Luang Prabang

Ray Storey

A short Trip to Luang Prabang

by

Ray Storey

Table of Contents

1. Preparations 2. First impressions of the town 3. Lightning tour of the temples of Luang Prabang 4. Introductory encounter with the great river of South east Asia 5. …Wild animals encounter included 6. Only mad dogs, Englishmen…and tourists…

Please note that my galleries of pictures relating to this trip can be found on my web-site, at: http://allraysworld.com/laos—luang-prabang.html

1. Preparations.

There is a 90day rule in Thailand, that requires most farang residents to leave the country for a short period. I have a one-year Visa, but still have to honour the 90day rule unless I happen to find my self in employment and possessing a Work Permit. Right now my employment status is “between jobs”, although I am due to start a new contract within a week or so.

So, I must leave the country. This seems like a good excuse to find a place to visit in a nearby country. Bangkok is conveniently situated, so that it is an excellent hub for short visits to many South Asian countries.

A plane trip of an hour or so, depending on type of plane, will cover destinations in Myanmar, Malaysia, Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos. Of these countries, Laos is especially of interest to me, as it is the only one I have not yet visited. A quick hunt on the Internet identifies Luang Prabang as a destination of interest for a two day initial visit.

There are daily flights on offer from two regional airlines, direct to Luang Prabang from Bangkok. And there is no problem about Visas…I can buy one on arrival. There is a small selection of Luang Prabang “hotels” with websites; I scan through them quickly; I blind-select one with mid-price range and distinguishing itself by claiming great sunset views of Mekong River from every room; there is a phone number on the website, so I call immediately and make a booking. Ready to go!

At the last minute Na, who has been turning up her nose at the idea of visiting Laos, has a change of mind so I quickly organise a second plane ticket. Na is contemplating a quick shopping trip before we leave, so she can acquire a few items of warm clothing [rationale…Laos is not Thailand; Thailand is a hot place; other countries are not as hot as Thailand; Na will possibly die of frostbite]; we debate the point a little, then she relents and we easily pack clothes for HOT weather in a small bag.

We fly Bangkok Airways, from Suwannabhumi Airport, and will stay 2 nights at Le Calaos Hotel in Luang Prabang. All other arrangements will be made as and when needed.

2. First impressions of the Town

It is a little on the cold side in the plane…an ATR-72, a model Bangkok Airways seems to use a lot for short haul flights. We step out of the plane to the concrete apron, and the heat is familiar. It is a short walk to the Arrivals Hall, a tidy but very small room which would look crowded if the plane had been filled to its 70 passenger capacity.

Just inside the door is the first queue; this is where casual visitors are processed for Visa-on-Entry. Somehow I have managed to be first in the queue. While waiting for service I read the few notices on the walls to see if I can get clues about process, costs, things like that. There is a schedule of Visa charges, and I am amused to discover the price varies depending on nationality of the visitor; I am somewhat bemused by the discovery there is no mention of Australia on the list.

Soon enough there is movement at the service counter. I hand over my passport, Visa application and photo. I try to hand over Na’s also, but she is informed politely there is no requirement for Visa for Thai nationals. I am moved sideways to a second desk, where I am informed the cost for my Visa is US$30. Another sideways movement and I am at the Immigration desk, where my passport is perused and stamped in World Record time. We grab our bag, and are through the Airport and into the street in minutes.

Taxis are readily available outside. There is a “taxi desk” where one buys the fixed price trip to town for 200baht. We get a little insight into the currency situation here also; it is as follows:

i) the local currency [Kip] is readily used, and there appears to be none of the distaste for it that we saw for the local currency [Kyat] in Myanmar on a visit there recently.

ii) the universal currency [US$] is readily accepted also. There is an approximate exchange rate of US$1 <> Kip10,000 but we find many retailers are looking for a better rate as they are sensitive to the recent softening of the greenback. Rates varied a bit, but the accepted rate for purchase of goods was something like US$1 <> Kip9,000.

iii) most popular currency in Laos seems to be Thailand baht, and the rate is Baht40 <> Kip10,000.

