temples with embossed gold shutters, gold stencils on black or scarlet walls, fanciful roof details and cut glass mosaics of charming scenes,
wats large and small, relevant to both ancient practices and modern life
gold cloaked monks up to collect alms at dawn and then eager to practice English with those willing
food choices that run the gamut between spicy Laos lapp to spaghetti bolognaise to croissants and lattes to schnitzel au gratin, a night market that fills the main street for tourists and a day market that clears the nasal passages for locals, boat trips and trekking trips and elephant trips, hills and waterfalls and caves, and more guesthouses than you can shake a stick at, all located at the confluence of two rivers and the base of several hills.
We drifted around trying to get information (just because there's a sign up that indicates they sell tickets down't mean they actually sell tickets or know where and when the boat/bus goes or even if it goes - we learned that you just do your own thing and hope it works out) and cash (one bank closed often and two ATMs that break down often) and tried not to get frustrated. The Lao people are lovely, sweet, friendly, happy people to engage in conversation and blank, uninformed, disorganized, incommunicative people to engage in business.
As in Siem Reap there are travellers of every description here, as there are hotels and guesthouses of every level. We met a delightful couple (well we actally met them on a long walk we took in Vangvieng) and had a thoroughly enjoyable meal (Laos style BBQ and a lot of Lao beer) at a locals sorts of place at a rickety table overlooking one of the rivers, and we also had an equally lovely meal at a French restaurant that took credit cards and featured local music and dance to reward ourselves for surviving a frustrating 'chores' day.
The Presidential palace
was a beautifully liveable place with the most stunning throne room (aforementioned cut glass mosaics on walls) and a complete absence of information about the last king who 'disappeared'. Gifts from countries were displayed, but where they were from was the most revealing (Russia, Japan, China, USA, India). Surprised to see a gleaming white Edsel with the Lao emblem on its doors (along with two white Lincoln Continentals from the 50s and early 60s) parked in the garage (the Edsel had been the king's favourite - photos not allowed). Of course we had to go through it in bare feet, as we must go through everywhere, but it's the most sensual experience walking along wide boarded wooden corridors with outside windows open to let breezes in , or on cool tile and marble stairs and temple floors, or on wooven mats in front of altars piled high with offerings of marigolds, fruit and incense sticks.
After an hour or two we find a huge cave with a lagoon at the bottom full of cool water and hundreds of fish. 
We meet another couple of travellers (East Germany) and share a beer with them overlooking the river as the sun starts its descent. We need a little snack before heading home and find the perfect thing in a banana and chocolate pancake cooked by the side of the road and then carried on our way. 
The mountains slowly fade into night and the air cools to about 20 degrees. For others it's time to party; for us, to snuggle among good books in our bungalow with its view across the river to prepare for a long bus journey tomorrow.
After lunch we hit the tubes on the river. We get in and our told to stop at the first bar but we are not told how to stop. This is where the fun starts.
We feel as if we have landed in a reality show akin to Temptation Island. What is ironic is that one of our party is a European director for "Beauty and the Geek". Lots of material here for a new show. We decide that it's sink or swim and so join in the dancing and shrieking at the people throwing themselves into the river off of "flying foxes" (pulleys on ropes) and unstable looking diving towers. After about an hour we are back in the river (feeling quite merry but surreal at this point) heading to the next bar which is the same meal deal but with a waterslide. This goes on all afternoon and we get back frozen but happy in the late afternoon as once the sun starts to go down it gets chilly in the water.
And a wonderful golden stupa of great size - it has been painted gold to show what it would have looked like with its original gold leaf
There's a new tower that is at the centre of all roads - it looks moorish to me - and has become the new icon of the city - you can climb to the top for a cool breeze and a decent view until the pollution swallows up the distance.
Watching local kids and a few travellers playing badminton in the streets - the kids having a good time, the travellers getting competitive.
After about an hour the boat enters a swampy river, past floating fishing villages. Bare shacks are made of sticks, laundry strung in lines between two submerged trees and required a boat to hang or collect the clothes. 
Long, shallow boats allow locals to travel along the single, narrow lane of water open, manoeuvering between the trees and shrubs that grow out of the water. Branches grasped along the open sides of our boat, whipping against the supports that divided the seating area (hard bench seats along both sides) and the roof (and open space when the luggage was dumped and where those braving the hot sun lay, huddled in the middle to avoid being swept off by branches. Every once in a while we came upon another boat, so passing became an issue of great discussion. 
During high water, a faster boat plows through and causes mayhem, submerging local boats, snagging fishing lines and churning up the lake/river bed. The water is not so high, so we were on a slower boat that occasionally showed courtesy by slowing down (before submerging local boats, snagging fishing lines and churning up the lake/river bed). There were a few stops to pick up locals, and in each case the landing was haphazard and awkward. At one point, both speed and distance were misjudged and our boat hit the dock, bounced off, ran completely over a small boat (swamping it) and, after the engine was cut, slowly drifted towards a net fishing enclosure beside one home, stopping within inches and thus not quite destroying the family's food supply and possible livelihood. While the two boatmen looked in consternation, two 7 year old boys came to the rescue by rowing the passengers to the boat. Most entertaining. 
To be fair, although the driver (I'm sorry - I can't bring myself to call him a pilot!) was positioned in the bow, his view was obscured by another 12 feet of boat rising in a curve upward. In particularly shallow or tricky waters, his accomplice stood on the bow and gestured with his hand to provide direction, which was followed, more or less.
The trip was scheduled to take 5 hours. It took 7, but we'd heard that in low water it can take as long as 12, so we got off lightly. We took bets on the timing and I won, guessing within 5 minutes (Martin was an hour more pessimistic). Thankfully we had stocked up with bread and nuts and bananas and dried ginger, as well as water of course, but we didn't drink too much as the loo on board was barely a single * on Martin's toilet scale., and teh boat was full to the brim with backpacks and local passenger's more eclectic booty that it was difficult to move.
We spent today wandering around the provincial, dusty town of Battambang, visiting wats, playing with the children of restaurant workers who just hang around bored otherwise and getting hydrated in preparation for the return boat journey back to Siem Reap (now we know which side to sit on to avoid the blazing midday sun). A lovely peaceful interlude.
