Little Things

 

It’s the little details that are vital.  Little things make big things happen

~John Wooden

I’m a little embarrassed by how poorly I’ve done keeping up with this blog.  It’s not as if life has just been dull for the past seven months and I’ve had nothing to take note of.  Quite the contrary.  There’s been so much to notice, to try to hang on to, so much that’s happened that I don’t even know where to start. 

One day, feeling like I wanted to do a blog post, but not sure what I should do it on, I decided that I would start by looking for inspiration in my neighborhood on the walk down the lane from my house to the main road.  By the time I got to the end of the road, my problem still wasn’t solved.  There were just too many things to notice and to treasure on this one little rocky road that I still didn’t know where to start.  I’m so grateful for the friends and family that have been able to visit and have walked with me down this road.  They know exactly what I’m talking about. 

I don’t even know how to describe this experience of living in Lao and what it’s meant to me.  What it’s done to me.  And quite frankly, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to understand the full impact of my time here any time soon. 

But, I need to start somewhere.  Might as well start with a few of the little things that make up my life here.

These little green oranges that cost less than $1 per kilo when they are in season that make such tasty fresh-squeezed orange juice. 

Notice the small things.  The rewards are inversely proportional

~Liz Vassey

The little bit of traffic during the morning “rush hour” traffic jam at the bike bridges near my house that lasts from about 7:30-7:45 a.m.  Yep.  That’s about as bad as traffic gets here.

This little family.

For the person for whom small things do not exist, the great is not great.

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

A tiny little snoozin’ snake curled up on the hand of a Buddha statue that a friend of mine and I found on a hike.  It’s kind of hard to see, but I promise it’s up there, draped on the thumb.

Buddha wants YOU to obtain Nirvana

This tasty little treat:  Tam Mak Kua.  Sticky rice with a roasted eggplant dip.  I simply can not get enough of this.

These little Hmong cuties all dressed up for the Hmong New Year.  Check out the totally unabashed nose-picking.  Love. It.

The older I get, the more I’m conscious of ways very small things can make a change in the world.  Tiny little things, but the world is made up of tiny matters, isn’t it?

~Sandra Cisneros

A little moment with some novice monks.  For the record, they were adding David as a friend on Facebook.  21st century Buddhism. 

This little “KFC” next to the Mekong River.  Better than the real KFC.

 

 

 

This little guy

This little mamma street dog that comes and waits patiently by my feet when I eat at the noodle soup shop in my neighborhood.  She knows I’m a softie and I’ll toss her some treats. 

This little kitty that found the best spot in Luang Prabang for a snooze on a chilly evening:  next to the oven at the mouth-wateringly delicious wood-fired pizza place near our neighborhood. 

My little local market right at the end of our lane where I can get almost everything I need.  The ladies there are eternally patient with my terrible Lao skills. 

 

It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.

~Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Muggsy

I’ve never given the NBA much attention, and I still don’t, but that being said: Muggsy Bogues was far and away my favorite player.  This was partially a byproduct of my brother Reid's abiding love for the Charlotte Hornets, but largely because of an odd physical connection I felt with Bogues.  

I was maybe in middle school and I distinctly remember being told I was the same height as him at the time (I’ve since outgrown him by three inches).  The idea that there was someone out there with knees and shoulders and eyes in about same place as mine stepping on an NBA court in front of thousands of spectators and getting business done was incredibly powerful.  It was always an image I could rely on to give myself a bit of courage when I needed it. And let’s face it – middle school girls need to draw courage from as may places as they can find it. 


I had since forgotten about the magic of Muggsy until I saw this NPR article today.  If you are needing a little inspiration, you should check it out.

Is it just me, or does anyone else get chills looking at this picture from that article?  

Photo from Ruth Fremson/AP

What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?

~

Vincent van Gogh

Finding a New Rhythm

Like many other grad students, when I was in school I often had a hard time communicating to people and convincing them that just because I worked from home about 16 hours/week did not mean I was “at home laying on the couch, watching Youtube videos” for 16 hours a week. 

But if I thought it was hard convincing people that I was actually productively engaged in some sort of work when I was a grad student, imagine what it’s like now trying to tell people that, no, I’m not employed by anyone, but yes, I still have plenty to keep me busy. 

The question often asked is-like my brother so elegantly put it the other day when I was finally able to reach him via Skype-“What do you DO all day there?!”

