“So, what do you call this in Lao?” I asked in the strange Thai-Lao I’ve been speaking.
“Len.”
I repeated it back to check my understanding of the pronunciation/intonation. Use the wrong tone and it means something else – like “play.” And that could be devastating in certain circumstances.
“What do you call it in foreigner language?” the nice woman selling various meats at produce asked me.
“In English, we call it iguana.”
“Ig-u….”
“Ig-ua-na”
“Ig…” and she broke out into laughter. “That’s a very funny thing to call it.”
I had nothing.
“What do you use it for?” referring to the live iguana that was bound and tied into almost a parcel with eyes.
“Larb.” (A Lao chopped meat salad – usually pork or chicken.)
I felt that had essentially also answered my question about the two dead snakes in clear plastic bags lying next to the bunches of fresh herbs and veggies associated with larb.
The fairly large-sized market in the countryside just beyond Vientiane wasn’t the cleanest traditional market I’ve ever been to – but it may have been one of the most authentic and interesting.
While I was asking questions about iguanas to figure out why about six different vendors had live, bound iguanas and one had a bowl of chopped iguana parts, Emily was busy photographing small plates of deep fried bugs and baby frogs. The stand at the front of the market had a tapas-like assortment of crickets, beetles, cockroaches and sow bugs. There were also some “land crabs” used in som tam (spicy green papaya salad) in this region. I’ve had mixed answers on exactly what a “land crab” is, but I assume it’s a bug and not an actual crab. Either way, Emily captured those too.
There were tables of pig ears, organs and intestines, big buckets of fermenting fish paste, fresh fish, live chickens, baby chicks, vegetables of all sorts, river weed, lotus roots, and every tropical fruit you can imagine.
And to think we just pulled over to get some cold bottles of water…
Despite being intrigued and weirded out (mostly by the live iguanas and the dead snakes) in equal parts, we managed to score a couple of special items. We’ve been in the market for a som tam bowl for our Laos decorative item and we found a vendor with first-rate wooden som tam bowls at rural Laos prices.
I also couldn’t resist inquiring if someone had my favorite Thai-Lao dessert – coconut sticky rice. A large group of vendor women listened to me ask for it. So enchanted were they with my desire for the local favorite that despite there being no dessert vendor in the market, they spread the word until one woman identified that she had a batch of black coconut sticky rice and sold me some at a very reasonable price while half the market women watched and giggled. I told them coconut sticky rice is the most delicious Lao food using my best Lao dialect and I heard women discussing my words all across the market for several minutes thereafter.
The thing about Thais and Lao is that it’s all about saying things that hit their cultural humor. It’s not cleverness that’s required – it’s knowing what people really say and do and somehow drawing light to their well known and loved cultural habits.
That’s why earlier in the day, when I told one gentleman how I was trying to remember to use Lao words instead of Thai, like “backsida” for foreigner instead of the Thai “farang,” he went into hysterics and said, “Now that’s funny! Really funny!”
I don’t actually get why it’s so funny – but hey, it keeps ’em happy.
Yesterday, we also drew stares shopping for a som tam bowl in Talat Than Khan Kham, the largest market in Vientiane. This is the market where locals buy their produce, meat and even canned and other dry goods. From rhambutans to infant formula, spices to pork-blood laced tofu and lots and lots of Lao sausages both pork and beef – everything under the Lao sun makes its way into this central market. And while they’re used to a few foreigners here and there, no one seemed to expect a white couple looking for a som tam bowl. It turned out they only had ceramic bowls – which were just too heavy and breakable for us. We needed wood.
This market in Vientiane went further than the rural roadside place we came across today, offering such diverse things as locks, nails and hardware, housewares and clothing in addition to food.
Of course, no iguanas. That’s because the iguana trade is illegal. When we asked the very nice woman who thought the word “iguana” is silly, she told us we could not photograph her iguana because it’s not okay with the government. Apparently, this may also be why each stand offered only one iguana at a time.
The impressive part of Lao markets is how large and extensive they are – far more so than the average traditional markets I’ve seen in the rural Thai towns. I can only surmise that it’s because there aren’t supermarkets and department stores here. In fact, there aren’t any chain restaurants other than one Pizza Company store – a Thai pizza conglomerate. While Thais have 7-11s everywhere and some form of modern grocery or supermarket in most every town, the Lao still get their food fresh daily from the same traditional markets they always have.
Riding along on our motorcycle today, it didn’t take long before the “modern trappings” of Vientiane dropped off and the world became poorly paved roads, houses, Buddhist temples, stands selling fruit, French bread and whole roasted pigs – and lots and lots of rolling green space.
We’re going back into it tomorrow – to a monastery that operates an herbal sauna in a treehouse and where monks give traditional Thai-Lao healing massages. Somewhere along the way, we’ll probably stop at another market, walk among the mixture of delicious and putrid odors and realize how the mixture of beautiful produce, stuffed frogs and dead snakes are actually the essence of Laos – beautiful, raw and gritty.
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