The week leading up to July 25, 2014

Very fresh fish, caught when the rice fields are first drained.

OK – we have attained a new culinary height (or depth) that will make many cringe – sorry in advance for PETA fans.  Yesterday we visited a village celebrating the “fish in the rice fields” day, a day, post rice planting, when the plants are well rooted, when the fields are drained of water and the villagers scavenge the fields for small fish that are left flopping in the mud.  The fish are a central part of the fish day celebration, accompanying many shots of lao-lao (distilled rice “whiskey”), grilled river fish, and many other local delights.  These small fish are kept alive in bowls of water, then, individually, placed into  bowl of spicy vegetables and we’re not quite sure what else, poked around in the spicy mixture (many flop their way out during this ignominy) and then, grasped between chopsticks and with a splop of spicy food, popped into ones mouth alive and flipping for a tasty sushi treat.  Zall declined, but Josh and I each managed a fish, then Josh continued to eat 2 more!  A new height in western ideas of grossness, but, in order to be part of the festival, this is what needed to be done!  Try everything once, is our travel motto.

Josh with a “squiggler.” Lots of chili, quick chew, and down. Easy as pie.

Sushi – bottoms up! A chaser of a shot of strong lao-lao fortified us!

This culinary delight followed our truly delightful time in Houaphon Province.  We also ended up going to the silk-raising village with the District Vice Governor, and eating huge amounts of fish – grilled, in soup, and, delightfully, raw dipped in soy sauce and wasabi!  We had never seen wasabi before in Laos, but, apparently, it is made in Thailand, and is the same brand we use in the states (at least the same color packaging, though ours is usually in English).  That fresh, raw fish was incredible – we saw the fish swimming, then it was sliced and on a plate – incredibly delicious.

Maren leans in to watch; weaving can be mesmerizing!

Josh and I wandered around the village a bit, and Josh videotaped several women weaving intricately patterned sinh (skirt fabric) using the usual discontinuous supplemental weft (brocade) method of weaving to create patterns.  We ended up buying one sinh from a woman who raised the silkworms, reeled the silk, made the natural dyes, and then wove the fabric.  Quite amazing.  Josh videoed young girls weaving simpler patterns, women weaving more complex patterns, including a skirt fabric with supplemental warp, and an older lady with goiters weaving a skirt border with thicker pattern strings to accommodate her arthritic fingers – boy did she beat back that reed hard!  Quite the tough lady, and she seemed pleased with the attention too!

Our friend, guide, and translator Kaiphet.

We returned to Xam Neau for a day, shipped our accumulated textiles via bus to our shipper in Vientiane (safe as can be), and then the three of us set off for the far northern part of Houaphan Province to see the sights and to explore the textiles.  We went with our first guide from 2006 , Kaiphet, who’s baby just turned one yesterday (we were Kaiphet’s first-ever clients as well, and we have remained good friends over the years).  We stopped to see an elderly Hmong man who was one of our first contacts on that road 8 years ago, who was a blacksmith.  We brought back photos of him (taken on our 2008 trip), and, amazingly, he was still there!  He is now quite very elderly, but remembered us, and requested that we come back to visit him again.  Really delightful.

An elderly Hmong blacksmith who captured our attention in 2006. This photo is from 2008.

Zall, the now very elderly Hmong blacksmith, and Josh in 2014. The gentleman is holding a picture of himself with our boys from many years ago.

Later, we stopped at another Hmong village where Kaiphet said they did painting on cloth – turns out he meant batik, but didn’t know the word in English.  We went to a house in the village and had a long and instructive conversation with a woman who does batik on hemp in the traditional Black Hmong way.  She said that only the Black Hmong still use hemp – something we had also noticed in Vietnam – why, we don’t know.  She proceeded to take our her batik tools and show us how the patterns were drawn, the direction in which the wax “pens” were moved, how she used a small piece of bamboo to draw the lines straight and evenly, and was totally delightful and pleased that we were relatively educated on the process.  We bought a used skirt from her, and she gave us a handful of raw hemp ready for splicing and one of her batik tools to use as display items for our Gallery.  I had to argue with her a bit about giving us the tool, but her son said she had another one just like it, and she wanted us to have it.  I did insist on at least making a small extra contribution so the family could have a special dinner that night.

