A PRAYER FROM THE VIENTIANE CONFERENCE

"May all beings everywhere plagued with sufferings of body and mind quickly be freed from their illnesses. 

May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound be free. 

May the powerless find power and may people think of befriending one another. 

May those who find themselves in trackless, fearful wildernesses - the children, the aged, the unprotected - be guarded by beneficent celestials, and may they swiftly attain Buddhahood."

It was Sunday in Vientiane.

A prayer was was offered to a thousand Buddhas with the hope that one of them will convey it to the heavens above Wat Si Saket, or to the 7-headed naga of That Dam, or to the Emerald Buddha in Bangkok that once resided at Ho Phra Keo. 

Burning meat is conspicously absent at the Khua Din Market. 

It was Friday in Vientiane.

Feminists broke their fast to predicate a recruitment into the drafting group of the "ASEAN Civil Society and Partners Exchange on Gender and Climate Change" (aka the Vientiane Conference).

An 800,00-kip taxi fare paid for a free dinner of Beer Lao, duck stew, fried pork intestines, and grilled catfish.

It was Wednesday in Bakal 2.

The Phatom Biker, riding on a flat tire, chased a budget revision, the Vientiane Conference, and the Manila Meeting (with an embedded Field Visit) and Regional Convening.

The Itron Man emptied the trash bin and decluttered an inbox while engaged in a couple of virtual meetings. 

A public hearing was documented as a closure report for a convenience store project.

Kuro Ramen was garnished with adobong kambing, litsong manok, and balot.

It was Thursday in Hanoi

A rude passenger, presumably Korean, should have been offloaded from VN 0921 to counter a first quarter report feedback.

Lunch was paid through a foreign exchange and Friday's recruitment into the drafting group.

It was Saturday in Vientiane.

For women with disability, zero waste is equivalent to zero Marlboro.

Lunch was grilled fish that is as huge as the Mekong River, roasted chicken that has the flavor of a papaya salad, and a do-it-yourself local rice noodle soup. 

Variations of the Xout Lao competed in the shadows of the Vientiane Museum of Contemporary Art's massive gold-gilded pillars --- custodians of the Buddha whose likeness were etched in salvaged wood --- a premonition for the Sunday vespers.  

Sleek, like an inverted durian-flavored ice cream bar...

"The centuries old That Luang stupa stands tall as a national symbol and keeper of the Buddha's sacred breastbone."

...regal, like the colors of a Johnny Walker Gold Reserve and the cab driver who got paid in US dollars after a culinary encounter with braised duck, stewed eel, and spicy pork salad.

MY LUANG PRABANG DICTIONARY

bi-ker [bahy-ker] 

noun 

1. Passenger 49D of PR 730 to Bangkok anxiously rushing to  catch a meeting near the Krung Thonburi Station where the fragrance of grilled pork neck and spicy salmon salad almost vaporized an evening meeting. 
2. Passenger 9D puking on lukewarm 7-11 coffee, or munching on fried pork and sticky rice at the escalators of the Payathai Station, or editing a concept note amidst the loud chatter in PG 941 to Luang Prabang that is now operated by an airline called Amelia. 

food-ie [foo-dee] 

noun, slang 

1. Resident 213 of Mekong Moon Hotel 3 relishing sai oua done 3-ways but was too early for the morning alms of a 2-day national dialogue in a Mekong River Cruise where the aging fried pork ribs refused to be tenderized even by an hour of a traditional Lao massage.
2. A passive participant to a conversation foraging for khao piak sen at the morning market while wrestling with an OPA in a crowded night bazaar of barbecued calf and beer towers.
3. An enabler garnishing a tub of or lam with crusts of  Le Banneton croissant and strands of carabo jerky from the Luang Prabang Bio Bamboo Restaurant.

lay-o-ver [lay-ow-vr]
noun

1. A 1-hour procedure of laying over a narrow table to be scanned for metabolic images that were thankfully not there; the gestation time it took for OPlan GSIS and Oplan DOH to deliver results. 
2. Passenger 44H of PR 733 to Manila witnessing Isaac Reed's marriage to Sarah Holloway and Doron's Season 3 at the Suvarnabhumi Airport that was celebrated with a  feast of dinakdakan and tokwa't baboy in Bakal 2.   

4 BARONGS AND A BLACK TROUSER IN VIENTIANE

Beneath the office dress and maroon Barong #1 is a black biking chamois.

Thus was how LM's double  showed off in Vientiane on the last day of the antacid and a debrief.

Perhaps Lao Plaza Hotel's wine-beer concoction and a lost phial of Tomilol helped ease a suspected case of indigestion but not the ennui of the 7th ASEAN Inclusive Business Forum and the rains that devoured the spires of Pha That Luang and Patuxai. 

Thus was how the farts disapppeared after blue Barong #2 chased OPlan Guimba to Melbourne and Stockholm where TCF's first interview invitation was stamped in a stew of Lao Beer, eel, carp and beef from the receding floodwaters of the Mekong River.

On Wednesday, green Barong #3 was presented with a silk scarf from the Lao Women's Union along Thadeua Road and cute sweet oranges from the Lao Federation of Tade Unions in Saylom Road.

