They walked bare footed, in saffron uniforms basically composed of a sheet, and with heads shaved. We bared little. We were uniformly diverse in our attire except for the required accessory of the camera. We labored about our hair. And yet there was a pact of sorts. The monks had agreed to keep their ritual alive. They would, as they had for years, take a morning meditative walk (known as “tak bat”) gathering offerings of food from locals looking to build merit by supporting the monks. We foreigners were drawn to this ceremony, so much so that we were being asked to adhere to guidelines on our end. Published throughout town were signs advising on how to stave off offensive behavior by not stopping a monk’s walk for your photo or dressing disrespectfully for with exposed shoulders and legs. Tourists wanting to participate get dropped off in vans to pre-set mats with foods ready to offer. Much is written about how this religious ritual has been distorted or even perverted by foreign tourist paparazzi. Reportedly, …

We could have gotten up early to see the monks. I had a leisurely pancake breakfast instead. We could have bought the little birds for sale as an offering to Buddha during our tour of Phousi Hill and the Vats. I didn’t know what you were suppose to do with the birds – set them free? Leave them by Buddha in their miniature bamboo cage? My Lao doesn’t go far enough to ask. We could have hopped on a tour. I wanted to pick up ballet tickets for the night instead. We could have taken it easy, and ridden bikes between coffee shops. I jumped on the discounted offer to the waterfall as an exchange for T sitting through ballet. We could have made it back in time for the drumming. We made in back for a pre-ballet cocktail instead. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Except… – Maybe booked in with French group who had tablecloths, wine and a catered picnic by the falls. Darn those French! – Maybe found the steps down the …

Recipe 1 local Lao chef with English good enough for jokes 2 large BeerLao, cold 4 Germans, 2 Canadians, 1 Texan living in Spain 40 stems of lemongrass 1 bottle of fish sauce 1 jar of local fish sauce (the stinky one per Chez Joy) 1 gangal root never seen before (like ginger) Tamarind A pinch of salt A pinch of MSG just because Instructions: 1. First go to fancy restaurant in the morning where you will find other farangs (white people) dropping hundreds of thousands of Kip. 2. Pile into tuk tuk where you and the other farangs inconspicuously follow Chef Joy speaking English to explain the local herbs while locals stare at us taking pictures of pineapples. 3. No stopping for questions in the meat section of the market. It makes the vegetarians queasy, and most carnivores too. So know in advance the thing you don’t recognize is congealed blood, and yes, they do sell pigs faces as an offering to the spirits or the base of a stew. 4. Pile back in …