Asia, Cars, Culture, Food, Funny, Garden, Summer, Travel

Cabbage Cartel

My hair smells like cabbage.

Actually, everything about me smells like cabbage. 

I’ve gone from Kimchi Princess to Cabbage Patch Kid. 

So, I’ll go ahead and answer the question everyone has been asking. How exactly did I end up surrounded by cabbage on a van from Laos to Cambodia?


Well, the real answer starts back in 2013. I went on a trip to Cambodia then and saw the establishment of the first BMA church there. I became friends with the believers there and have kept up with them since. So, when I found out that we weren’t far from their border here in Laos, I asked if we could go visit.

I have crossed land borders before. We’ve driven to Canada, and that one is pretty easy. We drove from Jordan into Israel. That one was a little bit tougher because of the high security, but still okay. But, as I was told: Laos to Cambodia is a whole different story.

We were told our van would arrive at 8 am to pick us up. Joy had warned me that it would be an “interesting” experience. 8 am and we’re waiting. As I see vans pull up, I ask Joy: is that the one? To which she kept responding, that one looks pretty nice, that one is pretty new.. Which made me wonder what exactly I had gotten myself into. And what exactly our van was going to look like.

Finally, at 8:40 am, it arrived. Looking okay, not bad at all, a little dusty, but that’s to be expected around here. Then, they opened the door.


A Lao-Vietnamese family occupied the first row of seats. As the door opened, they all gave a sort of amused look like: you’re riding in here? The second row was to be occupied by Joy and I… And cabbage. 


So. Much. Cabbage.


The driver gets in the back to start re-arranging and makes just enough room for us. I look at the floor and look at Joy, trying to figure out where to step. And finally, as the driver is getting out, I realize that I’m just supposed to step on the cabbage. Because what else is there to do?


We settle in for the ride. It’s about two hours of pretty good roads to the border. Along the way, I notice, we stopped to hand off some money to a man in a uniform. I thought possibly it was some sort of toll system. So, I asked Joy why we randomly had stopped in the middle of the road. She informed me that these are passenger vans only and not allowed to haul any type of goods. But, our driver has a friend (the man in the uniform) who will look in, make sure we only have passengers (and not 700 pounds of cabbage), take some money, put it in his pocket, and let us pass on by. Seems okay to me. 

About an hour or so in, we stop for a bathroom break. Which looks like this.


We continue on our way, smelling more and more like the produce aisle as we go along. We arrive at the border, where I have to get a Cambodian visa. While I am waiting, I notice the van door has been opened and the driver is ripping into a bag of the cabbage., the one that was at Joy’s feet nearest the door. He hands off six heads of cabbage to a man on a motorbike, who stacks them all in front of him, balancing one on top of the other, and takes off. He starts passing out a few more to the men at the border, which they all happily accept. I finally get all my paperwork filled out, get stamped through, then, we hop back in the cabbage wagon and take off again. 

The roads get more treacherous to navigate as soon as we enter Cambodia. Causing a lot of bouncing around. There are no seat belts, of course, so its hard to anchor yourself to any one thing. We arrive in Stung Treng, which is our transit town where we switch vans. As we unload our stuff at the stop and say goodbye to the cabbage van, all I can think is: what will we be hauling next?

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America, Asia, Beauty, Culture, Family, Health, Missions, Travel

Mother Roasting

I saw Mama Lao today. In case you missed hearing about her, you can see Be Nice. for reference. She saw me and immediately said (in Lao): my foreign daughter! I’m so glad to have you back! I’ve picked up the word for foreign: it’s pronounced like falong. So I always know when people are talking about me. Which seems to happen quite often around here.


I’m a little late on a Mother’s Day post. Things move a lot slower in Laos, so according to our standards, I’m probably right on time for Mother’s Day. Plus, they don’t really celebrate that holiday here, or atleast not at the same time as we do. 

It just so happened, though, that my Monday lesson was about pregnancy, breastfeeding, and introducing children to new foods. Did I mention that I was teaching this lesson to a room full of Lao ladies who have almost all been through this process? Did I also mention that I have never been through any of these processes? I think that should go without saying, but still. Book knowledge vs. real life experience never compares. 


And, as with everything else, they had quite a bit to teach me. Our sessions are really informal, with me introducing topics and then asking them questions about it. Then, inevitably, they’ll ask me questions about America and the way we do things. It’s a learning experience from both sides. Which I love. 

