True to ourselves, we exhausted ourselves in one week on the farm.  Making documents, hitting up the kids’ dance classes, attending every english class we could find and teaching with every ounce of energy we had as though we were more of English performers than teachers.

We also mapped out a gestural plan for the rest of our 4.5 months here that revolved largely around a Lao wedding I was casually invited to by a girl who works in the kitchen.  I’m not even sure what her name is, but she invited me to her sister’s wedding in three weeks time, a wedding to be held right here in town.  Chloe was ecstatic when I told her- “a wedding!  Of course we have to stay for the wedding!  Ok, we’ll leave to cross the Thai border early so that we can return in time for the wedding!

By the time Friday evening came all we could pour our energy into was thinking about what ELSE we could do… where else we could go to get away from the very intimate scene here and to escape the endless pulsating music that is coming from the bars just down the river.

Also true to ourselves, we spent the good part of Friday night and Saturday morning cementing a plan that we wouldn’t follow- hours and hours spent spinning our wheels and convincing ourselves that something else was possible for a few days, a day trip or a weekend trip was just what we needed and we were head strong that we would put whatever we needed to into making it happen.  16 hours on a bus to spend just one night in a place we were unfamiliar with was sounding mighty appealing.  We had two calendar books out, different colored pens to color code our travels, and the Laos travel book that we proudly bought in Bangkok that had no mention of any adventures within a 6 hour radius.  Perhaps we had forgotten the abundance that this place has.. the way it serves up just what you need when you need it!

So Saturday morning as we sat down for our breakfast a smiling mr. t approached us wearing his finest of clothes and  shoes that no farmer would wear into the fields.  “After you finish breakfast you come with me to a wedding.

We had a conversation with some new arivees and a second cup of coffee before Mrs. T approached us saying “Mr.T… Mr.T”.  We followed her to figure out what she was trying to say and she led us into their house for the first time since we arrived.

Now, the T Mansion is by far the largest house in town, perhaps the largest we have seen since being in Laos.  There is speculation that Mr. T is getting rich off of the farm and the people he employs there, quite contrary to what he says which is that he donates all profits to the community. But when you see the house from the outside, perfectly positioned for sweeping views of the mountains, river and Mulberry fields you have to wonder, so entering the house was something I had been itching for.  Was there elaborate furniture and fancy things inside, unlike anything we had seen before?

Inside, in fact, there was almost nothing.  We went from one empty room to the next until we got to the sprawling laundry room where Mrs.T likely does the laundry each day for their entire family- 15 children.  Our of a closet she pulled two sarongs that she hoped to dress us in for the wedding- the proper attire was essentially a Sarong and any top and any shoes.  The first two sarongs she took out were absolutely gorgeous, intricately woven from metallic threads with a traditional, simple band at the bottom.  The sarongs were different from those in the states, they were like a giant tube, not open with a slit in the middle, and the giant tube folded over onto itself.  They were also quite heavy, both because of the heavy cloth they were made from and the weight of the threads sewn into them that likely took a person a month or more of full time work to complete.

Mrs. T proudly placed the first one on the ironing board, flattened it perfectly and handed it over to 125 lb., 5’2” Chloe.  Chloe’s girth was at least 4” larger than the Sarong and we knew that mine would be even more.  At 5”6” and 130 lbs. I’m a venerable giant in this land, and ontop of it I have wide hips and long, wide feet.  When I tried to get sneakers in Thailand it took me days to find some that fit and every store attendant just shook their head at me when they got a look at my feet.

Chloe biked back to our Mud House to source safety pins for fastening the Sarongs onto us while Mrs. T went through four sarongs and finally found two that ust squeezed onto us.  They were probably her biological daughter’s.  She is out every night dancing and partying because according to “mr.t she is the most popular woman in town, and just look at how she has become nice and fat from eating so well!”

