Aubrie Speaking: American HMO's Pull Through at the Edge of the World

It seems that American HMO's can, and do, come in useful. Who would ever have thought this to be true? I'm covered by a travel insurance company, Assist America, through Columbia University's medical insurance program. They have a 24-hour emergency contact number and an email address, so I sent them an email informing them of my condition and asking if there was any way that they would provide me with crutches. Within a number of hours, they had emailed me back, seeming quite concerned about my injury and offering me a whole host of medical options, one being, of course, to head back into Thailand, which I don't want to do. So, they instead went ahead (without me asking, no less) and found me an international clinic in Luang Prabang, called the center to notify the English speaking staff of my possible arrival in a few days time, gave me the name of a specific doctor to contact, a Dr. Sune, told me the clinic's hours of operation, and the list goes on and on.... They even asked if I was able to get around and if I needed anyone to assist me. And to think that all this time I harbored an immense hatred for private medical insurance companies--well, to be honest, perhaps I still do. The lesson may be that they only care about you once you leave the continental United States.

As for the state of my foot, it is slightly less swollen, thanks to the incredibly friendly owner of the Erawan Restaurant in Vang Vieng, who has provided me with ice free of charge. I have little memory of how I actually did injure my foot--it was the middle of the night, and me being the strange nocturnal riser that I am, I got up out of bed and toppled to the ground, with all my weight landing on my toes and my foot. I immediately cried out in pain, which sent Gabriel shooting out of bed quite disoriented and confused, and I was overcome with nausea and cold sweats for about ten minutes from the pain. I think Gabriel thought I was in the midst of dying from some sudden onset of a tropical illness, until I explained that I had hurt my foot.

The woman at the Hopital de Vang Vieng--well, let's place "hopital" in quotes--told me, in broken English, that my foot wasn't broken. Then she said, soon after, that it was broken. Who knows. Judging from the size of it, the pain, and the extent and the severity of the bruising, which has now started spreading up the top of my foot, I would say I've broken something. I suppose I will never know, as the probability of them having x-ray machines in Luang Prabang is very low.

In Gabriel's next post, he will tell you about all the ways in which my injured foot has allowed us to meet more people. It's a good conversation starter, as you can imagine.

Now, on to Vang Vieng. This "ban farang," or foreigner's town as they call it, is small and somewhat sleepy. It's the dry season, and the brownish-red dirt blows around and covers my feet by the end of the day. It has the feel of a desert to it, both because of the dry earth and the cool temperatures at night. The giant limestone karsts that line the town are the epitome of the sublime, green vegetation clinging to the white stone, covered most of the day in a light mist, and thrusting up to such heights and such beautifully organic shapes. It gives Vang Vieng the character of a place situated at the edge of the known world. If this is the end of the world (there is even an "End of the World Cafe" here, B. Leigh), I'm a little disappointed to see how many typical backpackers are here, but happy to see that Pepsi is in great supply. All of these elements make Vang Vieng, and Laos in general, the most interesting part of the trip so far.