It wasn’t too long ago that Vientiane laid down its silken fabrics along the Riverbank.
Later, folks would sell these and other wares under moon- and floodlight. Real and fake sandalwood prayer beads would be presented alongside the pa-biang scarves, laid out from left to right, overlapping, like a textiled rainbow.
Continue reading “For Vientiane, history, and the humans of Moutern Village”
I complained about the weather, walked the backstreets, and ate cheap.
This time the bus was a large, cyan blue thing with leather sleeping berths and cotton blankets. Upbeat folk music and the neon lights mounted above every bed gave the whole thing a strange feeling — as if I had somehow fallen asleep in a gaudy Lao nightclub. But none of this is to say that the overnight journey to Vientiane was uncomfortable. It wasn’t. It was like sleeping on a very peculiar southbound cloud.
Continue reading “How Vientiane Is an Analog for the World”