Coming in to land, for me, is where one’s holiday truly begins. The rigors of making those final tedious arrangements one has to make, the goodbyes and the monotonous passing of time in duty free and throughout the flight are finally over, from here on in, its excitement all the way. As I peered inquisitively through my small port-hole cum window, I started to make my first impressions of the land I was about to explore, its people I would meet, the place that would become my temporary home, well for the next three days anyway! What I observed was not quite what I expected, rolling hills, dense foliage, a meandering chocolate coloured river, a town that looked no bigger than a village. Was this South America I asked myself, had I boarded the wrong flight and traveled at super-sonic speed.
The pilot, as if on cue, reassuringly put my troubled mind at ease, announcing that we had in fact just touched down, landing just outside the provincial and religious capital of Northern Laos, Luang Prabang. A World Heritage site, a town reputedly over 650 years old that, during its history, has been occupied by the Japanese and the French as well as experiencing the mysterious, and most unusual disappearance of its Royal Family. Consequently, this old town has a mixed identity, an undeniable air of intrigue and a few pleasant surprises up its sleeve for the few curious visitors that chose to come here.
The airport was small and not entirely user friendly I discovered as I made my way through customs. I could easily have been forgiven for harboring doubts about my own welfare as I eyed the staff, cloaked in militia style uniforms expressionless unwelcoming faces staring back, at one point I was told to “wait here” like a scolded schoolboy. However, once through passport control and outside, a friendly face greeted me, introducing himself as Lek, then confidently proceeding to tell me he knew where there was a “very good hotel, delicious breakfast and not far.” What had I got to lose I thought, at the very least it guaranteed a ride into town. Ten minutes later, after a bumpy ride on a very uneven tarmaced road that run only to the cities edge, his words rang true. The room was spotlessly clean, had hot water and was far better than I imagined.
However, it was time to make tracks and set about what I had come here for, exploring Lang Probing and its famous architecture. I headed for the focal point of the town, The Royal Palace Museum. Having paid the nominal fee and deposited my shoes, I entered the main hall, an elaborately decorated room with thousands of small mirrored tiles adorning the walls, the centre-piece a gold reproduction of the venerated Par Bang. My lasting impressions of this building though were if the Royals lived like this, then Laos was once, and certainly to some degree still is, a very poor country indeed. Outside, the grounds consisted of symmetrical rows of coconut trees, manicured lawns and long paths giving a distinct, colonial feel to the site.
The late afternoon sun was beginning to wane and having read my guide, there was only one place to head, or should I say climb. Some three-hundred steps took me to the top of Mount Phousi where Wat Chomsi dominates the landscape, its gold-spired stupa radiating warmth and a feeling of well-being in the suns dancing rays. The panoramic views are fantastic. Rugged mountains, dense forests and the formidable Mighty Mekong flowing south provide a humbling view for the observer to remember; only a handful of which had made the climb.
At night the sedate laid back ambience of the town became apparent. The main street, and believe me there really is only one, was dotted with restaurants and their tables spilling out onto the street, the odd gift shop, art gallery and ever-present yet popular, internet café. After dining on two local recommendations, steak Lao and beer Lao, both surprisingly good, I strolled down a dark, quiet and empty dimly lit street to the rivers edge where I found a nice bar with candles on the tables, lanterns swinging merrily above my head and best of all, silence. No music, no traffic, just the idle sounds of the Mighty Mekong creeping by, what more could I wish for before making the leisurely amble home.
Laotians, I discovered, rise early as I tucked into a breakfast of fresh French stick and eggs. My table, on the hotel verandah, afforded a great view of the busy street and its residents on the go. A large plate of mixed fruit kept me longer than I planned but what the heck, life is often spent rushing about, I continued to watch the streets daily events unfold, “Another tea please” and it duly arrived. Lek inquired of my plans for the day and on hearing these, insisted on me using his “good friend’s boat” which I did. After all, he’d come up trumps so far. At the river’s edge, my skipper greeted me with a toothless smile and a strong hand that aided me on to his boat, one that was unusually long and narrow but thankfully, one that provided shade from the hot morning sun.