Snug in our Sarongs, all the other guests were back in the restaurant trying to figure out what they would do with their days.  I couldn’t help but feel bad when they asked us what we were doing with our day and we had to share that we had been invited to a wedding, were dressed up in traditional garb by Mrs. T and we would be leaving shortly with Mr.T.  Who wouldn’t want to receive that invitation and greeting! But it wasn’t our invitation to extend, so when mr.t interrupted our conversation by handing us each a large, cold beer at 10am and ushering us to the car I just went with it and waved goodbye to the tourists who hadn’t made it “in” here.

“Drinking?  In the car?  Now?” I asked mr.T.  “Whatever you want” he smiled and sped off down the road.

When we pulled up the temple where the wedding would be held, I marched my falang self through the human greeting tunnel with an open can of beer in my hand and accepted the shot of whisky that the bride and groom offered me, along with everyone else attending, from the very same glasses.  I have to say that before asking and getting confirmation I wasn’t willing to believe that the bride was the bride “herself”.  She looked so much like the drag queens that you see all over Thailand!  She had a broad face and nose that had been powdered in a shade 10x too light for her skintone, penciled on eyebrows, red lipstick and bright eyeshadow- as guady as it gets and something that no Westerner would leave home in unless it were halloween, but I imagine that not many Westerners know about this look… so I’m not sure that they would know to dress up as a Thai dragqueen/ Laos Bride for any costume party regardless of how amazing it is.

Just past the greeting tunnel was a 30’ piece of bamboo on end holding up the most beautiful green fabric and immediately I mapped to what it was based on a story my mother told me when I was a kid.  When I was 12 years old, living in a small house with my parents and four sisters, I decided that I needed my own physical space – my own bedroom- and started cleaning up our filthy basement and turning it into my bedroom.  After a few years I personally paid for and completed the renovation of the basement but in the beginning I was working with a cement floor and a raw wood ceiling.  As I described my vision for a lighter, more airy and natural space my mother suggested that I try to find a WWII silk parachute to hang from the ceiling.  She said that in the 60s and 70s hanging one of these giant parachutes in a room to cover the ceiling and walls was quite popular and really a beautiful treatment to a room but she wasn’t sure where I could get my hands on one.  Well, you better believe that I didn’t either so the parachute never materialized.  But on this day in Laos, in an area known for being one tightly held by American Anti-Communist forces throughout the Vietnam war, there was the beautiful, patchwork silk parachute my mother had described to me hanging down from a giant piece of bamboo.  Fluid, delicate and undulating somehow it was the perfect centerpiece for the wedding and both shaded and framed the dance floor perfectly.  I couldn’t help but think however that in America, if foreigners had come to our country and tens of thousands had died in association with this object, no matter how beautiful, the thing would be destroyed and forbidden in public places.  But there we were, the falang and the parachute and nobody thought a thing of it.

There were a few other Falang at the wedding.  The EEFA director, Martin, and an English teacher, Mark, were both their with their wives/fiances respectively.  We sat at the same table with them and held cordial conversation, but neither of them seem to have the spark, the it, that attracts me to people.

There were also two English brothers there who recently opened a bar on the river and profusely invited us to stop by and see what they are up to, have a drink, and experience the “Art Gallery” they have created by the River.  They had the typical falang quality of over engaging in everything, being the only ones dancing periodically before over drinking and shriveling up into anonimity in the corner.

We ourselves, were also guilty of over drinking and dancing.  We justified this by figuring three things: that the wedding was what we were doing with our day, we had no idea what was going on culturally, and that the more we drank the more likely we would be to just flow with things.  The over drinking part was easy, before we could ever empty our beer glasses someone would come by and fill them to the top and beyond that we had a table volunteer with a communal cup that they simply filled up, handed to someone to chug, and then moved onto the next person… and on and on and on just like that.

Dancing.  Well, stepping side to side and moving your hands around.  This is traditional Lao wedding dancing.  Mr. T would insist us to the dance floor and there there were two parallel lines of people in a cirlcle facing eachother, but NOT making eye contact. The parallel circles would slowly move around, stepping side to side, while waving their hands around gently.  I for one thought that these hand movements were like smaller, less emphatic versions of the extreme hippy/festival dancing I’ve seen in the States.  At Phish concerts dreadlocked, barefoot, scantily dressed hippies often drug themselves up to the point they become fascinated by their hands and fingers and start waving them around in the air in circular and fluid motions, admiring the psychadelic trails they leave behind while becoming higher and higher off of the halucinations themselves.