Our driver has a minivan, and I notice it is left-hand-drive. I bang my head on the low roof as I step in, and see stars for a few minutes. We are moving very slowly, and there seem to be several reasons for this:

i) it’s an illusion…after travelling in Thai taxis, everything else seems slow,

ii) the road from the Airport to town is not in great shape; it is paved but the pavement is broken up a bit and poorly patched,

iii) there is a speed limit of 35kph in built up areas, which means everyone is travelling slowly, and

iv) the driver knows he is temporarily in a sales monopoly situation…he is the only driver who can pitch additional travel to us at this time; as he drives along, he is busily interrogating us in passable English to determine the possibility he can win a full-day fare to take us around the main attractions. He offers a full day, with the itinerary including the Caves and Waterfall for 2,000baht; this sounds a bit expensive to me, especially as it becomes evident his air-con is non-functional, so I turn his offer down.

It is a short trip to town. As we drive through the town centre, to our hotel on the river bank, it becomes evident that this is also a very small town. There are no buildings higher than 3 or 4 stories. The roads are quite narrow, but the traffic is light. The streets seem to be quite clean. There are a number of places where roadworks are underway…renovating curbs, footpaths [with the omni-present crazypave blocks] and road surface. Most signs on streets and shops are in English, and a few are in French. Like Thai, the Laos written language is derived from Sanskrit; Na is surprised to discover she can actually read it a bit, although she is somewhat confused by the longer loops and tails, and the different tonal clues.

We arrive at the hotel I have pre-booked by phone. Sure enough, it is on the river road. Sure enough, it looks quite like the illustrations from the website.

Check-in could not be easier…we are met at the counter at one side of the tiny lobby by a smiling young man;

“Good afternoon”, he says, “do you have a booking?”

“Yes”, I reply, and give him my name.

“Aah, yes, we have room 1 ready for you”.

He hands me a key, and two small registration forms which he indicates I can return to him at my leisure. Another smiling young man appears and tries to take our bag. I wrestle it off him, as he seems far too small and slim to be capable of carrying it up the stairs. It is a brief struggle, and he is far too polite to beat me up, so he quite quickly and leads the way up the nicely polished wooden staircase to the second floor. I do a quick door count, and conclude this hotel has a total of 6 rooms for rent [later I confirm this to be entirely accurate].

The room is small, but not tiny; the walls are stucco, painted off-white; The ceiling is high, and wooden beams are highlighted in dark brown paint; There is a small double bed, and some basic wooden furniture in what I presume is the “French Provincial” style. There is an air-conditioner, which our guide switches on for us as he is leaving. Na takes it all in quickly, and then pronounces “no fridge and NO TV”. Our bathroom is entirely clad in off-white marble; there is a large shower stall, a western flushing toilet and a strangely avante garde hand-basin with an enormous tap-set; there is hot water, toilet paper, and an adequate supply of towels. Strangely, as Laos was a French territory, there is no bum-shower beside the toilet.

As advertised, the room has a private balcony and, from it, one has a view of the Mekong River and the hills beyond.

3. Lightning tour of the temples of Luang Prabang

One of the short list of activities I wanted to undertake on this initial visit to Laos was a tour of a few of the 30+ Buddhist temples in the small town of Luang Prabang.

We lounge about on the bed in our room for 15 minutes or so…OK, we are now rested and ready to explore. Our simple plan is to just walk out of the hotel and wander a bit. That is what we do. After just a few steps I come to realisation that 40Deg+ temperatures of mid-afternoon are not conducive to a walking tour of the temples.

But…no matter…right turn along the river road, 100 metres from our hotel, we come to a temple; I am quickly able to identify that it is indeed the most famous of all the temples of Luang Prabang if not the whole of Laos…wat xieng thong.

On the river side of the road there are broad concrete steps leading right down to the water. On the other side, the steps continue up to the temple forecourt. On the forecourt we are quickly accosted by a lady who indicates we must purchase tickets if we are to explore the temple…that is quite different from the Thailand situation, where everyone can come and go as they please… and the price is 20,000kip [US$2.50 or baht80] per person. While we are standing at the small table, getting our brains into gear, a couple of other local folks wander over to observe proceedings. I ask for confirmation of my baht calculation; this causes some consternation as, clearly entrance is free for locals and, they cannot quite decide if Na is local or not. The ticket lady gently quizzes Na, who confirms she is a foreign tourist. All is settled without “loss of face”…we pay 160baht, and are free to wander.

