Fruit, Tightie-Whities, My Own Su Kwan

The morning conversation is about the corruption in Laos. Every government official, police officer, tax collector (they go door by door collecting the actual money), and teacher is corrupt. Teacher? Now it's personal...they tell me that you can pay to get good marks, and are often forced to pay to move up academically. I tell them about the time I was earnestly offered $2000 from a rich student to pass her on her final exam. I laughed and told the student that she should keep her money and concentrate her efforts on studying. Lucky girl got a 52% on the exam...if you call that lucky. So's family tells me there's no way any teacher here would have passed up that bribe. Corruption is omnipresent in countries where people have so little money or power.

So's mom, sister, and So and Ramsey take me out to see some sights in Vientiane. I see their version of the Arc de Triomphe. The informational caption has Ramsey and I in stitches.

Ramsey and I have a Titanic inspired argument over whether or not diamonds can be blue...a first.

I end up buying three big bags of fruit - mangosteen, rambutan and logan - which together cost me only $8. This would have cost me at least $40 in Canada.

A note on the marvelous mangosteen. It is this perfect balance of sweet and sour - a complex taste wrapped in a springy purple package that contrasts against the white juicy sectioned flesh inside. The little flat flower structure on the bottom of the fruit has the same number of petals as the number of fruit sections inside. You can find these in Toronto's Chinatown, but of course they won't be as fresh and will cost you a pretty loonie.
The day is sweltering - the hottest one on my vacation so far. Everyone is feeling it and melting. It's a good day for a haircut - my hair reaches my lower back. I go to get it cut and end up with the worst haircut I've ever had, you know, the kind where you feel like you end up with MORE hair than you had before. I feel like an upside-down broom. Something about me, vacations and haircuts. Last summer in Guatemala, I got these horrible cornrows done (long story) and then I hated them so much and got so desperate to remove them, that I cut them off two days later with a some guy's army knife. I lost about six inches of hair, but even that was better than the haircut I have now. No accompanying picture of this monstrosity will be forthcoming. I guess you get what you pay for when you go and get an el cheapo buck fiddy haircut. Luckily it's still long enough to clip back in my usual updo. I will have to rectify this situation as soon as I can find a hairdresser that speaks English.

Tightie-whities, sex drives and population booms. How are all these connected you ask? You know the idea that tightie-whities keep the testes too close to the core and therefore heats the sperm to a temperature that decreases fertility...well...the men in Laos only wear tightie-whities, and yet eleven children households are common. What's with that? Ramsey has a theory that the tighties prevent the free movement and accompanying desensitization that boxers promote...this keeps the testes restricted and in a state of heightened sensitivity which plays out in a more vigorous expression of sex drive...ahem...bada bing, bada bang...eleven children.

Back at So's family house I smell what I identify as some strong incense in the air. It turns out to be burning plastic. Many of the Lao start their stove fires by burning plastic bags (which are everywhere). They don't know about the health and environmental hazards of this, they just know that it burns fast and is effective at starting fires.

I am told by Ramsey that the family is planning a Su Kwan for me this evening. This is in honour of me being a guest here and Ramsey's friend. This ceremony is intended to give me good luck for my trip and life. I am honoured but have no clothes appropriate to the situation. I am the tallest and biggest woman on site, so So's mom fashions me with some of her traditional and formal clothes. The top is really ill-fitting and this isn't much rectified by a strategically placed clothespin. Luckily I'm sitting down on the ground throughout the entire ceremony so the ill-fitting clothes don't factor much, especially after I get the sash put on me. So's mom does the speech. She looks right at me and I don't know what she's saying, but her soulful brown eyes and gentle smile make me feel like the words are special. I feel a bit sentimental, as well as extremely warm and sweaty in so many layers of clothes.

After dinner, So's older sister asks me if I live alone in Canada. I say yes and she asks me if I ever get lonely. I say no, I like living alone because I always get to see my friends and family anyhow. Ramsey's reply to the same question is that when he's lived alone in the past, he's never been lonely, he's always had his books...then he laughs.

Tuckered.