They asked me about water births. That’s something that is so foreign to them, so they wanted to know how it works, if it’s beneficial, etc. I know a little about the subject, so I was able to share with them what I knew. 

Then, they said: do you do mother roasting in America? 

That’s the literal translation of it. Mother roasting. 

I had read about it before, so I wasn’t unfamilar with the process or terminology. But, I’d read about it in the context of villagers in Cambodia. So, to be in a roomful of doctors who had experienced this surprised me.

Mother roasting starts right after child birth. They keep the new mother in a room, with coals under her bed and keep the temperature extremely hot. It’s supposed to be a cleansing process for her body. In some cases, the mother is also required to squat over hot coals as well, for cleansing purposes. And, they insist that every new mother take a scalding shower a few days after childbirth with water as hot as they can get it. 

The time for mother roasting varies from woman to woman. It’s essentially a time of confinement for the woman, where she stays in the house, alternating between time on the hot bed. Relatives will come visit and the woman does not cook at all during this time. A lot of them see it as a treat. It’s almost a welcome to motherhood. 

Most of the doctors said they had done it only for about two weeks after birth. Other mothers had their roast for 1 to even 3 months. It’s been 111 degrees here for a few days, so I can’t imagine being trapped in a hot room on top of the already unbearable heat. But, it’s a very culturally accepted and necessary practice. 

So, I’ve decided that I’ll wear the Lao skirt, I’ll eat the Lao noodles, but I don’t think mother roasting is a practice I’ll adopt. Once a falong, always a falong. 

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Asia, Auto, Food, Health, Missions, Religion, Travel

Not of this World

I’ve done it, guys. I think I finally have mastered the art of riding side saddle on a motorbike. Hands politely in my lap, balancing carefully as we go around the corners. I’m officially a Southeast Asian lady. 
So far, I think I’ve had my picture taken about 73 times since I’ve been here. This morning, I saw one of the ladies in our nutrition training session trying to take a picture of me as we were preparing to begin. So, I stopped what I was doing and stood still to smile for a picture. Because, if you’re going to take my picture, I atleast want it to be a good one. Then, that opened the door for personal pictures, so some of the other women took pictures with me. 


I forget sometimes that I stand out here. I’m trying my best to blend in. I wear the Lao skirt. I sit side saddle on the back of the motorbike as we navigate the streets of the town. I know their greeting, so I greet the people that I meet in their own language. I fold my hands and bow politely when I meet someone. 

Today, one of the women brought me a Lao traditional basket of black rice (because I had asked some questions about it yesterday), so I took it for lunch. As we were walking from the hospital back to the motorbike, with my Lao skirt on, carrying my Lao basket of rice, I thought to myself, I am blending in. Adopting a few of the customs. Dressing like them. Eating like them. 


Then, I looked up, came out of my day dream, and realized that I am a blonde girl, who is about a head taller than everyone here, and people are still staring at me. Actually, they’re staring at me more than if I were dressed in my normal clothes.

Why?

Because they can see by the way I look, by the way I act, by the way I speak, that I don’t really belong here. Not that I’m not welcome here. I feel very welcomed here. But, by taking on some of their culture and adapting to some of their ways, they’re wondering even more: who is she and what is she doing here? She’s obviously different, why is she trying to be the same?

The Bible speaks about this phenomenon a little bit too. In Romans 12:2, the apostle Paul urges the believers to not conform to the pattern of this world. Again, in John 18:36, Jesus reminds us that His Kingdom is not here in this world, but beyond. 

As believers, we are called to be different. The way that Christ lived, the example that He gave for us to follow, doesn’t look anything like what this world promotes. Where we want to hate, Jesus said to love. Where we want to judge, Jesus said to forgive. Where we want to fight, Jesus said to make peace. 

Like me in a Lao skirt on the back of a motorbike, true believers stand out, even in the midst of the world all around us. Why?

Because we don’t belong here.

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America, Animals, Asia, Food, Health, Missions, Travel

Southern Fried

In the South, we fry things. Like everything. 

I’m pretty sure if it can be dipped in a batter and thrown in hot grease, it’s been tried in the southern states in America. We can all agree on this, right? 

Well, apparently in Southern Laos, they fry things too. 

Like things we’ve never thought of.