The first thing I notice is that the shade of the verandah of the main temple building is entirely occupied by a group of young European back-packer tourists; they are all more-or-less collapsed on the tiles and steps. They have very flushed faces, and wet clothing. I think maybe they have not been in Asia very long, and the oppressive heat has totally flattened them. They don’t look like they will be moving any time soon, so we pick our way past the group, and enter the building.

Inside the main building is dominated by a large seated Buddha icon. There is a mat in front of it, so we kneel and offer our respects. The interior is somewhat dark, but it is possible to make out the intricate gold-painted patterns over almost all the wall space. There are plain round stucco-covered brick pillars, which evidently hold up the roof and certainly give the impression the walls of the building are not structurally weight-bearing.

Back outside again, Na stands in the shade of a building, while I dash about in the hot sun pointing the camera at anything that looks a little different from a Thai temple. We take a side gate, and walk back to the main road via a small lane. I suggest, as casually as possible, that perhaps it might be sensible if we negotiate a 2 hour hire of a tuk tuk and have the driver take us to the temples he regards as most significant. It is evident there are several temples quite close to this one, but in truth I don’t have any desire to turn into a melted blob like the young tourists we have just observed. Na agrees.

There are a couple of idle tuk tuks in the main road, near the steps. Tuk tuks are different from those produced on a factory assembly line in Thailand; here they are “jerry-built” devices, comprising a motorcycle that has been cut off at the back of the riders seat, and onto which has been welded a roofed carriage containing two long stools and able to accomodate about 4 adult passengers. Suspension is either crude, or non-existent….it is a good thing the speed limit in town is only 35kph.

We approach the two young uys lounging in the shade near the tuk tuks, believing they are the operators of the hire vehicles.

“We want to see some temples in Luang Prabang. We would like it if you could take us to see the temples, and would like to hire you for 2 hours to take us. Can?”, I ask.

The guys glance at Na, clearly assessing her comprehension of their language; she gives nothing away. Then they chat together for a little while, and one pronounces “Can.”

“How much, for 2 hours…Thai baht?”

5 fingers…“500 baht”.

“400 baht?”

“OK…OK.” Hmmmm!. Obviously 300 baht would not have been out of the question.

As we are climbing aboard the indicated machine….parked second in the queue of two vehicles…a third young guy comes running…remonstrating loudly, pointing at his tuk tuk which is first in the queue, and clearly less than overjoyed about circumstances. I look to our driver for guidance, not wishing to get caught up in any local supply/demand wars. He shrugs voluably, hands out, palms up, and climbs into the driver’s seat, pointedly ignoring his competitor.

We visit several temples, each with distinctive characteristics, and all within walking distance of our hotel if it was not so hot. The driver is affable, and tries quite hard to communicate, but has grossly under-developed tour-guide skills.

After a couple of hours we feel we have sated our curiosity about Laos Buddhist temples; while there are similarities with temples in Thailand, we have found the architecture is somewhat different, and the atmosphere is more akin to tourist curiosity than centre of religiosity. We have run 10 minutes or so past our 2 hour booking, but the driver is perfectly satisfied with our agreed fee [further proof that I did not bargain keenly enough]. We are back at our hotel about dusk, and in good time for a shower and change before seeking our first Laos meal.

4. Introductory encounter with the great river of South east Asia

When I think of the movie Apocalypse Now, two main thoughts come to mind, they are:

i) Joseph Conrad’s doomsday book Heart of darkness, upon which this movie seems to be heavily based, is more about the clash of cultures due to incompatible references [experiences, moral & ethical templates] than anything else, and

ii) the real star of the movie is the river…the great, serpentine Mekong river.

Mekong (Tibetan Dza-chu; Chinese Lancang Jiang; Thai Mae Nam Khong), river in southeastern Asia, the longest river in the region. From its source in China’s Qinghai Province near the border with Tibet, the Mekong flows generally southeast to the South China Sea, a distance of 4,200 km (2,610 mi). The Mekong crosses Yunnan Province, China, forms the border between Myanmar (formerly known as Burma) and Laos and most of the border between Laos and Thailand, and flows across Cambodia and southern Vietnam, emptying into the South China Sea. In the upper course are steep descents and swift rapids, but the river is navigable south of Louangphrabang, Laos.Source: Wikipedia

It is the river, more than anything else, that has drawn me to Luang Prabang.

