Lao Write (2)
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Tu-Han-led... and More ):reprint of an old blog:(
i was slowly coming out from a steep and sharp turn, when suddenly from behind, a motorcyle smashed right onto the left side of my rear, sending me into a semi-tailspin as i could only utter God's name. Instinctively, my hands let loose my own 120cc handle and shielded my falling body from the hot asphalt coming right into my face! twas around 2pm wednesday, in the midst of a hell-like laotian summer. it's one kind of heat that gets into your nerves so quick as you feel your cheeks stir-fried while facing the wind. in a manila traffic, a flip would just draw out his gun, and....
but i could only pick myself up and drag my bike to the sidewalk. i glanced at the body that slowly rose beside the other motorcyle -- it was of a young lady who kept cursing and trying to drag her own machine that wouldn't move an inch. i helped her pull the machine up and all i got in return was more cursing and swearing that i couldn't really figure out. anyhow, i spat out tons of putang-ina's and hindots while steadying her then upright bike.
she quickly drew out her cellphone and signalled "handcuffs" to me. she was calling the cops! i drew out my wallet and told her in pidgin lao: "50 dollars, fifty dollars", pointing to her machine. trembling, my fingers took out a 100 dollar bill, as i knew beforehand that i didn't have smaller bills. the young lady quickly grabbed the green note and kept talking over the phone.
i was about to leave when she yelled "stop!” and handed back the greenback to me and kept signalling "handcuffs", uttering "police, police" in between laotian phrases. putting up a brave front, i started my bike's engine, and then i saw a uniformed cop coming toward us. then the lady screamed "tu-han-led! tu-han-led!"
two hundred dollars! wow!
the cop was fast moving toward our spot. i quickly picked out another hundred dollar bill and calmly put the twin bills to the young criminal's wide-open palm. nodding my head, i was sure i paid half the value of her motorbike. when, man... the idiot driver-mechanic-faith-healer that i am could only assess her bike's damage and her superficial bruises and scratches be worth the 7-11 price of a juicy fruit gum and plastic balloon, with free chocnut to boot. and whew! the cop on his motorbike sped past us!
but no. in this laoPDR where People see the Dollar and not the Redcross sign in expats' faces, tu hanled maybe the cost of keeping the cops out. otherwise, some expat friends and fellow development consultants would later say, the price would be tu hanled... evely now and then... until you leave the countly quick.
and am too embalassed nallating this stoly.
that's what's keeping my feet cold -- the young criminal who gave her name as "lilly" (had she pronounced it right, that may actually be "rirry") could think of a thousand and another thousand more ways to skin a cat or scalp a soccer fan.
well... tu hanled dolah is definitely worth the reality that am still alive despite slight bruises on my fingers and pained muscles in my right arm -- and am too stingy to buy me pain lelievels.
God Bless Lie PDR.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
On the Occassion of International Women's Day 2003
International Women's Day, Vientiane, LaoPDR. -- I was reading Sam Keen's 'Fire in the Belly" in a PDR restaurant while waiting for ages for my order to be served. I was pondering on the part that says: "WOMAN… is… so high you can't get over her, so low you can't get under her, so wide you can't get around her'. SHE EXISTS, THEREFORE I AM".
I was too absorbed on the chapter when a gray-haired backpacker from out of nowhere (guessed he came in through the bathroom window), just sat down across my table then asked: can I sit here? Before even taking a glimpse at the face I heard the question from, I got eye-struck by the words printed on his shoddy black shirt, that read:
"If you have water, you will have fish.
If you have money, you will have a GIRLFRIEND.
-- Cambodian Proverb"
Anyone who has stayed in Cambodia long enough to make out of at least the surface of the Khmer character and psyche, men and women alike, will simply break into a high-decibel laughter upon reading said “proverb”. Which I almost did.
But not until I had a shot on the old man's sixty-ish Caucasian face (probably a veteran of countless Rolling Stones’ concerts) : He was wearing lipstick, make-up and painted (or tattooed) eyebrows -- with dangling pair of earrings to match. In between subdued bursts of laughter, I asked him: So you came in direct from Cambodia, huh? To which he replied, in a rather white-is-right, mattter-of-factly tone and twang: "Yup. But I don't like that place -- sad and so poor. You must be Lao, you speak good english"
I quickly turned to a waiter passing by and signaled re: my order: Take out, please. Quick please.