Our friend , Jenny


Fried june bugs, anyone? 


Haven’t seen that one at a state fair yet.. 

My real story starts out with me being smart. Like all the best stories do. I thought ahead before I came, planned my packing list, brought smart things. Like a clip fan. Because I knew what the rooms were like and air flow is important, so I thought, this is a smart bring.

And it was. So I got it out once I got here, proud of myself for thinking ahead, plugged it in (using a power adapter that I was smart to bring), and went about getting ready for my day. 

I noticed before I plugged it in that the plastic had broken slightly around the part that attaches the fan to the clip. So, being the smart Arkansas girl that I was, I thought, no problem, I’ll buy some duct tape. 

No problem, quick fix


About two minutes into putting my makeup on, I thought I smelled something. Slightly sweet. Maybe hair spray. But, I hadn’t used hair spray. Maybe my straightener. But, it wasn’t plugged in. Because the fan was plugged in. 

So, I lifted up the fan, no problems detected, went back to my task. But, the smell was getting stronger. So, I unplugged the fan because I thought it was circulating the smell and I wanted to identify what was causing it. Smart idea, right? 

Until I picked up the fan again. 


Fried. Fried in a whole new way. 

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Asia, Food, Missions, Religion, Travel

Time Lapse

I woke up at 5 this morning. There is something about waking up and realizing it will be around 30 hours until you see another bed that makes you kinda not wanna get up. 

Since I get asked quite a bit what it’s like to travel so far, I was going to detail everything from when I woke up to when I went back to bed. But, 30 hours is a lot to cover and I really don’t think anyone cares that much. So, I’ll (try to) condense it for you. Woke up at 5, picked all the raisins out of my bowl of Raisin Bran because I don’t like them that much, got to the airport, screaming baby, rain delay, gate change, fly to Chicago, 30 minutes late, rush to gate, early, grilled chicken salad 10:41 am, still early, last minute phone calls and boarding. 

Brunch


*note that all the time stamps are based on home time, since I don’t really know how to convert it in an understandable way across so many time zones.

11:47 am: got an aisle seat and both seats next to me are still open, trying not to glare at every passenger who walks by, silently deterring them from taking the seats I could sleep in. 

11:49 am: hopes dashed, other aisle seat taken, but middle is open, so it could be worse. 

12:11 pm: take off, settled in for the next 12 hours and 2 minutes

12:34 pm: scan movie selection, choose The Monuments Men

1:22 pm: decide to paint my nails, finish one hand and part of the other before a flight attendant tells me that nail polish is not allowed because of the fumes.. Mentally plan to finish when she’s not looking, nickname her Nailpolish Nazi. 

1:57 pm: receive lunch, which consists of chicken teriyaki, rice, vegetables, salad and a roll. Eat the dry lettuce and the roll (not pictured for obvious reasons) The rest looks less than appetizing. 


2:38 pm: start second movie (Spotlight), Nailpolish Nazi brings me some green tea gelato. I take it as a peace offering and decide maybe she’s not that bad. 


I get a little lost between 3 and 11 pm.. I think I alternate between movies, reading, and lightly dozing.

11:29 pm: “breakfast” meal, which I only get for the roll. My options are eggs or teryaki noodles. Also, note that the smell of this food is awful and want to tell Nailpolish Nazi that this is what shouldn’t be allowed to be opened on a plane. 

12:13 am: flight lands, it was right at about 12 hours total.

Tokyo airport: (12:45 am – 2:45 am) spend a lot of time waiting in lines, boarding pass change, takes forever. Long walk, where is everyone?, am I going the right way? 


Bright side: upgraded to EconomyPlus seating (whatever that means) for free. Lay down on a bench at my boarding gate and contemplate going to sleep. 

2:55 am: complete exhaustion setting in, board for Bangkok, another 7 hour flight.

3:03 am: realize that the EconomyPlus seating slightly reclines and I cease to care about pretty much everything else.


4:17 am: “dinner” meal, I get a “western” option and a Japanese option.. Choose western, but it looks Japanese anyway. Eat a tiny piece of spongy chocolate cake and leave the rest. Lean back and try to get some rest. 

4:25 am: can’t get comfortable, decide to watch a movie, pick “Pretty Woman” and realize I’ve never actually watched this movie before.

6:13 am: delusional, try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, realize that I’ve officially crossed the 24 hour mark of no sleep. Feeling every minute of it. 