Last night, as we were walking about the town taking in the Night Market [low key] and finding a restaurant that looked like it might be popular with locals [found one full of tourists, but the food was rather bland], we came upon a young guy outside a Tour Booking Shop. He had a pleasant style, so we sat down and booked a full day tour comprising boat trip up the Mekong to the Pak Ou caves in the morning followed by air-con van trip into the hills to the [famous] Waterfalls…100,000kip [400baht] per person.

We have no trouble in getting out of bed in plenty of time for breakfast before the 8:00am start; unfortunately, the hotel cook is not so disciplined and so we twiddle our thumbs for 45 minutes of the 1 hour we thought would be ample time for a leisurely starter. So, we bolt down our “American” breakfast…2 fried eggs, with 2 strips of over-cooked bacon, 2 slices of toast [Note #1], strawberry jam, bottomless coffee cup [Note #2]…and briskly walk 200metres along the river road to the agency.

We arrive at precisely 8:00am, and find the shop deserted. We are observed by a chubby little guy on the other side of the road; presently, he has his mobile phone out, and is looking at us while talking into the phone; 2 minutes pass, and our contact shows. He immediately whips out his mobile phone and conducts a short one-way communication.

Another minute passes. Two motorcycles arrive, ridden by attractive young ladies.

“Now you go on motorcycle”, says our contact.

“Very strange”, I think, “as I am certain we booked a boat trip.” We climb on the motorcycles, and quickly travel 400metres along the river road to where 20 or so tourists have converged at some concrete steps leading down to the river. There are several Laos men sitting together, and I guess they are the boat operators. I check the river, and can see there are at least 20 boats strung together at the bottom of the steps…each capable of carrying perhaps 12-20 passengers. My feeling is we need two boats, and I guess the operators are constructing some kind of “straw poll” to decide who will have work today.

Pretty soon it is decided all passengers are present and accounted for, and so we are directed to descend the steps. Most of the Laos men wander away but two accompany us. Luang Prabang is a clean town; it is a bit of a surprise to discover we are walking through some kind of rubbish dump as we go down to the boats; rather reluctantly I conclude the good people of Luang Prabang regard the Mekong as a big drain and simply throw their refuse down the bank knowing it will be carried away by the next high river.

As expected, we are split into two groups and assisted aboard the vessels operated by the two lucky operators. The concrete steps peter out before we get to the water. The last few metres we walk on wet and rather slippery clay; then on a narrow and not-too-steady gangplank into our boat.

Typical of these tour boats, ours has a steel hull about 25 metres long and less than 2 metres wide. Chairs are roughly made wooden affairs, on the seats of which are thin, vinyl-covered cushions. Overhead is a low roof supported by a flimsy wooden jerry-built structure. The driver sits on a cheap plastic chair at the front of the vessel, with his steering wheel, throttle, gear lever and hammock. The engine is mounted near to the back of the vessel and, I am pleased to note, it has an effective exhaust system such that its sound is nothing more than a low rumble. There is no sign of life-jackets, or any other kind of flotation devices.

As soon as we are aboard, the “captain” stows the gangplank rather noisily on the roof, castes off, poles us stern-first out in to the stream, then takes his seat, starts the engine, and the voyage is commenced. We are to head upstream, about 25 kilometres, to the famous Pak Ou caves and returning about 1:00pm. At Luang Prabang the Mekong river is 300-400 metres wide, and has a strong current. The water is a burnt orange colour. There are hundreds of vessels moored along the banks. We are heading upstream, but stay close to the Luang Prabang shore at this point. Soon we come to a basic ship-yard in the river, where a large vessel is under construction.

A little further along is the confluence of the Khan and Mekong rivers; Khan water is distinctly greenish, and has travelled just a short way from the nearby hills; Mekong river is burnt orange, and has already travelled 2500 kilometres from its source in the high mountains near the border of China with Tibet.

