School's Out and About

37 grade 10 students and 4 staff loaded luggage and then boarded the bus in Vientiane on Monday morning ready for a week of travelling, study and fun on Vientiane International School's yearly SALSA trip. (Secondary Action Learning Service Adventure)
The bus ride took us north where after a couple of hours we stopped at a bridge and all piled out. Making our way down to the river bank we were met by our 11 guides for the first part of our adventure. We were all kitted out with life-jackets and helmets, selected our paddles and in a very large circle on the bank of the Nam Lik we learnt the basics of kayaking. Dry land practice over, it was time to pair up and hit the water.

The journey down stream was superbly pleasant with wonderful rock formations, overhanging jungle trees and just the right amount of small rapids every now and then to make it exciting. Most students, and one pair of staff, ended up with an upturned craft at some stage of the journey which resulted in much laughter and joking during the long river trip.

Eventually we stopped at a magnificent bank of rocks where lunch was awaiting us. With clothes slowly beginning to dry, it was time do don a climbing harness and embark on a short walk up the hill through the jungle. It then became evident that our method of returning to the river was to be quite spectacular. Our harnesses were attached to a wire cable stretching its way through the trees and one by one we whizzed through the canopy making our way from tree-top to tree-top. As we finally approached the river again it was one final walk across a suspended bridge before being lowered to the rocks below at an alarming rate via an abseiling free-fall.

 

Everyone enjoyed the experience immensely, including the students who, at the beginning, were perhaps a little apprehensive. Then we were back into the kayaks for another 2 hours of paddling downstream where the bus was waiting to meet us. We then made our way to our first night’s accommodation on the western bank of the “Lao Sea”. This is a reservoir created by the hydroelectric dam on the Nam Ngum river which was to be our first stop on the following day. After a great and well deserved night’s sleep, those lucky enough to wake early watched the sun rise above the mountains. (Something we certainly don’t get to see here in Vientiane.)

Our day began with a visit to the dam where the history and working mechanics of the dam were explained as we toured the main control room as well as the dam wall. We then began what was to be a very long and slow boat ride across the reservoir, stopping at a village along the way where students made their way amongst the villagers and spoke to them about the dam and whether it had had any impact upon their lives. We also stopped briefly to observe the underwater logging operation where divers descend to the bottom and mark underwater trees with plastic coke botles on a string that float to the surface. The work boat then makes it's way over where they have some kind of apparatus for cutting the timber underwater and then floating it to the surface where they dry it on pontoons. A very long process but I guess it's not damaging any native forest. Apparently there is an underwater village not far from where they operate with a whole village temple that you can dive on if you're keen. Back on board the boat, the students managed to find many ways of wiling the hours away. (Playing cards, word games, tunes on the ukulele, dangling your feet in the cool water or even just putting your head down and having a quick nap.) Upon reaching the Eastern shore we were loaded into tuk-tuks and trucked to our next two nights’ accommodation. The luxury of the previous night spent in the lodge on the banks of the “Lao Sea” suddenly seemed so far away, but still…..all we had to do was sleep there.

The following day we split into two groups, one visiting the Phu Bia copper/gold mine and the other visiting local villages to discuss the possible impacts of the mine on village life. The first village we stopped at was a glorious Hmong village, (Ban Nam Cha), on the banks of a small river.

With only 43 families it was reasonably small and yet had a large, 3 roomed school full of children beaming with a mixture of excitement and trepidation at the crazy bunch of Falangs that had just entered their village. Our students wandered amongst the locals and spoke with as many people as they could before we moved on to another village closer to our home base.
This village appeared to be the Lao version of Texas with every second man wandering around with a home-made rifle slung over his shoulder.

With a strange looking badger type creature hanging by the neck on the side of the road and every small roadside stall having a healthy supply of ammunition this was indeed an interesting village. We spoke to one man briefly who casually wandered through a schoolyard with rifle over shoulder on his way to the river to try and shoot a buffalo. Goodness knows how he intended to bring it up from the river.

On our journey back to home base we stopped at a small brook for lunch before continuing on. Having arrived home a little earlier than anticipated we took the opportunity to make a small visit to a local waterfall. Some of the students braved the dodgy walkways and bridges up to both sets of falls and even dipped into the icy cold waters.

The following day the groups swapped activities so our group headed further North to Phu Bia mine. After a safety induction we were bussed to a ridge above the open cut mine just in time to catch the daily blasting. The sound and shockwaves from the blast were unbelievably impressive. It was as if they had opened several big cans of thunder all at once. We then checked out the tailings dam and the simulator for the oversized tip trucks before making our way back to base camp.

We then quickly loaded the bus and headed on to the last section of our adventure, Tadleuk Falls. Arriving just on dusk, the tents we were to sleep in were already set up so we settled in, had a quick dinner and then busied ourselves with campfire activities before calling it a night. Songs were sung, marshmallows were toasted and we called it a night under a magnificent starry night. The following morning we had a dip in the waters and explored the waterfall before dismantling our tents, packing up sleeping bags and boarding the bus for our trip back to Vientiane.

The students managed to keep their sense of humour and adventure intact throughout the trip which was a great achievement through some long and hot days. Overall it was a memorable and enjoyable adventure as well as a great opportunity to get to know more of the year 10 students.

ps... it must be fun being an linesman in this country...... at least they wear their safety thongs.