Maren asks a lot of questions and learns traditional batik-technique from this Hmong woman.

Traditional tools for batik art.

The landscape going up to the northern reaches was beautiful, though a Chinese company is doing mining on a wide section of the hills and the Laos government is putting in a dam, so there were lots of scars on portions of the landscape.  Otherwise, we drove through Tai Dam (Black Tai), Tai Daeng (Red Tai), Red Dzao (Yao), Hmong, and other villages on the way.  We spent the night in Muong Et after dinner in a Karaoke bar – loud and hot, but delicious and spicy!  Drove back again, stopping in different towns, mostly Dzao.  We visited several older Dzao lady’s houses, and bought some choice hand-made clothing and bags.  Zall was having a fabulous time taking photos of the elders’ faces!

An Red Dzao elder models an outfit – long-tailed jacket, pants and belt –  she recently made. She happily sold it to us.

Back in Xam Neua, we were invited to Kaiphet’s home for dinner and our first chance to meet his son – a cutie!  The whole family looks healthy, cheerful, and well.  I think the addition of another woman to help around the house (Kaiphet’s wife), and the grandson, have added a great deal of brightness to the whole family.

Our stop to meet the Dzao elder drew quite a crowd.

Today we packed our gear and did our last market wander.  Tomorrow we’re off to Vietnam, and a (hopefully) relaxing time at the beaches of Sam Son near Thanh Hoa – not reputed to be the best beach in Vietnam, but it is both convenient and a draw for Vietnamese, but not Western, tourists.  Then to Hanoi to finish labeling our materials for shipping, then home.

Laos is about over, and our friends are already saying they miss us and want us to come back as soon as possible. And Josh and I are already laying plans for doing just that!

The week leading up to today, July 17, 2014

Maren on the right, Mai (our Houaphon translator, guide, and very dear friend) is on the right, Mai’s mother is middle. Mai’s nephew and son, Bingo (no, not Batman), are in the front.  We do feel like giants there sometimes….

Josh, Zall and I are sitting in our room taking a break and digesting our lunch of steamed bat (yes, again), water buffalo liver (Josh’s favorite….), green zucchini-ish veggie boiled with venison, water buffalo meat stir fried with some green onion, lots of sticky rice, chili sauce, bamboo soup left over from last night’s dinner, and more of the green zucchini-ish veggies boiled (Zall and I really like them).  So much of our social life focuses on food – preparing it, planning it, eating it.  This morning we had another smaller American-pancake breakfast for a smaller crew – pancakes, bacon, and coffee.  Delish!

Two nights ago we had the “Han-falang” – foreigner restaurant – where we made hamburgers, fries, salad, and s’mores for dessert, with appetizers of gin and tonics, brie, stilton, smoked gouda on crackers, and olives (yes – we actually hauled 24 hamburger buns).  As expected, the hamburgers were a hit (with water buffalo ground in the hand-cranked cast iron meat grinder Z and Josh hauled from home – the women have all asked for more of them – they love the grinder!).  We served them with a thin slice of onion, Heinz ketchup, French’s mustard, my pickles (yes, Josh and Z hauled them too), all on hamburger buns from home.  The potatoes we bought here and fried in oil from home – all were eaten!  The salad was cucumbers, tomatoes, green beans, and some spicy greens from the market with Italian salad dressing.  The surprising thing was that everyone ate each type of cheese, and, although it was not their favorite food, they did not react with the tastebud horror we thought they would to aged and moldy calf food.  What did surprise us is that only about half of the people liked the G&Ts.  Most switched happily to Beer Lao.  One of the men helped make s’more sticks from a freshly cut large bamboo, split into stick widths, shaved to eliminate splinters, then carved into points.  I couldn’t believe it – no marshmallows burned!

The meat for our American hamburger meal could not have been fresher.

Hamburgers and fries with the works, including paper plates.

Jsh heating American hamburger buns on the “stove.”

We’ve been fed some amazingly good meals – fresh catfish from the river, bamboo soup with the bamboo cut that morning from Phout’s garden – a huge shoot from timber bamboo that was incredibly sweet, mild, and delicious.  Chicken, of course, lots of fresh greens, a tiny pea-sized fruit that is so bitter that it fills your entire head and the taste lasts for at least 10 minutes – it’s supposed to be good for health and blood sugar – and many other things we don’t have at home.  So far we’ve sampled no bugs and no extra MSG in our honor, although we did get another round of “poop soup” – water buffalo stomach, intestines, liver, meat, cooked in water and the contents from a 6” section of intestine; at least it was all very fresh, as we had purchased it along the side of the road on the way to our favorite town in Houaphon Province, having noted a fresh butchering under way.  Somehow, the intestine contents don’t strike me as “fresh”, regardless of age….

