Dancing in the Temple Light
DAY: 34
LOCATION: Vientiane
Much to my chagrin, a battle raged during the wee hours of the morning – Amy vs. the Mosquitos. The count? Me: 5 awful welts, them: 4 soldiers down. In other words, nobody was winning.
I got to breakfast right as it opened at 6am, in time to watch the sunrise with my mini bananas, papaya, and dragon fruit. The coffee was instant with no alternative milks offered (surprise!), so I passed. Anyway, there were a few cafes that looked worth checking out in town.
After being assured by the front desk that they would take care of the infestation in my room, I went sightseeing. The best thing about going early AF on a weekend is no crowds. Like, not a single person admiring the Patuxai war monument, with its exquisite ceiling and world peace gong, or That Luang Tai Temple, with its famous golden stupa. The tourists were still asleep and the locals were all at the organic farmer’s market, which you bet I walked up and down.
I spent about half an hour in and around the That Luang Temple grounds. Maybe it was because I was an indolent foreigner, but that was one thing I’d noticed about many of the Southeast Asian attractions I’d been to – they didn’t require a ton of time to visit. It might have been better with a tour guide, but after circumambulating the beautiful golden stupa twice and taking a few photos, I didn’t know what else to do. Meditate? Pray? I could’ve spent a bit more time in a nearby structure with an ornate ceiling depicting the story of the Buddha, but the mosquitoes were worse than my hotel room. Plus, I needed coffee.
I found the Westerners at Joma Bakery Café. I understood why when I got my soy latte – it tasted like something I’d get in Silver Lake (which is to say I loved it). That and the strong Wi-Fi, a rarity in Laotian establishments. Gotta get our endless streams of soon-forgotten updates!
Not wanting to waste time on Reddit, I plugged in the COPE visitor center on Google maps and took my coffee to go. On the way I made a stop at a small pharmacy. It looked super sketchy, but the woman was lovely and my skin had been going so haywire I didn’t even care. I’d gone off a prescription gel when I’d started my trip, wanting to break my skin’s dependence on it, but now my face looked so bad I didn’t even dare take a picture.
She had the clindamyacin gel over the counter at a fraction of the cost. I almost cried in relief. It sounds pathetic, but I still really cared about the condition of my skin, and this breakout made me want to bury my head in the sand.*
Of course, when I got to COPE I forgot all about my face. Dedicated to the rehabilitation of mobility-related disabilities, this center really put things into perspective. How could I care about something as insignificant as pimples when people had lost their legs due to cluster bombs?
The exhibit rattled me. From pictures of Laotian victims of the Vietnam War to a model of a country home furnished with bombs repurposed as everyday items, I was speechless. A video clip of a young boy, maybe seven, kicking a soccer ball joyously with his new prosthetic legs left me in a puddle on the floor. A woman handed me a tissue. I could barely say thank you.
I made a donation and then stepped back out into the morning. Like after the War Remnants Museum, I felt disoriented and shattered. This time I had two adorable little girls playing in the courtyard to bring me back to the current reality. My spirits rose, and I smiled at a couple of patients playing cards as I walked out. They smiled back. One thing seemed clear: debilitating sadness was not the answer to any problem.
A short distance away crowds gathered at Wat Si Muang to give offerings and receive blessings for the New Year. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to participate, but I saw a couple of other tourists entering the temple. Inside, I kneeled before a monk with my offering. He tied a string around my wrist, said something in Laotian, and I bowed to him. In the next room, I kneeled in front of the large Buddha statue while people around me chanted and offered up baskets of fruit and money.
Sanctified, I continued to Wat Si Saket, another temple housing hundreds of Buddha statues in various conditions. The inner temple was much quieter than the other, so I took the opportunity to meditate in the holy space.
For lunch I went to Khouadin Vegetarian, a buffet in a nearby market. It was almost impossible to find, due to its terrible signage (a handwritten piece of paper saying “veg lunch”), but I finally located it. The food looked like it had been sitting out for quite awhile, so I opted to just have the soup, which was nicely flavored but only lukewarm. Not my favorite dining experience.
The only other thing I had left on my list for the day was a group dance class by the water at sunset. I spent the afternoon at the pool journaling and relaxing. A couple of guys kept checking me out, but they looked a little too guido for me to want to engage. I wasn’t that desperate for male attention.
I headed down to the river around 4:30pm, looking for the dancing. A girl in Luang Prabang had told me about it, and I had just assumed it would be easy to find. But as I jogged up and down the boardwalk, the sun dipping lower in the sky, I saw nothing that resembled a “wild Asian Zumba class.” Maybe it’s not happening tonight, I sighed, resigning myself to the gorgeous sunset over the Thai side of the Mekong.
Down by the water, groups of teenagers gathered to say goodbye to the day on the cracked earth. I’d never actually stood on top of dry broken soil like this, only seen it in pictures. It was mesmerizing. I watched as the sky morphed colors in horizontal layers to my left and vertical to my right.
As the last light faded, I started jogging back to my hotel and there it was in the park – the dance class!! A fabulously gay instructor in an oversized Jordan jersey led rows of Laotian women in athletic gear through a routine set to Major Lazer. I jumped in the back and let loose. I’d somehow forgotten how amazing it felt to move my body to the rhythm of music. And to be connected to other people in this experience! Dance can truly transcend.
After a satisfying albeit safe bet dinner at the tourist-packed Lao Kitchen, I returned to my room for one final piece of business: booking my flight to Switzerland. I pressed confirm nervously, closing the deal on seeing Levi again. I was excited, obviously, but also nervous. What did I tell James? I felt deceitful, especially about him picking me up from the airport after a week of being with another guy. I would need to figure it out, but it didn’t have to be tonight. My body and mind were too exhausted from temples and dancing for anything but sleep.
*Monika later assured me it was normal and not a sign of spiritual bankruptcy that acne upset me. It’s our bodies way of saying something isn’t right.