin the Olympic assault course around vast puddles, in the hope you can still find somewhere selling food.
Your luck is in. A small ramshackle restaurant has a light on, and someone is sat eating. You duck in, out of the rain and attempt a conversation with a lady in sign language, which you hope suggests that you are looking for a place to eat.
In response, you are shown where to sit and are given a menu. As your stomach grumbles, you quickly scan down the list and point something out. A discussion between the two ladies ensues. One lady returns to the table and reports, in broken English, that they don't have the particular item you chose. Ok then, so you choose something else. They don't have that either. So you ask what they do have. Running a finger down both sides of the menu, the girl points out a single item; Spare ribs. Well you're starving so it'll have to do. You nod enthusiastically and say yes please.
The two ladies sit down. Nothing happens. There is no clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen, just the sound of torrential rain on the corrugated iron roof. You look at your watch. It's been 10 minutes and nothing's happened. Nevermind, you think, it must just be cooking.
Ten minutes later one of the ladies puts on a helmet and jacket, jumps on her bike and heads of into the dark, rainy night. Ok, well you've heard about this. People have mentioned that in some countries, you go to a restaurant and they jump on a bike to go and buy what you order from another restaurant nearby. The other girl gets up and walks out of the back of the restaurant. You are on your own.
Another hungry 5 minutes goes by. The girl returns with shutters and starts shuttering up the windows. Ahh you think, she must just be keeping the bugs out of the restaurant. She continues to put the shutters up right next to your table, then when done, she once again disappears.
Your watch reads 9.45 pm. Another 5 mins pass and starvation is beginning to settle in. Suddenly, a woman with a young child appears. She looks at you and crossing and uncrossing her arms out front, repeats 'ish finish' 'ish finish'. You presume this means 'finished', as in 'chances of you getting food are slim to none matey'. Still starving, you pack up your bags and head out into the rain.
Stomping back towards your hotel, stomach pleading to be fed and in near useless flip flops, you then complete the day perfectly by tripping up, immersing your previously-laundered cream combats into a rather large pool of red mud.
Unbelievable? I'd have thought so, until last night. No idea what happened there. Why take an order, if your not serving food? Who knows! How very Lao.
I can only be ever grateful for the hotel staff who, on seeing me staggering in, covered from head to toe in bright red mud (literally), offered me a very welcome bowl of noodle soup!
Deciding which way to go to find food, you choose to head towards your hotel and begin the Olympic assault course around vast puddles, in the hope you can still find somewhere selling food.
Your luck is in. A small ramshackle restaurant has a light on, and someone is sat eating. You duck in, out of the rain and attempt a conversation with a lady in sign language, which you hope suggests that you are looking for a place to eat.
In response, you are shown where to sit and are given a menu. As your stomach grumbles, you quickly scan down the list and point something out. A discussion between the two ladies ensues. One lady returns to the table and reports, in broken English, that they don't have the particular item you chose. Ok then, so you choose something else. They don't have that either. So you ask what they do have. Running a finger down both sides of the menu, the girl points out a single item; Spare ribs. Well you're starving so it'll have to do. You nod enthusiastically and say yes please.
The two ladies sit down. Nothing happens. There is no clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen, just the sound of torrential rain on the corrugated iron roof. You look at your watch. It's been 10 minutes and nothing's happened. Nevermind, you think, it must just be cooking.
Ten minutes later one of the ladies puts on a helmet and jacket, jumps on her bike and heads of into the dark, rainy night. Ok, well you've heard about this. People have mentioned that in some countries, you go to a restaurant and they jump on a bike to go and buy what you order from another restaurant nearby. The other girl gets up and walks out of the back of the restaurant. You are on your own.
Another hungry 5 minutes goes by. The girl returns with shutters and starts shuttering up the windows. Ahh you think, she must just be keeping the bugs out of the restaurant. She continues to put the shutters up right next to your table, then when done, she once again disappears.
