Luang Prabang has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage City, and it is certainly a picturesque place. There is a temple around every corner, and orange-robed monks of all ages walk the streets. The city around them seems to have adopted their quiet, peaceful lifestyle, making it a wonderful place to stroll around and explore, and the people there are friendly and welcoming.
While in Luang Prabang, we had the opportunity to engage with the locals on a whole new level, thanks to Big Brother Mouse. This non-profit organization is dedicated to increasing literacy among the Laotian people. In addition to publishing storybooks in Laotian and English, and distributing them to children and schools throughout the country, they hold drop-in English programs twice a day, every day, at many of their offices. This is where Ellsa and I came in. English-speaking tourists are encouraged to drop in and help the students practice their English. We decided to check it out on our first full day in the city, and when we left the two-hour session, I left a piece of my heart behind. I went back twice more, and I only wish we had been able to stay longer so that I could keep going back again and again.
Most of the students who come to Big Brother Mouse are the same age as my students back home. Their education is poor, but they are eager to learn. None of them have ever left Laos, and they are infinitely curious about the world. It’s hard to know where to start. I tried to tell them about hockey, for example, but how well can you really explain ice hockey to a group of teens who have never seen ice bigger than a cube in a drink? They wanted to know what I teach, but chemistry is unfamiliar to them, and most have never seen a periodic table. Even the size of Canada was somewhat unfathomable – how can Laos be so much smaller than even just one province of another country? However, the less they showed that they knew, the more I wanted to teach them. As much as I love my students back in Canada, it was pretty great to have a group of students that hung on every word I said, took notes of their own accord, and asked question after question no matter what the topic.
The Laotian kids see English as a gateway to a better life. They would rather be a tour guide than a farmer. Post-secondary education is an unreachable dream for many of them. They would love to become doctors, or pilots, or even teachers, but their families simply cannot afford the tuition. I realize that this is a problem in Canada as well, but at least we have scholarships, bursaries, and student loans to help bridge the gap. The kids in Laos need more bridges. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll go back and start building.
In between sessions at Big Brother Mouse, Ellsa and I admired the temples, explored the caves, and ate the street food of Luang Prabang. The food at the night market is particularly amazing. What looks like a neglected alley by day becomes a busy bunch of buffets by night. Huge piles of every kind of noodle imaginable are scattered among a rainbow of vegetables, and for the equivalent of three dollars Canadian, you can fill up a large bowl with whatever you think you can eat (your eyes will be likely bigger than your stomach). The Laotian women running the buffets will stir fry your selected food on the spot, then point towards where they want you to sit. You’ll squeeze yourself into a spot along the bench and quickly make friends with the other tourists sitting around you. Everyone is well fed and in high spirits, and the entire alley is filled with the loud buzz of cheerful voices, speaking in languages from around the world. Though you may not be able to identify everything that you’re eating, the curries and sauces that coat your blend of noodles and veggies were made to go together, and everything both tastes and smells delicious. Unfortunately I can’t tell you the names of many Laotian dishes, but I am pleased to have had my fill of them.
My only mishap in Luang Prabang happened while trying to catch a boat to the Pak Ou caves. We had already missed the boat on our first day, unaware that they only leave in the morning. On day two, we got up earlier and headed right to the nearest dock, only to be told that the boat just left. We decided to try the next dock over, and the boat there was just leaving as we arrived. The men at the top of the point shouted down to their colleagues below to wait for two more passengers, and they pointed at the concrete staircase we should descend. Not wanting to miss the boat, we hurried down the stairs, which ended abruptly at the muddy river, the boat now just a few metres away. I assumed that the water had simply risen a few inches over the concrete, so I continued to hurry forward. For a couple of steps, my assumption was correct, but the next thing I knew, I stepped forward and plunged down into chest-deep water. The men on the boat had a good laugh before pointing to the small path through the bushes that we should have followed instead. My pride was hurt, but, more importantly, I was worried about my belongings, which were in my cloth bag and thus got soaked right along with me. All was well in the end, though. My phone still works, I didn’t have any books along that day, and I can now look back and laugh about it. Lesson learned? The early bird gets the worm… and the late bird gets the bath.