blog 11
The guy who runs the hostel is great. Friendly, efficient. the guy who runs (I use this word very loosely) the bar opposite is rubbish. I've seem him get up in the morning and walk over to his hammock where he lays straight back down and hopes to avoid any type of work. His pregnant wife does all the work.
The other morning he obviously needed money and was hustling all the customers to come to his barbeque. Usually I wouldn't bother with this kind of thing but I thought I should treat myself to a good feed. I paid my 50,000 kip (more than double what I would usually pay for a meal).
The bbq was supposed to kick off at six pm. At five thirty pm he hadn't even managed to rock himself out of his hammock. He eventually stirred and wandered off to look for a chicken. more than likely the first one that strayed into his path, regardless of who owned it. So, he returned all puffed out chested, like a returning hunter, carrying a single, solitary chicken. 'Some bbq this is going to be' I thought. He called me over and handed me the chicken saying Wait there. You kill, you kill. He went into his 'lean to' shack/kitchen. Maybe there's going to be a traditional little ritual he's going to get me to do with a sacrificial knife or something. He came back and handed me a broken chair leg. 'You smash head. I make fire'
With the chicken safely dispatched with a good ancient, ceremonial double tap I went back and relaxed . After about five minutes I could smell smoke. This was just about when the rain started. Five minutes after that I could strongly smell burning rubber, like someone was burning a bike tyre. 'Surely he's not. I bet you he is' I thought
Now this next bit is bizarre because I still don't know if I was being played or if it's true but he came back around to me and said 'Chicken not dead. Kill, kill.'. Sure enough I walk back into the hovel and there it is .Sitting there looking quite unharmed ,alive ,alert and healthy. This is a different chicken I thought. 'He's winding me up here. I gave it a good clobbering'. Anyway, I picked up the ceremonial chicken dispatcher and went to work again.This time I thought I would ring it's neck as well just to make sure. So after a swift clonk I grabbed it's neck at which point it decides that it wants to take up jogging. So there I am kneeling down on a dirt floor in a darkened hut with a chicken flapping like crazy while I'm trying to throttle the life out of it after smashing its head in with a sacrificial chair leg and I'm thinking to myself 'Bloody hell you were vegetarian before you came out here. Now look at you. Oh well, it can't get any worse I thought to myself. I quickly changed my mind when a bit of boiled chicken neck was slid in front of me with a bit of rice. Obviously he was nowhere to be seen. Already slid off to buy his crystal meth or what have you. Needless to say, the chicken was on par with the rest of the bbq.
What I would really like to know is; did I kill one chicken twice or two chickens once?
speechless.
The other morning he obviously needed money and was hustling all the customers to come to his barbeque. Usually I wouldn't bother with this kind of thing but I thought I should treat myself to a good feed. I paid my 50,000 kip (more than double what I would usually pay for a meal).
The bbq was supposed to kick off at six pm. At five thirty pm he hadn't even managed to rock himself out of his hammock. He eventually stirred and wandered off to look for a chicken. more than likely the first one that strayed into his path, regardless of who owned it. So, he returned all puffed out chested, like a returning hunter, carrying a single, solitary chicken. 'Some bbq this is going to be' I thought. He called me over and handed me the chicken saying Wait there. You kill, you kill. He went into his 'lean to' shack/kitchen. Maybe there's going to be a traditional little ritual he's going to get me to do with a sacrificial knife or something. He came back and handed me a broken chair leg. 'You smash head. I make fire'
With the chicken safely dispatched with a good ancient, ceremonial double tap I went back and relaxed . After about five minutes I could smell smoke. This was just about when the rain started. Five minutes after that I could strongly smell burning rubber, like someone was burning a bike tyre. 'Surely he's not. I bet you he is' I thought
Now this next bit is bizarre because I still don't know if I was being played or if it's true but he came back around to me and said 'Chicken not dead. Kill, kill.'. Sure enough I walk back into the hovel and there it is .Sitting there looking quite unharmed ,alive ,alert and healthy. This is a different chicken I thought. 'He's winding me up here. I gave it a good clobbering'. Anyway, I picked up the ceremonial chicken dispatcher and went to work again.This time I thought I would ring it's neck as well just to make sure. So after a swift clonk I grabbed it's neck at which point it decides that it wants to take up jogging. So there I am kneeling down on a dirt floor in a darkened hut with a chicken flapping like crazy while I'm trying to throttle the life out of it after smashing its head in with a sacrificial chair leg and I'm thinking to myself 'Bloody hell you were vegetarian before you came out here. Now look at you. Oh well, it can't get any worse I thought to myself. I quickly changed my mind when a bit of boiled chicken neck was slid in front of me with a bit of rice. Obviously he was nowhere to be seen. Already slid off to buy his crystal meth or what have you. Needless to say, the chicken was on par with the rest of the bbq.
What I would really like to know is; did I kill one chicken twice or two chickens once?
speechless.
