As we rolled into the gravel parking lot, the lack of other vehicles was not surprising. Undesirable, but not surprising. We crept up to the bit of shade provided by trees and found a handful of university age individuals spread into different groups. Perhaps in the United States or in Mexico where I have the languages mastered, I would have jutted out of the car in excitement, ready to learn their names and hear their stories. But now I just wait until a familiar face arrives, like a security blanket to save me from the awkward encounters when these new friends don´t understand my simplest questions or when they describe their majors to me and my brain does flips trying to keep up.
It doesn´t take long for our friend to arrive in a black hoodie with jeans shorts and the type of slides you find in a dollar store. K walks simply and confidently, blending in with the newcomers, but with a clipboard in hand. She is our unofficial authority as the only one who knows where we are headed. I step out of the car and begin to attempt to introduce myself to these new people. After learning a few names and responding to the question, ¨Where are you from?¨ many times, empty silence ensues. Their earpiece is placed back into their ear, their attention back to the tree roots unfolding from the ground.
Meanwhile, Camilo spends his time in the car laughing as he presses on the horn time after time. A familiar truck appears on the scene and three year old Rosie hops out, a welcome distraction for Camilo. The truck is left running as Rosie and dad get out of the two seater cab. The bed of the truck is possibly standard bed size and it has black metal bars off the sides, transforming it into a large item transport truck, good for herding cows and the like.
Camilo and Rosie chase after a puppy and make exclamations together in a mix of English and Lao. When the motorbike arrives with numerous bags of chips hanging off the handlebars and hanging from the arms of the second rider, the motions to go begin. Now thirty minutes past our supposed departure time another egg-beater arrives and three students shove into the back seat together. A fourth person makes an effort, but steps out when the door won´t close. Two girls take the back seat of our car, squished up next to Camilo´s carseat. And those who can fit step into the back of the truck. Maybe 13 bodies swarm together and lean on one-another to sit down as though in a team building exercise. A student in a bucket hat takes advantage of the metal railing to grab onto as his caboose suspends over the tailgate.
I buckle Camilo in as Rosie climbs into the truck. Then, I do my best to ask one more time about how to get to where we are headed. Still no location has been sent, no name has been given, but K replies, ¨Pai su su,¨ which literally means ¨go straight.¨ She then steps up into the truck cab with Rosie and Rosie´s father. I get into the driver´s seat of our too small car. Misa has been fighting a bacterial eye infection for a week or so. This means I get to chase the Lao.
The three vehicles are packed and ready to go, but I can´t help wondering about the nine faces left lingering on the side-lines. I wish I had a plan to bring in another vehicle. I wanted to keep them from feeling excluded or left behind. In the midst of my fretting, the truck took off. No honk, no shout, no warning. I was stuck feeling responsible for those on the sidelines, but also knowing that I had zero information to arrive. I knew that Lao people have a special way of resolving these issues and so I began my drive.
We spend a half hour closely following the truck so as not to fall behind and lose my way. Camilo spent the time answering the question, ¨Who is she?¨ over and over again in the back seat with giggles sent up when he correctly responded with their names. Before we knew it, we were pulling into a foresty section with some Lao style cabins down below.
We piled out and Rosie immediately ran to the slow river below. Camilo followed, tripping over roots and rocks on his way down. Although the picnic is meant for the students, the kids are more than content. Swimsuits are put on and they tromp through the water. Rosie courageously flips about. She walks and falls onto her stomach and laughs and she allows the river to carry her slightly with the watchful eye of her father close-by. Camilo approaches the water more slowly, much more dramatic. He is not a fan of cold water and it takes a while for him to move from sitting on a rock to step into the water. And the flopping fun Rosie is having is interesting to watch as he clings to my hand and stands still. The two friends are making memories together and laughing with one another as they experience the river in different ways.
After some brief fun, we head up the hill for a big group game, everyone in tow, including those I felt I was leaving stranded. Misa and I hang my REI hammock I purchased in 2017 and have not used enough. Camilo seeks to sleep and we rock him slowly, but it is all too new and too strange. Our efforts have failed and we go down to see about the few left behind to start up the grills. Large fish are thrown up with an assortment of Lao style hotdogs and meatballs. Eventually, everyone comes down to become a part of the cooking process. Fanning the fish with a plastic bag, chopping up spices for papaya salad with the pestle and mortar, pulling out small globs of sticky rice wrapped in plastic wrap. This is a Lao picnic at its finest.
Once the meal is had, our family escapes for a bit to catch an elephant. Camilo has half an hour open when we come across an elephant just off the road, over on the sidewalk. He awakens with excitement to see the huge grey beast, but is full of fear to feed him or touch him. The large trunk, known as ¨snake¨ in his vocabulary, gets close sniffing for the crate of bananas and Camilo pushes his father´s hand toward the intruder. The trunk is rough like feeling an old-time wash board, but with hairs strewn about as well. It is think and long enough the Camilo probably can´t even find the body of this beast when the trunk comes near. He bats away at the interactive creature.
Yet, within minutes Camilo is standing atop a pedestal being passed over to me already seated atop the humongous creature. ¨Camilo elephant ride¨ he repeats as he looks down. We smile at papá down below and our driver who reeks of a drunken after party poses for photos that aren’t being taken. He impresses us with his trust to throw 100,000 kip on the ground and ask the elephant to return it to him. We ride for a total of 200 meters before our return to the platform and our stroll back to the car. Within the four minute car ride back to the picnic, Camilo is snoozing. We finally take him out and place him in the hammock again where he rests for 20 minutes and the picnic comes to an end. He jumps in the water one last time and then hops back into the car. Off we go, the end to a lovely day that we weren’t sure about in the beginning.
