US, US, baby

Two hours. That’s all it took to get Pepsi into Vietnam.

According to my southern-born Cu Chi Tunnels guide, two hours after President Bill Clinton lifted the trade embargo with Vietnam (1994), Pepsi was on the streets of Saigon, handing out samples of their soft drink. How effective was their planned launch? Well, I knew there was a reason I’d been able to get so much more 7 Up (which I just realized is a Pepsi product) in Vietnam and its communist neighbor Laos (where trade relations were often tied with Vietnam). Now I know why.

So, how long do you think it will take for American companies to move into the much-closer Cuba once that embargo finally goes bye-bye? Or, I guess the more obvious question is, how long do you think it will take for Cuban cigars to find their way into Wal-Mart?

I’m in the middle of a McDonald’s drought. There are no McDonald’s restaurants in Laos or Vietnam, so that’s why there’ve been no posts of Ronnie or any burgers. There are also no McDonald’s in Cambodia, so it looks like it will be about a month until you get to see the beefy side of my travels.

Sorry, Mel…

My newest travel rule:
The night before any journey, I must:
1) eat at a previously enjoyed restaurant OR
2) feel super-secure in the well-cookedness of my food (yeah, I think I just made up well-cookedness)

What brings on newest said rule? Well, the night before my flight from Luang Prabang, I was excited to find a restaurant serving Lao food. You’d think finding the local food wouldn’t be that exciting, but as every restaurant in Luang Prabang serves mainly western, Thai, or Indian food, seeing the small Lao menu was pretty exciting.

So I ordered up the one veggie dish on the menu. The green beans and rice came out at exactly the same time as a young girl approached me. She was hawking bracelets and dolls, and this was the second time during this sitting that she’d been in trying to sell her wares. Attempting as best as I could to humor her, I finally dug into the meal when she left. The beans were lukewarm and the rice room temperature. Hit by pangs of worry of eating food that hadn’t been properly cooked or that had been sitting out in the open for way too long, I dismissed my worries and convinced myself the rice wasn’t piping hot because the little pre-teen had talked for way too long.

Sadly, though, my stomach didn’t believe such convincing the next morning. Hours before my flight, I was curled up like a baby nursing a knot the size of Georgia in my stomach. Yuck. Not how you want to be feeling before hopping on a plane.

When I was getting a massage in Luang Prabang this morning, I closed my eyes and felt pretty close to home. The in-house stereo had lots of all-too familiar music; lulling me through the massage were (decent) Thai remakes of Shania Twain, The Archies, Elton John, and John Denver. And with my eyes shut, it was easy to forget where I was. That was until I opened my eyes and went to pay. The hour-long massage was $3, half the price of those in Chiang Mai.

As I make my way through Asia, I’m trying to remember what I was taught during my K-12 years during history classes. I am struggling to recall just what pictures and words I read back then. I know that in our world history books the Korean War probably got about a half-page in most books. The Vietnam War teachings inevitably gave loads of mention to the role of media and protestors.

But I can’t recall learning about America’s “Secret War” in Laos. I wonder if it’s simply because it never got a textbook mention back in the day…or if it’s because America did such a good job of keeping it a secret.

If you’re like me and don’t recall learning about the war in Laos either…here’s a recent BBC article about some of the heavily bombed areas in Northeastern Laos.

Cough, cough “These taste like sh**.” That’s what one of the two Dutch boys said on our first night in Laos. He’d just taken a puff of his newly purchased local cigarettes and clearly didn’t approve. He ended up snuffing it out and bumming a Camel off the French guy in the group.

As a non-smoker, I can’t attest to the quality of the local cigarettes, but if the number of Marlboro and Camel boxes at the local stores are any indicator, I’d say the foreigners (and maybe even some of the locals) here definitely dig one of the South’s popular exports.

But, the most entertaining part of seeing the cigarette boxes in nearly every convenience store is the fact that the whole city/town of Luang Prabang is an UNESCO World Heritage site, which means smoking isn’t supposed to happen anywhere here, as signs on nearly every building remind people. But, as long as people here can get non-poop-flavored smokes, I’m pretty sure they’ll be able to smoke on the streets or in the outdoor restaurants.

After having no choice on clear sodas for the last few months and being constantly relegated to drinking Sprite, I was so happy to get to Luang Prabang. Not only do cafes and stands/stalls have Sprite, but they’ve also got 7 Up. It’s everywhere. And it’s amazing.

Finally I am in Laos. Getting here was quite the adventure but actually pretty fun because I got to meet loads of people. Saturday spent five hours on a bus. And Sunday and Monday about 8 hours each day on a “slow boat” putting along the Mekong River. Interestingly, though, on the over-crowded boat, I didn’t meet one American. There were at least 10 Canadians out of the about 100 people on board, yet not one Yank.