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!