Today, happily (still three days prior to Pi Mai), they and their three neighbours were all rented out.
It had been an early night. Ali was reading whilst I monitored the Test Match. A curse from my side of the bed and she turned to face me, although her gaze immediately drifted beyond. Yeti, why is it orange outside? There was indeed a strangely flickering glow and, equally flummoxed, I jumped up to draw the curtain. Shit, we were alight. The bin on the wooden balcony was spewing four foot flames, flames only several feet shy of the rattan I say bin as this was now a molten, spreading, mass. The contents of the dogs water bowl and several rapid, overly exposed, dashes to and from the bathroom for refills saw all under control, but it had been a close call. No doubt a smoldering cigarette butt had remained in the ashtray that, tidily (foolishly), was emptied just prior to slumber. People in wooden houses cannot afford to be careless. Lesson learnt.
With the first anniversary of our time in Laos rapidly approaching Ali began to feel increasingly guilty at our lack of language ability. Thus she started to follow an spoken Lao course and to encourage those at Sipasert to translate
words and various basic phrases. Almost immediately there was mirth: Khoy pronounced with a rising intonation equates to me or I, without this inflection penis Our attempts at Im very tired (Khoy hownon lai) is a particular favourite.
The loop takes you around the periphery of the Bolaven plateau. Tad Lo sits at approximately ten to the hour and Paksong, the market garden/organic farm centre of the province, several hours away at half past. Mathilde knows of several establishments where exotica such as basil, rosemary and parsley plants, not to mention mature leeks and beets (sadly it wasnt avocado season), can be obtained straight from the earth, whilst Martin had been loaned the school bus (a modified truck) for the weekend. Thus a two day jaunt was planned: wed visit some farms, stay overnight in Paksong before continuing on to Pakse for some western staples shopping and then home.
Of course accessing said farms necessitates negotiating rutted mud trails and on arrival at our second detour it was readily apparent that we had gained a flat and then, soon after, that the jack was broken. Oh, and regardless, there was no spare. Wed
have to hobble to the nearest mechanic, fortunately only five kilometres away. And this is an Asian thing: almost every tiny village has such a and if youre driving old jalopy theyll inevitably be able to fix it. Thirty minutes later, with a new tyre in place, we were off once more. Serendipitously there had also been a little store selling baby new potatoes for a pittance a few yards along the road.
Meanwhile, on the vegetable garden theme, Sipasert have developed a patch of land into a bountiful green oasis with lettuces, bok choi, spring onions, aubergines, chilies, coriander, dill, mint (hence herbs we didnt have to acquire on our wander), and a forest of tomato plants – the latter of which we, once they were getting rather out of control, staked up (amidst total bemusement – it was, at the tasks initiation, midday and nudging 40C) to prevent them totally smothering all else. Plus there is the odd diversifying planting interspersed – no more than three mind. We also have ducks, although one did contribute to a rather fine soup the other night.
it became evident that Laos was likely to remain one of the safest places to shelter. Yes, we werent testing to anywhere near the extent of wealthier developed countries, but our positive rates were still leagues behind even our most benign neighbours. The borders have remained closed to all but a few returning nationals (who are immediately quarantined) for almost a year now and, as I type, Laos has a per capita record unmatched anywhere on this inhabited globe: 49 cases and zero deaths among a population of 7.1 million. What has always worried though is not the virus per se.