9:19 am: completely wake up, spent the last few hours flipping from side to side, restlessly, catching 30 minutes of sleep here and there because I’m finally so tired that I can’t physically go without sleep anymore.

9:42 am: land in Bangkok, passport control, bags, where am I?, airport shuttle.

10:48 am (10:48 pm Bangkok time): checked into my room at a hotel near the airport, 29 hours and 48 minutes since I’ve seen a bed, sleep. 

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Asia, Culture, Food, Health, Medicine, Missions, Religion, Travel

Be Nice.

The people here are really nice. The thing I fear the most is getting hit by a vehicle. Nothing is off limits. Walking down the sidewalk, I have people honk at me. No, not people from the street. It’s the people on motorbikes who got tired of waiting in traffic and decided to take a “shortcut”, which means nearly running me over on the sidewalk. I really did almost get hit though. By a van. While I was crossing the road. It was a very near miss. I didn’t see my whole life flash before my eyes, but I saw the highlight reel.

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One lesson it does you well to learn early in life: be nice to people. Because for the most part, they will be nice back. And also because being nice to people sometimes has benefits. Call it sucking up, call it teacher’s pet, or climbing the ladder, for better or for worse, it works. A smile and a kind word can do wonders.
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In the security line at the airport, they took out my tweezers and my fingernail clippers from my bag. I thought they were going to take them. But a smile and a nice exchange and he gave them right back to me. See, it works.

At the visa line, smiling gets you through more easily. In Laos, I was the last one because the 4 workers at passport control were teaching me Lao phrases to use, after I spoke the little I already knew to them. How nice!

But, sometimes people are just nice to you for no reason. As we were loading on the boat to go across the Mekong to visit a village, some health officials from the Public Health Office came with us and happened to be on our boat. One of the ladies seemed really concerned with me. She would look at me, smile, pat my leg. She took pictures of me and kept saying daughter. Then, when we were unloading on the other side of the river, she grabbed onto my arm. And we walked up the river bank together.

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I figured she just needed someone to hold onto because it was a steep climb. But, as we were walking, she said Mama Lao, Mama Lao and pointed to herself. So, she had decided I was her daughter for the day and she was my Mama Lao. Which was fine by me.

When we got to the top of the riverbank, she let go of my arm and took my hand instead. So, we held hands as she led us to the village. The rest of the group was straggling behind us, so it was one white girl plus a bunch of Lao ladies leading the pack. She told me about her daughter who is the same age as me and taught me some new Lao phrases as we went along.

 

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Once we got to the village, she introduced me to the tribal chief, then let me go to look around while she directed everyone else. I wandered around the school we were at, taking pictures of the kids and talking to them. A little while later, my Mama Lao came over to me with a cold water and said drink.
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Now, I have to do an aside: cold drinks are hard to come by here. Even in restaurants, it’s likely you’ll get something lukewarm, maybe cool if you’re lucky. But cold, not too often. So, to have a cold drink out in a village (in 100 degree weather, mind you) is a major luxury.

So, I thought it was strange and special that they had cold drinks for our group. A few minutes later, one of our other ladies came over and said: where’d you get a cold drink?! I looked around and realized I was the only one with a cold drink. Everyone else had regular bottles of water. Except for one person. I spotted her across the way: Mama Lao, with her bottle also condensating in the heat.
Looks like I scored rank. And the benefits are pretty nice.

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Asia, Missions, Travel

I Can’t Do This.

I have the best friends. I mean, I always think it is kinda dumb when people say that. Of course everyone would think their friends were great. If they didn’t think that, then they wouldn’t be friends with them. Right? But, still, I do have really great friends.

One of my friends decided to do something really thoughtful for me and wrote encouraging messages to be read at any time on this trip when I was feeling in need of a pep talk. How nice is that?

[Side note: Personally, I think encouraging other believers is one of the most under-utilized practices in the church. Or maybe I just rely on encouragement from others more than anyone else. But, I really do think we need to practice this more. If you feel led to say something uplifting to another believer, do not miss that opportunity. Write a note, say it, send a text, whatever you have to do. But, be encouraging, lift each other up! How strong would the church be if each of it’s members felt the support and encouragement of other members? A kind word or note from other believers has helped me hold on to the end of my rope more times than I can count.]

