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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