TrekShare.com,Crashing,wedding travel,insurance TrekShare.com - Crashing a wedding in Laos - Part 1

Like any American, traveling occasionally is just what I love doing and I bet you share the same stuff with me. But traveling does not mean that you would be safe. Escaping from our job and other stressful activities is just something that w Torres del Paine is among the biggest of Chile’s national parks, occupying almost 600,000 acres (242,000 ha) of land in the south on the border with Argentina. It is also among the most important, receiving a significant proportion of domes

Any reasonable person would think it slightly off-color to crash a wedding.  When that wedding happens to be in Laoswho is to say if it’s inappropriate or not?  Whom am I kidding?  I was well aware of the potential drawbacks of dropping in on an event that I was clearly not invited. Itwouldn’t be the first time leering eyes would be cast uponme as I casually pressed my way up to the buffet table.Let’s regress for a minute.  Some people might not know whatthe word "crash" means in the first sentence.  For those ofyou who have been sheltered from large communitycenters/bowling alleys for the duration of your lives I canunderstand.  It’s been my experience that a bowling alley inthe same venue as a wedding reception brings out the largestproportion of uninvited guests or what we like to call"wedding crashers."That certainly wasn’t the case here.  No bowling alleys inLaos!  In particular no bowling alley that doubles as areception hall.  This of course is not a researched fact,but I’m willing to bet anyone 100,000 kip that in two weeksyou couldn’t find any sign of the leisure sport of thedrunk.  Lawn bowling doesn’t count.  For all I know lawnbowling or "bocce ball" is their national sport eclipsedonly by badminton and a game of hands-free volleyball playedwith a wicker ball.  The name eludes me almost as much asthe skill needed to play the sport.The truth is I was hungry.  A traditional Lao massageadministered by blind women in the late afternoon completelywiped me out and I had just woken at 11PM from a 4-hour nap.If you’re still reading this you might wonder how does oneget "wiped out" from a massage.  Aren’t these thingssupposed to be relaxing?  Yeah and no.  Primarily NO in mycase.  It appears that the muscles from my toes to my thighsdon’t like to be physically manipulated away from the boneas the massage suggests.  For a mere 30,000 Kip or $3 US –an hour massage from a skilled therapist seems like a greatdeal.  That is if sometime in that hour you don’t burst allthe blood vessels in your face from wincing so hard.  If mytherapist hadn’t been blind I’m pretty sure she would havethought she was killing me.  I would have felt like a pussso I broke out the yoga breathing and prayed not to succumbto hyperventilation.  Regardless, it was now 11PM and if I didn’t move from myguesthouse quickly there would be little chance of findingany late night eatery in Luang Prabang. Places tend to closeafter the electricity cuts at 9PM.Things looked bleak upon leaving the guesthouse.  Theredidn’t appear to be any lights, tuk tuk drivers or for thatmatter people in site.  There was, however, a clear path ofmusic being generated from beyond the cement buildinghorizon.Sounded like a party.  Parties oftentimes have food.  So offwe went.  At this stage of the story I introduce you to myfriend Paul who spent most of the duration of the nightwithin earshot of me.  It became clear to me as we roundedthe first corner that the music was definitely coming fromthis street.  It was time to move beyond my usual sloth likepace caused by the extreme heat and humidity.  I could see afew motor scooters in the distance coming and going.As we got closer it became evident that this was the realdeal.  People were hopping on their Chinese mananufacturedmotor scooters in suits with beautiful Laotian women drapedover the backs.  They sit sidesaddle because their silkskirts or "sins" wraps tightly down to their ankles.  Aquick decision was needed as we approached the entry gate.Just walk in slowly and pretend I’m not with the poorlydressed vagabond to my side.  This wouldn’t work.  Weentered the gate, saw about 20 people sitting at tables andanother 30 or so under a wooden canopy dancing to livemusic.  I noticed there weren’t any people doing the drunken"hook-up" stager that are so prevalent at weddings in thestates.  The vibe was comfortable, respectful and fullydevoid of my wedding experiences.  I made a b-line for the 15-foot buffet table.  It wasdefinitely the path of least resistance.  It was obviousthat everyone had finished eating at least 2 hours prior andthe table was in the process of being taken down.  Seemedfairly logical that I grab a spring roll and dowse it insome spicy papaya sauce before it becomes a leftover.Before I could even put the first bite in my mouth a pair ofwomen rounded the table and handed us all the utensils weneeded.  "Kop Chi Li Li" or thank you spewed from mouthabout 100 times in the next 3 minutes.  They either likedthe way I pronounced the phrase or had giant hearts becausetheir smiles stretched from ear to ear.The buffet had what appeared to most of the staples of theLaos diet.  There was a type of yellow chicken curry, somespicy beef, spingrolls, fresh vegetables and a giant vat ofsticky rice.  Within seconds of loading up our plates thetwo drunkest 20-year olds at the party pulled up four chairsfor us.  One for our plates and the other for our asses.Before even taking my first bit I had a 1/3 glass full ofBeerLao between my eyes.This is where the story takes a dramatic twist.  It is notbecause I started drinking.  That’s a little later.  Thetwist is because this story is being composed for BreakMagazine and they don’t allow any references to drugs oralcohol.  Therefore I have written two versions.  The onewhere I drink myself to a point where I believe I canunderstand the Lao language is the version you are reading.Although we were given utensils I chose to forego thewesternization of the land and eat using the dippingtechnique utilized by most people.  Three bites in and onceagain a 1/3 full glass of BeerLao is between my eyes.  Theyoung man offering the glass was pimped out in a blacktuxedo and appeared to be the kind of guy whom you shouldaccept a drink from.  Another "kop chi li li", a swig fromhis glass and we were friends.  I pulled up another chairfor the special guest and we began to speak.  Theconversation took a slow start.  Not because of tuxedo man,but rather because I had been so used to talking to peoplewho spoke absolutely no English, that I was conversing likea trained monkey.  Shortly into the conversation I learned Pond was indeed thehonored guest at what I learned was his wedding.  Thehandsome 24-year old had just been hitched and he oozedelation.  As I scarified down my food I learned he works forthe Lao government as an AIDS educator.  He also told usabout a cousin of his who lives in NYC and his desire to mytown.  My door will always be open.  Laotian men usually marry in there twenties.  The bride isusually younger.  She will most likely be from the samevillage and will probably be related in some degree becausemost villages are small.  Couples choose each other, but theheads of both families decide when the couple will marry,where they will live, and what bride price must be paid tothe girl’s father.  This is usually in currency, although inolden times it was in livestock or grain. The groom’s family delivers the bride price to the bride’sfather on the day before the wedding.  The groom’srelative’s parade to the bride’s house with gifts of food,tobacco, betel and so on.  The groom makes his formalrequest for the bride. Her family, after a long-winded,purely ceremonial show of reluctance finally agrees.  In thepresence of a bonze or village elder, the couple isofficially betrothed.  The next day, the groom and hisrelatives again proceed to the bride’s house, where theymake a great show of fighting and bribe their way into theyard.  The groom must persuade the bride’s sister to washhis feet before he can ascend the steps to the house andclaim his bride.Divorce is rare in Laos, partly because each marriageconcerns everyone in two large, extended families.  If amarriage is dissolved, the bride price has to be returned,and there are endless complications concerning inheritanceand land use.  It is much more sensible to compromise.Working things out, in general, is the Laotian response toalmost every conflict.  Isn’t that a novel idea?In the background we watched the nucleus of the party dance.Thankfully there are no traditions of the Marquerena orchicken dance in Laos.  This is one of the things I’mhappiest about.  Tonight they danced the Lamvong.  It’s acombination folk dance and courting ritual.  Girls dance inplace with short, rhythmic steps, while boys weave circlesaround them; no one touches.  The faces of the dancers arecompletely expressionless, but their arms and hands wave incomplicated patterns expressive of love and devotion.Frankly, unless you are Laotian, you will end up lookinglike a queen doing this jig.The groom apologized to us that the party we crashed wasalmost over.  He insisted we accompany him to the parents ofhis wife’s house for an after party.  The two guys sittingnext to us indicated that they would escort us to the party.Pond cordially dismissed himself and affirmed ourattendance.As soon as the 48-ounce bottle of BeerLao was cashed wewould head out.  As the pace and the amount of the beer inthe glass increased I decided to engage the transportationquestion.  I was pretty sure these guys had scooters.Frankly I’m not a big fan of riding on the back of thosethings in any situation.  In addition, I was positive boththese guys were half in the bag.  Through struggled wordsand gulps of beer I asked our new friends about drinking anddriving.