There was this cheap, local eatery in Vientiane with an open kitchen and a dozen of wooden tables, packed with locals -all eating the same thing, a Vietnamese pho. There were dogs running around the floor and waiting for their well-deserved bones. Waiters and cooks looked as if they were relatives, quarelling at times, but definitely having fun. Bowls were clean to Lao standards -and dirty to French standards. To me, that was the perfect meal. Sadly, I lost the journal that I kept while I was in Laos. I will never remember the words that I wrote, but I will always remember how I felt. It felt like making your dream come true, winning the gold medal, and becoming the person you've always wanted to be, all at the same time. It felt like falling in love, when you can't really tell whether it's joy or pain that hurts so much. It felt like like finding something that's yours, something you've been missing all your life. That's what this blog is about. It's not about finding the coolest or cheapest places and recommending them. It's about sharing bright moments around a bowl of soup with the persons I love and writing about these moments so I can transform them into pieces of eternity.
