To Market To Market


Upon arrival in Vientiane, Rob walked me to the nearby stores he’d located (well to be honest I located them on the internet while in Montana and sent him directions). The main two in this part of town are clearly for the Falang (foreigners) as they sell items the local people here wouldn’t want or need. I appreciated Phimphone Market and Home Ideal so much for making my transition easier but I kept searching for the REAL markets. I didn’t want to keep paying 12,000 kip for one sad cauliflower when I knew huge produce markets exist here.

But where? I assumed I’d walk down the street and see tables overflowing with gorgeous vegetables just waiting for me.

I had scoured the internet for clues of what to look for once I moved here, but only found hints of a twice weekly organic market and pictures of a produce market I didn’t know the name of.

Last weekend I spied a reference online indicating the organic market has a Monday market near me at the Fa Ngum Park. Monday afternoon I headed over to see if my dreams were about to come true and they did! I saw the tent with the English words “Organic Market” shining like a beacon as I rounded the corner. My fear of the language barrier diminished at the sight of veggies I needed to take home with me. I spied some cauliflower and asked “Thao dai” hoping I hadn’t just murdered those two words. She answered with what could have been “Go away crazy white girl who doesn’t even know how to say ‘how much’ in Lao and wears silly shoes!”. I nodded in agreement with whatever she said (I am a silly white girl in silly shoes after all) and handed her two of the cauliflower heads. She grabbed another and I realized they sold per kilo which I was fine with. I held up one bill, she shook her head. I dug around in my super American wallet and showed another. Finally she dug in her own pouch and held up a 10,000 bill. Ah. Ok. I handed it over and said “Khawp jai”. I repeated this exchange with another woman for broccoli and another for eggplant.

I walked home filled with glee and wanted to dance down the road like Maria in The Sound of Music when she swings that guitar case and sings “I have confidence the world can all be mine. They’ll have to agree I have confidence in me!”.  I was walking under the open windows of a middle school at the time (not dancing) when I heard “Hello!”. A young girl called from a third story window and I turned, smiled and waved up at her. As I continued on she made my day complete with “Hello pretty girl!”.

I’d come home with 3 kilos of veggies for 30,000 Kip. That’s 6.6 pound for $3.66. I did the real dance for joy once hidden in my apartment. This dance included three high kicks. I may have regretted those later…

The next day I was still on my high of discovery as I trekked over to the Talat Sao Mall (also known as Morning Market) because I’d found a blogger who’d had the same problem finding the entrance to the Khua Din Market. I had walked the blocks around the mall and still hadn’t seen anything more than the smaller street-side vendors. This blogger gave a detailed account of the tiny alley-like opening that’s practically camouflaged with busy street vendors and people. I’d walked by it twice already. That’s how hard it is to see.

This time I knew what to look for. The alley is lined with the most disgusting tables of meat and animal flesh. I knew I’d never have headed down it if I hadn’t known it led to more. I’m not keen on meat markets. But oh my goodness it opened up and suddenly I was in a huge maze of stalls that seemed to go forever in every direction. I realized I’d found the place everyone here comes to for all their needs. Stalls dripping with rich colored material, mostly silks, stalls exploding with clothing and literal mountains of shoes. Eventually it led me to the area selling “groceries”. Here I found the tables of veggies and fruit, the tubs full of stinky fish and long tables under lamps selling all sorts of animal flesh. Again, I held back from doing the happy dance in public.

Every day brings a new discovery. I wander aimlessly just to see what I can find down side streets. I found a street I now refer to as “Home Depot”. All the shops on that street are selling tools and whatever else you’d be looking for at Home Depot. I came around a corner one day and there was a large stationary store selling all sorts of paper goods, pens and even some paints and brushes. The grin on my face had to be a little creepy as I wandered the aisles. What can I say? I didn’t think I’d find anything resembling art supplies here. It’s not Michael’s Craft Store by any means, but somehow it’s even better because I didn’t expect it.

I’m learning that I have to explore, but much of what I need is here. I’m slowly transitioning my definition of that word. Much of what I thought was necessary is really just a convenience to those of us lucky enough to be born in a first world country.  I still think I need Ibuprofen, but that’s the head cold talking. If I can’t buy Ibuprofen here, neither can the lovely people I pass on the street. When they have pain, they must just deal with it.

Needs are met quite easily when your definition of them is honed.

(Pictures: Top two are the organic market. The other four are all within the Khua Din Market)


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