Your watch reads 9.45 pm. Another 5 mins pass and starvation is beginning to settle in. Suddenly, a woman with a young child appears. She looks at you and crossing and uncrossing her arms out front, repeats 'ish finish' 'ish finish'. You presume this means 'finished', as in 'chances of you getting food are slim to none matey'. Still starving, you pack up your bags and head out into the rain.
Stomping back towards your hotel, stomach pleading to be fed and in near useless flip flops, you then complete the day perfectly by tripping up, immersing your previously-laundered cream combats into a rather large pool of red mud.
Unbelievable? I'd have thought so, until last night. No idea what happened there. Why take an order, if your not serving food? Who knows! How very Lao.
I can only be ever grateful for the hotel staff who, on seeing me staggering in, covered from head to toe in bright red mud (literally), offered me a very welcome bowl of noodle soup!
Wednesday, 13 July 2005
culinary logisitcs and a minor risk of food poisoning
After what turned out to be a rather depressing end to a reasonable day yesterday, I am pleased to say that I made a remarkable discovery on the culinary front!
My day (apres run) consisted of staring at a computer screen whilst loading up dodgy Lao computer software; trying to master three new computer programmes with which i'll be developing the CD-ROM; and attempting to come up with some design ideas. Unfortunately, the rather vague brief of 'make the CD-ROM better' and the workload – now doubled from one CD-ROM to two – are slightly disconcerting. However, those of you who know me, will know that I like a good challenge. Fingers crossed i'll be able to come up with the goods!
Anyway, I digress. At the end of the day I spent three hours analysing the inspiring yet immensly depressing, Cancer Blog, for my dissertation. The blog is that of a 26 year old American guy suffering from stage IV metastatic melanoma. I noticed that he hadn't blogged for some time and reading the comments section confirmed my worst fears: the author had died. I had pretty much guessed it. As an avid blogger, his sudden departure from the blogosphere last year, at a time when he was particularly ill, suggested that that might be the case. The blog is definitely worth a read. His in-depth, extremely well articulated entries on American politics are interspersed with often humerous depictions of his progressively invasive disease.
Needless to say, I found out he had died and sat alone in my dark, overly air-conditioned office and sobbed. I don't even know the guy, but having read his blog from start to fateful end, it's hard not to become emotionionally attached to someone baring their soul.
Even more upsetting was the fact that i couldn't contact anyone. My phone doesn't work on the Laos network, no one was on msn and emails just take to long on the reply front. I gave up the analysis and stumbled out into the heat in search of an eatery where i could, once again, ask for a table for one.
Thankfully, I couldn't be bothered to go too far and fell into the restaurant next to the office, only to find that I was the only 'falang' there, that there were ominous-looking holes in the middle of all the tables and that there were very unusual culinary proceedings taking place. Feeling slightly out of my depth, I merely asked the waiter for whatever it was everyone else was eating.
Fortunately, I'd found myself the best english-speaking Lao waiter to date. He asked if i'd ever eaten in a place like this before. On my reply of no, he was very good to offer to show me the ropes.
I have yet to discover the name of this culinary delight but i shall pass it on when i do. Basically, a pot of hot coals is placed in the hole in the table and covering it, you place what resembles a giant metal lemon juicer. Hot water is placed in the base around the edge whilst a small piece of fat is placed on the top of the pointy bit. This stops the meat, that you then place on the top, from sticking. Veg, eggs, mushrooms, seafood ball things e.t.c go in the watery moat and you then attempt to turn the meat with chopsticks, whilst it cooks. This is no mean feat, especially for a chopstick amateur like myself. I provided great amusement to the staff who stood in a corner and watched my pitiful attempts.