 

Germany - part 4 : Das Letze Kapital

We headed from Bremen south on the train to Koln where Merrilee had booked a hotel online close to the train station. When we booked in and opened the window to our room, we discovered a magnificent view of the Koln cathedral. What an amazing piece of architecture. Just its pure size is unbelievably impressive. To marvel at such an awesome construction and to ponder on just how it was possibly made without the benefits of modern mechanical methods is astounding. I have never been all that interested in architecture in the past, I guess I haven't had a lot of opportunity to experience a lot of architecture of any consequence before, so I was somewhat surprised when we actually entered the cathedral on the Sunday morning to find myself completely overcome by its majesty. Compounding the situation was the knowledge that my mother never had the chance to see something as wonderful as I was currently marveling at through teary eyes. I know she would have loved it immensely.

Our stay in Koln was very brief, just the one night, but wonderful as well. Wandering the streets, eating the obligatory pretzels and ice-creams, marveling at the variety of characters, (it seemed somehow different to Berlin, some kind of Italian cosmopolitan or something), was as entertaining as anything. We managed to fit in a visit to the Museum Ludwig to check out a fantastic range of mostly modern art which was fascinating not only to see but also to observe others and listen and watch their reactions to many of the exhibits. ("What a load of crap....I could've made that!!", which of course, they didn't........and it's a pretty sure bet they wouldn't have thought of it in the first place, you'd need a brain for that! Not quite sure just why those guys were in there to be honest)
We went to a fairly run of the mill steakhouse in the hope of a decent piece of meat, (not an easy or inexpensive thing to come by in Laos), and were not disappointed. It had been a while since having a nice steak, cooked to perfection, so that actually ended up being something of a highlight also. But it was time to move on, so we left Koln and boarded the train once more, heading for Worms.

Worms is not too far from Frankfurt and, like most of the places in Germany I had seen via train windows, it had its fair share of impressive graffiti along the train line walls. I am not particularly partial to the average wall scribblings of half-witted layabouts who even on their best days are hard pressed when it comes to spelling even the simplest of curse words. But I have to admit, the plethora of 'old-school' style tags adorning almost every concrete wall partition on the train lines was, to me, a bit of a visual treat.

In Worms we stayed with Franzi and her father Thomas. Franzi also spent some time with us in Australia whilst she attended school in Darwin for a few months so it was wonderful to spend some more time with her again. We spent two nights in Worms, having a great explore of the cathedral there that, whilst not as large and impressive as the one in Koln, was just delightful. We also spent a day shopping in Mannheim where we finally managed to find another skateboard store to buy a longboard for Luther. (I had already bought one for myself in Berlin.)
Before we knew it it was time to return to home base in Meisenheim to spend our last few days with Mutti and Papa. We did one day trip to the Technical Museum in Speyer. Some wonderful old vehicles and some great old boats, submarines and even a couple of old aircraft on giant stands that you could climb into via a large staircase, walk around inside, (on such a raked angle it made it difficult to stay standing), climb right out onto the wing, (which was a bit frightening when we decided to see how much we could make it wobble by all jumping at the same time; quite a lot as it turned out), then make your way out and down to the ground on a great big stainless steel tube slide. Great fun.
We then had our final trip to...... where we boarded a boat and spent the afternoon on the Rhine. I had no idea just how many castles there were in this area. Unbelievable. Some in better shape than others, but fascinating none the less.

We spent our last day in sleepy Meisenheim, just relaxing, walking through the forest, strolling, (or skateboarding for the boys), to the next village for yet more ice cream, and just wiling the hours away happily enjoying the company and the odd board game.
Of course, all good things apparently have to come to an end, so eventually we made our way with Mutti and Papa to the airport in Frankfurt. Farewells were made, promises put in place, tears wiped away and we were headed back to our home away from home.

Final observations:

Things I didn't like about Germany.

-Smoking. I find it hard to believe in this day and age that so many people in this country are fooled by this ridiculous activity. Spending most of my life in a country that has, over the years, actively discouraged people from taking up this vile practice and just recently won a world first case enforcing plain packaging, it is so disheartening to be in a country that seems to encourage the staggering number of people, (especially youth), to engage in such an archaic form of self destruction. The fact that it is accepted as being the norm is just plain outdated. Most of the rest of the developed world has moved on. We found it difficult to find places where you could just have an enjoyable meal without poisonous clouds invading your senses. Is this just Germany or is it basically all of Europe? Either way.....yuck.

-Dogs. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not keen on dogs in ANY country, but seriously...... being allowed to bring your dog into a restaurant where I'm trying to eat a meal. I think not. Most developed countries have health regulations that forbid this......for good reason. The only time a dog should be anywhere where near the dinner table is if you are eating it!

Things I did like about Germany.

-Food. This is not hard... I like food anywhere.. But here it was fresh and actually quite cheap. Highlights.....Cheeses, pretzels and fresh raspberries.
-Beer
-Transport. The roads in Germany are mostly pretty damn good. There seems to be an autobahn near enough to anywhere to be able to jump aboard and speed off to wherever. (Assuming there a no burning cars in your way) the bits of road that aren't so flash are usually the cobbled bits through the villages which have their own magnificent charm. The train system is also pretty damn awesome. Not cheap.....but definitely awesome.
-Castles. What's not to love about castles?
-Beer
-Windmill thingies. I don't know what you actually call these things, but the fact that they are dotted all over the horizon, (or in some places so thick it's like an eerie invasion scene from war of the worlds), suggests that this area of the world, at least, is doing something right about alternative energy. Add that to the various solar farms we travelled past and it makes the whingers about a carbon tax just seem even that little bit more ignorant as to what is going on in our world.
-Architecture. From the largest of cities to the smallest of villages. Sometimes it's a magnificent cathedral and sometimes it's just a single brick in a wall but there is always something to marvel at.
-Did I mention beer?

