The giant in Lao PDR
I was in Luang Prabhang, the old capital of Lao. It was a cool December afternoon. I sat there in a temple, writing some thing in my note book. It was peaceful. I fell asleep. I woke up hearing some voices. As I opened my eyes, I saw a bunch of kids around me. As I sat up, they moved back a bit, and stared at me. It was like the Gulliver’s Travel, all those little people, perhaps half scared, half curious.
I turned to the last page in my notebook, and from my Laotian phrase book, I copied “hello” in Laotian script. I passed the page to the kid right in front of me. She took it, and read it aloud. There were a round of giggles. She borrowed my pen and wrote something in Laotian. I took back the notebook and I guessed it was her name.
Next, I passed the notebook to the “littlest” kid. Everyone started laughing as she was too young to write. Someone else took the book and wrote the littlest kid’s name.
So we conversed, they would draw something, say it aloud in Laotian and and ask me to repeat it. I learnt many new Laotian words. Lately, I seem to be forgetting the words. I think it is time that I go back.