Leaving Laos

21 Jul

I wake up at six and do my backpack. I walk five minutes to my favorite restaurant, paradise, where the great laosian cooker has already honored its name in my last three meals; the best one a pumpkin, curry and lentil soup. On my way I see three budhist kids walking in line, stopping by the cabins where women kneel and theatrically rise bills, one at a time, and put them in the pots the boys hold. Then they pray all together. I have my banana and chocolate pancake together with its sibling banana and chocolate shake. When leaving the woman comes to me and wishes me good luck together with other laosian words I don’t understand. She also puts me two bracelets, something I haven’t weared since I was ten. I greet her and leave for the boat and the bus.

After crossing the border I try to make a picture from my experiences in Laos. The images that come to mind are the ethnic hill tribes with very cute kids playing around, jungles full of bugs, shimmering rice fields at sunset and their lazy water buffalos, wats and budhism, spicy soups and fruit shakes, the mighty muddy mekong and best of all the kind and cheerful people.

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