Vientiane Day 2

Another en-chanting morning. The drums started at 4.45am. 

Still a magical light with the halogen street lights adding to the glow. 

This morning the monks were accompanied by a pack of dogs.

After breakfast the team headed off to work while I decided to walk around the city.

I asked about a cab to the National Museum and it was pointed out that it 

was only a short walk away. So off I went.

Opposite the National Museum is the National Cultural Hall. A truly ugly, 

monumental building that was built by the Chinese Government as a “gift for 

the people of Laos”. It was opened in 2000 but unfortunately the Chinese 

Government didn’t include in their gift an operating budget. This means it is 

rarely opened and is only used for visiting artists and government conferences.

I feel they would have done a much better job by investing in an upgrade of 

the National Museum. I couldn’t photograph inside the museum and I’m not 

sure why. It is an interesting museum but it is very, very sad. The photographs 

are fading and are suffering water damage and insect infestation. The dioramas 

are rather dusty. The exhibition labelling is occasionally in French, occasionally

in English and occasionally in Lao, these are also fading and hard to read. 

Whenever America  is mentioned it is as “the American imperialists and their 

puppets”. The Lao story is so dramatic that money spent on making it all so 

much more engaging would be wonderful.

After the museum I walked to the Nam Phou Fountain as I had been told that

there were plenty of restaurants around a lovely fountain. I found a few cafes 

facing a walled-off, dusty construction site. I ended up at Khop Chai Deu for lunch. 

I knew it was time to leave when a group of young Australian males sat down at 

the next table and ordered a bottle of bourbon for lunch.

Before the trip I had been asked to buy a traditional silk sarong. So that was the 

next task. I went into many small shops, tourist and non-tourist and could only 

find tat. I got on the web and found Mixay, which was recommended for using local

weavers, it close to the hotel so I dropped in. I asked the owner about sarongs 

and she directed me to the local markets. I explained that I was after a traditional

sarong. She only had two and I bought one. The design was exquisite.

We had an interesting conversation that should be a lesson for tourists in

developing countries. She told me that her local products supported women’s 

groups in Laos, but that traditional weaving was expensive by Lao standards, 

and tourists were after bargains. What they were buying was brought in from 

China and Thailand. The fabrics were of a lower standard (I can attest to that), 

the profits went out of the country and local industry was not supported. So 

please when you want some object to remind you of a particular trip, find

locally produced goods. Don’t send your money to another country.

I bought a few other things that demonstrated the beautiful embroidery 

and weaving of Laos.

Another thing for travellers is the idea of having to bargain for everything. 

If you are in a high-end shop go for it and good luck. But if you are at a street 

stall or market think about it. In Laos, $Aus1.00 equals approximately Kip 8,500.

So when you spend fifteen minutes bargaining an item down from Kip 17,000 

to 8,500, you’ve wasted fifteen minutes for the bragging rights of saving $1.00, 

that you could well afford, and probably means an awful lot to the vendor. 

Remember that you are probably buying counterfeit or illegally downloaded 

material yourself. Don’t get ripped off but don’t be an ugly tourist.

I meandered back to the hotel.

That night our client took us to a charming French Restaurant that could 

have been anywhere in the world. The food was delicious, the wine wonderful

and the company entertaining.

As I retire for the night I ponder that the British left their colonies with the 

Westminster system of government and law, brass bands and cricket. 

The French left their colonies with a taste for fine wine, great cuisine and the 

ability to make melt in the mouth croissants.

Hmmm....which would I prefer?

New Web Site

I haven't been that active on this site for a while as I have been working on a new web site.

All the blogs on this site have been taken over onto

www.dianeworland.com

Please check it out and join up.

This year I have visited Indonesia, Laos, Singapore, America,

Canada, Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Germany, the Czech Republic

and India. Photographs from the trip are available for viewing on

Around the world trip

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/sets/72157630228405682/

Vientiane, Laos

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/sets/72157629295618704/

Singapore

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/sets/72157629705194319/

Bali

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/sets/72157628548988717/

Thanks for the following and here's to a much travelled 2013

Vientiane Day One

The chanting started at 4.15am. It was just as well that I was up at 4.00. 

Jet-lagged body-time 8.00. 

Went on the balcony to see a wonderful start to the day. Devotees were stretched 

along the pavement outside the hotel giving food to a passing parade of monks. 

The street lighting added to the fabulous saffron colour.

Breakfast at the hotel was great. 

Then we hired a car to go to Buddha Park (Xieng Khuan) about forty minutes away 

on the banks of the Mekong. The drive was bumpy and incredibly dusty.

 Along the road were many small out-door cafes. 

Would you like a mouth-full of dust with that sir?

The Park was built in 1958 by an eccentric mystic, Luang Pu Bunleua Sulilat. 

So it is one man’s vision. And his vision was a little odd.

The Park is a bizarre collection of huge concrete sculptures of both Hindu and 

Buddhist gods interspersed with peculiar creatures.

It looks like the same model was used for every statue as they all have the same 

large disproportionate nose. Lots of peculiar Kodak moments. 

At the Park were hordes of school children who wanted to practice their English. 

I left Omar to be a teacher while I wandered around documenting the weirdness.

We drove back via the Pha That Luang. It is the national symbol of Laos and 

the most  important religious monument in the country.

 It is a three-layered gilded stupa. You can only access the court-yard and 

walk round it. It opens at 1.00pm but there was a delay of 15 minutes while 

the gate keeper, an indolent, slothful girl, finished her ice-cream. By then there 

were about 30 people baking in the sun.

Beside That Luang are the Wat That Luang Neua and the Wat That Luang Tai. 