Been there, done that, and so I channeled a positive-inner acid -flashback with a Lao flair and put all my intention into moving my hands around in the air. Mr.T was thrilled by my psychadelic hand movements and kept nodding his head at me and breaking rules by maintaining eye contact- saying yes, more of that, show them those falang hands!  Very quickly I could feel all eyes on me, on my hand movements, but in a very positive, admiring way so I kept it up.  From across the circle a woman in blue from the wedding party kept making eye contact with me and smiling, telling me that she more than approved of my dancing.  So the dance went on.

Our good friend Kevin who works on natural building projects all over the world, most recently Haiti, asked Chloe and I to come and check up on the work he did in Vang Vieng, Laos- a town I visited three years ago and knew was one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Our base here is an organic farm that was started by the former Secretary of Forestry for Laos, Mr. T, before the communist take over.  In our time here we have come to learn that this farm is much more than the goat cheese & mulberry tea operation.  Much more than the incredible, organic restaurant with Star Fruit and Mulberry wine.  Much more than the incredible mud-house village that comprises their “hotel”.

The farm is a true community center that has evolved out of the land and out of the local people over the past fourteen years. When the farm first started the children in the community didn’t speak to each other: Hmong, Khmu and Laos- the three ethnic groups of the country were sharing space physically but not in spirit.  Children here had never seen “Falang”- white people – but their parents knew them well from the days when the CIA came in and worked with the Hmong as their front lines in the Vietnam war… until their wasn’t a single man of fighting age alive.

In 2005 a young, 6’3” California boy who had lived on many organic farms and studied at Zen centers learned of the farm through a friend of a friend- this would be Kevin. At the time he was working to build earthen buildings with a village in Thailand and was exhausted from the physical labor.  He thought that this farm would be a good place to take a break but soon after arriving learned that fate would have a different way with him.

At Vang Vieng Organic farm he was quickly requested to build a natural building, whatever he wanted, something that would demonstrate ways of natural building to the community.  His training in Zen and intuition for truth told him that this was a community and a place not only of incredible natural beauty but one with incredible unmet social potential.  Although the villagers were at unrest with each other, the children were bright eyed and spirited and the founder of the Organic Farm was ready to lead by empowering them.

Anyway, on and on and on… and now here we are in a village where all three tribes are fully integrated in the youth generation and the kids our out of the woodwork to learn languages, dancing, and really anything they can get their hands on when they aren’t farming with their parents.  Mud buildings are popping up everywhere through Uncle T’s protejes and we landed in the middle of it!

Yesterday, after being closed for two years due to cultural conflicts, “Uncle T” handed us the keys to the original community center, two brooms and a bucket and asked us to head up the hill, through the Hmong village and clean it up.

We thought it would take us two days to clean, because it was in such disrepair, but as we walked up the hill kids started to gather and there was a venerable parade of children behind us.  Barefoot, filthy, rotten teethed but gorgeous children with huge bright eyes pranced up the hill laughing, took the brooms out of our hands as we re-opened the doors and began cleaning enthusiastically!  I ran as fast as I could back to the farm to get more cleaning supplies and when I returned Chloe was there with about 20 singing, dancing children sweeping, mopping, cleaning!

After an hour and a half all the kids arranged the school furniture and sat down… ready for whatever we would give them.  We looked at each other, not really sure what to do or say, and only able to say “hello” in Lao!

I whipped out my creative movement tricks and gave the kids a lesson in body parts and shapes until I was thoroughly exhausted… but all they wanted was more!

When we returned to the farm filthy, exhausted and overflowing with excitement, Uncle T told us that he knew that was what would happen and he hopes we will continue visiting the center each day- of course!

The enthusiasm of these kids is unlike any I have every encountered, and coupled with their competence and energy I don’t know how I could leave them… so I won’t!  Chloe and I are staying here for at least the next month… who knows how long really!