Will we go back to Germany? Definitely.
Will it be soon? Most likely.
Would I like to live there? Absolutely.
Will that happen? Who knows?....but not ruling it out that's for sure.

Germany - part 3 : "It's the Arctic Ocean...with a different name."

After a great week in Berlin, Mutti and Papa made their way, via train, back to sleepy Meisenheim. Heiko took the reins as pilot of the great holiday machine with Merrilee, Zachary, Luther, myself and Jorris as willing passengers. We were headed to Elmshorn, north of Hamburg, and then further on to the North Sea. Fortunately, there were no major disruptions on the autobahn and we got to Elmshorn in good time. Our purpose was to visit Heiko's sister Kirstin, (Merrilee's 'host' sister), and spend a couple of days with her and her beautiful daughters Siri and Ira. (Siri came to Australia as an exchange student last year and stayed with us in Darwin for a couple of months) A wonderful, comfortable little home greeted us on our arrival and our stay with Kirstin and the girls was truly delightful. We even had a barbecue in the back yard and then hauled the ping pong table out to the side yard where many laughs were heartily enjoyed. One of my enduring memories is of the shower. Two heads, the main one glowing with blue LED lights when you turned the water on and stereo speakers directly above. Now THAT'S the way to get clean.
Whilst we were in Elmshorn, we took a day trip on the train to Hamburg. It was a cool and drizzly Sunday, but our spirits were high and we enjoyed the day. After having a Berliner in Berlin I also thought it prudent to indulge in a hamburger in Hamburg.

Of course, I then began to worry what I might need to eat in another week or so's time when we were due to visit Worms. But I figured I'd cross that bridge when it arrived.
Being a cold, wet Sunday, we did what hundreds of other Hamburgers, (??, Hamburgians... Hamburgolians... Hamburglars..... whatever?), decided to do. We visited the Miniatur Wunderland of model trains. We entered the building and climbed the sopping stairs surrounded on all sides by dripping umbrellas connected to other Wunderland Sunday revellers. Bought our tickets and waited for the 2 hours it would take before we would be able to enter. Sure is a popular spot on a wet weekend. After wandering around the centuries old docks our time finally arrived and we made our way in toward the waiting train sets. What greeted us was quite remarkable. Then as we made our way further in and up to the next level it was beyond astounding. When one thinks of train sets, something on this scale never enters your reckoning. At current standings, they have 930 trains with 14 000 wagons spread over 1300 square metres of floor space, 13 km of track together with 215 000 hand made figurines. They have workers there full time to operate the 46 computers that run it all.

There were areas that were designed on the Swiss Alps, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Austria, Scandinavia it just goes on and on. There was even an airport where trains would arrive, fire and safety vehicles would drive out to the runways and back, and the planes actually took off and disappeared though the painted clouds on the wall. There was smoke billowing from castles and tunnels that caught on "fire" requiring miniature fire brigade vehicles to attend, tiny amusement parks with fully operational roller coasters, ferris wheels and other rides, a rock concert attended by throngs of fans holding lighters into the air, and all the while, trains would whizz by over bridges, through tunnels and even at one spot, underneath the very floor that you stood on whilst every few minutes, the lighting above it all would gently change from day to night and all of the 335 000 lights on the trains, cars, buildings, planes, boats and streets would transform the entire set to a magical night scene before gently returning to day and beginning the cycle once more. It was, rather astoundingly, absolutely breathtaking.

Half the fun, if you spent long enough looking carefully, was discovering the stories that were going on in the surrounding towns and mountains. They really were quite fascinating and often rather amusing or even slightly risqué. You could find fairy tale characters, nudists, base jumpers, hippies, cowboys, lost boyscouts, and the odd fellow being pursued in the forest by velociraptors. I even came across a crime scene with police divers finding a dead body in a small brook. It believe it would likely take months or even years to uncover every wonderful little story. It truly was a Wunderland.

Before making our way home we had what seemed to have become the obligatory stop for ice-cream. (I do believe that with all the pretzels, sausages, beer and ice-cream I may have possibly added a few pounds to my already aging frame.) After two wonderful days we said our goodbyes to Kirstin and headed for the North Sea.

Heading north west we decided to get off the autobahn and take a few back roads for a change of scenery. Wending our way through the northern tip of the Netherlands was delightfully refreshing. The long thin roads leading through endless fields of crops and passing tiny farm houses seemed quaint after the hustle and bustle of the city. Eventually, after one or two moments of backtracking, we arrived in Eemshaven and prepared to board the ferry to the German isle of Borkum.
Borkum is the largest of the East Fresian islands in the North Sea. It is oddly shaped and surrounded by very shallow waters which means there is only one way to approach it in a large vessel. The channel markers show a very narrow path with bare sandbars on either side. I would hate to be doing the hour long trip then entering that tiny entrance in a rough sea. My hopes of a quick dip in the North Sea were slightly put on hold when I discovered one of the sand banks was home to a resident pack of lounging seals. Perhaps it was going to be colder than I had even imagined. We set ourselves up at the local camping ground and walked to the main beach/town area. Perhaps it was the fact that it was overcast with a chance of rain, or maybe that it was very early in the summer yet. But the deserted beach covered in lonely huts, (all facing away from the sea view and instead toward the township promenade), was a striking but somewhat depressing image.