Thus was how two young interns came up with the idea of pairing heavenly fried pork ribs with Khop Chai Deu's whiskey-beer mix from hell. 

The Ministry of Energy and Mines cancelled in lieu of the National Convention Center's 24th ASEAN Energy Business Forum's humdrum of somniferous speeches that were salvaged by a prominently displayed company logo, my gray Barong #4, and an eerie mash-up of scotch whiskey, French liquer and Chilean red wine from the Houseplant somewhere near Rue Dongpayna.

Thus was how the farts burried in Seat 43Jof TG 571 were resurrected in TG 574, maybe because LM's doppelganger spurned a monologue somewhere in the Downtown Vientiane area that might have triggered a gastrocolic reflex due to what can be an irritable bowel syndrome before transiting to PR 737 in Bangkok.

 

I spent 2.30 hours at Wattay International Airport for a 1.20-hour flight to Suvarnabhumi International Airporrt, killed 3.10 hours there before a 3.30-hour flight to the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, and battled Candy Crush for 1.30 hours at a bus station before the final 4.30-hour bus ride to a Sunday mass in CLSU.

Total number of hours for the return trip: 16.30 hours.

Total number of Barongs wore: 4.

Tottal number of black trouser paired with the Barongs: 1.

I like Vientiane  but getting in and out is taking so much time!

almost SLEEPLESS IN VANG VIENG (in Vientiane and Bangkok too!)

The nights in Vang Vieng were lullabyes of Beer Lao 

and a lei of grilled pork intestines.

From Patuxai, I raced from two meetings to the eternal rains 

of a national dialogue.

I was kip-less in the train, baht-less at Chatrium as the tracer 

was unleashed in Manila.

For the sake of rights and security, generative AI deep learned

VUCA and the C Risk Matrix.

The Onion Router browser will shield  ISPs, DNSs and VPNs 

from metadata's digital repression.

Baguio revisited, annihilation photons reported back, a temple, 

Suan Phlu is also Lumpini and Patpong. 

The trains led us to Hua Lumpong, a prayer at Wat Trimit, and the crowded markets of Yaowarat.

We ate Wat Arun for lunch after peeking at Wat Pho's massive feet and the guarded gates of the Royal Palace. 

Bangkok's holy trinity lulled me to sleep but I smelled of Chang Beer in each early morning that I wake up.

INTO THE STORM (How Our Shoes Got Wet at the Igorot Stone Kingdom)

We thought we eluded Typhoon Carina until it caught us at the Igorot Stone Kingdom...

where storm rain cascaded down steep streets
flooding the dining room of a Farmer's Daughter
and made us wait with love almost lost in a Trulab.

Suddenly, we were enveloped in a storm of surreal and scary hospital appellations...

adenocarcinoma with a lepidic growth pattern from NDCH  

who can do a thyroid transcription factor 1

but not the thyroglobulin immunostaining at BGH. 

We have descended into the storm amidst a flurry of weekly meetings, I-JET matters, the national dialogue in Vang Vieng and a regional convening in Phnom Penh, a forum and a summit in Vientiane, and early morning email catch ups that not even the payment of P216,000 for my labors in May and July can dissipate.  

My shoes were soaked as I sought refuge in leftover pinatisan, day-old carinderia food, an early birthday bash, and even paid the bills despite the still missing remittance from May.

I prayed for divine intervention from San Sebastian and the Sacred Heart of Jesus to deliver us to the best oncologist that we can afford as I forced my way through wet bike trails.

St. Luke and one of the doctors in Nueva Ecija responded with an encouraging initial prognosis and a positron emission tomography scan schedule on July 31. 

One day at a time.

I prayed during my Grab ride to the airport after checking out of Hop Inn-Morato, then waited for almost 6 hours for TG 574 in Bangkok before arriving into a  late night wecome reception in Vientiane...

THE UNEMPLOYED 8: The Train to Oudomxay

There was my way of leaving unwanted shirts and old underwear at airports and hotels...

...and there is The ASEAN Way, an anthem about the beer tap of a samanera and the rain TG 574 dumped over the new office and a virtual meeting in Vientiane, the ballad of zombies from Yuxi who boarded the train in Luang Prabang during a 375-kilometer trip to Muang Xai where a tribute of 5 goat dishes was offered for the ceaseless pouring of Beer Lao. 

There was Olivia Newton-John's Xanadu and there is the train to Oudomxay, the Northern City in a sea of clouds and the hill tribes who modeled new unwashed polo barongs that survived a waterfall of pee near an empty Khmu village where the shifting gears of a borrowed bike crooned like John Devenver after being proposed with a contract.

There was a group photo between incessant rains and two mornings of validation.

I had my second love shot despite a cancelled hike to a waterfall and a butterfly park.

We pledged our continuing support and had a sandwich dinner on the train from Oudomxay.

Almost 24 hours, a communique, two airports, two bus stations, and a short nap later, I took my oath of office in Bongabon for my continuing service to the Craft, evaded a fellowship for a proper sleep, and celebrated Tadej Pgacar's dominance of the Giro d'Italia at a birthday party of sweet brandy, tinumis, lechon and bopis...