I’m gonna be real for a minute: the mission field in Laos is rough. And, it was especially so for me on this particular trip. I want to be the hands and feet of Jesus, but I never read anywhere about Him sitting in a bunch of business meetings. I think administrative duties are just not my calling. It feels really fruitless to me. It feels devoid of anything having to do with the Gospel. I want to be able to share and love the way Jesus did. But instead, I’m stuck at a desk taking notes about hospital procedures. Jesus is never mentioned, lost souls are not won, and my hands are tied.

I woke up on the morning of our second day of meetings and literally my first thought was: “I can’t do this.” Which I knew was a terrible way to start the day. So, I got my Bible and out fell my little envelope of encouraging messages. I figured if these were for times I needed encouragement, this was the occasion. I randomly selected one and this is what it said: Mark 9:23- “What do you mean ‘If I can?’ asked Jesus. Anything is possible if a person believes.”

You know those moments that God speaks right to you? This was one of those. Sitting in meetings may not be my thing. And, I may think this all feels fruitless. But, newsflash: it’s not about me. I’m not in charge and if this is the path that The Lord has chosen, it’s the best way. Laos won’t be won overnight, the Gospel will not be spread there in only one way, and it will be a long road. Those meetings might feel devoid of the Gospel, but those Lao doctors and nurses sitting across from me, taking notes too, need to know Jesus.

Not all mission work is going to be fireworks and revivals. Sometimes it’s going to be note taking and hand shaking. And that’s okay. Jesus can shine through the darkest (or dullest) of circumstances. So, I’ll claim His promise, stand strong in His Truth, and continue to work in whatever way He leads.

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Asia, Food, Missions, Travel

Lost in Translation

Sometimes you can just tell when someone wants to talk to you. A lot of people want to practice their English with a native speaker, and I love to talk, so it’s a perfect combination. I talk to everyone.

Getting his life story, in typical fashion

Getting his life story, in typical fashion

I got a chance in Laos to talk to some university students that are just beginning to learn English. They were about my age and I wanted to interview them to see what they eat on a day to day basis. It was research for me and a good chance for them to practice their language skills. Win win!

I started out by asking them how many meals they would typically eat in a day, how much water they drink, what their typical diet consisted of. Then, I moved into asking each of them, one on one, what exactly they’d eaten that day.

Rice for sale

Rice for sale

Sticky rice baskets

Sticky rice baskets

I got mostly answers I expected. They have sticky rice with every meal. It’s the main staple food in Laos. They also eat a lot of eggs. It’s a good whole protein that’s easily accessible everywhere. A couple of the students I interviewed mentioned fried eggs and omelets. I asked about milk and one of the boys told me he had beef milk for breakfast. Which took me a second to translate in my mind. Beef = cow, right? Pretty typical stuff.

Pink salted eggs

Pink salted eggs

There were a couple things that took more explaining though. One of the girls said she had eaten mango and watermelon that day, which just happen to be my two favorite fruits. She proceeded to tell me she’d had hers with salt (okay..) and chili peppers (a little odd..) and fermented fish paste (hmm, nope..)

Watermelon: my style

Watermelon: my style

One of the boys took a little more explaining with what he’d had for breakfast. It started with meat. Okay, how was it cooked? Burned. (I thought, maybe his mom wasn’t a very good cook? But, I didn’t ask.) Okay, so burned? On purpose? Yes, we throw it in the fire until it’s black and charcoaled. Oh, grilling over the fire? No, in the fire. Okay, moving on: what kind of meat was it? Buffalo skin. Oh, buffalo meat? No, skin. Sometimes you’ve just gotta let the details blur. I wrote down burned buffalo skin for his breakfast (with sticky rice, of course) and went on. However, later at the market, I saw what he meant.

Buffalo skin, notice the hair still attached, yum!

Buffalo skin, notice the hair still attached, yum!

At the end of the session, since I had been asking all the questions, I asked them if they wanted to ask me any questions. They spent quite a bit of time asking me questions about myself and my life. Finally, one of the boys asked, what do you eat every day? Which I thought was a really funny question since I had spent the last hour asking them about their diet. It’s funny to think my diet would be as foreign and weird sounding to them as burned buffalo skin sounds to me. I obliged and told them what a typical day of eating at home would include for me. Milk, cereal, coffee, white rice, sweet potato, chicken. The boy’s response? “That’s why your skin is so white, you eat a lot of white things.” Hmm, could be.