Souk shows off one of her silk masterpieces from this year. Just when you think you can’t get more intricate, precise, or attuned to the art….

On a business note, seriously gorgeous textiles in abundance are all around.  We’ve managed to skim the best off of the top.  Some have color combinations that don’t work, hang “banana” (one selvage is too short and it hangs off to one side) or “hammock” ( the selvages are both too tight and the middle sags), or there are too many flaws or “imperfect” weaving – in other words, absolutely exquisite, but there are better.  We pick the best we can find across the spectrum, though favoring the little girl’s weaving whenever possible (age 9 and weaving unbelievable textiles!)  The theme this year seems to be center diamond patterns, though some new and unusual designs have emerged too.

A nine year old holds up the small piece she wove, and we purchased.

We spent 7 hours straight at Phout’s house yesterday buying textiles.  All of the women in the village joined us in the house, upstairs above the looms and farming tools.  The house is made of wood with teak floors, support beams, and walls.  The walls are covered with posters from calendars of beautiful Laos models – women – with coy looks, wearing sinh (Laos skirts), and pabiang (shoulder cloths).  About 30 women were in the house, with two fans going, a couple of windows open, and the temperature must have been 95 degrees.  We were sweating gallons, and Phout gave me a huge bath-sized towel to wipe my brow so I didn’t sweat on the textiles.  Whew!  Zall was incredibly patient, sitting, sweating, and waiting for us to need his photography services.  What a great guy!

A very elderly weaver in Houaphon Province at Phout’s house. She sold us a piece she had woven in her youth.

The elderly woman modeling the mosquito-net border which she wove some 60 years ago.

Tonight we have been invited to the Vice Governor’s house for dinner and games of Petanque (bocci-ball) – most often played as a drinking game, leading to great hilarity.  He is also going to be accompanying us to a neighboring silk-raising village tomorrow, and, it turns out, most of our friends are going too, leading to a caravan of 3 cars descending on the tiny village at once.  I think we’ll double the population with our arrival!  Mai, our friend and translator, is mightily impressed with the amount of time the Vice Governor is spending in our presence – he seems to have learned the amount we drop in the village each year and is investigating more himself.  He has 4 daughters, and is working (in all jest) to get Ari and Zall to marry into his family!

One thing we have learned this trip is that we are an excuse for all of our friends, including the V. Gov., to get together just to chat, relax, and party.  Apparently, they are so busy with their daily lives and work that they don’t often make the time to get together, despite how it appears when we are here.  So, our visits are not just money makers for them, but also their own social occasions plus the opportunity to hang out with foreigners and have an American meal.  Quite the set of events.

A monsoon storm threatens in the late afternoon.

Souk and Phout have been working with me to discuss creation of a dye chart.  They are going to collect dye-stuff and threads for our next visit, and we’ll spend a couple of days then creating dye charts for each of us to explain the natural dyes used in this region.  Looking forward to it!

The week leading up to today, July 7, 2014:

A woman shows off her baby – and beautifully embroidered baby-carrier made of local hemp and cotton. The textiles coloring and patterns ndicate the woman’s ethnicity is of the “Blue kong” people.

I am currently sitting at a restaurant in Phonsavan, XIeng Khuang Province, Laos, nursing a wonderfully cold Beer Lao.  In Vietnam and Laos, so far, it has been hotter’n hell – 84.5 degrees at the coolest in Luang Prabang and Vientiane, Laos, at night!  High humidity increased the discomfort.  However, nothing beats being here.

