The Solution to Nagging Teens

Elle has been nagging me since forever about having her ears pieced and I confess the age of permission has been rather rubbery.

My own parents were quite insistent I not have mine done until I was 21. But I was at boarding school and at 15 my 'friends', armed with a compass, a small carton of frozen orange juice and can of Spray Fresh antiperspirant (both for numbing purposes, although the Spray Fresh may have been handy to stop me sweating) and a large eraser to stop said compass piercing my skull,  pierced my left ear.
That didn't hurt at all! I declared. Do it again - I'll have two - same ear please.
I can only think the first was beginner's luck. The second was excruciating. The back and forth rotating combined with increasing pressure to get the compass through the skin on the back of my ear seemed to go on for a week. But finally it was done and I was very happy with myself.

Someone had lent me some surgical steel studs which did the trick for the first few weeks, but it wasn't long before the lure of cheap plastic pearls from Coles Variety Store was too much and in they went. Within days my ear was dripping pus. Hmmm - delicious! Not. Back to the surgical steel.

Needless to say I was in more than a spot of bother when Mum turned up unexpectedly and I'd had no time to remove the earrings. And yes, she did notice. I said I'd take them out and she stood there and waited for me to do exactly that.

It was more than 20 years later, when I won some gorgeous earrings in the local school raffle that I lined up again for a piercing. This time at the chemist with a gun and the regular one in each ear.

So when Eleanor kept going on and on and on - I suddenly wondered what the issue was. I let her dye her hair whatever colour she likes (it's currently one shade off being completely black), she uses public transport, she has her own debit card and makes her own bed - what's the big deal about the ears?? Beats a nipple.

I have finally discovered the way to stop a teenager nagging. Say yes!

She had them done on Monday.

The Trip - Part V

Luang Prebang - is it just me or does that seriously sound like a name of a place made up by a 5 year old? Never the less, this is where we spend the next leg our journey.

On arrival in Laos, Geoff and George get waved through (probably because of George's wheelchair) and the girls and I are left to fill in 5 long forms before queueing behind the multitude of tourists, all holding their forms plus passport photos. Hmmm. We have no such photos. I think I missed that detail which I later find in the small print of our itinerary. As it transpires, should you ever happen to be in that part of the world, it's not essential to have a passport photo, you can (thank god!) pay an addition US buck per person and they copy the one in your passport. Phew! So after a long wait fuelling some unnecessary anxiety, we're finally issued with visas and admitted into Laos.

The first evening is magic as we meet up with close friends from Sydney for dinner. Just not enough time, but loved every minute at a fancy-pants restaurant (well, fancy-pants by Laos standards anyway).

The next day, yes, more wats...ahhhh! And that's where the picture of that toilet comes in. E had the worst runny bottom (and we've had lots over our years of travel). She's complaining of feeling sick and of course as you know, my sympathy runs deep so I say for god's sake pull yourself together and get in that van. So she does.

We arrive at the first wat - and she needs to go. Like, right now. We're directed to that toilet. Armed as I traditionally am with a roll of toilet paper and a packet of wet wipes wrapped in a hotel shower cap (yes, that too can be handy in moments like these - happy to explain if necessary -drop me a line) we survive. We get back to the wat...and George needs to go. OMG. Eighteen years old, taller than me by a long shot, unable to even stand on his own - and a filthy squat toilet our only option.

Geoff and I make our way through the building rubble back to that toilet, strip poor G from the waist down, support him from either side, position him over the drop and in that split second, he lets a huge one go. Geoff and I are practically high-fiving each other we're so proud. I don't think I could have felt more satisfied if I'd dropped that myself!!!

Back to the tour....E's feeling like crap (pardon the pun) and George has had enough so Geoff and I and Sass walk to the top of the giggle-inducing Mt Phou Si (pronounced Pussy). I buy Sass three small finches in a bamboo cage to release for good luck. Those birds ain't silly and I suspect they've been caged and released more times that I've had hot dinners!!

Next time.... the strange courting rituals of the Laos hill tribes....