Vientiane is a Village

You don’t have to go far to find the village at the heart of Laos’s capital city. Within walking distance of our hotel, cooking fires spiraled smoke from behind countless homes. The temples I saw during a short run in the direction of the airport looked to me like real working religious communities, being swept by regular monks. These were not the kind of shrines that attract tourists or that house senior clergy.

Our group had arrived for a small-town event, a friendly soccer match between counterparts from the same organization. The hosts in Vientiane had lured us Bangkok folk north with the promise of a big post-game feast. True to their word, they roasted two buffaloes to feed the many players and spectators.

That morning, before crossing the Mekong and entering Laos, we’d wandered among local specialties at the morning market in Nong Khai, the Thai town closest to Vientiane. I skipped buying chicken fetuses (still half in the shell, feathers still wet), but happily breakfasted on Vietnamese baguettes (Hanoi is the same distance from Nong Khai as Bangkok is).

Next to the market is a handsome temple known as Wat Pochai. The painted scenes of daily life inside it seemingly cover every Thai and Lao custom. Quite a lot of prime wall space is dedicated to a Loch Ness-like phenomenon near Nong Khai known as the Naga fireballs.

These weird glowing orbs pop up from the middle of the river (or is it just beyond?) every full moon night in October. Some skeptics insist that the fireballs are not really projectiles from a serpent’s mouth, but rather methane gas escaping from the river bottom. But try telling that to the 200,000 spectators who show up to watch.

Likewise, I knew better than to press too hard for details about the healing balms and oils that were being sold outside the temple. Based on smell alone, these products told me they would remedy whatever ailments resulted from our soccer match. I took advantage of a buy-two-bottles-get-one-free offer.

As it turned out, our hotel in Vientiane was across the street from a massage shop. It appeared to be closed on the morning after the game, but a teammate inquired whether the opening time posted on the door was really the opening time. A few minutes later, three of us from the Bangkok squad were flattened out on adjoining mattresses. The hands that kneaded out our aches and pains felt as if they’d been strengthened in the village.