Laos was a closed country – hence the reason for my limited blogging there. We were doing Unsung Heroes (finding new organizations for the World Race to partner with) and I didn’t want to put anyone we met with at risk. Being in a closed country is difficult on many levels. It’s hard to shake the constant feeling of being watched. It’s hard to not be unnerved by continually having to remember to speak in code and not reveal who we are and our purpose there. In a way, I felt silenced there. We operated with “closed mouths”. It was hard.
What was not hard, though, is smiling at the woman who cleans the room in our hostel and thanking her in broken Laotian for working with excellence.
What was not hard is greeting the friendly receptionists at the hostel where we stayed and being greeted in return by a hearty rendition of my name along with morning pleasantries in the thick Laotian accent.
What was not hard is chatting with the man who owns the convenience store on the corner about his country and having him give us directions to places of interest.
What was not hard is having lunch at an outdoor “restaurant”, sitting on plastic chairs, “talking” to the wait staff and sharing jokes, common to human nature that pass between those who speak different languages but share the same space often. Some combination of members on my team ate there almost daily because it was local food, cheap and tasty (the perfect combination for a meager world race budget).
What was not hard is occasionally grabbing wifi and a chocolate croissant at the nearby French bakery and learning about the pictures on the wall and the owner’s unlikely story.
What was surprising is the note that the lady who cleans our hostel had her son write in English, expressing her appreciation for us and her desire to be able to communicate better with us.
What was surprising is the hostel receptionists’ threat to lock the front door so we couldn’t leave because they will miss us so much.
What was surprising is the convenience store owner’s acute attention to when we lapsed in visiting his store, he counted the days until he saw us and he knew exactly how long we had been gone. What was surprising is his alarm when he found out we would be leaving Laos for good.
What was surprising is the collage decorated with hearts the daughter who waits tables at our favorite “restaurant” made on her phone of a picture she took with us when we stopped by to say goodbye.
What is humbling is that we touched lives and made an impact by having closed mouths but open hearts to the people we came in contact with. With seemingly mundane, everyday interactions we were able to touch the lives of those around us in such a way that they felt the love, life and joy we carried without words.
