giovedì 16 agosto 2012

Flying thoughts, between buses and boats ...

We wait on the bus: it will leave when full. Many women on board, young girls coming home after school, ladies with shopping bags and an old man with a military green hat, the word “Vietnam” on his t-shirt, a packet of fried bananas in hand.
The women talk, leave their plastic bags on the bus and continue shopping while waiting for the departure. They pass each other leaflets and visiting cards: I imagine them sharing advices on hairdressers and phad thai shops.
Looks, smiles, a few universal gestures: coming back to the essentials on a old bus with no door.
A bow to the king, who looks at us in front of the market: we are finally ready to go.
Let’s the journey start.

Crossing into Laos: slow boat from Huay Xai to Luang Prabang, sailing on the Mekong with Italian, Spanish, Hawaiian ...
Water, wind, sun: so many hours together with strangers, which are strangers no more.
Finding yourself talking about God, in the middle of nowhere, remembering the things that really matter.
A small village to stop for the night: the boat for Luang Prabang docks here every night.
It has brought Internet, cappuccinos, mini-shampoos and hostels that at sunset contend for the arriving tourists. However, not far from the port old wooden houses remain, together with wild gardens and exotic flowers, with cocks giving the good morning and a lush forest.
The brown waters of the Mekong flow quiet underneath: it will be a beautiful day tomorrow.

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