Started in Hanoi – three shops and the hotel, the Bia Hoi (“fresh beer”) seller, as well as the used bookstore owner, all greeted me back to town.  Then off via train to Lao Cai Province in the north, where I spent most of my time with Thi, my Black Hmong friend, sister of our first guide, Sho, as well as all of their family, including sisters Sa, Zu, Bam, Dang, mother Tai, and Thi’s husband,Trang, the traditional Hmong jewelry maker who, once again, came through with beautiful earrings and necklaces.  The major coup of the whole Lao Cai trip was obtaining an older style Hmong hemp weaving loom for display in our Gallery.  Thi managed to find one no longer being used, by her uncle’s family, took the loom “guts” to a woman who had sufficient prepared hemp to warp the loom, who then brought it back and assembled it on the loom frame (two legs and two arms, with one piece missing that Thi’s husband Trang replaced by carving a tree branch with his machete to fit the loom frame in time to assemble).  It was assembled in front of Thi’s sister Chai’s husband’s coffee shop with at least 6 Hmong women and several tourists watching.

Thi: Our good friend, translator, guide, Black Hmong arts’ advisor, seeker of textiles, and more.

The younger Hmong women had never woven using this older loom, and were fascinated by the process.  The older women jumped in and helped assemble it, resulting in the woman who warped the loom weaving about 10” of hemp for me.  I got to weave about 6 rows before the rain came dumping down and we had to cover the loom so the hemp was not ruined for weaving from the rain.  Quite funny.  I sat on two beer crates, upside down, with several women “helping” me weave – yeah, I had a hard time coordinating the backstrap tension, the one heddle controlled by one foot, and the shuttle all at the same time, but, I have to admit, 6 hands helping me weave was a bit much!  Great fun.  Got it disassembled and down to the train back to Hanoi where I had to purchase another bunk on the night train to get the loom frame and the 4 bags of purchased gear back to Hanoi for shipping.

A Black Hmong woman catches a meal in between shifts of dyeing local hemp with indigo.

Laos, where I’ve been for the last few days, has been a whole different experience.  In Vientiane, I did a bit of hunting and located some good used masks from the Ta Oi people.  Then I was invited to my friend Phout’s (one of the natural dyers from Houaphan Province) daughter’s house for dinner, to meet Phout’s first grand-baby – 2 month old Nui.  Phout’s daughter’s husband, Nan, was a fabulous translator, and it is really nice to have more friends in Laos.

Thick, chocolate-y, sweet but still bitter, and, one might say, “mighty powerful” Vietnamese coffee.

Flew to Luang Prabang and had a magnificent time with friend and “sister-in-textiles” Vandara, who owns two guest houses, is a weaver of handspun organic naturally dyed cotton, promoter of all natural and traditional “handicrafts” of Laos, and an all around charitable, elegant, and lovely woman.  Vandara went with me to Vietnam last year, and met all of Thi’s family except Sho.  Just two months ago, Sho, her daughter Alice, and her French-born husband Antoine moved to Luang Prabang so Antoine could take the position of General Manager of the Victoria Xiengthong Palace Hotel, a hotel occupying the former Prince of Laos’ home.  Vandara invited Sho, Alice, and Antoine over for a home-made dinner (Vandara is a noted chef, among other skill sets), and I was so pleased to finally be able to introduce them.  I think Sho and Vandara will have a good friendship, and Vandara has all sorts of contacts for the family, including where Antoine can have new decorations made to accessorize his hotel.

Maren’s sister-in-spirit and dear friend Vandara explains how she creates the dyes for her village’s cotton textiles.

Yesterday, Sho’s family and I accompanied Vandara to her second guest house at Tat Kuang Si – the “big” waterfall about 45 minutes from Luang Prabang.  Beautiful, crystal clear water to swim in – a huge relief from the humidity and heat of Laos – and another excellent meal, including some fabulously delicious fish from the Mekong, blue tea made from flowers, limes, and mint, and other dishes including local mushrooms and organic herbs from her extensive gardens.  Once again, spoiled rotten.  I purchased many beautiful, traditional baskets from the Khamu villagers, and even bought a large, wooden, hand-carved elephant for myself (or the highest bidder!). Of course, in Luang Prabang, I also bought some of Vandara’s organically grown, handspun, naturally dyed, handwoven cotton yardage, as well as more beautiful silk scarves from our friend Bounmy.

Rice fields enjoy Laos’ summer monsoon season.

I have also had a great time searching out items for two European customers – one looking for tribal aluminum items, and another looking for any textiles with gibbons or representations of gibbons in them.  I found Red Dzao (Yao) pants with geometric representations of gibbon prints, and a cloth book with an embroidered gibbon.  I have more research and textiles to see in Houaphan Province.  The aluminum has been harder to find – the markets in Luang Prabang are not as diverse as in past years, and I have already found what I consider “the good stuff” – I’ll keep looking though!

