I’m at a tiny gas station in the Bolaven Plateau of Southern Laos, trying to explain to the woman how much of the magenta liquid I need. I point to my nearly-empty fuel gauge; she hands me the hose to hold while she cranks the manual pump.
And then I have to figure out how much I owe her. Neither
of us speaks more than two words of the other’s language, and nodding
and smiling doesn’t get you far when dealing with numbers.
