Lets get this week's culinary tip in early. When cooking toads and frogs, make sure you can tell them apart. The whole of the frog can be eaten ( "delicious", apparently), whereas the toad must be skinned before eating as the skin contains toxins harmful to humans. I am sure that many of you knew that already, but no harm in a gentle reminder I guess.
This week I have been out to Khamoune Villages, reachable only by fishing boat and to the new Hmong Village on the outskirts in Luang Prabang.
The Hmong village is being created because the old village was in the way of the proposed airport runway extension . Any photos I post can't really convey the dreariness of the scene. Its a large building site, with no permanent building finished ( not that the Hmong are much into those anyway) and many people living in tents. It looks somewhere between a refugee camp and Milton Keynes c.1970 (before the cows). It is home to about 140 families, one single lady and a splendid but unhappy eagle, see photo.
I was intrigued to be shown where the "single lady" was living. But apparently living alone in Hmong society is virtually unheard of. She is not of the same clan as the other villagers and therefore has no family.And she cannot find a partner because "she is educated". She is aged about 35 and has a Masters Degree from Thailand and since there are no "educated" men in the village no suitable husband is available. A polite enquiry was made about my availability ( and it was pointed out that as she had no family I would be excused the normal 1 million Kip dowry) but politely, I hope, I declared myself out of the running.
The eagle is another matter,and 1 million might just be worth it to set him free, but I fear such a quixotic action might not be taken well in the village. The father of the young man who was my guide thinks the eagle should be served up for dinner, but his son, who paid hunters $15 for it is having none of it and keeps it as a pet. But it lives in a little hen coop, unable to jump more than about 2 inches, and I feel his father would be doing a kindness it he popped it into the pot one day. The other item of great interest which I was shown was the wood for Granny's coffin; I was also shown Granny, who is going ,well, maybe not strong, but still going at 103 years of age. She was quite unfazed about sleeping next to her coffin and indeed it may be a re-assurance to know that such splendid timbers have been secured for her next journey.
The journey to the Khamoune involved a 45 minute motor bike ride then a bit of shopping before getting onto the little fishing boat. I had to buy petrol and oil for the boat, rice, water and salt for us....oh and "candy for the kids"; yeah, yeah, I know. But when your host suggest buying candy for the kids its not so easy to say "Well, actually I would rather buy them a book".
Setting out at the same time as ourselves was a slightly larger boat containing, 5 men, 2 dogs, some old rifles and plentiful supplies of Lao Lao; they were going hunting for wild pigs.
Knowing what the boat might be like I had bagged up my camera and was not proposing to take any photos from the boat itself. But my host had other ideas. As I reluctantly went to pass the camera to him disaster struck and it fell into the river. But as it fell, it bounced briefly and just as it was going down for the second time, the boatman casually reached down and caught with his one free hand. He was later not so successful catching fish, but it was a pretty remarkable achievement. However, it took 2 days to dry out so I have no photos of the day.
It was hard going upstream, and going through rapids we had to paddle in addition to using the engine. After 40 minutes we reached the first village. Briefly, it had nothing except a communal water point. Had I taken photos of the kids to include with this then I suspect the Letter might attract a different kind of readership as most of the young boys had no pants or trousers and most of the girls had no tops. But in the way that people who have nothing can be the most generous, we were invited in to someone's home and given herbal tea and barbecued rat. I was apparently, the first falang that the small children had ever seen, and as ever when this occurs, I can't help but feel that I am a bit of a disappointment. All the village had for sale was teak and sadly as I was not in the market for that, a distribution of sweets is all we could offer. Indeed, given that this branch of the tribe has no written language, therefore, almost total illiteracy (there was one exception and he is topic for another day ) a book might not have been terribly useful anyway
The second village, another say, 20 minutes up stream was in comparison quite plush. A few houses had electricity (generated by the river), there were one or 2 tv satellite dishes to be seen as well a simple one roomed structure described as the school. Here I was able to buy a broom which a team of villages were making out bamboo and dried grasses; it cost me 4000 kip (maybe 36p ?) and they threw in about a kilo of freshly cropped peanuts. (Another example of my ignorance is that I was surprised that the shells were as hard as say a hazel nut; I expected them to be soft as at home, but I guess by the time they arrive in the UK they have been treated in some way.)
Next stop was lunch. It was real "Swallows and Amazons" stuff. We tied up by a sandbank, collected wood for a fire, palm leaves for serving plates, stole some sweetcorn and cooked some rather small fish; not much bigger than whitebait,over the fire. But before we could eat we had to lay some food out for the spirits as this was the first time we were eating in that spot. There was no sign of the spirits but for company we enjoyed a most amazing variety of butterflies, who like the kids seemed fascinated to have a falang in their midst.
On the way back we walked through the forest for an hour or so collecting bamboo shoots and then visited the spot where the water that is used from washing the Buddha figures at Pii Mai Lai, comes down off the mountainside and joins the river.
On the way home we stopped at the Pineapple Village where the last of this years crop was on offer, from 4p a pineapple for the smallest ones. I bought 10, and must have looked a bit of a sight on the back of the bike, clutching a broom in one hand and huge bag of pineapple in the other. Oh, well, I guess that "growing old gracefully" would be quite boring.
This week yet another door to door sales lady arrived. I am not wholly sure what she was selling, but there was some rather unattractive-looking meat, which I passed on, but the cakes, if not quite in the Viennese cream style looked rather appetizing. But looks can deceive.To say they were fatty would be an understatement; the nearest I could get to describe them would to be to imagine eating lard.
The police, having failed to charge the monk killing drug dealers, have set their sights a little lower and are apparently holding some other Vietnamese felons who are charged with dog theft around the village. The purpose of the theft is apparently a culinary one, though at this point I cannot give any specific advice as to how you should cook and serve dog ;but fear not, I am sure latter editions of this Letter will make good that omission. However, it does occur to me that I might be culpable in encouraging local dog rustling; the village dogs, fed on pancakes, fried rice and pork chops may well look a more satisfying meal than those from neighbouring settlements.
Best wishes
Alan
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