Luang Prabang

Is there anyone except the most anti-social traveller who doesn't fall in love with Luang Prabang? Old french colonial buildings with shutters and dark wooden balconies,

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.