With impeccable dexterity, a Lao woman spreads dough rounds onto woven bamboo slats. Drying in the warm air outside her house, the dozens of racks and hundreds of perfectly formed discs pattern the walkway.
One of the things I enjoyed about Laos was how little plastic there was. Even the trash receptacles on public streets were woven baskets, and beautiful, skillfully hand-crafted items were everywhere in regular use. But progress was on the way, and as in 19th century America, it was riding the rails. In 2021, China completed a train line from its border in Yunnan to the Laotian capital Vientiane. Since then, in addition to 1 million passengers, it has transported 500,000 tons of cargo, no doubt including mountains of cheap plastic Chinese crap that is replacing local craft. It has also put Laos $0.5 billion in debt to Beijing.
When I was in Vientiane in 2005, I rented a small motorcycle with a brand name that reflected a not quite perfected relationship to modernity … or a very arch sense of humor.
In Mexico, a rudimentary machine turns out tortillas at a small factory that stretches onto the sidewalk. The battle between plastic crap and craft is well underway in Mexico, with the former in sad ascendancy.
It seems impossible to stop the march of plastic.