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In order to find the homes I lived in, and the schools I attended, I decided the best way to go about that would be to hire a car and driver. If nothing else, at least I could get my bearings, and go out on my own if I needed to.
My driver, Mr. Chai, picked me up at 8:00AM on Saturday morning. He was a young Lao man, about 30 years old. We shook hands, and I warned him about the day ahead, and the emotional state in which he might find me throughout the day. In the usual Lao manner, he assured me there would be no problem with whatever it was I would be dealing with. We exited the lobby, and I started to explain.
Once in the car, we discussed my objectives, and agreed on the least circuitous route. We would head west toward the airport, my dad's office, my elementary school, and the first house I lived in. From there we would head northeast towards my other 3 houses, and eventually head even further north towards the American School where I attended 7th - 10th grade.
We made our way along Wattay Road towards my dad's office. Within minutes I spotted the building that once housed my Elementary School on the opposite side of the street. Agreeing to come back to it, we continued towards the airport. Once in front of my dad's office, Mr. Chai spoke with the guards to see if they would permit me to enter the compound in order to take a picture. They would not agree for me to do so, and Mr. Chai assured me we would get in closer by going in the "back way". I took a few photographs from across the street, and we headed towards the "back way". As it turned out, this happened to be an old departure lounge for "customers" of Air America, and often times their family members. I was in this building on more than one occasion as a cheerleader heading to Udorn for games against the American School there, as well as catching the commissary flight to Bangkok on one of Air America's airplanes. As I walked through this building, and stepped on the tarmac, I was overcome with emotion. I quietly weeped, as Mr. Chai explained to people why I was crying. I stood out on the tarmac that housed Air America's fleet of planes. I was drawn back to a time of long ago. Memories flooded my mind. Memories of my dad, memories of being a kid, memories of the happy Filipino mechanics that worked for Air America, and memories of happy crazy pilots and kickers that populated this airport.
I pulled myself together, and Mr. Chai and I headed down Wattay Road to see if we could find the first house I lived in. I was sure this was going to be an impossible task. This was after all, the first house I lived in in Vientiane 44 years ago! How would I know which road to take?
As we slowly cruised down Wattay Road we came upon a road off to the left. I asked Mr. Chai to turn down this dirt road, and to drive slowly. We passed shacks with tiny store fronts and noodle shops, and children playing in the dusty road. For some reason I asked Mr. Chai to take a left turn down a narrow dirt road, and he had no choice but to take it slow. It was so familiar to me with the potholes, rocks, and dirt. It just felt right, and sure enough there it was, my house exactly the way it looked 44 years ago. Of course I mean this to say the house hadn't been modified by any means from the exterior. The yard looked smaller in the front than I remember it being, and the wall in front of the house was much taller than when I lived there. Other than that, it really hadn't changed a bit. Once again, I was entirely consumed with emotion. I wept as I couldn't believe my eyes.
Mr. Chai was kind enough to ask the residents of this home if I could take a walk through the house. They were taken by my story and agreed happily to allow me to do so. So, there I was. Walking through my old bedroom, peeking into my parent's and siblings room, and the tiny bathroom that we all shared. It all looked so much smaller than I remembered it being.
We thanked the residents, and off we went to snap a couple of photos of my elementary school, The International School of Vientiane.
Like my old house, my school looked so much smaller than I remember it being. I was saddened by it's shabby appearance. It was rundown, and overgrown. Oddly, there was a two seat swing set sitting in the overgrown garden that I'm certain I shared with a friend and a small warm loaf of fresh French bread, or creamy pastry, on numerous mornings throughout the school year.
I'm not sure why, but once we left my house on Wattay Road, I would not shed another tear for the rest of the day. My emotions were finally in check.
Leaving my school we headed up to That Luang. Here I would have another house to locate, as well as the house of my dear friend Sean Watkins. Once again, the streets seemed more narrow, and distances to and from one place to the next seemed shorter. Even That Luang hill didn't seem nearly as steep as it was back 36 years ago. How is that possible? I think they graded the hill down in order for That Luang to appear more prominent from afar. Of course, this is just my personal opinion.
Again, the sights were all too familiar, and instinctively I knew where my house should have been. This should have been the easiest house to identify as it wasn't down any dirt road, it was right out in the open of That Luang. We turned onto a small road that seemed familiar, and I got out of the car. I had to walk around a bit to familiarize myself with the neighborhood as I was unable to identify my house. After a few minutes, I discovered Sean's house and knew exactly where my house should have been. It was now a Suzuki building. My house was gone, though I could see walls that were familiar to me. The wall around the property was also the same. I took photographs, and off we went. House #2 now somewhat identified.
