Mr Noy

An aberrant BLT accompanies my two large Americanos for breakfast in Joma. Fuel for my workout on the weight machines opposite Hotel Lane Xang, a free outdoor gym in Chao Anouvong Park. Apart from waxen-faced ladyboys or gay cruisers gawking from the benches, the set-up is unimprovable.

 

Unlike most other capital cities, Vientiane is eerily quiet over the weekend. The manicured park offering an unimpeded view across the Mekong is a delightful place to decompress. Deserted. Picturesque. Tranquil.

 

Wiping myself down with a silk Paul Smith hankie after three sets of thirty reps on a trio of machines, I cycle briskly along Fa Ngum, the river road, and skid to a halt outside Dairy Queen. Laos still holds no place for the malevolent Golden Arches but the chains are slowly starting to attenuate this once-unique city.

 

I, though, have no interest in Dairy Queen.

 

“Sabaidee Mr Noy. Sabaidee bor?”

 

No response.

 

Enter the abutting unmarked shop.

 

A Lao of indeterminate age hobbles in after me. Mr Noy sports a filthy blue plastic bag over his left foot. I don’t ask what happened. A greeting is invariably ignored so Mr Noy clearly has no interest in swapping small talk.

 

Pull a small iced Nescafe from the fridge for form’s sake.

 

“Heroin?”

 

“No Mr Noy. Marijuana.”

 

“No heroin?”

 

“No heroin.”

 

“China White!”

 

“I don’t care what it is Mr Noy. I don’t use heroin.”

 

Undeterred he presses on…

 

“Opium?”

 

“Marijuana Mr Noy. Marijuana.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

Opening a large box in plain view with his back to me, the Lao is now asking, “Three bags?”

 

“One bag.”

 

“Two bags?”

 

“One bag Mr Noy.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

One last attempt… “Two bags?”

 

I don’t even bother to reply. The routine never changes.

 

I place 150,000 kip on the counter.

 

“One more.”

 

Although another 50,000 kip is only $4, I always and only pay what I have given him already.

 

I palm the ounce of weed back towards him but he turns his back again, tosses the other two bags back into his box and then motions towards the coffee.

 

“Five thousand.”

 

I give him a ten thousand kip note, just over a dollar. I receive a small leer in place of change. Buy ten kilos of raw cocaine from one of these guys and he’d be happier over the fifty cents extorted than with the drug deal’s profit.

 

Heading back onto the street, I unshackle my Trek and cut up briskly onto the main drag.

 

Cycling past the tuk-tuk drivers I ponder Vientiane’s drug scene. For that of a single party communist state it must be said it’s pretty fucking relaxed.

 

Mostly it’s sold quasi-openly on the streets. Often completely openly. Any half-hearted attempt at subterfuge is laughable by Western standards, as laughable as asking for marijuana after a lifetime of speaking in code on the phone.

 

On this extended stay I have digital scales so am able more accurately to judge the variable deals on offer.

 

A newcomer buying at random from an unknown tricycle driver will be handed a heat-sealed plastic bag with 5-7 grams of the standard bush weed. Low calibre. Smoke the bag straight through to get even slightly high. Said newcomer will have no problem if he is reluctant to ask around as each driver openly offers a roll-call of drugs as well as the service of prostitutes to almost any passer-by with a pulse. They’re like the guy of urban legend who stands on a street corner…

 

“I ask every passing girl if they wanna fuck. Hundredth girl? We’re fucking…”

 

Stay around longer than the average transient backpacker and the price can be halved while the quantity is upped to 10 grams or more brimming a medium sized Ziploc.

 

Mr Noy’s deals come in larger bags doubled over with two yellow elastic bands. Mr Noy does not use scales. His deals weigh in over a broad range of 25-45 grams.

 

Regaining my sprawling split level house, one modest joint rapidly prepared hits me like a mule.

 

Adulterated. Whether with some type of crop spray or laced with opium, meth or heroin, what I’m smoking punches above its weight.

 

This is what passes for a drug deal in the Land of a Million Elephants.