Tu-Han-led... and More ):reprint of an old blog:(
i was slowly coming out from a steep and sharp turn, when suddenly from behind, a motorcyle smashed right onto the left side of my rear, sending me into a semi-tailspin as i could only utter God's name. Instinctively, my hands let loose my own 120cc handle and shielded my falling body from the hot asphalt coming right into my face! twas around 2pm wednesday, in the midst of a hell-like laotian summer. it's one kind of heat that gets into your nerves so quick as you feel your cheeks stir-fried while facing the wind. in a manila traffic, a flip would just draw out his gun, and....
but i could only pick myself up and drag my bike to the sidewalk. i glanced at the body that slowly rose beside the other motorcyle -- it was of a young lady who kept cursing and trying to drag her own machine that wouldn't move an inch. i helped her pull the machine up and all i got in return was more cursing and swearing that i couldn't really figure out. anyhow, i spat out tons of putang-ina's and hindots while steadying her then upright bike.
she quickly drew out her cellphone and signalled "handcuffs" to me. she was calling the cops! i drew out my wallet and told her in pidgin lao: "50 dollars, fifty dollars", pointing to her machine. trembling, my fingers took out a 100 dollar bill, as i knew beforehand that i didn't have smaller bills. the young lady quickly grabbed the green note and kept talking over the phone.
i was about to leave when she yelled "stop!” and handed back the greenback to me and kept signalling "handcuffs", uttering "police, police" in between laotian phrases. putting up a brave front, i started my bike's engine, and then i saw a uniformed cop coming toward us. then the lady screamed "tu-han-led! tu-han-led!"
two hundred dollars! wow!
the cop was fast moving toward our spot. i quickly picked out another hundred dollar bill and calmly put the twin bills to the young criminal's wide-open palm. nodding my head, i was sure i paid half the value of her motorbike. when, man... the idiot driver-mechanic-faith-healer that i am could only assess her bike's damage and her superficial bruises and scratches be worth the 7-11 price of a juicy fruit gum and plastic balloon, with free chocnut to boot. and whew! the cop on his motorbike sped past us!
but no. in this laoPDR where People see the Dollar and not the Redcross sign in expats' faces, tu hanled maybe the cost of keeping the cops out. otherwise, some expat friends and fellow development consultants would later say, the price would be tu hanled... evely now and then... until you leave the countly quick.
and am too embalassed nallating this stoly.
that's what's keeping my feet cold -- the young criminal who gave her name as "lilly" (had she pronounced it right, that may actually be "rirry") could think of a thousand and another thousand more ways to skin a cat or scalp a soccer fan.
well... tu hanled dolah is definitely worth the reality that am still alive despite slight bruises on my fingers and pained muscles in my right arm -- and am too stingy to buy me pain lelievels.
God Bless Lie PDR.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
On the Occassion of International Women's Day 2003
International Women's Day, Vientiane, LaoPDR. -- I was reading Sam Keen's 'Fire in the Belly" in a PDR restaurant while waiting for ages for my order to be served. I was pondering on the part that says: "WOMAN… is… so high you can't get over her, so low you can't get under her, so wide you can't get around her'. SHE EXISTS, THEREFORE I AM".
I was too absorbed on the chapter when a gray-haired backpacker from out of nowhere (guessed he came in through the bathroom window), just sat down across my table then asked: can I sit here? Before even taking a glimpse at the face I heard the question from, I got eye-struck by the words printed on his shoddy black shirt, that read:
"If you have water, you will have fish.
If you have money, you will have a GIRLFRIEND.
-- Cambodian Proverb"
Anyone who has stayed in Cambodia long enough to make out of at least the surface of the Khmer character and psyche, men and women alike, will simply break into a high-decibel laughter upon reading said “proverb”. Which I almost did.
But not until I had a shot on the old man's sixty-ish Caucasian face (probably a veteran of countless Rolling Stones’ concerts) : He was wearing lipstick, make-up and painted (or tattooed) eyebrows -- with dangling pair of earrings to match. In between subdued bursts of laughter, I asked him: So you came in direct from Cambodia, huh? To which he replied, in a rather white-is-right, mattter-of-factly tone and twang: "Yup. But I don't like that place -- sad and so poor. You must be Lao, you speak good english"
I quickly turned to a waiter passing by and signaled re: my order: Take out, please. Quick please.