Something Out of Nothing
Savannakhet, Laos
Savannakhet sunset
Not a lot happens in Savannakhet. Even the excitable wordsmiths at Lonely
Planet appear to be struggling for descriptions of the populous town on the
western side of central Laos.
“Savannakhet has a number of French colonial and Franco-Chinese buildings. A
local Vietnamese school, Mahayana Buddhist temple and a Catholic church
testify to a continued Vietnamese influence.” Yippee, another church! And
I’ve only seen one hundred and seventy-four in the last week! Excuse me
whilst I eat my arms off with excitement.
During my time travelling however, I’ve come to the conclusion that the
Lonely Planet manuals are written primarily for the Dutch and French, as
they’re the only nationalities that, almost without fail, have such
affection for the words “colonial” and “museum.” Should the yellow bible
have been written for let’s say, the British and the Germans, the words
“lager” and “battle-field” would be more common. So just maybe Savannakhet
had more to offer me than historical architecture. After all, every
traveller will testify to occasionally experiencing a memorable moment at a
time it was least expected. A thought I cling to as my well-travelled bus
pulled into town.
Can you guess what was the first thing I saw when I stepped off the cramped
old bus? Not a colonial building, for I wouldn’t know one if it jumped on my
head shouting, “I’m a big, fat colonial building.” It was in fact a chicken
running around without a head. The sort of surreal activity that became
standard during my brief stay in the town.
Having a bath doesn’t make you any cleaner in a Mekong town
Before I’d even settled into a (Vietnamese influenced?) hotel, I witnessed
a young boy riding an old bicycle at full speed directly into a brick wall,
much to the amusement of his drunk, and under-aged, friends. Do they watch
Jackass in central Laos? This was on my way to the market place, held along
the banks of the mighty Mekong River. A market where my first sight was not
of a pleasant stall of handicrafts being sold by an elderly woman whose
skills have been passed down eight generations, but of eight boys, none of
whom could have been over ten years old, destroying an abandoned market
stall.
Their ringleader, sporting a slightly miss-spelt ‘Ronaldio’ football shirt,
was stood back firing ball bearings from his gun, whilst his gang worked
with metal poles, sticks, cleavers and a knife with a six-inch blade. Those
without a weapon just kicked and punched until the flimsy wooden structure
collapsed. This group of lads would be feared if they lived on a Manchester
council estate!
The more I travel though, the more I realise how alike people from all parts
of the world are, so I held no fear in approaching them. Besides, I have
security – a pile of soccer stickers that I brought with me from home. If I’ve
learned anything else during my adventures, it’s that children the world over
crave the English Premier League, except for American children, who like
armoured rugby and cars that cannot turn right!
My David Beckham jokes received mixed reviews
So this is how the story goes. In a small Laos town where nothing happens, I
produced some football stickers and the children went berserk. The eight
destructive young boys threw down their weapons and argued over who had the
Bolton Wanderers midfielder. Sensing the chaos, other children ran to the
scene, eight became twenty, twenty became thirty. Some time later I walked
among the market stalls, with over a dozen companions, including a young
girl who had Gareth Southgate (an England defender) stuck on her forehead.
The joy I had created reaped rewards, as I was granted free games on the
stalls run by families of my new posse. Unfortunately, nearly every game
involved darts being thrown at balloons and nearly every prize was
watermelon pop drink. The Beerlao was too precious a commodity to be given
away to a non-paying customer. Sure, the soccer stickers are great and he’s
cheered the children up, but Beerlao? I don’t think so, buddy!
In the little town of Savannakhet, home to several Franco-Chinese buildings
and a 10 o’clock curfew, I had one of my most memorable experiences whilst
travelling. And what caused it weren’t great historical landmarks or
beautiful scenery or fine culinary choices, but a group of local people who
had nothing to do, who wanted to keep company with a rare visiting foreigner
who also had nothing to do.
The moral of the story? Sometimes doing nothing at all is just what you need
to be doing. So long as you have football cards.
