A Country That's So Close and Yet So Far
"Ahh, I'm home"
Hiromi Kimoto
October 8, 2001
Returning to Vientiane from Japan, I was relieved and felt, "Ahh, I'm home." It's been four months since I came here, and I'm a bit surprised to find myself feeling this town as "my home." I think that a variety of factors are involved in a complicated fashion when a person acclimatizes to a new environment. As for myself, I wonder how come it didn't take a long time for me to get used to life in Laos. Perhaps it was because I could accept life here quite easily without being irritated or impatient since there seems to no rigid rules and the people here don't bump into each other or call out loud when walking through markets. I was also relieved that there were not a lot of beggars in the town even though it is a poor country. I even thought "it's quite convenient in a sense not understanding the language" for the first time in my long years of living in foreign countries. Rather than trying to learn about Laos through language, there were more things that I understand only by looking at the sad, troubled, or smiling face of the Laotians. The Laotians would start talking after making a bow, laugh off with ingratiating smile when there is something they don't understand, and be courteous to superiors; I perhaps felt familiar with them since such behavior is quite similar to that of the Japanese people. I deeply felt that, although ranking with the Western countries as an economic giant of the world, Japan is still a member of Southeast Asia in respect to sensitivity and emotion.
Back in Vientiane, what I wanted to do before anything else was to go to the sauna. So I went there as soon as I arrived. My skin became smooth getting rid of all the unnecessary things deep under the skin, and I felt very pleasant. On that day, there were many young Laotian ladies, and the sauna room was so crowded just like a jam-packed train in Japan that there was even no place to sit down. They were smearing their faces, legs, and arms with a variety of things. Each person was using different liquids like milk, juice of lime or orange, and cream in an expensive-looking bottle. So I asked one of them why they were rubbing these things on.
"Of course, it is to make my skin smoother, but I also want fair skin"
"But you are lighter than me, a Japanese, aren't you?" (I was quite tanned from going to the swimming pool).
"Well, yes. But you would be fair if you were back in Japan, but I will stay this color regardless of where I go."
"Oh, I see. But is the cream going to do you any good?" (She was using the bottled cream).
"Sure. This is really a good one made in Burma. Why don't you try it too?"
Just like in Sri Lanka, "fair skin" seems to be one of the conditions of beauty. I rather envy them for having beautiful healthy-looking bronzed skin though.
P.S.: My husband planted okras at the end of May, but we thought they have been washed away by the rain and we did not care for them much. But they turned out well and were successfully harvested. Okras are very durable. I thank them for ripening without having us to take care of them.
P.P.S.: I happened to see those children passing by our house and who used to come to get our fruit. They were dressed in pure white shirts and dark blue shorts. They were also wearing red scarves around their necks. I guess that a new school term has started. Their nervous-looking faces were completely different from those faces of naughty boys looking up at the fruit.
Translated by Maiko Noda
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