Of course, the other thing that I had neglected to take into account was the summer time. It was almost 10:00 pm when the above photo was taken, so there was good reason for the lack of life on the beach. It didn't get dark in Borkum until 11:30 pm and the sky would be light in the morning at 4:30. (Summer time like that would be awesome back home. You could still fit in 5 hours of surfing after work!) I can imagine though, that in the height of a summer's day this quite pretty little beach would be literally crawling with happy families. We made our way back to the camping ground and settled in for the night.
Every morning Merrilee would walk into the township to buy bread rolls and pretzels for breakfast. Sometimes one or more of us would join her on this pleasant outing and we would often take a different route just to discover more of this interesting little island. The weather whilst we were there was not the greatest. Mostly it was overcast and windy with a few drizzly bits and the odd downpour accompanied by a fairly impressive thunderstorm. This made it all the more funny when, hiding in our tent from the early rain, the campground speakers would erupt with morning greetings and a rousing rendition of a hilarious song about Borkum that loudly proclaimed "auf dort gibt's Sonnenschein" (...there, there is sunshine...) Still, it was of no matter to us. We had a very enjoyable time. There were enough dry spells to get out and about and do some exploring. I wandered to the beach directly over the hill from the camp one evening and decided to walk to the sea. I thought the tide went out a long way in Darwin but this was ridiculous. It took almost 20 minutes from when I reached the beach to make it to the water.
We had one day that was sunny with blue skies, so we hired bikes and did some longer range exploring.

There are bike and walking tracks all over the island and we covered some serious miles. Some of the tracks through the marshes and dunes were more walking tracks really which made for a few stacks between us, but that was all part of the fun. We stopped at an area where the sea reaches much closer to the land and finally managed a swim in the North Sea. Not exactly crystal clear tropical water, but certainly nowhere near as cold as expected, so that mission was accomplished and thankfully without the loss of the family jewels.

Borkum is a very quiet and friendly island that has been a popular summer holiday destination for German families for many years. (When we finally returned to Meisenheim, Papa showed us photos of him in Borkum when he's was 4.) I imagine returning here someday, it really was quite lovely.
One of the main reasons to come to Borkum was so that Heiko could take Jorris kitesurfing. Unfortunately the school was booked out for the first two days and then there wasn't enough wind so Jorris was pretty disappointed that he had missed out on the opportunity. One of the strange things about Borkum however is that it has a Flo-Rider, so this would have to be a replacement. A Flo-rider is basically a man made standing wave where a few inches of water gushes up a slope at a great rate of knots enabling the rider to essentially 'surf' upon it.

They were planning to take the centre divider out the following day which meant we could have ridden it on stand-up boards but because we were leaving the next day we had to make do with the body/knee option. (This was probably a good idea in the end given how difficult it was to get used to.) We all still had a whale of a time and were blessed with many spills and much boisterous amusement.
We caught the ferry back to Eemshaven and drove to Bremen where we said a sad farewell to Heiko and Jorris and boarded a train to head on to the next part of our journey.

This is one beer I didn't expect to be sampling in Germany.

Germany - part 2 : "I am a jam donut"

Our home base for Germanic adventure was to be Meisenheim. A typical small country village about 1.5 hours drive from Frankfurt with a beautiful little cathedral, a hand full of stores on cobbled streets and the river Glan running peacefully through it. Our hosts were Wolfgang and Gisela Doerr, Merrilee's host parents as an exchange student in 1980, so really, they were just Mutti and Papa. We arrived at their house and out came the Kaesecuchen, Mutti's well renowned baked cheese cake.

After a day of resting from the travel and enjoying the peace and quiet of Meisenheim, (also letting the many slices of kaesecuchen settle), Mutti was adamant that we see as much as we could whilst we were there. So our first day trip in Germany was put in motion and we were off to Burg Eltz. This was the first of dozens of castles we were to see on this trip, and my God, it was certainly the most spectacular. Walking down a steep road toward the valley where the castle is perched on a rocky outcrop on the bend of a small river, the first glimpse was jaw dropping. Looking like something straight out of a Disney feature, (it is apparently the best preserved of all the German castles), one expected knights, damsels and ogres to be prancing around the surrounding hills. Inside the castle itself was a veritable maze of stairwells and passages leading from room to room and floor to floor. There were remnants of old treasures, furniture, tapestries, armoury, (there are even some arrows from enemy crossbows fired against the castle centuries ago), and some of the most amazing little window nooks that would be beyond heaven to curl up in and read fairy tales.

