The first thing that happened when we returned to Vientiane was that we were stopped at a light in the back of our tuktuk and a motorbike with a tiny girl pulled up next to us. The tiny girl looked at us and shouted, “Hello sabaidee how you are? When we all smiled back at her and said hello, she frowned and yelled again, “”Hello sabaidee HOW YOU ARE?” She seemed happier with our second response, in which we said exactly the same thing as the first time. It was good to be back in Vientiane.

We stayed at the same guest house, more out of habit than anything else. As T said, better the devil you know…but this time, we got a fancy A/C room, which was much nicer than the fan room (which obviously makes sense). Given that we were used to Vientiane already, we were quite happy to settle into a little routine, which was Lotus Restaurant for sticky rice breakfast, JoMa for bagel lunch, and Khao Nieo for baguette dinner. We started right with Khao Nieo, where I had another ham and cheese baguette that was so good, it almost made me cry.

The next morning, we went to Lotus for breakfast. It should be said that Lotus has the friendliest waiters in the world, who want nothing more than to speak English with their customers. We had a different waiter than the last time, a man named Bee, whose uncle lives in San Diego (the first waiter’s sister lived there). Bee chatted away with us for ages about America and basketball and how most of the tourists are Aussie and how he can speak English and French and Italian and Japanese and Danish well, and about five more languages not very well. He was lovely and charming and I wanted him to be my best friend. Unfortunately, this time the sticky rice got the best of me and I could not finish! Tragedy!

The main reason we had come back to Vientiane was to pick up the godforsaken Indian visas, which we had been told took “Five days, or a week.” We had been gone for a week when T decided to call the number to see if they were ready. He was transferred to an Indian man who told him “No. Visas tomorrow.” When my head almost flew off at the prospect of waiting another day for visas that take five days everywhere else in the world, we decided to call back. I called and got a Lao woman who assured me that they were both ready. At this point, T’s head almost flew off because this was the second time an Indian man at the embassy had given him misinformation, and this time it could have cost us a day instead of $15. Ah, India. I am so excited to meet you.

With visas in hand, we were visibly relieved and decided to celebrate. We went to dinner at Sticky Fingers, which is an Aussie-owned restaurant full of glamorous expats. We went there for dinner our first trip to Vientiane, and I spent the entire meal whining to T, “IIIIIIII want to be a glamorous expat!” There even appears to be a glamorous expat door, accessible only if you are employed by an NGO or speak 14 languages (or more likely, just know your way around). This restaurant is good for more than just expat watching, though. They have good western food, with things like blue cheese! and cocktails! This time, we split some nachos and I ordered a Bloody Mary and T had another dark Beer Lao. It was happy hour, so of course we each had to have two, and then share a cheeseburger that might have been the best I ever had. Laos, you continue to amaze me with your Western food. On a sad note, T had his last dark Beer Lao at Sticky Fingers (though he did not know it at the time) and he is now in a corner, trembling and shaking and calling its name.

As I said, we had a little routine down in Vientiane, and one of the things we found was a cheap and fast Internet cafe, in which we could use our computer. So we went back (sometimes twice a day) to use their computers for pennies an hour. Next to the internet cafe was a hair salon, and on the other side was a travel agency. Because our laziness knows no bounds, we booked our tickets to Si Phan Don from the kind-faced man at the travel agency and I got my hair cut at the hair salon. This is how it went:

I walked in and asked if they could cut it. About ten women were in there, all staring at the TV, which was playing some kind of soap opera. Finally, one said she would do it, and she proceeded to wash my hair. For 20 minutes. Now, I don’t know if a Lao hairwash is typically 20 minutes or if she was waiting out the end of the soap opera, but it was good. She washed and washed and massaged my head and even though there was no hot water, I didn’t mind. Then, I was moved to the chair, where I received a 5-minute back massage. At this point, I am thinking this is the best haircut ever, and she hasn’t even touched my hair yet. Finally, it’s time for the haircut. Now, let me explain. First of all, my hair never recovered from China, where it either got tangled up from the pollution or from my new fleece, but either way turned into the biggest rats nest ever. It was coming out in chunks in my hands weeks later. Even so, I was still traumatized from my honeymoon haircut in KL, the mullet of doom, which took years to grow out. So I was watching her every move when I noticed they had a giant mirror in the back of the room which reflected everything she was doing. And she was not cutting a mullet–she was giving me a real haircut! After she cut away all the dead, angry Chinese hairs, it was time for the blowdry. TWO WOMEN blowdried my hair at the same time. Thats what I call service. I wanted to make out with her when she was done, but instead I tipped her $1. It was the best $4 haircut ever.

On our last day in Vientiane, we were sitting in JoMa eating bagels when I noticed a little face at the window. It was a man with Down Syndrome, and when I smiled at him, he gave me a huge smile and started waving as if we were old friends. Then, he pointed to his wrist, pointed to the left and ran away. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was happy to have seen him. When we went outside to go to the fancy supermarket next door, he was there, selling braided bracelets. In the interest of full disclosure, let me say that I volunteered in junior high school and in college with people with Down Syndrome and there are few people in life I enjoy being with more. So, there was no way I was not going to buy from this man. I was not disappointed. When we approached him, he greeted me like an old friend, crying out HELLO! and grasping my hand in both of his. I don’t even think he wanted to sell me anything, but when I pointed to the bracelets, he took one and carefully tied it around my wrist, smiling at me the whole time. T was unsure about how much they cost (he had a sign that said 2000 kip, but then he had pricetags in various amounts stuck to his little stand), but when the man held out another one for T, he let him tie it on as well. We gave him 5000 kip (60 cents), which was what we were planning on giving him anyway, and he was most appreciative, telling us thank you, thank you. He was the happiest, most beautiful person I have seen in a long time and it made me happy just to be near him and sad to be leaving town.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I love Vientiane.