"No Photo! No Photo!"

For the first time all trip, I was actually yelled by a security guard. Which security guard? The one in front of the U.S. Embassy in Vientiane--a place located off a side street from one of Vientiane's landmarks. I told the guy that I was an American citizen, and produced my passport to prove it, but he still said no. I asked why, and he said not allowed. Look, I understand not allowing photography at certain sites, like those of special cultural and religious significance, as well as those sites important for national security like top secret installations and the like.

But this was an embassy. Its supposed to be seen. And its in Laos, for gosh sakes. When I was in Egypt four years ago--a place in a region where there is a considerably greater threat to the U.S. and Americans than in S.E. Asia--I had no problem walking right past the car barricade wearing a backpack, and taking all the photos I wanted of the American embassy in Cairo. Yet I can't do the same in Laos? Oy vey.

As another point of reference, I walked right up to the gate of the Lao Presidential Palace and took all the photos I wanted.

Vientiane is nice. Its just tiny. You can pretty much see all there is to see by about 1 or 2 in the afternoon--even if you decide to take a leisurely pace and wander around, like I did.

There are definitely some bizarre sites here: like seeing freshly baked french baguettes at the lao market surrounded by all sorts of native produce, or previously elegant french villas and maisons crumbling and being shadows of what they once were. Its definitely more french than Phnom Penh was. There are also quite a few good bakeries in the city--including one just down the street from my hotel called the scandinavian bakery, where I had breakfast. My mom would have a field day trying all the sweets and pastries that the place offered.

I also got horrendously overcharged by a tuk-tuk driver, but that was my own fault for not negotiating--it was hot, and I just wanted a ride. I was taken for a ride, in more than one way.

Saw the holiest site in Laos (where photography is definitely allowed)--a golden buddhist stupa--and the so-called "vertical runway" the lao version of the arc de triomphe that looks nice from afar, but just looks like carved and sculpted concrete from nearby. on the other side of the traffic circle was a giant building that I have little doubt is the headquarters of the Lao communist party--the giant lao flag next to the giant hammer and sickle flag gave it away. Cool looking building though.

Other stuff:
There are certain songs that need to be formally banned from being remade--when I was in Siem Reap, a remake of michael jackson's "beat it" done by fallout boy or some other indie/alternative band started playing, and I wanted to hop in a delorean, go back in time, and use one of the men in black laser mind eraser things on whoever taught the people in that band how to play music.

Was resting in my vientiane hotel room when the cleaning staff knocked on the door. I know no lao other than their word for hello, and they didn't know any english. Made for an interesting encounter/interaction of using hand signals and miming to understand what exactly it is they wanted.

Was at a bar last night that was how the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia was supposed to feel like--an actual expat bar and not a borderline tourist attraction. Because of the slow pace of life here, it is very easy to feel like an expat worker.

I've met three french or ethno french people in SE Asia--one in Yogyakarta (technically swiss, but from the french speaking region), two in Phnom Penh, from around Bordeaux. Two guys, one girl. Both guys had beards and smoked. The girl also smoked. How's that for proving stereotypes?

French-swiss guy in Yogya was a riot--talk about a hilarious experience--I was having dinner at a restaurant, and all the other seats were filled except for the other one at my table, so I told him it was okay for him to sit and have a drink and a smoke. He was 45 years old, looked older than my father, and had a faded hippy vibe to him. Çlaimed that he didn't know much english, and that all he wanted to do was drink, and that he would leave me alone and be quiet.

Well, he knew more english than he let on, and was extremely talkative, going on all sorts of rants and explanations, and I was laughing my ass off. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I remember when he left thinking "now that was something you don't experience every day."

Thought vientiane was eerily quiet until I went to the market--that's where all the action was on a lazy sunday morning.