Two temples that were also closed. The area itself is really harsh with acres of glaring pavement. 

Bring your sunglasses.

We drove back to the hotel and dropped into a local cafe for an assortment of dishes 

that had us guessing. Time for a nanny-nap and a read while we prepared for tomorrows

meeting. Later we went to Asmara for dinner. Asmara is a beautiful French Colonial building

that has been turned into an up-market hotel and restaurant. The food is very cheap in 

Vientiane. Lunch for two was about $US8.00 and dinner with wine was a steep $US40.00 

for two and so far the quality is great.

And after fighting off the mosquitoes we went to bed.

Meeting tommequins and other insanity

There are many rules on web etiquette. Don’t use your real name. Don’t give out
personal details.  Don’t meet up with anyone you meet on the web.  And definitely
don’t travel over-seas to  meet up with anyone. Well I was about to travel to meet
 somebody I didn’t know, who came  across as being just a little odd on the web.
 I was going to meet tommequins.

A couple of years ago I joined the Flickr community. At the beginning I didn’t really
know how it worked and how you made contacts. There was no rhyme or reason in
the material I  put up. Professional work and happy snaps; everything went up.

For years I have been shooting reflections in shop windows and I put some of these on
line. Finally I started getting comments. A group of fashion professionals and mannequin collectors  started to tell me the names and manufacturers of the mannequins that I had been shooting. I was inducted into the arcane world of mannequin collectors.

Of particular interest were the photographs of mannequins by a company called Rootstein.

Adel Rootstein started in the 1960’s in swinging London. She was the first to use real people

 as a reference for her mannequins and her designs have a bit of a cult following.

One of the Flickrites who contacted me was tommequins. I noticed on his stream that
he had  been to the Rootstein Showroom in New York to see their new season’s mannequins. I was  going to New York and mailed him to see if he could give me a contact so that I could go there to  take photographs. Tommequins came up with a better idea. He would meet me at the showroom and drive me back to his place in Upper New York State to see his mannequin collection as well. Tommequins collects, restores and repairs mannequins as well as a thousand other things.

My husband was concerned and asked for all the details. Where was I going, who was I seeing  and what were their contact details. My information was pretty sketchy.

I dutifully arrived at the showroom and the staff  were fantastic. They put on the light 
and sound show that had accompanied the seasons launch and just left me to take
whatever  shots I wanted. The theme was Native American Indians and the costuming
was sensational.

Tommequins  arrived dressed appropriately in an Indian themed jacket. Introductions
were made and everything seemed alright. But then he decided to become part of the window display.  He lay down and put his ponytail in the hands of an Indian. It looked
as if he was being dragged off for a scalping. OK it was going to be an interesting day.

As we drove into his town I looked around and realised that it would be a perfect setting

for The Stepford Wives. Everything was perfect. The shops were all the same with very discreet signage; neon signs are forbidden and colours are prescribed. It was all so neat.
As we drove  through the equally neat back streets of trimmed hedges and raked lawns tommequins asked if I could guess which property was his. It was really easy. I guessed
that the property with the giant mannequins  and junk everywhere was his. The yard
even had a wire enclosure that was full of unloved naked mannequins. The neighbours
 must love the family next door.

There are several homes on the property and I was to discover that every basement
was full of mannequins in various stages of repair and disrepair. Tommequins introduced me to his brother who is also a collector; they both had the same maniacal twinkle in their eyes. What had I got myself into?

The first basement we visited was reached through a side entrance. As the doors were
thrown back all I could see were the spider webs stretching into the long, dark distance.
I’m an arachnophobe so made tommequins go first to break the webs. It was very dark and
that hid the spiders. But once I was down  there I forgot about them as I saw the amazing
sight before me. Talk about Kodak moments.

Tommequins’s brother came with us and as I edged through a door to capture more delights I heard him say “no-one knows where she is.....we could lock the door and leave her”. Hmm.

They told me a story of when the boiler in one of the basements needed repair. They arranged for the repairman to attend. Within a few minutes of his arrival he rang them saying that he was  too freaked out to stay and they needed to get someone else. All those bodies looking at him was just  too much. Fabulous setting for a teen horror flick.

The next basement looked as if a mannequin massacre had occurred. Body pieces
strewn everywhere. More cobwebs. More spiders.

We visited the studio which is where all the repairs are carried out. Every room 
including a toilet and every surface was crowded with heads.

 The variety is extraordinary ranging from very old wax heads from France to a
wonderful array of Art Deco displays.

We went through his home which has another wonderful collection. Every room in 
the house  is peopled with mannequins. If a burglar ever made the mistake of breaking
in, you’d hear them screaming as they ran away to hand themselves in. A place of nightmares.

His daughter has a couple of full-sized Rootstein Barbie Dolls, they are very precious to her.

 On being introduced to her tommequins told her that" the nice lady had come to take the Barbies on a plane back to Australia”. To her credit there was a little twitch of the lip and
a wince but then  she said very quietly “OK”.

 

I was introduced to his wife and breathed a sigh of relief at a modicum of normality. The first thing she asked me was if I believed in burial or cremation. Well so much for small talk.

It was a day of amazing visual over-load. Starting at the exquisite Rootstein Showroom 
and ending in a few creepy basements. Back in New York I rang my husband and let him know that I had survived the day.

He didn’t believe my description of the things I had seen until he saw the photographs.
Back in New York I celebrated a great day.

Visiting tommequins and his basements are now highlights of my annual trip to New York.

PS.  Thanks to all the mannequin set for your encouragement and advice.

I hope to eventually meet you all.

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