So, here’s a glimpse at a typical week day here in Luang Prabang.

3:40 a.m. (Yes, you read that correctly.  A-flippin’-M)

At first, it seems like we live in a very quiet section of town.  However, we also live right next to a Buddhist temple, and this particular section of the temple:

This is the drum tower and it is directly next to our apartment.  So, the new rhythm of life here starts up at 3:40 in the morning, with a metal cymbal enthusiastically and loudly ting-ting-tinging while all the dogs in the area also feel compelled to join along in song.  Amazingly enough, after three weeks of this, we are able (sometimes)to sleep through this ruckus.

5:30 a.m.

About two hours after the cymbal and dog chorus, a huge drum covered in rawhide is energetically beat.  Sometimes rhythmic sounds can actually lull you to sleep further.  Unfortunately, this drumming is not even remotely rhythmic.  This actually works out in my favor because I get up around this time anyway.  So, when you come visit us, we can offer a reliable wake-up call.  But, no, you can’t change the time it comes.  This is just at daybreak, so the roosters in the area are also really starting to warm up their vocal chords.

I get to drink my coffee and have some time to read while watching the mists recede to reveal this beautiful view from our porch. 

Nam Khan River

Between 6:00 – 7:30

I head out either for a run or for yoga.  Despite the intense heat and humidity during the day, the mornings are usually fairly pleasant and cool (albeit still humid like crazy). 

I’ve found a couple great running routes that always keep me entertained.  Luang Prabang is built where the Mekong and Nam Kahn Rivers join.  The narrow section of land between the two  rivers is where the oldest structures are (Such as the former Royal Palace and where most of the old French colonial architecture is), so there is always something interesting to see when running around this area. 

The peninsula is hopping in the evening because it’s the main tourist area, but it is just starting to stir when I’m headed out in the morning.  So far while out running, I’ve seen chickens (ubiquitous), so many cute and sweet street dogs that I can hardly stand it (I stop to play with puppies no matter what), goats, cows, elephants, and just  the other day - monkeys.  Never a dull moment. 

On days when I don’t run, this is the fabulous spot I do yoga, overlooking the Nam Khan River.

Photo Credit goes to http://www.luangprabangyoga.org/

8:30 – 12:00

I usually work at home, writing.  The good thing about having no internet at home is that it’s less of a distraction when you are in the process of struggling to eek out just the right words for a particular sentence. 

Lunch

Food is just too big of a topic for this post.  I’ll have to come back to this later.

1:00 – 5:30

Head to find a coffee shop with decent internet access for research, downloading books, reading and job applications. 

My daily commute across the bike bridge

This part of the day has turned out to be trickier than I expected.  I’ve learned that you need to have a couple options in mind because on any given day, the internet may be awful at any given place.  Sometimes it’s a bit of a treasure hunt to find god internet.  But I’m getting better at knowing where to look. I’ve also learned to check the internet connection before ordering something, but only after having to quickly slurp down one too many mango smoothies or cappuccinos. 

I’m also learning how to be a historian without physical books and without a well-stocked office.  After being resistant for years, this move has resulted in a huge shove towards becoming as paperless as possible because you can’t exactly pack up a library and move it easily from one side of the world to the other. 

The view out one of my favorite café work spots

On the advice of my tech-savvy brother, I invested in  Microsoft Surface tablet because of the way the screen interfaces with the “pen” just like pen and paper.  Years of grad school has trained me to think with a pen in my hand, so the ability to still be able to mark up articles (PDF’s) and word documents, mind-map pieces of writing, free-write ideas and outlines, and have them all well-organized and word-searchable on a tablet is invaluable to me.  It’s true that I will never stop loving physical books, but right now I am hugely grateful for the increasing amount of academic books available in e-formats. I’m probably able to download about 70% of the books I want to look at from Amazon, another invaluable resource when you are nowhere near a good research library.  For books that are not sold in e-version, Amazon has a “Tell the publisher! I’d like to read this book on Kindle” link you can click.  I have no idea if that information actually gets sent on the press, but I’ve been “telling” a lot of editors that I’d like to see more of their books in e-version. 

The rest of the day is filled up with learning Lao, exploring Luang Prabang’s various restaurants, street vendors, and sights, and hanging out with my fabulous sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and adorable new nephew who happen to also live here.