In Phonsavan, I am meeting up with friend Mai (from Houaphon) and her son Bingo, and, in two days, we will be driving to Xam Neua, stopping in several weaving towns on the way to add to the collection.

Josh and Zall will join me in Xam Neua for the rest of the trip, and I’m looking forward to seeing them again!

Xam Tai’s Floating Bridge

The Xam River, after crashing through the steep canyons of the virgin jungle of the Nam Xam Nature Reserve in western Houaphon, Laos, finally emerges into the exquisite Xam Tai valley, where it meanders lazily for several miles before tumbling again downhill, across Vietnam, to the Gulf of Tonkin.  The town of Xam Tai nestles the river in this valley, sitting luxuriously amid the green rice fields, a haven from a crowded and noisy world (although I will note that the Vietnam War years were a bit noisier…).

The valley widens to reveal lush rice fields and the wonderful village of Xam Tai.

To go beyond Xam Tai requires crossing the river.  Perhaps twice a day, an ancient rusted barge will hand-cranked across the river using a pulley/cable system; it will lug any 4 or more wheeled vehicles across the small river (slowwww-ly) so they may continue on a single lane dirt road to Ban Tao and other small villages.  Luckily, most people are on foot or motorcycle and can avoid the cost of the ferry by crossing right in town, next to the kid’s swimming hole, on …  well … on a floating bridge.

The hand-powered crossing the Xam River. It’s the only way to get anything with 4 or more wheels across the river. A truck on the opposite side will wait until there is another vehicle or two to split the cost of a crossing.

The concept is simple – strap together this strong, hollow, freely available, rot-proof plant – bamboo – and just walk across it.

We were dubious at first – being a little “heavier-set” than the locals.  And the bamboo platform did sink a bit, with water splashing an inch up the sides of our shoes.  “Walk faster,” crooned Zall.  Sure enough, a good pace assured nothing sank too deeply into the cool wet.

The same rule of physics works for motorcycles. Once we had tippy-toed across, here come two motorcycles, one from either side, who gunned their motors in a rush to dash across.  Stopping would have been an assured soaking, so each driver focused on maintaining appropriate momentum and balance until reaching terra firma.  I could not exhale until each was safe.

Rush hour.

 “You’d think they’d at least have railings,” said Ari.  Maren asked aloud, “I wonder how many people have had to go fishing for their motorcycle?”

 Another motorcycle zipped across, water rooster-tailing from the rear wheel.  He wove around a woman carrying a backpack basket full of firewood; the bamboo planks splashed and rolled a bit.

We sat at that viewpoint for an hour watching the local traffic use this essential link.  And no, despite our anxiousness with every crossing, no one got wetter than a splashed ankle.

“It looks just like something you’d only find in Laos,” Zall commented.  And we all nodded.

Hello, friends. Maren left two weeks ago for Laos and Vietnam, eager to reconnect with our friends and contacts and needing to replenish our inventory after a busy holiday season. She left Eugene with three immense bags of treats, gifts, and more to share – at this rate we should get an import license for going to Laos! A quick note: In order to respect the privacy of the people we introduce to you, we are choosing to call this village “Ban” which, in Lao, means “village.” This is the first report we received here at “home-base.”

Report from Maren, February 17: An American Breakfast in Houaphon, Laos

On our last trip, during one of the many meals made for us, Josh and I told our weaving friends in Ban, Laos, that we would have to make them a meal – an “American” meal – the next time we came to visit. So, this time, although traveling solo, I brought an American “farm breakfast” to share.

Maren hold the coffee filter while Phut stirs. Traditional Lao coffee, which is not readly available in the north, is sweet and thick, very different from our breakfast java.

