The Meanest Man in Laos
The meanest man in Laos probably didn't start out that way. In fact, mean might not be exactly the right word for this man. Mean is a neat little word, so broad and all encompassing of ill nature. Coupled with man, mean writes itself into a catchy title, and what better for an author than that.
Other words spring to mind in celebration of this man: selfish, money and power hungry, greedy. Or one can say he is ambitious, successful, entrepreneurial, and driven. This man, I do not know the name of, owns a guesthouse. The guesthouse is in a small village, even this I do not know the name of, on the Mekong. This miniature city on the shore happens to be a stopover for boats taking travelers to more established towns up and down the river. Hoi Xai to Luam Prabang. Luam Prabang to Hoi Xai. The river flows south but this little village is ambushed from both sides.
Travelers are very much into discovering places. The vagabonds discover a place, then the media and, finally, the students catch on to the hot spot. Laos is now entering this second stage. Almost inevitably the third stage, the less devoted travelers, the weekenders, the bigger money will come to Laos.
In one of my favorite movies, Endless Summer, two surfers are traveling the world toting their boards from beach to beach. Wingnut, the longboard riding throwback, in one of his deeper moments says, “Every time we roll into a beach and the waves aren't perfect, someone always says ‘you should have been here yesterday.’” Unfortunately, some tomorrow from now Laos will be yesterday also.
We have checked into the meanest man’s guesthouse because there are only two in the whole place, right next to each other. The other is completely full and we need beds. It seems in the little hamlet of this little communist country, a few economic lessons have been passed on from the United States. Possibly in the meanest man’s bedroom on the meanest man’s nightstand there is a copy of Capitalism for Dummies. And possibly, there is one section that is more dog-eared than the rest: Supply and Demand.
For what amounted to no more than a bed, we paid more than we had the night before for whole rooms. The difference is something like one dollar compared to eighty cents. In dealing with competition, the meanest man knew enough to make Bill Gates smile: 1) There would be enough travelers each night to fill up both of the guesthouses. 2) He could wait until the later travelers showed up and the other guesthouse was all filled so that he would have the upper hand in negotiations. 3) Once you were his, you were his. He only had one rule for his house; it was his mantra: “Sleep here, eat here, drink here. Sleep here, eat here, drink here.” We could smoke, drink, be loud, whatever, but as guests of his house we could do it nowhere else.
After we put our belongings away, we sat down to the sunset at a table with a fellow traveler exchanging the usual pleasantries: Where have you been? Where are you going? For how long? How nice.
We got into a discussion about the Laotians. One of my friends said he didn't really like the Laotians as much as some other nationalities because they always seemed stressed. The other traveler quickly disagreed, “Actually, most of the country is extremely mellow, and the only ones who are stressed are the ones who have to deal with us.”
After watching the red sun disappear into the faded hills I too disappeared down the collection of rocks just upriver from the village. With most of my friends still out and about and my stomach grumbling, I decided to take the meanest man up on the last two parts of his mantra; Eat here, drink here.
Out of a limited selection I chose rice soup and a Coke. It was now, after he has successfully gotten us to stay in his guesthouse, that his apparent tactlessness began to fade. I might have been mistaken but I think after he took my order a slight smile cracked across his narrow face. I would have thought it a mirage, or a trick of the shadows, had his new attitude not kept up.
While I waited for my food the meanest man surprised me again. Entirely beaming now, his lips cracked joyously wide exposing his ill teeth pushing his cheeks up towards his now inviting eyes, he looked completely different.
He came up to my table with a bottle containing a clear liquid. First he offered a small glass to the two Laotians at my table. After a quick and apparently pleasant conversation they each gulped down their drinks with a slight grimace. Their expressions were enough to let me know that I might not be in for a treat. The meanest man turned towards me and chanted, “Lao-Lao.” Lao-Lao is a rice whiskey that is generally homemade. Imagine really cheap tequila then take away all the taste and you might understand Lao-Lao.
As I threw down my shot my expression turned, into disgust. The meanest man could not stop laughing. “Lao-Lao” he cackled with joy. With my insides burning I looked up to see a man having a good time and I had to admit that I was also. “Lao-Lao,” the meanest man laughed. “Lao-Lao,” I coughed in reply.
One of the most unpleasant aspects of traveling is the hypocrisy. We travel to the far ends of the globe in search of new and different things. We search for culture that is unlike ours. Oftentimes we come to find that these cultures have already been altered and we are disappointed. We see the McDonald’s in Chiang Mai and ask ourselves, “How far do we have to go?”
Possibly, however, the question should be, “How far should we go?” Without even thinking about it we help change these cultures. We come in wearing shoes that these people couldn't afford in a lifetime and they are changed. We come in and need a place to sleep and a place to eat and we change the people, the culture. We travel out of curiosity. We travel to see things we have not seen and to experience things we have not experienced. Arriving in Bangkok, I was disappointed. I expected something different. I didn't expect to see huge traffic jams, freeways clogged with people rushing off to work. I didn't expect to see America.
Maybe I was naive. Maybe I still am. Maybe I am still perpetuating the hypocrisy. Maybe I didn't learn anything from the places I saw, from the people I met, from the meanest man, because when people ask me if they should go to Thailand I reply, “Yeah, I guess. But if you really want to see something completely different, go to Laos.”