A few kilometres southeast of Vientiane, nestled in the U-shaped curve of the Mekong, lay the sleepy village of Ban Hom. Whenever I needed a break from the hustle and bustle of the town, I could ride down here and relax with the friendly locals. They probably wondered why the ‘falang dang mo’ (long-nosed foreigner) kept turning up on his little bike. No one spoke English, except for one young woman, in the photo carrying a baby with a fancy cap. She was very curious. She asked me many questions of the usual kind, but I am not sure she understood the answers. 

 

A short boat ride took me to an island in the Mekong, where there were some tobacco drying sheds. There were about fifteen workers who were surprised to see me.å