First was deciding on Snoqualmie Falls pancake mix – one that did not require fresh milk or oil to be added; neither of these are readily available (or fresh) in rural Laos. I had scoured our local Goodwill for a pancake turner,a stainless steel frying pan and a dozen forks, and also bought a package of paper plates, as Lao peple usually eat from bowls. I bought three packages of bacon, froze them with 8 small flat ice packs wrapped in layers of insulating newspaper within a securely-taped box. Of course, I also invested in a quart of real maple syrup. Customs checked the bacon package, as I imagined they would, as it was re-taped with customs and border patrol tape. As a precaution, I had written on the box ”Contains bacon, 8 freezer packs, and a handful of ice pops (I didnʼt have enough freezer packs). If opened, please rewrap carefully to keep frozen”. It worked! The bacon arrived in Ban, 3+ days after leaving home, still somewhat icy.

Souk, a master-dyer and weaver, cooks up the bacon. The smell brought the village calling!

So, breakfast morning, a fire going, I laid out strips of bacon in a large wok and the heavenly smell brought everyone to the fire – soon other women from the village joined us – and the pancake mix was opened. Another fire was lit. The old Revere Ware frying pan worked great over the fire. Mrs. Bunkeo and Sukkhavit (see Newletter #5) were in charge of one pan of pancakes, greasing the pan each time with lard. Souk cooked the 4.5 lb of bacon in 3 batches; Mai, Phut, and others took care of the fruit salad; Phuey cracked and wonked up the eggs for scrambled eggs. Everyone laughing, participating, having fun – boy isnʼt that the way to cook! Then, Phut and I made coffee – a pound, ground, of our usual French roast from Market of Choice in Eugene, and then she and I served coffee with sweetened condensed milk. The men stood outside chatting (and sniffing) while the women cooked.

Mai (center), our dear friend and translator, grew up in Ban with Souk and other silk weavers and dyers as her best friends. Mai was the one able to go to college, learn English, and engage in a “Western-style” career. Her son, Bingo (right) and Sukkavit, Maiʼs aunt and a village elder, help with fruit salad. Mai visits Ban rarely, and thus her presence assures a celebration.

Serving time: I had put forks on the big table, and had to stop Soukʼs husband from putting bowls out for everyone at their places. “Bo, bo, bo” (no, no, no), I said. Surprised look. I pointed to the paper plates, and all of the food on one side table, and had Mai translate that they were going to eat American style. Everyone laughed. “It is like this table is in America,” they said. They each served themselves, buffet style, with scrambled eggs, fruit salad, bacon, and pancakes, and I poured maple syrup on the first few peopleʼs pancakes for them. I donʼt think they really believed the maple syrup came from trees.

The townʼs key weavers (and husbands) thought it was hysterical that they were expected to eat with American table manners and a fork. Perhaps an IHOP would do well here?

The first few people sat down at the table to eat. “Bo, bo, bo,” again, I said to Phut, who was eating her pancake using her fingers. “In America, we eat only with forks, not with fingers” and I showed her how to cut her pancakes with the side of her fork. I had to correct several other people on fork etiquette before the meal was over. All was met with hilarity and jibes at the person caught with Laos instead of American tables manners. The volume of conversation and laughter was so high, I told Mai it seemed like the coffee was working on everyone like lao-lao (the local rice whiskey). More gales of laughter, and Soukʼs husband was all the more grateful that I gave the extra ground coffee to him. Everyone cleaned their plates. Several people went back for seconds, including Phutʼs husband, who had a full second course. Everyone said they loved the meal. One person said, and others agreed, that they had eaten American food before and not liked it, but they really liked this meal. One person said that he would like to eat like this every day. I told him, no, he wouldnʼt like that because it would soon make him very fat. Again, hoots of laughter.

Sukkavit melts lard in the Revere Ware pan in preparation for more pancakes.

They insist now that we bring more meals to them. I asked Mai to tell everyone that Josh and I would bring a dinner next time, which prompted her to tell everyone that this was breakfast food, and lunch and dinner food were different, much to the amazement of all. Mai knew that other cultures ate different food at different meals, as she had been to Japan to get her Masterʼs degree, but no one else knew that. In Laos, the same food is eaten at every meal, depending only on what is in season and currently available in the market or garden.

All in all, an excellent cultural experience for our Laos friends and for me; quite the difference from the previous dayʼs meal which had included raw fish laap, a plate of “pig eggs” (a pig had been butchered that day, and I really didnʼt want to ask too many details about what “pig eggs” consisted of…), and other local delicacies. After it was over, Mai claimed the frying pan, Souk claimed the pancake turner and forks, and requests (orders?) were made for additional utensils to be brought next time. Needless to say, we ran out of syrup….