As you can see, this dude is a total natural at selfies. 

Life is a School

Every year for the past 26 years of my life, whether I was a student or a teacher, fall meant cooler weather and “back to school.”  This year, things could not be more different.  For the first fall since I started Eager Beavers Preschool I’m not going back to school, and the weather is certainly not cooler.

But even though I may not be going back to school in a formal sense, in the words of Kid President,

“Life is a school and you gotta show up. . . No matter who you are, somebody’s learning from you.  Everybody’s a teacher and everybody’s a student.” 

I certainly feel like I have a whole lot to learn from life in Laos.  To be honest, this place is so different from my previous life that I’m a bit overloaded with all there is to learn and process, even about the most basic things.  But the good news is that I’ve got a while to sort it all out.  Nevertheless, here are just a few immediate impressions/lessons after one week in Luang Pragang. 

First of all, let’s talk about sweat.  All of my life, unless you were exercising or doing physical labor, sweat has been something to be avoided, prevented, masked.  Here, you just have to accept sweat as part of your wardrobe.  If your outfit doesn’t look good/feel good drenched in sweat, it’s a no-go.  Also, the food here tends to be spicy in a very particular way that makes my face sweat profusely (but it’s so delicious!).  Also, I’m a Stidolph.  Sweating fantastic amounts is part of our heritage.  So, I’m learning how to be, truly just be, sweaty. 

We arrived in Luang Prabang just in time for the annual boat races on the Nam Kahn River, where large rowing crews race their long, narrow boats while huge crowds line the river and cheer them on.  We were told that the crews only start training two weeks before the race and just go all-out with an intense training schedule that doesn’t let up after race day. 

 

This group of kids was absolutely tireless in their cheering for every set of racing boats that came by.

They also have barges going up and down the river during the races advertising things like malaria awareness, the national Lao electricity company, Beer Lao, and so on.  Adding to the excitement of the day, one of these barges met an unfortunate end right near our viewing spot.  I was impressed with the lady on the left who nimbly hopped on a nearby boat and made her escape.   

This is the world-weary guard cat that is always outside our apartment door.  Although it looks pretty fierce, this cat has an intense desire to be sociable, preferably in a touch-feely sort of way.  Ironically (and these pictures don’t actually fully capture this), this is probably one of the last cats a person would want to get all snuggly with.  I call it our guard cat because it strikes up this mournful yowling that goes on and on as long as someone is outside near the door.  I personally think he (she?) wants to tell the long tale of woe that is the story of it’s life to anyone who will listen.  I haven’t come up with a name yet.  Maybe Methuselah? 

Speaking of our apartment, one thing Laos has been teaching me is how to cook and do dishes while sitting on the floor, and how to cook with only an electric tea kettle and a blender (Hint: lots of instant coffee, salads, and fresh fruit smoothies).  So far, this is our kitchen.

The good news is that we just bought an electric wok, so our cooking methods will be effectively revolutionized soon.  Also, we should be receiving a large cabinet sometime this next week that will allow us to *gasp* prepare food standing up!! 

Nevertheless, this kitchen set up does come with one unexpected perk.  If you leave even the smallest bit of food on the dishes after washing them, a whole little troop of tiny ants will appear in no time to point it out to you by creating a streaming line directly to the area from some nearby crack in the wall or floor.  Ta Da!  Jungle quality control. 

Finally, now that I am far removed from what I would consider my “normal” life, and far removed from what I expected to be doing right now, I am learning about the value of perspective gained from distance.  In the academic world, and particularly in graduate school, we learn to breath such rarified air that we sometimes have a hard time imagining life outside of it.  Now, as I breath in the humidity, the smell of cooking fires, exhaust fumes from tuktuks and motorbikes, rice cooking, stinky sewage, and yes, the smell of my own sweat, I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to come here to learn about things I don’t even know that I don’t know.

Two roads diverged in an academic wood, and I-

I was forced a bit reluctantly down the one less traveled

And I have a sneaking suspicion that will make all the difference.

-Not Robert Frost

~

“It’s time to get our learn on.  And we’ve got a lot to learn, too.”

