thoughts, ideas, and general randomness from 'the road.'
Observing a passing landscape is more enjoyable from an open window than a closed one, if I can't smell a place how can I understand it?
Walking along the street in Luang Prabang I smelled orange oil from the green skin of a peeled orange that a grandmother was sharing with her grandchild. It brought back the face of la chapina who always sold me overpriced oranges on the Belize/Guate border. She'd jam chile salt in them and I would always buy two, one for me and one to give to my driver.
Drivers slow so as not to atropear (run over) baby chicks, dogs, roosters, small children playing on the road's edge, and pigs. Our bus squealed to a stop yesterday to spare a chick's life, which made me think about just how valuable that small bit of animal protein and bone must be to a rural Lao family, and also highlighted the deep respect the otherwise wild driving bus drivers must have for that fluffy bit of life. The more grown up and gallant roosters with their orange heads and green tails always beg the question, of 'why'd the chicken cross the road?' as they race across almost leaving a cloud of red dust in their hurry.
I have been quietly suffering from what I can only equate to an amputation or deep heartbreak since May. I miss C.A. like I cannot quite explain. I tried to compare it to dating the wrong man whilst knowing you are in love with someone else, a simile which my parents found quite captivating. Nonetheless it is true, I feel like I left my heart somewhere along the Panamerican which seems ridiculous in the face of all this beauty.
Vang Vieng and I have finally made a truce. I stick to riding a bike through the jaw dropping landscape to visit its plethora of caves and leave the river and its fashionable tubes to its more hip visitors.
Happiness surely equals noodle soup.
I miss long sleeves and pants.