Last Look at Laos

Danny, Jennie and I are set on renting some motorbikes. Nothing sounds better than to hit the open road and roar down the highways of Laos. We saw ourselves whipping through town after town, passing the chicken coop buses and broken down vans along the way on our purring Honda's. What a pipe dream.

We reach the motorbike shop. Danny and I try our hand at our newly acquired freedom. It's a manual bike, and the way we handle it, our freedom feels more like Gitmo. Unsteady and unconfident, we fail to pass the minimum standard, and the shop keep takes our bikes away from us. We walk away, heads bowed.

We settle on bikes and trek out to the local boonies. We greet temple after temple, enclaves of orange robed Buddhists monks. Passing by with a smile, we continue on our way. Penetrating deep into the rice fields, the breeze whips past our back and takes away our consciousness of time. Laotians are working the fields some fifty yards off, they glance at the tourists and continue their work. Pools of water are filled with murky water, supporting a smattering of lotus flowers. It is beautiful. We find our way through the fields, and Jennie soon finds her way into the muddy waters of a rice paddy. None the worse for wear, she handles her fall, an agonizingly slow tragedy, with the grace of a trooper. We peddle and peddle. Soon we come upon the most unusual of sights.

In the midst of all the fields and vegetation, through the denseness of the green lush, we spot a deserted driving range. Golf. Amazing.

We soon hit the main road again, and start to hand out some candy to the kids. They smile and wave. I am not sure whether it is an act of goodwill or just patronizing.

Lunch is on the Mekong, a few hundred miles up the same river we had been exploring not a week ago in southern Vietnam. I wonder what it would be like to take a boat from here to there. There certainly is a lot of change for one river to bear.

That night, we are looking for a place to eat near our hotel and we run into the most interesting character of the trip, Flaming Dealer. Flaming Dealer is the most flamboyant Laotian we have met. His personality, quality, and demeanor hints toward the notorious lady-boys of Thailand. He has a very, very nice Lexus and offers us a ride to the nearest ATM. We hop in, and test his English. To our satisfaction, it is fluent. Not wanting to beat around the bush, we ask him what he does for a living. The all too indistinct answer 'import-export' was his reply. We are sure he is the most flaming drug dealer we have ever met.

We buys some cheese and wine, finishing our night off right.