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Published: October 28th 2009
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When my boyfriend arrived from the US, a week in to the EuroCup madness, I was exhausted. Fortunately J was too, from the jetlag. The trip had taken him over three days, on account of weather-related delays. On the day he was too arrive, I nervously chose an outfit, changing four or five times. We’d been apart five months and during that time I’d often imagined what his arrival at the airport would be like. It is really inappropriate to publicly kiss or hug a member of the opposite sex in this country but I wasn’t sure how I could avoid doing those things.
Upon first attempt, J’s flight was forced to return to Bangkok due to a storm over Luang Prabang, which prevented the pilot from seeing the landing strip, something fully necessary as Luang Prabang’s airport does not have radar. His plane landed in Bangkok, the passengers rode a van around the tarmac, and then re-boarded the plane for a second attempt. Feeling badly, Lao airlines then satiated them with as many free beers as they could drink. By the time J reached me, he was feeling pretty good, though a bit delirious.
Reuniting was wonderful, I just gave him a big hug and a kiss, (I couldn’t help it) and excitedly started showing him points around town on the ride home. I had to be at work almost immediately, so he came with me. Despite his excitement at finally arriving, after one local beer, he was passing out in his bar stool. I pointed him the one block home; all he had to do was walk straight, and then turn up the alley where our guesthouse was. Fifteen minutes later, he turned up at the bar again, lost. This time, I escorted him home and put him right in bed.
A few days after my J‘s arrival, my crazy bosses decided to close the bar again. The next ten days we spent most of the time sleeping, due to our shared exhaustion, his from jetlag, mine from the rowdy thirteen-hour shifts at the bar. And I had plenty of time to show him around, to all the places I loved, and to meet all the people I adored. My boss loaned us his two-seater bicycle, and we rode everywhere together, J always pushing the pedals, me just sitting in the back. Lao people thought we were hilarious, these two big falang, foreigners, on a tiny bicycle. Sometimes we biked long distances to different villages, and I would hop off and run alongside J as he got too tired to keep biking me. I wanted to bike him, but since he weighs so much more than me, I couldn’t balance the bicycle with him on the back; each time I tried we would fall over, the bike falling on top of us.
Every night was a new party at the guesthouse, and J quickly became close to the family as I had. We made sushi for my birthday; we loved it, and our Lao family fed it to their birds or spit it in the trash can, hating it. We managed to prepare eggplant parmesan and lasagna and our Lao family discovered their great unexplored love for Italian. The sushi was easy; the eggplant parmesan and lasagna, due to the fact that the kitchen possessed only an electric wok and a rice cooker, were much harder. First, we filled the wok with oil and fried the eggplant. Then, we cleaned the wok and made tomato sauce in it. Then we cleaned the wok, filled it with water and boiled pasta in it. Finally, we cleaned the wok once more, stacked up all the ingredients in it, plus cheese, and allowed the dish to ‘bake’ in the wok. Everyone loved it, though Lao people really don’t like cheese very much. I don’t think I ever realized what an acquired taste cheese is; if you didn’t grow up with it, it would probably taste strong and strange.
A few mornings, I prepared breakfast for the monks, fried rice or sushi, and delivered it to their temples, as the local women do, in my sinh at 7 AM. I was so proud and happy to be able to do participate in tradition, with the proper respect, by doing this. The monks and novice monks were probably like, "What is this wierd stuff the foreigner is bringing us to eat?" but I think they enjoyed the change, as they do generally eat almost the same foods every day. I brought sushi to my friend Novice Ken's temple because he is studying Japanese, along with English and Chinese, and he was curious about Japanese food. Although I must say, my ham and cheese sushi rolls are probably not particularly Japanese, except in inspiration.
At this time of year in Laos, the heat was becoming intense. Fortunately, this coincided with the rainy season, meaning cooling, fresh showers throughout much of each day.
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