The main reason for our German holiday was to attend Merrilee's (host) brother Heiko's 50th birthday. So with only a couple of days in Meisenheim we set off for Berlin.
Traveling in Mutti and Papa's campervan was a bit of an adventure in itself. The ability to sit at a table and play cards on a very long journey was indeed a welcome bonus. Once on the Autobahn it was fairly easy traveling.......until it wasn't! Apparently a car, somewhere ahead, had burst into flames on the side of the road. This may not have been such a problem except that the Germans do some strange things. One of these things is to block off half of the lanes on the Autobahn, apparently in order to prolong the life of the road surface!!!!????? (Perhaps there was no mention in the meeting that decided on this peculiar measure of the distinct possibility that prolonging the life of half of the road was possibly going to shorten the life of the other half) Because of this wonderful beaurocratic decision, there was no room for traffic to pass the aforementioned roadside fireball. Eventually the slowing traffic came to a full halt. And this is where we stayed for the next two hours. The offending barbequed bomb was about 6 or 7 km in front of where we were stopped so I would hazard a guess that after 2 hours, the eventual line of stopped traffic gathering behind us must have continued for at least another 20 km if not more. People talked, played cards, listened to music, played soccer, wandered into the bushes, (mostly they were probably not looking for berries.....some particular bushy areas were obviously more popular than others judging by the slowly gathering smell), but mostly they just walked around trying to relieve the boredom.

Finally the traffic began to move and people ran everywhere in a desperate bid to get back to their vehicles that they had long forgotten that they actually owned. Our drive to Berlin had stretched out and had eventually taken 12 hours, but we were there.
Everyone in our circle of German family and friends knew that we were coming to Germany, except Heiko. Our first stop in Berlin was at a pub where everyone had gathered for drinks on the night before his birthday. The meeting of Merrilee and Heiko was just perfect. He was genuinely shocked to see us and just absolutely thrilled to bits. We had a few drinks, something to eat, I finally got to meet Heiko's 16 year old son Jorris who was named after me, and our Berlin chapter had begun.
By the time we left the pub and made our way to the hotel it was almost midnight.....so they wouldn't let us in!!! A quick re-adjustment of plans and we found a hostel down the road that would take us for the night and we hauled in for a much needed sleep.
Our stay in Berlin was excellent. So many things to see, both wonderfully uplifting and frighteningly sobering, occasionally at the same time. With such a dramatic recent history it is certainly a city for contemplation.
The architecture in Berlin was something to behold. From modern constructions like the Sony Centre with its extravagant sails to the majestic old buildings that have seen so much change in this magnificent city. To see buildings that I remember from old paintings in Art History classes was pretty special. Napoleon visiting Berlin in front of the Brandenburg Gates....and there were the very same gates, although the day we were there a different tyrant was in town.

Other notable things from our Berlin stay were going to a massive slot car track and mucking around on that for an hour.

And of course visiting the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. A magical installment that I could have happily wandered through for hours, and then the harrowing museum built underneath it. I must remember to take some tissues next time.

One of the stranger things we did in Berlin was to have a game of mini golf. Not normally all that strange, but here in Germany they of course do things just a bit differently. There is no attempt, in any shape or form, to replicate, (as we do in Australia and New Zealand), the colour, look or feel of actual grass. Each hole's surface appeared to have been lovingly and carefully created with the use of that most famous of putting surfaces....... asbestos. To strike the ball, (yes...it is the size of a golf ball but that is where the similarity ends....still not sure what they were actually made of), the competitor was expressly forbidden to stand on the putting surface and therefore forced to stand on the ground below the playing surface, reaching across to the designated starting point. (Perhaps if they let you stand on it you would be entitled to sue them for getting cancer in later life?) The regular corners, mounds, twists and turns we're all there....it just felt a bit odd. A quick look into the club room, (I kid you not), revealed a wall full of trophies and pennants celebrating their success at various championships. There were people there with their own custom designed rubber-faced putters and fancy cases full of balls of varying weight, size, colour and density ready for the challenge that each hole presented. Mutti sat down and chatted to one of them and it turned out that he was qualified for the European tour of asbestos putting competitions. What next? As much fun as it is.... I thought ten-pin bowling was nerdy. Anyway, after the parties, dinners, pretzels, sightseeing, slot cars, museums, shopping, mini-golf and of course many different beers, our time in Berlin was over, and the next part in our adventure would take us north towards Hamburg.

It would seem that it is not only Asia that has some funny things on display.

Germany - part 1 : Planes, Trains and Tuk-tuk-mobiles

We have just returned from almost 4 weeks in Germany. What a fantastic experience. Meeting new family and friends, seeing amazing sights, eating a lot of food and of course drinking plenty of beer.

Our adventure began with a breezy tuk-tuk ride to the train station in Tha Nalaeng, (just out of Vientiane). This was followed by our first of many train journeys. The trip from Tha Nalaeng, across the Mekong River to Nong Khai in Thailand is, by its very geographical nature, a short one. The train was an old one. It was relatively short, only a handful of carriages with plenty of natural air and light due to its lack of windows. Board the train and take a seat....there were plenty, this is not what you would call a busy line. Then the driver started the engine. The rhythmic chugging of a large diesel engine vibrating through the seat of one's pants can be either embarrassingly uncomfortable or titillatingly amusing, (I think it depends on one's age), but it was nothing compared to what was about to happen. For some reason the gentle chugging turned into an outrageous roar. Either the driver was the railway equivalent of a bogan rev-head trying to impress the railway slappers, (sleepers?), or he thought he were piloting an old DC-10 and we were about to fly across the river. Either way, the peaceful beginning to our journey was well and truly over and the ear-piercing scream of the engine continued on for what must have been 5 minutes but felt like a painful eternity before the driver was satisfied that either all the girls were impressed or he finally realised that we didn't actually have any wings. The important thing was that the torture was over and with our hands now available for something other than ear-blocking, we were on our way. The track itself runs directly through the middle of the Friendship Bridge which means that there is only room on the bridge for the train and not much else, therefore all other traffic must wait at either end until the train has passed. Uninterrupted views of the Mekong river to the East and the West and plenty of time to take them in on our slow, chugging caboose was a pleasant relief from the previous onslaught. By the time we had cleared immigration on the other side it was time to board our next train. Nong Khai to Bangkok sleeper, first class.

