I'd Dye for You

Friday, November 2

I spent today at Houey Hong women's training center for traditional Lao dyeing and weaving. What a blast it was! I dyed a silk scarf (sort of like tie-dyeing, but with all natural plant-based dyes) and then spent an afternoon on a loom weaving for four hours. Result: a piece of fabric the size of a dang potholder. I have a DEEP appreciation now for hand-woven fabric, which is plentiful here.

(Aside: as I sit typing this, there is a gecko squawking about a foot away from me - yes, they make chirping noises. I'm really going to miss that when I get home).

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, weaving. There was one other woman in the morning dyeing class, but she left after lunch and so I was there, at the center, with about 30 young Lao women and nobody else. It was great, sitting there weaving and listening to them chatter and sing, but not understanding a word they were saying. They did come by once in a while and give me a thumb's-up sign to say I was doing fine.

In the morning, the other falang woman there told me that she is a textile designer from Australia. She certainly knew fabric and processes. We got to talking, and she began semi-lecturing me on the fact that she never bargains for room rates or cab rides, since she doesn't want to take any money away from the locals. Hmmm. OK. But she also told me about a place near our hotel that does weaving and sells finished goods. The owner is an American designer named Carol Cassidy. So, I went by there. To put things in perspective, I bought a table runner at the center where I took the class, and it was $20. The same thing at Carol Cassidy's shop was $75. Why? Because Carol pays the same slave wages as what the women at the center are charging, and pockets the rest. So, pay the cabbie the $10 he asks you to take you on a $2 cab ride, feel oh-so-righteous, and then give Carol Cassidy $75 to pay the weavers of the cloth $5. That Carol has a great racket going. I walked away from her shop without buying anything. If she thinks I'm going to line her pockets rather than support a good NGO, she can kiss my Italian arse. Not that I have an opinion.

But I digress...

For dinner, since I am finally feeling as though I once more have a human stomach, we went to Cote d'Azure, a great French place a few blocks from the hotel. I had a lovely cream of mushroom soup, beef burgonoine [sp], and some awesome concoction of meringue and grand marnier cream for dessert. Oh yes, and a glass of red wine (Mom, stop cringing - the wine was with the steak, not the cream stuff!) All for less than $15. Awesome.

This city is great!