The local teenagers talk about love all the time.  They tell each other that they love each other forever, talk about love constantly, wear hats that say “I love” and told us you can only learn to speak Lao if you love.

Pinch me, pinch me, friggin’ pinch me!

In our hearts we thought that this landlocked country, surrounded by five others could somehow maintain pockets of immunity against globalization and the havoc it wreaks on cultures.  Perhaps this would be the oasis of culture and subsistence living that others thought Nepal to be.

Surrounded by five rapidly developing countries, how could the others keep their paws off this land?  On the cultural and natural end they have some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, UNESCO World Heritage Sites and dozens of ethnic groups living in the country.

On the resource end, they hold parts of the Mekong River- one of the largest in Asia- diamond mines and land for agriculture.

The most bombed country in the world per capita.  A place where 70% of the population consists of subsistence farmers.  A deeply Buddhist, calm and peaceful set of people who have weathered wars and colonialism only to be deemed “too complacent for development”.  Much of this country’s historical development can be credited to outside countries’ donations- from their 60 year old buses that Japan purchased for them to the beautiful French architecture in Luang Prabang- outside of their Buddhist Temples and bamboo huts they have not desired development- only peaceful living.

Globalization and global thinking will take their toll here too.  Neighboring countries are now not only eying their Rivers for damming, but they are constructing the dams and exporting the power outside it’s borders for wealthier outsiders to power their flat screen TVs with (the TV being the primary reason why those who don’t have electricity in Laos are eager to obtain it).

Still, large scale development projects have largely been based on “aid” money throughout recent history.  Often this aid money is provided without the expectation that it will be paid back- these are humanitarian gifts for the “poor people” of Laos.

Today however, investors look to Laos because they can see the long term potential payback on development in this area.  As we all know, a gift is a gift, but an investment requires that there be a payback, and when shareholders are involved it is expected that the perceived financial value and worth of the project increase over the years and leech money back to the investors over the long term. The UN continues to pour international aid money into the country, but much of it is distributed/ claimed by the communist government and doesn’t make it’s way into the hands of local, grass roots social entrepreneurs.

Now, on the Global scale, the IMF is providing loans in the billions of dollars to Lao government to fund the dam projects that clog the Laoatians’ historical primary transportation routes- their rivers.  Neighboring countries like China, Vietnam and Thailand have either exploited their own natural resources entirely or they are now keen to the repercussions of stripping their land of it’s resources and will take them from other countries if possible.

On the ground we have had our own experiences of these dynamics.  Our recent stay on a farm in Laos was one of the most educational experiences of our lives and certainly the most deep, cultural experience I’ve ever had.  Our friends there truly lived off the land- their lives revolved around their families and the river- their word for river translates as “mother water.”  They did their laundry, fished and bathed in the river next to their farms each day.

We were sent to the farm by Kleiwerks International who we have been doing some work for remotely.   7 years ago they spent time there and built a mud house, which we lived in, and a community center in the Hmong village that we volunteered at.  We thought it would take 3 days to capture the story but when we left on day 26 our heads were still spinning from daily learnings of the amount their work benefited the area- incredible.

Development is so multifaceted though.  Just as we were leaving the river we lived with turned red from dirt pouring into it 20K upstream- the Chinese just broke ground on an unannounced dam project- presumably in partnership with the Lao, Communist Government.  From one look at the river our Lao friends told us they didn’t know when they would be able to bathe or do their laundry next and they didn’t seem to understand what a dam was.  The Chinese will also complete a high speed rail through the area in just 4 years time, an area that is currently dirt roads and subsistence farmers.  The development there was incredibly complex, inspirational, sad and emotional.

Now our hearts ache for our beautiful friends who are loosing their land and culture to the development deals their government negotiates with big money players around the world, a government that they say is ruled by a Dictator who doesn’t represent them or any of their people.   Perhaps this will not remain the oasis of pure culture and subsistence living we hoped, but preserving some of it is essential.

Karen has put together a beautiful slideshow about Salvaje Corazon – the umbrella company that will be supporting the Greenhouse project.  Check it out!