OK, it said first class on the ticket, and it was certainly a large step up from the second and cattle classes that I wandered through during the trip, but first class on the Orient Express it was not. It was private, it was reasonably comfortable and reasonably clean, the beds were spacious and it was air conditioned. Thats all we needed. There was also an hilarious Thai woman moving from cabin to cabin trying to sell meals and drinks from the restaurant car. It wasn't hard to decipher that she was working on commission with her constant compliments as to how young and good looking we were. But even with her constant and random exclamations of "Happy happy happy!", we respectfully declined her offer. We had heard it was cheaper to go and eat in the restaurant car in person. Upon walking through what seemed like an endless chain of crowded carriages to check out the aforementioned eating facility which turned out to be tiny, with no air conditioning, and full of people smoking we respectfully went searching for Miss Happy-Happy. A quick delivered meal and a couple of beers and it was time to bed down.

The regular clak-a-dak of wheels on track is known to be hypnotically relaxing and sleep-inducing. Apparently that doesn't work so well for us. The night that was supposed to fly by whilst we slept turned instead into one with no apparent end. The 12 hour sleepless journey to Bangkok then unfortunately turned into 15 hours due to an accident on the track somewhere ahead. The few spare hours we had counted on at the airport before our flight to Frankfurt quickly disappeared. A swift taxi ride from the train station to the airport was to be our saviour....until the entire freeway was diverted to side streets whilst rows and rows of police and fire vehicles filed on. The previous few hours of telling myself over and over "We will make it on time we will make it on time." we're getting harder and harder to believe. Thankfully, with a little bit of driving into the oncoming traffic, (sometimes ya just gotta love taxi drivers), we did make it on time and the wait at the airport was significantly shorter than originally anticipated. Luggage was loaded, boarding passes acquired, seatbelts fastened, tray-tables in the upright position and we were on our way.

The 10 hour flight with Thai Airlines was a pleasant one. What time wasn't indulged in the many movies one could choose from was spent trying to work out where we were. With mostly clear skies we saw mountains, towns, snow covered hills, jungles and deserts passing quietly beneath us. The only place we could pick with any real confidence was the Caspian sea, but then, on a journey that only passes one piece of water that was not too difficult. After some 36 hours with no sleep, 5 movies and a bit of window gazing later, the German landscape was beckoning. The fields of crops stretching to the distant horizon, the countless villages sometimes no more than one or two fields apart and the Auto-Bahn wending its way through it all. Frankfurt at last. We were met at the airport by our extended German family, within minutes the first beer was bought, and our German adventure had begun.

Inferior Decorating

Yesterday, I visited our sister school Saphanthong Tai. The purpose of the visit was to take all of the year 9 students and paint the interior of 3 of the school's classrooms. I have had experience with year 9 students in the past. I have also had experience with large amounts of paint. The two of them together was not suggesting itself to be an enticing prospect.
Arriving at the Primary school was a fairly humbling experience. They do not have a lot. Two small, dark and simple buildings separated by a very small muddy yard covered with weeds and dog shit. What little they do have however they are very proud of.

The circus that followed with 2 dozen 15 year olds armed with brushes, rollers, paint and absolutely zero painting skills must have been fairly disconcerting for them. The poor old school janitor bounced from room to room like a nervous cat watching its offspring being tormented by a visiting Kindergarten group from the local ADHD association. It didn't help that amongst our arsenal of mayhem implements, there were NO roller trays. The plunging of painting impliments deep, (up to ones wrist sounds about right), into the giant tubs of paint appeared to be the solution. It doesn't seem to matter how many times you suggest to a 15 year old with access to copious amounts of mark-making equipment, that if their roller isn't actually rolling down the wall but merely sliding down and covering them and the floor with dripping paint that perhaps they have a little to much on it. It is a waste of breathing out past one's vocal chords whilst making various shapes with one's lips and tongue. Better to save all that energy for the head shaking and tsk-tsking that will shortly be required. I did my best to try and tidy up some of the edge-work, and by day's end we had succeeded in covering almost everything that was required to be covered, in paint of varying thicknesses, as well as a few other things that perhaps may have been better left unpainted. eg the floor. Today we return to the school armed with a different armful-of-destruction in order to unpaint the unfortunate sections of floor and classroom furniture. I am sure the enthusiasm of the Year 9's will be not as forthcoming as it was yesterday, but I have faith that they will come to the party and do a good job.

One of the rooms newly painted.

Tomorrow will mark 3 months since I arrived here in Vientiane. It has been a very different 3 months to that which I had imagined, but also a very rewarding one in so many ways.
Firstly, the opportunity to receive as much work as I have has been most fortunate. The school has not only provided me with employment, but also a great base for building friendships in both a social and professional context. Working with so many of the kids at the school and also meeting some of their family members has been a joy. This really is a wonderful educational environment that I imagine would be very hard to better should we ever leave here during the boy's schooling years.