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Asia, Culture, Fashion, Religion, Travel

Fittings and Fitting In

We (as believers) are called to be not of this world. I don’t know how well I do with that calling. But, I can assure you that I am definitely not of this part of the world.

We don’t really fit in around here. We look different, we act different, we have different customs, we speak a different language. And, it goes on and on. I am used to fitting in, so not fitting in takes some getting used to. We get stared at pretty much everywhere we go. Jake literally doesn’t fit in around here.

Exhibit A

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit B

On my to do list in Laos was to get a traditional Lao skirt made. They have a very specific style of skirt and all the women here wear one. I’m thinking even wearing the skirt won’t exactly make me blend, but it’s an effort. Fortunately for me, this was pre-arranged and when I got here, I was readied for a fitting. I had no idea these were custom tailored, to be honest. I thought you just went and bought one.

Our hostesses on the ends are both wearing Lao skirts

Our hostesses on the ends are both wearing Lao skirts

But, the fabric was already purchased and I was told we would be going to a Vietnamese woman’s house because she is the best seamstress in town. She’ll make you a skirt for about $5. Little did I know that she also ran a business of teaching Vietnamese to Lao children. We arrived to see a pile of little shoes outside (because it’s customary to take your shoes off before entering) and more kids being dropped off on motorbikes.

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After it was explained to her in broken Lao that I was there for a fitting, she invited me into the “classroom” and proceeded to take all my measurements in front of her class. Which they all found to be extremely funny. And quite a spectacle. So much for trying to fit in.

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Asia, Culture, Travel

Do You Smell That?

What’s that call in the jungle? Is it a monkey? Is it a bird? A dying water buffalo? Oh wait, that’s just me, blowing my nose as we trek through the waterfalls of Asia. I can’t tell if it is allergies or the fact that I switched from 30 degrees in Seoul to 95 degrees here, but something has put my sinuses in an uproar. Literally, I’ve been blowing my nose like every thirty seconds. Annoying, I know.

In between the nose blowing

In between the nose blowing

Being sick sucks, but there are a few, very select, times that congestion is a welcome friend. Working in a chicken house on a hot Arkansas day would be an example. Coincidentally, a market tour in Southeast Asia is another great example. Which is what we did today. Lucky me!

Markets are separated into two types of categories here. The wet market will be your fish, meats, etc. Basically anything you need to throw a bucket of water on in the heat of the day to keep the flies off. (Did I mention it’s been nearly 100 degrees here?) It’s called wet because as you walk through it, you get to slop through the juice that has run off these delectable items.

The dry market is the dry goods, rice and such. This will also sometimes include the fruits and vegetables and the live animals or bugs they’ve got for sale.

Crickets anyone?

Crickets anyone?

The thing about markets is you never really know what you’re gonna see (or smell) Each little booth is a new adventure. Sometimes people will walk by carrying something and you’ll think to yourself, I bet that smells bad. Then, a couple seconds later, the wave hits you and you think: yep, that’s what I thought.

This smells exactly like it looks

This smells exactly like it looks

Cultures typically adapt to eating what’s readily available around them. In Arkansas, we raise cows and chickens, so we eat dairy and beef and poultry. In Laos, they have elephants and lizards, so they eat “elephant parasites” (a green version of a horsefly is what they look like to me) and lizards. These guys were alive, with their tails tied together and were being sold for around $1.50. A perfect grilled lunch!

Take your pick!

Take your pick!

Elephant flies

Elephant flies

Also on the menu:

Ant eggs and termites

Ant eggs and termites

For the wet market, as I said earlier, the smells were dulled for me thanks to my congestion, but even so I knew it wasn’t pleasant. Venturing in mid afternoon is the worst, when the smells and heat have reached their peak for the day. We were there mid morning, so it was not as bad as it could’ve been. There was fermenting fish everywhere, in buckets, hanging up. There is almost a mist in the air of rotting meat. Jake’s comment was : I’ve been to a lot of markets, but this is by far the worst smell. A few of the highlights from the wet tour included:

Some type of small birds, claws and all

Some type of small birds, claws and all

Live toads with their legs tied together

Live toads with their legs tied together

After our market adventure, I was tired and thirsty. Don’t worry though, I got a good drink at the end of it all.

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