Laos

It's been a long time since I updated anything that had anything to do with my trip, so here's some catching up... bullet-point style.

* I've decided never to again eat goat meat. Or pig meat (unless I forget- which conveniently seems to happen with bacon). Having worked on an organic farm with these sweet meats, rising at 6:30 to sweep their poop nuggets, and having lovingly gripped their moist tits over a pitcher--- I can never again look at them the same way. Look at this face. LOOK AT IT! No more goat meat. Also- having seen the pigs jump all over themselves trying to get at the heaps of goat shit we would feed them AFTER sweeping out the poop nuggets--- NO MORE PIG MEAT EITHER. Gross. Such gross animals.

* Phoudindaeng Village > Vang Vieng. I know. I know. You're supposed to go to Vang Vieng to go tubing. That's the entire point of going there. Everyone told me it's great- it's a trip maker... blah blah blah. Honestly, I just couldn't be bothered to go into an entirely gringo town to party with a bunch of 18-year old gap year kids. I'd rather sweep goat shit. (Sorry, if you're reading this Farrell)

* Not much else has happened in the last few weeks. Nong Khiaw and Muang Ngoi were fabulous, and I'm glad I went. My hideous leg lesions are BACK. AGAIN... even after 3 rounds of different kinds of very aggressive antibiotics. They think they're so smart.... with their... LESIONNESS. Fuck them. Back to the doctor's in about half an hour.

* In Pakse now. My God it's fucking hot. My God it's fucking hot. Fucking hell it's fucking hot as fuck. ERRNNNGG!!!!! I hadn't planned on staying here... like I said. I've only got 3 days now to see 4000 Islands and get to the Cambodian border... but after the grueling 8 hour ride from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, the 4 hours then to Vientiane, and 10 more hours on a bus down to Pakse... I just... couldn't... do it.

Strange that I'm still so tired though- I actually slept quite well on the bus. These sleeper buses are equipped with full-sized beds on both sides of an aisle for proper horizontal-type sleeping... much like modern-day, air-con slave ships. The beds aren't made for 2 big people (nobody over 5'5, I think)... but for myself and the tiny Lao woman and her baby... we made a good sleeping puddle- provided we all slept in the same direction. First, I spooned the lady while she spooned her baby. Later in the night, she spooned her baby while her baby spooned me. There was lots of spooning. There was also lots of spit in my hair in the morning. All in all, it was a very domestic ride.

* On the bus ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane yesterday, I observed a couple of village kids that really reminded me of my sweet little Ethiopians. As we drove through their town (if you can even call it that. Does a cluster of 3 houses and a noodle shop count?)... I observed about 7 children playing what appeared to be baseball on the side of the highway. Not only did they lack a field- they lacked proper bases, bats, and balls. They were using a stick as a bat--- and do you know what they were using as a ball because they didn't have one? ANOTHER STICK. So they were throwing the stick and hitting it with another stick... then running to an imaginary base, which was really anywhere because there were no markings anyway. I made a diagram to illustrate my point. Fucking awesome.

On the whole, Laos is marvelous. It took some getting used to-- there ARE a lot of tourists here, and anybody that says otherwise was here years ago, before the boom... but it's still great, and I'm having a grand old time. Only three days left to go though, before I'll be on my way to Cambodia for 2 weeks. I'll report back from Angkor.

I'M NOT JAPANESE

So, every time I go home- people always ask: What is it you missed most about the states? Hot water? Chili Cheese Fries? Free STD testing? ... and I'd have to say- yes.. yes.. yes, I missed all those things... (particularly the cheese fries).... but more than anything, I missed not having people shout "JAPAN!" at me as I cross the street.

It's been 11 months now on the go... and although I love being out here, doing this... I'm really losing my patience. With the locals, it's okay- a lot of them, particularly in places like Sri Lanka and Nicaragua, have never seen an Asian American backpacker before. They can't wrap their minds around it. "You look like this... but when you open your mouth, it sounds like THIS... wha-wha-WHAT?" That's fine. It's annoying, but understandable. The part I CAN'T stand, is when morons from first world countries ask me dumb shit like "can you speak Japanese?"

NO. CAN YOU?!?

Fucking idiot.