Little salas that are spread around our school for the kids to eat and play in.

Part of this new building will be home to the new music and theatre dept for the school.

Secondly, the food here is just wonderful. Of course some of it is also downright frightening, but on the whole, it is a great thing. The streets of Vientiane city are lined with many restaurants offering foods from around the world and all for the price of the proverbial oily rag. One of my favourite discoveries is the wonderful bowls of noodle soups with herbs and greens and savoury doughnuts for not much more than a single dollar. Of course the Beerlao is cheap too.

Merrilee enjoying a Beerlao Tower with our first visitor, the glorious Kylie JL.

Wandering through some on the markets and seeing the vast array of fresh fruits and vegetables, many of which I have never seen before is a magnificent adventure in itself. Then as you make your way deeper into the bowels of the marketplace, the air changes, a dank and humid clamour erodes the senses and the putrescence of raw offal, rotting fish and row upon row of bowls of meat soaking in fetid, brown juices tempts the bile to rise to the occasion. Large catfish seem to be very popular here, (there is a rare catfish in the mighty Mekong that can grow to 300kg....haven't seen any quite that big yet), frogs too are seemingly common on the menu. Tubs and tubs of them at the markets, all about the size of a regular cane toad and no more pleasant to look at. Then of course there are the 'regular' foods, the many types of rice that are available, the spices, the giant bags filled with dried chillies. Truly the markets are worth a visit just for the sake of the visit itself.

Then of course there are the people here in Laos. It is quite magic what a simple smile can achieve. Meeting people in the street and smiling at them most often brings a return smile wider and warmer than that which you just gave. I have heard very few cross words since I arrived, and the ones I have heard are invariably from foreigners.
My skills at communicating with the local Lao people in their native tongue have unfortunately not improved. I can say hello, count to ten.....and....that's about it. I shall endeavour to fix this in the coming weeks, months, years!
Then I just may be able to ask these locals just what sort of fish they are actually catching on the side of the road on my way home.

There are only 3 days left in the school year before most of the staff and students make their way back to their respective homelands for a much earned break. Some, like us, will not return home but instead broaden their adventure with visits to new places. Part one for us begins this coming Monday evening with a 12 hour train journey from here to Bangkok. We are traveling in a first-class sleeper....we shall see how much sleeping actually gets done.



Favourite quote from a girl at the school here in Vientiane.
"I'm never going to Asia. I don't even like Asians."


The amusing signs continue.

Well I guess it is for kiddies.

We Built This City: It'll Rock and Roll

We live here in a house at the end of a single lane dirt drive that runs off an almost-wide-enough-for-two-vehicles dirt road that leads back, via a positively multi-laned, (in relative comparison), dirt highway to a road that has some sort of permanent sealing on it. (I don't believe it is asphalt, it looks more like concrete. Either way, I do not wish to have cause to meet it on terms close enough for me to decipher its exact origin.) But never the less, that fact remains that we live in a house. It is, in many ways, a pleasant dwelling and if you can forego the aforementioned goat track and all its inherent chiropractic adventure, it is a comforting place to call home. The view of the sun sneaking its way above the horizon, a gigantic rich red glowing ball hovering above the rice fields, before launching into its day is a sight to behold and one that is not easily forgotten. It is peaceful. There is no traffic to assault either the ears or the eyes. (Unless the rarely seen bullock drawn cart slowly ambling its way through the rice fields can be classed as traffic) There are no noisy neighbours with their infernal doof-doof running late into the night. OK..... Perhaps this is a bit of a stretch. There is SOME music that goes on. The Lao people seem to be, by and large, a happy people who take great joy in not only supporting their country's economy by consuming copious amounts of the greatest resource that Laos has to offer, Beerlaos, but also in participating, with much vigour, in that ancient Asian custom we have come to know as....Karaoke. Every Sunday afternoon. From across the rice fields, each week, drifts the sound of not one, but several gatherings where the apparent ritual strangling of cats, (of which there seem to be a limitless supply), takes place. This recurrent aural assault is of course accompanied by backing tracks that always, (and I do mean always), contain the melodic, soothing sounds of that wonderfully rich classical Asian instrument...the cowbell. Quite how the cowbell became such an integral part of Indochinese musical custom I am not sure. Perhaps there is an ethnomusicological dissertation awaiting a PhD student who is keen of spirit but perhaps not so keen of ear. In order to embark upon such a tertiary chore one would need to be unfathomably foolhardy or be possessed of a hearing impairment so severe as to render one's self entirely deaf. Perhaps both ought to be considered a prerequisite. So yes....sometimes there are celebratory gatherings near our home that involve this tolerated custom. However, unlike the blue collared suburban chicken coop of the developed world that I am used to, this festivity does not go on until the early hours of the morning followed by the ubiquitous shouting that comes with the revelry of either joyous inebriation or drunken fisticuffs, I could never really tell the difference.
Somewhere in here I was talking about our house.
Its architecture is a blend of Asian and Western influence with its solid concrete walls rising to meet the high peaked roof trimmed and adorned with quaint Asian curves and swirls. The dark, simple timbers of the interior create an atmosphere of sombre, colonial splendour for the masses. The need for interior decorating a must. A splash of brightness or colour here and there indeed transforms the house into a home.