- Kid President

11 Signs you might be Swedish

• At least one of the windows in your house has a ledge where geraniums grow
• You have a summer home “up North.”  If you happen to reside full time “up North,” you still have a summer home that’s even further “up North” 
• The dairy section at your local grocery store can best be described as “vast”
• You happen to look fabulous in chunky, thick-rimmed glasses
• 45% of your parliament members are women  (And it’s not because there’s a gender quota)
• Your house is red with white trim.  Other (barely) acceptable colors are white, yellow, or wood.  Anything other than that, and you are definitely not Swedish.  I met a couple that recently bought a gorgeous house in Sweden that is the very unusual color of pink.  Rumor has it that when the house was originally built, the first painter hired to paint the outside quit after he learned the color they wanted him to use.  And sure enough, the original owners were Danish.  Not Swedish.   

 

• You adamantly refuse to take the stickers off of glassware to better show off the brand.
• You feel smugly superior about your country’s progressive social and environmental politics, but (and this is key) you would never admit that you feel superior because national pride is so pre-WWII. 
• You have at least one decorative piece of fabric hanging on a wall somewhere.
• At your local park, there are as many dads as moms hanging out with their kids at the playground and pushing their babies around in strollers.
• 98% of your wardrobe is neutral colors.

Running: My Favorite Contact Sport

The old man watching ducks by the pond this morning got a more exciting show than he was expecting when I sailed by this morning and proceeded to pancake it, hard, right in front of him.  I may not know much Swedish, but I can tell when someone is laughing at me. 

I can hardly blame him.  I was running onto a very flat trail.  And off of a very flat, well-constructed bridge.  Which makes me wonder, how bad was I shuffling if my foot couldn’t clear a tiny little knot in a board on a bridge?  But then I think, I couldn’t have been going that slow, because I had enough speed to really launch myself out there in a strongly horizontal direction for a while.  And then it hits me:  I must have finally figured out the rare talent of being a super-speedy shuffling-type runner! 

We’ve all seen this type at races.  The ones whose form seems to be better suited for trips back and forth to the buffet at Golden Corral, yet somehow they just passed you.  And now you have to watch their strange shuffle from the back until they fade off into the distance.

Oh well. I guess a few scrapes and one thumb that’s a bit less opposable than it should be is a small price to pay for starting a guy’s day off with a belly laugh, right? 

“Go for a run,” my friend Kate said.  “You always feel better after a run,” Kate said.  Do I? . . . . .Do I?

Swedish Summer

David has an aunt and uncle who told us about a yearly tradition their family has.  Towards the end of each summer, they and their two kids get dressed up and go out to eat somewhere nice as a family.  The purpose of the dinner is to talk about what they did that summer and how they think the next year is going to go for them.  I think it’s a lovely tradition!  So, here’s a brief look back at some of my Swedish summer.

I’m so glad I got to be here this particular summer.  Everyone keeps commenting that this has been an unusually pleasant one for Sweden.  We have been soaking it up, drinking it in, and gobbling it up as much as possible! 

Swedish summer is all about taking lots of time to visit and reconnect with friends.  I haven’t even remotely kept up with photos of all the friends and family we’ve had the chance to be with.  Obviously, since we are in Sweden, we are mostly spending time with dear ones from David’s past, but I managed to have a little time with some special old friends of my own!




There’s been berries and currants to pick and clean and eat

There’s been many days spent at David’s cabin on Ejen Lake. 




There’s been lots and lots of jumps into lakes and the ocean

      
  
There’s even been a bit of fishing


(For the record, I did not catch the pike I’m holding here.  We were fishing in the archipelago near Stockholm with David’s friend, Richard, who is basically a fish magnet.  He got the fish on the line and then kindly let me have the experience of reeling it in)

We were in Darlana during their yearly Classic Car week, so there was a lot of “oohing” and “aahing” at really sweet rides.  During certain days if you are out driving around, almost one out of every three cars was an oldie. 



And speaking of classics, we got to be there to celebrate David’s Morfar’s (grandfather on the mother’s side) 90th birthday.



At David’s family’s summer house, the big change this summer was the installation of a new energy system that relies on geothermal energy.  It was fascinating to watch the process up close as they drilled down 130 meters.  I know that the process we watched was small potatoes compared to a lot of things, but I couldn’t help but think over and over again, “Whoa. Engineering is cool!” 



There’s been crayfish to crack and slurp and eat



So that’s been a bit of my Swedish summer so far.  As for the year a head. . . the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not sure of much!