There’s something incredibly romantic about being woken by the crowing of a rooster. Unless of course, it’s midnight, which is the time most
Laos roosters seem to think appropriate to start their morning reveille - a performance which finishes, ironically, about the time the sun rises six hours later.
Laos might be quieter in most senses than neighbouring Thailand, but at night it’s a symphony of fauna - the roosters compete with fighting dogs, screaming cats, chirping geckos and the buzz of mosquitoes - all of which manage to rise above the clunk of the struggling air conditioning system in my guest house. I’m in Vientiane, the Laos capital.
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