Looking around Vientiane, it would seem that the process of building such a dwelling, or any for that matter, seems to follow the same pattern. Find somewhere, (anywhere), to fit a house. Put some dirt on it. Pour concrete over it. Make some sticking up bits out of concrete. Then fill all the gaps with bricks. Quite how long these buildings are expected to remain in their preferred erect state is unclear. Having endured the lengthy red tape that is required in the cyclone-prone tropical north of Australia's building process, it is in some ways a breath of fresh air......and also a potential disaster waiting to happen. Our home is not very old. A couple of years I believe. And yet the cracks and lines in the walls and supporting columns in some places are no less apparent than those on the face of Bob Hawke. Sitting on our front balcony, (where all the palings charmingly display hand carved elephants supporting the balustrades), I look across at a building site where I have watched this standard building procedure take place. All that needs doing now is the roof being attached and the brick walls being plastered almost as thickly as a 40 something's bridesmaid on a hens night. Both are hiding something. What I find interesting is the fact that the columns never looked perfectly vertical to my eye, and the top layer of bricks is about as straight as a women's soccer tournament. I'm guessing that building inspections, like many other things here, are conducted at a distance and over, (or perhaps that should be under), a counter rather than actually on the job. Not far from our home, there was a pond on the side of the road when I arrived here 2 months ago. It is no longer there. It took several days to pump out all of the water and reveal the gloomy mass of fallen trees, dead animals and forgotten trinkets that had existed at its murky bottom. It was in fact quite surprising to see just how deep it actually was. It then took about the same amount of days to back fill it with mud, trucked in from goodness knows where, and packed down by nothing more than the very trucks that delivered it which then had to be towed out of the resulting quagmire by the next waiting delivery. I can only assume that this has all taken place in order to now build upon this wonderfully rugged, architectural blank canvas. The wise man may indeed have built his house upon the rock.....but I don't recall there being a man, or woman, of any intellectual persuasion being described building their house upon the mud! This being the case, how are we to know if this action leans more toward the wise or the foolish? Perhaps looking to your immediate right may help. Just next door there is a new shopping centre and restaurant that already has a car park exit consisting of a concrete slab that hovers some 3 ft above the ground. One wonders if this will serve as a visual learning tool for the prospective neighbours or just something for them to ignore as they slowly sink closer to England or perhaps Wales. (One assumes this is approximately where one would end up if you were to dig completely through the earth's core and out the other side given our proximity to China.) The other thing that perplexes me is the seemingly complete lack of use of bamboo in the Lao construction industry. I can't say I've seen a lot of Asia, but from what I have seen, and also am led to believe by others far more learned in all things Asia, is that given the availability and inherent strength of bamboo, it lends itself rather perfectly to a variety of construction applications, in particular scaffolding. For some reason, (I don't know, perhaps it only grows in the more mountainous areas of Laos), it is not used here in Vientiane. Instead, loads of small timber trunks are substituted and are used for any multilevel scaffold or bracing requirements. It looks rather peculiar, but it gets the job done.

I wonder what the Greenies would have to say about it? It would appear that entire forests would need to be brought to their proverbial knees purely for the peripheral purpose of constructing large amounts of concrete walls for apartment buildings.
Of course the local landscape is littered with the resultant dwellings created via this apparently haphazard, earth subsiding, deforestation modus-operandi. I have even seen occasions where the 'put some dirt on it' step has been omitted entirely. Why bother with all of that noisy mess when you can simply build directly on top of a swamp living in the faint hope that A: your house won't sink any lower. And B: the water won't rise any higher. Either way, it would seem the fool's odyssey.

In the end, and there must always be one, these houses, just like any others, will indeed fall down. When?......is the great question. It is of course quite possible that my distinctly home-brand building and fabrication expertise has left me inadequately disposed to make judgements on the fineries of construction in Asia. For all I know some of these houses may just look as though they're standing in front of the proverbial bucket just deciding with which foot to kick it, but may in fact have many years, decades or even centuries of vertical permanence about them. Others, of course.....will not.

Some of these building practices do indeed seem a little odd, certainly to my untrained eye, but one thing cannot be denied. Yes, there are some shonky looking places in this town. Some I would rather not set foot in, others still under construction that I would rather not look at lest I be called at some point in the future to cross the threshold and enter the belly of their tenuous interiors. The fact remains that some of the creations that come out of this tradition are indeed nothing short of splendid.

The pure majesty and opulence of the Wats, (temples), and shrines that pepper this city's architectural landscape are more than enough to compensate for any of its anatomical misgivings. It took an army of marauding Siamese in the early 1800's to bring down these magnificent creations that otherwise may have stood for many centuries. So let it not be my position to judge, but merely to observe and enjoy the great things of this city. We have a house here, (that manages to remain in an upright manner), that we have made into a wonderful home. Our children are blossoming into glorious young gentlemen. (Zachary has only just returned from Hanoi where he represented the school on the junior volleyball team. A lone 6th grader in a world of towering grade 8's. They came second.....a mighty achievement as 6 weeks ago none of them had ever even played volleyball) And there are still many wonderful and delicious morsels of life yet to be encountered on our continuing adventure. I can hardly wait.





P.S.
If you are a disadvantaged child in Laos......it would be a useful thing to have a fleet set of heels around this textiles boutique.