April is the hottest month in Laos. That is why Pi Mai exists. It is the Lao New Year and the primary holiday season. Every single Laotian considers it their absolute right to take time off and celebrate. Temperatures soar past 40 degrees Celsius, and the sun turns the world into a microwave, leaving the streets completely deserted. Based on my personal statistics from living here for over a decade, this lasts for about a week. It is a time that encapsulates the innate know-how of the Lao people. They party for a week straight as if there is no tomorrow. The country practically drinks itself dry of Beerlao.

In stark contrast, April in Korea is the month that heralds spring with blooming cherry blossoms. The Koreans who travel to Laos right now are either entirely oblivious to the local conditions or simply lack the sense to tell a good idea from a bad one. Because this marks the low season, many Korean expats in Laos pack up and return to Korea. Making a living here during this time becomes severely disrupted. Naturally, those in the travel industry take the hardest hit, triggering a domino effect that collapses all the dependent local businesses.

Just last year, tourist numbers were decent enough to spark a boom; massage parlors popped up on every block, and Korean restaurants opened one after another. Things were going so well that golf courses—which practically cannot operate without Korean clientele—raised their green fees across the board. I found it highly questionable that they were forcibly hiking up caddie fees, but I just let it slide.

And then, a massive phishing scam scandal erupted in neighboring Cambodia. Rumors quickly spread that those criminal gangs had all fled to Laos. Suddenly, Laos was branded with the stigma of being a new haven for organized crime. To make matters worse, some old geezer supposedly bragged on YouTube about having slept with 200 young Lao women. Things got so bad that if a husband said he was going to Laos, his wife would tell him to sign divorce papers before boarding the plane.

"Stop! Do not go to Laos!" The Korean government even reportedly issued travel warnings to its public officials.

Sigh... We're ruined!

The wailing of the travel agencies began. When travel agencies cry, the businesses leaning on them are left to starve. The fallout is taking a heavy toll on the Lao economy as well. The locals who relied on Korean tourists have seen their pockets drastically empty out. The real problem, however, is that this isn't just a one-year blip. The travel industry is entirely dictated by trends. And for Laos, that trend has definitively ended.

The true charm of Laos cannot be articulated in words; it is an allure you have to "feel." It is an inexplicable magnetism that draws you in without you even realizing it. It is a charm that simply doesn't work on people who only chase trends.

To me, there is no country as comfortable as Laos. I wish it would just stop changing. I wish they wouldn't install any more traffic lights. I wish a bowl of Khao Piak or Pho would just stay at 30,000 kip. I wish my favorite cigarettes, which used to be 90,000 kip a carton, wouldn't go up in price anymore.

I wish, I wish, I wish...

But desires are always crushed by the weight of change. When a war happening on the other side of the globe impacts the very place I live, what is there left to wish for? Globalization has only driven humanity further apart. The closer humans get to one another, the further apart we are destined to become.

Humanity now stands at the absolute edge.