Logistics, as a 'table for one' are actually quite difficult. Normally, a mate would turn the meat whilst you eat the bits that are cooked, but in my situation I had to simultaneously turn meat whilst attempting to eat. It was an interesting process, that definitely took my mind off Cancerblog. You keep replacing the meat and veg as they cook adding more water to the moat. The water becomes a soup which you can then eat. It is absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, the responsibility of food poisoning is left firmly in your hands as the cook- its been 24hrs and no dodgy stomach signs as yet!
All you can eat for 1 quid - not bad really, although quite expensive for Laos standards (i normally eat for 50p). I took a photo and shall attempt to upload it tomorrow, so you can get some idea of what i've been waffliing about. Tis nearly 9pm so i must head for food.
My day (apres run) consisted of staring at a computer screen whilst loading up dodgy Lao computer software; trying to master three new computer programmes with which i'll be developing the CD-ROM; and attempting to come up with some design ideas. Unfortunately, the rather vague brief of 'make the CD-ROM better' and the workload – now doubled from one CD-ROM to two – are slightly disconcerting. However, those of you who know me, will know that I like a good challenge. Fingers crossed i'll be able to come up with the goods!
Anyway, I digress. At the end of the day I spent three hours analysing the inspiring yet immensly depressing, Cancer Blog, for my dissertation. The blog is that of a 26 year old American guy suffering from stage IV metastatic melanoma. I noticed that he hadn't blogged for some time and reading the comments section confirmed my worst fears: the author had died. I had pretty much guessed it. As an avid blogger, his sudden departure from the blogosphere last year, at a time when he was particularly ill, suggested that that might be the case. The blog is definitely worth a read. His in-depth, extremely well articulated entries on American politics are interspersed with often humerous depictions of his progressively invasive disease.
Needless to say, I found out he had died and sat alone in my dark, overly air-conditioned office and sobbed. I don't even know the guy, but having read his blog from start to fateful end, it's hard not to become emotionionally attached to someone baring their soul.
Even more upsetting was the fact that i couldn't contact anyone. My phone doesn't work on the Laos network, no one was on msn and emails just take to long on the reply front. I gave up the analysis and stumbled out into the heat in search of an eatery where i could, once again, ask for a table for one.
Thankfully, I couldn't be bothered to go too far and fell into the restaurant next to the office, only to find that I was the only 'falang' there, that there were ominous-looking holes in the middle of all the tables and that there were very unusual culinary proceedings taking place. Feeling slightly out of my depth, I merely asked the waiter for whatever it was everyone else was eating.
Fortunately, I'd found myself the best english-speaking Lao waiter to date. He asked if i'd ever eaten in a place like this before. On my reply of no, he was very good to offer to show me the ropes.
I have yet to discover the name of this culinary delight but i shall pass it on when i do. Basically, a pot of hot coals is placed in the hole in the table and covering it, you place what resembles a giant metal lemon juicer. Hot water is placed in the base around the edge whilst a small piece of fat is placed on the top of the pointy bit. This stops the meat, that you then place on the top, from sticking. Veg, eggs, mushrooms, seafood ball things e.t.c go in the watery moat and you then attempt to turn the meat with chopsticks, whilst it cooks. This is no mean feat, especially for a chopstick amateur like myself. I provided great amusement to the staff who stood in a corner and watched my pitiful attempts.
Logistics, as a 'table for one' are actually quite difficult. Normally, a mate would turn the meat whilst you eat the bits that are cooked, but in my situation I had to simultaneously turn meat whilst attempting to eat. It was an interesting process, that definitely took my mind off Cancerblog. You keep replacing the meat and veg as they cook adding more water to the moat. The water becomes a soup which you can then eat. It is absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, the responsibility of food poisoning is left firmly in your hands as the cook- its been 24hrs and no dodgy stomach signs as yet!
All you can eat for 1 quid - not bad really, although quite expensive for Laos standards (i normally eat for 50p). I took a photo and shall attempt to upload it tomorrow, so you can get some idea of what i've been waffliing about. Tis nearly 9pm so i must head for food.
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