WHY would I be able to speak Japanese? Is it because China, where I've never lived, and have nothing to do with, is next to Japan... a country that I've never been, have never lived, and have nothing to do with either? What part of "I'm from the United States" do you not understand?

I know a lot of people from the US had parents that taught them their native language, and that's fine. I just can't see why people are so damn interested in it in the first place. Even if I COULD speak Chinese/Japanese/Korean... what would it matter to you? You can't speak it either! Moreover, they're always so disappointed when I say no, and then accuse me of losing my roots. WHAT FUCKING ROOTS? I was born in Berkeley, I grew up in San Ramon, went to college in Sacramento, and now live in San Francisco. You want roots? Then YOU go to Japan and fucking get them!

I was at the gym a couple days ago (no, really, I WAS at the gym. I know it sounds like bullshit, but no- really, I was) and this French dude walks up to me and starts giving me pointers on weight lifting. Fine. Cool. He then (after a good 5 minutes of conversation with me) asks me if I'm from Japan. DO I FUCKING SOUND LIKE I'M FROM JAPAN!?!? When I say "no" and tell him that I'm from San Francisco, ... he then PULLS AT THE ENDS OF HIS EYES to illustrate to me what I look like.

Oh dear God.

Smashing a French man's face open with a 4kg dumbbell is the easiest way to land yourself in a Thai prison... I reckon. Merely telling him to fuck his mother, however, is the easiest way to get him to fuck off and leave you to your weight lifting. I chose option two. Hurray for me and my self restraint.

There's nothing wrong with being from Japan and I've met loads of super awesome Japanese people all over the world. Good on them for travelling, and bless them on their journey. I, however, have nothing more in common with them than I do the Russian guy or the girl from Germany. We're all backpacking.... and that's pretty much it. I don't see why people think I would flock to the first asian I laid eyes on. Moreoever, shouting "Other Koreans are staying here!" is NOT going to induce me to patronize your hotel. Yes... let me run into the arms of people I've never seen before, and hold them to me while they utter something in a language that is completely indecipherable. I FEEL SO AT HOME.

FUCK YOU.

Imagine that everyone thought you loved hot dogs. You don't. You don't mind them of course, they're aiiiiite, but you don't LOVE them.

Now imagine that every day for the rest of your life, everyone asked you why you loved hot dogs so much, and brought you hot dogs as a tribute. They're being nice and mean no harm- if anything, they're just trying to get in your good graces... but no matter how many times you tell them "actually, I don't like hot dogs THAT much", they wave it away as ridiculousness. "HAH! HE SAYS HE DOESN'T LOVE HOT DOGS! Have you ever HEARD such lunacy??" After a while, you're sick of eating the hot dogs to be nice. After a little MORE time, you try to stress that you don't like hot dogs at ALL. You're SICK of hot dogs. You can't STAND hot dogs. You USED to like them okay... but after years and years of hot dogs, you can't eat another one.

But everyone believes you like hot dogs. People you've never met before make the hot dog eating motion at you as you walk down the street. They shout "BRING THIS MAN A HOT DOG" even though they don't know you and you're not in the mood to eat at all, never mind eating a hot dog. Wouldn't you want to punch the next person that offered you a hot dog in the face? Wouldn't you want to take that hot dog, and jam it in his ear until the weiner was lodged so far into his fucking head, he couldn't even hear himself scream?

And other people say... "(_enter name here_) ... they're just CURIOUS about why you love hot dogs so much... they don't MEAN anything by it- have a sense of humor!" THEY, by the way, cruise down the street unmolested... tasting this, tasting that. Noodles today? Perhaps a muffin? Maybe, maybe not! ... while all day long, you are abused and accosted by hot dog sellers and fans. Now you HATE hot dogs. You try to stress how much you like hamburgers, or pumpkin pie... but the only thing people care about is you and your relationship with hot dogs. "WHY don't you like hot dogs anymore?" they cry. "WHAT is wrong with you, that you won't eat hot dogs??"

And you try to say you NEVER liked hot dogs. That you don't eat hot dogs at home and don't even know the difference between wheat and white buns. ... but they don't believe you. They WON'T believe you... and you're left trying to find someone... ANYONE who you can spend time with that won't bring up the hot dogs.

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... that's what I feel like.

Other than that, my trip is going great.