Laos Power

Well, I'm in Laos. Getting my Non-Immigrant B visa for being a TEACHER (something I have yet to blog about, and may never due to the sheer amount of things that threaten to spew forth about it) and eating white carb upon white carb, mostly in the form of baguettes and Laotian instant noodles.

Getting here was done via slow-moving overnight sleeper coffin, (class 2 sleeper, aircon, upper bunk). The upper bunk is cheaper than the lower bunk as it's narrower and doesn't have a window, kind of like something David Blane would film himself inside. Food prices were offensive - 400 baht for breakfast and dinner and a beer. Also, the trip took at least a week, even though the timetable said 12 hours. Naturally, I got in to Vientiane 15 minutes too late to submit my visa application and have had to stay another night in the smallest capital city in the world.

The submitting of the application is a special kind of hell. Three hundred people (that's what the ticket machine said, not me) clutching their visa forms and passports, all with the same look of desperation. The embassy is so used to having this many people there is a dedicated marquee set up to keep you all in the shade to minimise any heat stroke that may occur during the two-hour wait. Once you've had your forms taken from you disdainfully you wait AGAIN to pay, but this wait is inside the building, where there is aircon, the hitch being that you must wait in ABSOLUTE SILENCE. You know this because there's a sign saying, PLEASE KEEP SILENT! Seriously, you can't even talk while you wait for your receipt, you have to sign at people or use sarcastic facial expressions. Luckily, this is not hard for me.

Anyway, tomorrow I go back to pick up my passport, or rather, to grab a number between 1 and 300 (it's not going to be anywhere near 1) and wait another two hours with the same 300 who were there yesterday. Kind of like Sparta, minus the hot guys and honourable death. Funnily enough, one of the 300 is some strange Icelandic dude who always hangs out at the bottom of my apartment block back in BKK. Disappointingly, as I found out, he did not sound at all like Bjork and knew even less English than my students, something for which I no longer have much patience. I've also just realised that I've now doomed myself to a stilted conversation with him every time I see him outside my home, so apologies in advance, weird Icelandic dude, if in future I pretend not to recognise/see you.

Vientaine is nice. Yesterday I hated it but today, having breakfast by the Mekong, I wanted to move here, so the average of that is on the positive side. Tuk tuks are expensive, DVDs are cheap, kip is confusing (especially if you get a bunch of it converted for fun because of the large denominations and also have baht and USD in your purse) and the laab and Beer Laos are as good as legend proclaims. I also got adventurous and bought cured pork with chili wrapped in a banana leaf, which was kind of like cabanossi if you close your eyes and pinch your nose when you eat it.

Apart from Laos- and teaching-related news, K and I moved into another apartment in the same block we were in before. We're on the pool/ping pong/gym/restaurant level, so there's a lot of crap going on right outside our door. The animals like it? I don't know, I don't really care, K and I like it because there is a loft and a nice balcony with a nice view and it's cheap. K is actually scared of going up into the loft by himself - something that amuses me no end - because I don't know, he's superstitious and afraid he'll see a ghost or something (NB. it's NOT creepy at all, it's nice with wooden floorboards and a chilled, calming vibe). So apparently, I have some kind of anti-ghost power because he WILL go up there when I'm there, despite the fact that, when I first found out he was scared, I abused his trust by screaming really loudly when I went up there. Lols.

Work/school is OK. It was almost intolerable the first week and my older students make me want to slash their wrists, but my younger ones are nice. I see them more than I see K, so it's good that we get on. Even my older ones will come around sooner or later. I figure even if I'm a tyrant, Stockholm Syndrome dictates that they'll feel some kind of love and loyalty towards me sooner or later.

Well, I'm going to watch some 30baht DVDs and drink a beer Lao, then probably have some more laab in the restaurant next door and talk to an old, boring white dude in the throes of a mid-life crisis.

Seeya back in BKK!