Wah Laos

Day 6: 27 Dicembre Mercoledi
Both of us woke up grouchy and trekked to the Vientiane morning market 25 mins away, instead of taking the tuk tuk. We figured the walk would do us some good and built up our appetito per il colazione. Plus the map was so compact - I was pretty certain we'd get there quickly in one piece. At 10plus, the marketplace was already packing 'em in with the daily horde of eager traders and customers. At my insistence, we grabbed some freshly fried street snacks, and walked deeper inside the jungle of shops displaying piles of indigenous Laotian handwoven scarves and rugs to embroidered clothing and bags in all shades and hues.

I couldn't shop till my tummy was satiated first so we led ourselves to the dim makeshift hawkers area marked by a patchwork of ratty overhead shelter with sunrays penetrating through. Ok I wouldn't give them a C for cleanliness but the hawkers were happily preparing the trays of food with such ease and confidence I just had to find out for myself. We steered away from the stalls that were brandishing a pile of boiled innards and other unidentified animal organs, and I settled for a corner set-up which could afford a fridge as well as an English menu.

A was disgusted and appalled at his rustic surroundings - clearly not a foodie or much of an adventurer. So I gestured one bowl of chicken noodle soup (7,000kip) while he frowned into his can of iced tea. The rice noodle was excellente - thick snow-white mee suay smooth as silk, and the clear herbed chicken brodo clinging onto to every flavourful strand. It was so good I wanted another serving but I also secretly prayed for a strong stomach (no laos-sai, per favore). Thankfully my faith was rewarded. Almost all the Laotians we met have such a lively vigour and quiet pride. There were no beggers or touts, save for the occasional tuk tuk driver who would come forth with a 'sabai-dee' (how're you?) and would leave you alone after a polite 'no'.

A lot of them thought I was a local even when I could only manage 'sabai-dee', 'dee lai-lai' (very good) and 'kop jai lai-lai' (thanks very much). I get such a kick from languages and trying to blend in. Feeling more energetic, we explored the market further and came across rows of stalls parading raw materials of rainbow-hued cotton yards and fat bundles of gleaming silk threads. There were also beautiful readymade traditional Laotian costumes fit for royalty. For some reason, the goldsmiths occupied the back lane; busy melting down nuggets of gold and polishing pieces of jewellery.

Behind the market was the bus-taxi-tuktuk hub as well as shophouses heaving with more commerce activities. I salivated as the local aunties grilled bananas, sweet potatoes and marinated meats at their mobile roadside bbq. Freshly cut seasonal fruits and sweets sat comfortably next to a basket of brown larvae - a delectable delicacy not for the faint-hearted. We followed the crowd streaming into the thriving Khoudin Market - your local version of Wal Mart. Everything you want for your home was available here; from trivial household supplies in bumk to winter clothing on sale.

I was especially ecstatic at locating the farmer's market where the contadini camped proudly next to their heap of harvest - mushrooms, spring onions, chillies, tomatoes and other verdura in all shapes and sizes. Jackpot! I sniffed deeply at the mountain of fresh dill and basil and sighed in bliss, while A held his breath at the wet section where chickens squat plucked and lifeless, and fishes flapped desperately and grasped for air in shallow buckets. Like a dirty old man, I was photographing all the pretty young lasses minding their gorgeous noodles and rice, and praising their white mee suay that was bundled like silky smooth yarns.

Ooh, I loooove wet markets and being so close to the source of food. There's something comforting about it and sharing the pride of the humble farmers, eh-hem having slogged my arse on organic fattorie in Italia. I couldn't stomach any processed food these days, especially fast food that is unrecognisable from their origins such as chicken nuggets and frozen burgers. God knows what they put in those rubbish. I hope more people will put more effort into what they eat and support the small hawkers, local eateries and native producers everywhere. My quote of the month is "Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are." (by Anthelme Brillat-Savarin). Food for thought indeed.

Just directly opposite the bus station was the tiny tribal market with a handful of stalls inside selling ethnic jewellery, headgears and costumes while outside along the roadside walkway, there were grannies guarding their treasure trove of traditional tribal cures including dried leaves, roots and barks to various unidentifiable animal parts. The fortune tellers and basket-vendors giggled when I tried to snap a photo of an auntie napping under a shady tree.

Next, we spent 15mins walking to the Victory Monument built in 1962 but still incompleted due to its turbulent history. From far, it looked like the Parisian Arc de Triomphe encircled by a busy round-about which led to a wide boulevard - which also reminded me of Champs Ey Lysee. Upclose, it was quite the concrete monstrosity described by guidebooks. It was bloody warm and close to high noon when we ascended the 7th-storey tower for a blinding 360 deg view of Vientiane. There was no highrise buildings in sight across the flat horizon joining the clear blue sky.

On our walk back, A insisted on another hour-long Laotian foot massage (42,000kip) while I entertained the idea of a high noon French baguette snack. These panini stalls were everywhere; their windows glistening with visions of brown baguettes, smiling cow cheese, anchovies, tuna, cucumber and tomatoes. Gosh I couldn't believe I never tried one! A snored throughout his powernap while I made the 2 masseuses laugh by tickling his nose with my towel.

Lunch found us at our favourite Nem Neung Vieng Savanh where we gobbled up the grilled pork ball rolls again (14,000kip) and a deep bowl of beehoon (12,000kip) topped with a fried spring roll, fresh shredded vegetables, herbs and peanuts. I drank up the last drop of the dressing which was perfectly balanced - sweet, spicy, sour, zesty and nutty. The petite shop assistants recognised us and we chatted while I snapped away, She thought I was Laotian and then Filippino.

Two stupid Australian guys peeped at our food and I told them they had to try this and that. They were shocked that we muttered English and made us cringe with their wide-eyed "wow-you-speak-very-good-English" ignorant remark. I guessed they never travelled much. We walked off the calories to the riverside market and recalled Peter saying the river is usually low tide at this time of the year and it will be worse when the dam goes up upstream in China. Sigh, what a depressing thought.

Since there wasn't much to do, we located the Scandanavian Cafe near the fontana for a banana cake, pistachio-choc mousse and a forbidden cigarette while reading the Vientiane Times till sunset, I love and hate holidays like these. Love becos I can just pig out all day. Hate becos I can feel my waist thickening by the hour. Merda. After 2 languid hours in bed drooling at Colin Firth in Bridget Jones 2, we headed out for Nang Kham Bang, a local restaurant for some traditional Laotian food.

My foodie friend Chris had recommended the fish laap, beef stew and deepfried quail but my unadventurous travel partner A turned up his nose which drove me to the wall. We compromised on the fish soup with plain rice (his choice) and fried quail with sticky rice (my pick which he didn't touch), alongside a cold bottle of Beer Lao (a freakin' cheap meal at 54,000kip/ US$5). Picture the tv blaring in the background and us sitting in stony silence in the brightly fluorenscent-lit dining room; it was one of the low points on our trip.

I love A like a dear brother but I so wanted to strangle him now and throw him into the Mekong river (sorry bro!). Luckily the food lifted my spirits - the fish soup was a spicy-sour concoction of dill, ginger, whole young green chilli, cherry tomatoes, onions and spring onions while the crunchy mini quail had the stubbiest wings and legs - no longer than my little fingers.