From here we headed to KM6. Now, as a kid, KM6 seemed like miles out of the city. Mr. Chai said he thought he knew where my old American School was located. As he headed to what used to be out of the city, he turned down some roads that seemed vaguely familiar to me. I knew the school wasn't located this close in, and questioned Mr. Chai. Shame on me. Soon enough, we pulled up to a side entrance of the American Compound at KM6, and once again, Mr. Chai spoke with the guard to have permission granted for entry.
Sadly there are only a handful of homes still standing in this compound. Kaysone Pomvihan (Leader of the Pathet Lao) made residence here during his last years, and what is left standing has been turned into a very small museum in his honor. The school (ASV - American School of Vientiane) was torn down in 1995 according to the woman giving the tour to me and Mr. Chai. Oh well, I got a few pictures of what remains today, and a very nice guided tour of Kaysone's life in KM6.
From here we left to locate House #3 & #4 off That Luang Road. Once again, we creeped along the road until we came to a road that seemed like the right choice. Once again, it was. I was in "Party Paddy". A ton of Americans lived down here. The Boyles, The Drivers, The Smiths, The Grahams, The Condes, The Morehouses, The Olsons, and The Colemans, just to name a few. And as I did before, I was able to give Mr. Chai perfect directions to get to my house. House #3. It looked exactly the same with the exception of a two story addition at the back of the house, and all of the klongs surrounding the house were now filled in with other houses. The roads were unpaved, dusty, and filled with rocks and potholes. Some things never change.
Finally, just a few minutes away and down a couple more unpaved dusty roads, I was able to locate House #4, the last house I would live in during my long stay in Laos. Again, the house had been severely modified, but there were things about it I remembered. The same decorative window coverings on the windows of my parent's bedrooms, the servant's quarters in the rear of the house, and the large side yard. The McClean's house was still located next door, though it had been rebuilt. The traditional Lao huts, water buffalo and oxen, naked children, and rice paddies had all been replaced with modern looking homes. My heart ached.
Mr. Chai and I drove back down the bumpy for our next destination. I couldn't help but remember the day, so many years ago, that I took my final ride down this old road, alone in a taxi, to head back to the States for good. That would become one of the saddest days of my life.
So, I came and found what I needed to find. I'm not exactly sure what it all means. That's work that will need to be done once back in the U.S. There are moments while I'm wandering around this charming city that I feel a part of it, that perhaps I belong here.
My driver, Mr. Chai, picked me up at 8:00AM on Saturday morning. He was a young Lao man, about 30 years old. We shook hands, and I warned him about the day ahead, and the emotional state in which he might find me throughout the day. In the usual Lao manner, he assured me there would be no problem with whatever it was I would be dealing with. We exited the lobby, and I started to explain.
Once in the car, we discussed my objectives, and agreed on the least circuitous route. We would head west toward the airport, my dad's office, my elementary school, and the first house I lived in. From there we would head northeast towards my other 3 houses, and eventually head even further north towards the American School where I attended 7th - 10th grade.
We made our way along Wattay Road towards my dad's office. Within minutes I spotted the building that once housed my Elementary School on the opposite side of the street. Agreeing to come back to it, we continued towards the airport. Once in front of my dad's office, Mr. Chai spoke with the guards to see if they would permit me to enter the compound in order to take a picture. They would not agree for me to do so, and Mr. Chai assured me we would get in closer by going in the "back way". I took a few photographs from across the street, and we headed towards the "back way". As it turned out, this happened to be an old departure lounge for "customers" of Air America, and often times their family members. I was in this building on more than one occasion as a cheerleader heading to Udorn for games against the American School there, as well as catching the commissary flight to Bangkok on one of Air America's airplanes. As I walked through this building, and stepped on the tarmac, I was overcome with emotion. I quietly weeped, as Mr. Chai explained to people why I was crying. I stood out on the tarmac that housed Air America's fleet of planes. I was drawn back to a time of long ago. Memories flooded my mind. Memories of my dad, memories of being a kid, memories of the happy Filipino mechanics that worked for Air America, and memories of happy crazy pilots and kickers that populated this airport.
I pulled myself together, and Mr. Chai and I headed down Wattay Road to see if we could find the first house I lived in. I was sure this was going to be an impossible task. This was after all, the first house I lived in in Vientiane 44 years ago! How would I know which road to take?
As we slowly cruised down Wattay Road we came upon a road off to the left. I asked Mr. Chai to turn down this dirt road, and to drive slowly. We passed shacks with tiny store fronts and noodle shops, and children playing in the dusty road. For some reason I asked Mr. Chai to take a left turn down a narrow dirt road, and he had no choice but to take it slow. It was so familiar to me with the potholes, rocks, and dirt. It just felt right, and sure enough there it was, my house exactly the way it looked 44 years ago. Of course I mean this to say the house hadn't been modified by any means from the exterior. The yard looked smaller in the front than I remember it being, and the wall in front of the house was much taller than when I lived there. Other than that, it really hadn't changed a bit. Once again, I was entirely consumed with emotion. I wept as I couldn't believe my eyes.