Off we set, up river in search of the famous Pak Ou Caves, a journey that would take around two hours and cover some 25kms. My first stop came quickly at “Paper Village” the captain informed me. Not on my itinerary, not that it mattered as I was here to explore. I picked my way along the muddy rivers banks before climbing yet another steep set of steps. At the top, four small bare-footed children greeted me with huge smiles and giggling hellos, pointing at the first shop that was now in view. A proud looking thick-setted man invited me in to his home, his business and his life. He showed me a variety of his wares, lamps, cards and pictures all made from paper-mache and then duly explained charade style the different stages of production involved. I bought a handful of cards for $2, guiltily wondering how this man and his family survive here. His wife shyly sneaked the occasional glance as she continued to work the ramshackle but effective loom, an array of brightly coloured garments she’d produced hung by her side, the fruits of her own hard work. I bought a scarf, and a story, for my mother. The four children once again waved enthusiastically as I boarded my boat and headed off, further up river, into the dense forest of green that ran alongside the river’s edge, a stark contrast to the brown, syrupy river. At times I could see for miles, huge mountains and blue skies melting into one to produce an unspoilt memory of this land.
Not long and it was time to stop again, this time at the whisky village. This one was larger than the last and had more for the few tourists to buy, opium kits, sarongs shirts and scarves, decorative weights and many other nik-nakky things. I tried the whisky, lao lao, very brave considering the small earthenware tumbler I drank from looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The verdict: definitely moonshine alright, and hot on the throat too. In the centre of the village I found a very small and very old Temple amongst well kept grounds, the stupa’s lent haphazardly, a testament to their age. The site held a timeless feel and an eerie silence hung noticeably in the air.
It was the final leg of the journey now, to a site that thousands of devotees visit during the annual Pimai Festival, and another chance for me to explore. The main cave housed thousands of wooden and gilded Buddha images of varying degrees of size but didn’t take long to see. To the left was a crumbling path and sloping walls that takes you to the upper caves, Tham Thum, worth the climb. From here I popped across the river to have lunch, joining four other farangs who had made the trip. As westerners we all agreed on one thing, as nice as it was, it was hard to imagine why people, though seemingly happily, chose to live here. The silence was immeasurable and much appreciated but it was time to go, starting the long uninterrupted voyage back down the river to my home for my second, and final quiet night.
After another hearty breakfast, my chariot awaited. Lek this time recommended an air-conditioned car to take me Kuangsi Falls. The roads are only tarmaced to the city’s edge, after that it’s nothing more than a dirt track till Vientienne, the dust isn’t good on your eyes and lungs, he advised. I bowed to superior knowledge and set off in the comfort of his friend’s car. The journey took me deep into forests, up steep hills and down into deep valleys. As Lek had informed me, the road was little more than a sun-scorched dirt-track, and very dusty. Generally the ride was smooth bar the odd horrendous pot hole and rain induced rut. The journey took just under an hour; I was keen to stretch my legs. The waterfall was only a short walk from the car park, taking me briefly through thick undergrowth and massive trees, beneath which a few stalls sold touristy gifts, cold drinks and snacks.
The falls were totally unspoilt and again only a handful of tourists were at the site, enabling me to appreciate and photograph it at my own pace. The water, a startling aqua-marine was surprisingly cold my toes discovered. I watched it cascade down the sixty foot drop into a deep plunge pool, then down into, and beyond, the village I decided to explore. Wooden houses on stilts with large urns strategically placed to catch the falling rain, chickens and cats and a remarkable degree of cleanliness made it a pleasant walk down the hill. Children, as always took a friendly interest as I walked by, noting the tiny village school and the quaint old bridge where locals had now gathered to chat beneath the shade of the trees. Here, as elsewhere on my brief travels of Northern Laos, I chose to sit and breathe in the real ambience of the place, its serene beauty, its quiet life, its friendly and helpful people. After only two days here I now felt totally relaxed and at ease. For those wanting a quiet weekend away or an interesting break from the norm, then Luang Prabang is definitely well worthwhile.

FACTFILE
Flights- Thai Airways- 9200baht return
Hotels-average- Mano Guest House - 550baht twin sharing per night
-Expensive- Villa Santi- 2500baht twin sharing per night
Food and drinks - meal for two - 300baht.
Boat trip -120baht including tip.
Visa - 1050baht for farang, 3days process.
- 1500baht for farang, 3hours process
Lao Embassy, Pracha-Uthit Rd, Huay-Kwang
Tel-025396667 ext109 Open Mon-Fri 8am-4pm.