A Rock Star in a Public Bus

To get from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, Laos, I took a public bus with a washing machine on top of it. Not a working washing machine -- it was just a passenger, like me, along with about 40 other people, about 30 dozen eggs, and big sacks of sugar and flour which lined the aisle of bus. If the bus broke down, which was a distinct possibility, we would at least have a chance at clean clothes and maybe some engine block pancakes.

But the bus didn't break down... instead, it took us through some of the most amazing scenery i've seen yet -- both natural and human. The villages we went through were very simple -- wood-and-straw huts on stilts, full of hill tribe people going about their days. They were cleaning and cooking and sitting idle in front of their small homes, keeping an eye on the children running in the streets.

And it was the children that got me. They were everywhere, from mothers' arms to the side of the road, splashing each other from a stagnant puddle. They played. Some of the younger ones were running naked along the side of the road. I even saw one girl--in a strange pose I couldn't hope to explain--standing in bathing suit looking down at about 20 dead chickens on the ground while holding an umbrella to shield herself from the sun. I shook my head a little, trying to confirm in my head what I just saw-- a seconds-long tableau of poultry and parasol.

And everywhere I have been in Laos, the children wave and say hello. Everywhere. It's the highlight of their day, it seems, to see a bus or pickup truck full of people passing their village. "Sabaidee!! Sabaidee!!" [hello!] they yell as we drive by, frantically waving at us and smiling from ear to ear.

I feel like a rock star in Laos: A rock star that takes the public bus.