Mr. Chai was kind enough to ask the residents of this home if I could take a walk through the house. They were taken by my story and agreed happily to allow me to do so. So, there I was. Walking through my old bedroom, peeking into my parent's and siblings room, and the tiny bathroom that we all shared. It all looked so much smaller than I remembered it being.
We thanked the residents, and off we went to snap a couple of photos of my elementary school, The International School of Vientiane.
Like my old house, my school looked so much smaller than I remember it being. I was saddened by it's shabby appearance. It was rundown, and overgrown. Oddly, there was a two seat swing set sitting in the overgrown garden that I'm certain I shared with a friend and a small warm loaf of fresh French bread, or creamy pastry, on numerous mornings throughout the school year.
I'm not sure why, but once we left my house on Wattay Road, I would not shed another tear for the rest of the day. My emotions were finally in check.
Leaving my school we headed up to That Luang. Here I would have another house to locate, as well as the house of my dear friend Sean Watkins. Once again, the streets seemed more narrow, and distances to and from one place to the next seemed shorter. Even That Luang hill didn't seem nearly as steep as it was back 36 years ago. How is that possible? I think they graded the hill down in order for That Luang to appear more prominent from afar. Of course, this is just my personal opinion.
Again, the sights were all too familiar, and instinctively I knew where my house should have been. This should have been the easiest house to identify as it wasn't down any dirt road, it was right out in the open of That Luang. We turned onto a small road that seemed familiar, and I got out of the car. I had to walk around a bit to familiarize myself with the neighborhood as I was unable to identify my house. After a few minutes, I discovered Sean's house and knew exactly where my house should have been. It was now a Suzuki building. My house was gone, though I could see walls that were familiar to me. The wall around the property was also the same. I took photographs, and off we went. House #2 now somewhat identified.
From here we headed to KM6. Now, as a kid, KM6 seemed like miles out of the city. Mr. Chai said he thought he knew where my old American School was located. As he headed to what used to be out of the city, he turned down some roads that seemed vaguely familiar to me. I knew the school wasn't located this close in, and questioned Mr. Chai. Shame on me. Soon enough, we pulled up to a side entrance of the American Compound at KM6, and once again, Mr. Chai spoke with the guard to have permission granted for entry.
Sadly there are only a handful of homes still standing in this compound. Kaysone Pomvihan (Leader of the Pathet Lao) made residence here during his last years, and what is left standing has been turned into a very small museum in his honor. The school (ASV - American School of Vientiane) was torn down in 1995 according to the woman giving the tour to me and Mr. Chai. Oh well, I got a few pictures of what remains today, and a very nice guided tour of Kaysone's life in KM6.
From here we left to locate House #3 & #4 off That Luang Road. Once again, we creeped along the road until we came to a road that seemed like the right choice. Once again, it was. I was in "Party Paddy". A ton of Americans lived down here. The Boyles, The Drivers, The Smiths, The Grahams, The Condes, The Morehouses, The Olsons, and The Colemans, just to name a few. And as I did before, I was able to give Mr. Chai perfect directions to get to my house. House #3. It looked exactly the same with the exception of a two story addition at the back of the house, and all of the klongs surrounding the house were now filled in with other houses. The roads were unpaved, dusty, and filled with rocks and potholes. Some things never change.
Finally, just a few minutes away and down a couple more unpaved dusty roads, I was able to locate House #4, the last house I would live in during my long stay in Laos. Again, the house had been severely modified, but there were things about it I remembered. The same decorative window coverings on the windows of my parent's bedrooms, the servant's quarters in the rear of the house, and the large side yard. The McClean's house was still located next door, though it had been rebuilt. The traditional Lao huts, water buffalo and oxen, naked children, and rice paddies had all been replaced with modern looking homes. My heart ached.
Mr. Chai and I drove back down the bumpy for our next destination. I couldn't help but remember the day, so many years ago, that I took my final ride down this old road, alone in a taxi, to head back to the States for good. That would become one of the saddest days of my life.
So, I came and found what I needed to find. I'm not exactly sure what it all means. That's work that will need to be done once back in the U.S. There are moments while I'm wandering around this charming city that I feel a part of it, that perhaps I belong here.
Wow Liz! I love hearing about your journey, especially how you followed your intuition about which dirt road would lead you to your first house. And then being able to go in and walk through it--I can't imagine what that actually felt like. Mr. Chai sounds like a very special find. I'm glad he's with you. I look forward following you on the rest of your journey. Thanks for sharing it with us!
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