A dog is just for Christmas.......

....meaning that having eaten dog for Christmas dinner, I don't really have the desire to eat it again until next year.It was not wholly unpleasant, being slightly pork-like, but knowing it was dog slightly took the edge off things. Oddly, I did not travel to some remote spot to eat it.....it was served at an informal Christmas Day meal in my own village. Had I been assured that it was a local dong ( (one of those who disturb my sleeping) I would have had second helpings, but I am advised that it came from another village. In our group was the village policeman, who told me that he was "proud" that I had come to live in his village. It is as well that he cannot read this blog, or his sentiments might have been quite different once he had read my comments in earlier  editions about his colleagues.

If anyone follows this blog carefully, which I doubt, you will recall that Chris and I were unsure whether to opt for Christmas Day lunch with a local Australian/Lao family, or for grubs and whatever, at a remote Khammoune village to celebrate their New Year. In the end we opted for the latter.

The morning was misty, cold and damp, but once we got up into the hills we were above the low lying cloud in the valley bottoms and enjoyed superb views. The journey was  about 90 minutes, half on the road, half on mountain tracks and included going across a village football pitch where a big match was in progress. The players seem wholly unmoved by 2 motor bikes going down the wing. Our drivers were only 15 minutes late arriving, which is pretty good going here, but inevitably had forgotten to bring the promised crash helmets which caused a further short delay while these were borrowed from friends.
Then it was down to the market to buy gifts.... pens, exercise books, bread, oranges, tinned milk, sweets, and cigarettes. (Yes, yes, I know....but that was what they wanted.)

Arriving at 10.30am  we almost at once had Beer Lao placed in front of us by welcoming but curious villages. An elder confirmed that we were the first white people to visit the village, and therefore for those who had never left the village, the first white people to have been seen. Whenever that happens to me I can't help but feel that they must be rather disappointed by the reality. One strange aspect of that is that the village  primary school   (up to 3 classes in one room)school had been built (though neither completed nor equipped) by a major western charity who had never taken the trouble to visit the site, nor assure themselves of the project's completion. Odd.

The Beer Lao was followed later by LaoLao, drunk out of a pot through communal plastic straws. First of all it was drunk neat, then watered down buy pouring water into the pot and onto the LaoLao, and then just to keep things interesting, had beer added instead of water. Although we been promised a buffalo being slaughtered, most of the food was the usual rather indeterminate meat or fish, with scrawny chicken being to the fore. At some point we had a bacci ceremony, which included both scrawny chicken and LaoLao.

Oh yes  and don't forget, the dancing!   Young ladies enticed us onto the small dance floor, where if the intention was to prove amusement for onlookers, they were wholly successful, as nether of us I think would be described as a natural dancer. We did wonder about introducing the locals to the "Hokey Cokey" but we doubted that that particular number was on the band's playlist (unlike Auld Lang Syne, at another function, of which more later).

People were incredibly hospitable and welcoming. However, the village schoolteacher took a shine to my glasses, so if in some of the photos I appear without them that is the reason. I have no idea whether they are even vaguely the correct prescription, but I guess they were needed to provide a professorial air to a man underpaid and under appreciated.
 On our journey home we stopped at a beauty spot for more scenic views, played boules, tried to make friends with a monkey and saw some guinea pigs who were being farmed, along with the chicken and ducks.

Our return home left us pretty worn out, but being Christmas day, we pressed on, firstly to the informal party mentioned at the start and then to dinner...whereupon we were served with huge portions of trifle left from the Christmas lunch. We exhausted supplied of the restaurant's red wine and sat over numerous glasses of white, whereupon we were engaged in lively  and amusing discussion with a charming Irish couple, who seemed to share nearly all my prejudices about modern life, but were able to express then better than I. The female partner, unable to resist lying about her age, assured us she was 68 or 69 ( sorry too much wine to have perfect recall), when she was clearly not a day over 54; curious variation on womens' determination always to lie about these matters.

The band I mentioned earlier was a small traditional Lao group, playing at what proved to be a private bacci ceremony, which we in our ignorance gate crashed.There were mitigating circumstances, however. One of our students is a  Lao classical dancer and was keen that we should see her perform so, invited us along. It was a nice enough show, though mildly embarrassing to have to explain our presence at a private function. In fact I found he whole concept a bit embarrassing; a couple having forked out a good deal of money for a band, dancers, string tiers and what have you, for an event which seems only to have any resonance or value when offered to you as a gift, given that its purpose is to reunite you with your guardian spirits and represents a message of  good wishes and/or thanks. Somehow buying that seems a little hollow, but maybe I am just being snooty.

    Just a final brief observation concerning a shopping expedition. Chris and I were looking at properties with

a view to  finding something suitable for a school, and needed a tape measure. We went to the Chinese market,where nobody spoke any English. We did our level best with sign language to explain "tape       measure"....ok..you try it..it's not so easy as you think. But we thought we had struck lucky at last when   Chris  put out both arms across his chest, moving his right arm in an extending manoeuvre. At  this the

 shop assistant knew what it was we needed and directed us to a set of chest expanders!   I had not

     been aware that such items had been seen since about 1958, but if anyone needs some, I know where to get them.  Chris has just departed for the UK. The promised 5.45am driver not having shown up, I dashed  down to the main road and eventually managed to hail a tuk-tuk and got him under way about 6.15. At which point, of course, the original driver turned up, and had some difficulty in understanding that he has lost a fare because he was 30 minutes late, after all in Lao time 30minutes late represents a high level of punctuality

ALAN