We make a leisurely pace against the current, reaching Pak Ou in about 2.5 hours. Several times the “captain” takes us from one bank of the river to the other, using his experience and the mid-river navigation markers to select the best route for us. It is a pleasant “slow boat” trip, and affords plenty of opportunity to take in the many sights of Laos folks interacting with the river in various ways for work or recreation. There is something coming towards us very fast; it’s a long-tail “fast boat” ferrying passengers from around Chaeng Rai in Thailand to Luang Prabang.

It proves handy to have a camera with mega-zoom lens capability; from 300metres I am able to pull in a shot of young kids leaping from a huge rock to the water about 10 metres below.

Too soon, we arrive at Pak Ou, where we spend an hour or so viewing the famous caves, before re-embarking for the 1.3 hour return trip.

Note #1 … Unlike Thai bread, which is more like sweet, dry cake, Laos bread is very tasty and possesses a thick and crisp crust; I guess this has something to do with the many years of French influence in Laos.

Note #2 … Laos coffee is another pleasant surprise. The French colonialists set up many coffee plantations, and left behind a strong legacy of coffee making and drinking. The result is coffee that is incomparably better than is generally available in Thailand.

5. …Wild animals encounter included

We return to Luang Prabang, from the boat trip up to Pak Ou caves, in time for a quick lunch break before the scheduled afternoon trip to the famous waterfalls in the hills outside the town. There are several restaurants by the river…in fact their presence is noted by a sign on the riverside road, but the restaurants actually exist on concrete terraces part way down the river bank. We select a restaurant, but it doesn’t seem to have toilets; we decide to walk quickly back to the hotel for a toilet break, and then take a quick snack at the restaurant right next to the departure point for the mini-bus.

In our calculations we fail to make allowances for the debilitating effects of the 500 metre each-way tramp along the bitumen road in 40+deg mid-day heat. Half our available time is expended by the time we arrive…wet and exhausted…at the restaurant.

“We have 20 minutes, then our mini-bus goes to waterfall; can you make food quickly for us?” I ask the young lady who cruises over to our table.

She smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

We guess that means “yes” so order fried noodles and fresh fruit shakes, which should be a quick and easy order to fill. She departs. Five minutes pass, and the drinks arrive. They are refreshing. Another 10 minutes pass. Huge steaming plates of fried noodles arrive, causing my stomach to exclaim “I am hungry, and that looks delicious!”. But…how to do justice to the meal in 5 minutes?

Well…I am hungry, so I bolt it all down with time to spare. Na can’t quite manage my pace, so she gives up halfway through her plate; regretfully, because the food is delicious.

We pay the modest bill, and dash for the van, arriving at the same time as the driver. We pile in, along with the other tourists. There is a collective sigh of relief when we discover the van is fitted with functional air-conditioning. Off we go!

Oooops……

We are reversing along the riverside road, at quite a pace. Clearly, the driver knows what he is doing. Clearly, the tourists have not a clue; we are each looking at the others with bemused expressions; someone cackles…we all start to laugh! Now it is the turn of the driver to look bemused.

After 500 metres, of this somewhat novel touring method, we stop abruptly in the middle of the road. Ha! Now it is all clear. There is one vacant seat, and there is one missing passenger…a pretty young lady who has clearly used her persuasive potential to convince the driver he should collect her from her hotel. She alights.

Now we are off, travelling forwards, as one normally does when one is embarked upon a great adventure to observe the famous Waterfalls. We cruise slowly through the town. On the outskirts, there is a short stop at an official’s kiosk where the driver is clearly required to purchase travel permits for his passengers.

Off again. Almost immediately we are into the hills; the scenery is very attractive. Occasionally, the jungle clears, and we pass through a tiny village, with small farms around the little collection of wooden houses. But I stop paying attention to what is passing by, as it has suddenly become rather hot in the van, and all the other tourists are sweating and grumbling about the stifling conditions. Soon it is clear the driver has switched off the air-con; perhaps he feels it conserves a small amount of fuel and improves his profit; more likely, the van…a modern 12 seat hyundai… is severely underpowered, and the driver has discovered from prior experience that he needs all the horses his hard-working little diesel can generate just to lift his van-load of over-weight foreigners up the hill to the famous waterfalls. The grumbling continues until all the tourists have worn themselves out, then windows are opened and we continue up the hills with lots of [hot] breeze drying out our sweaty clothing.

We turn in to the carpark, which is just a cleared area of about half a hectare which has been lightly sprinkled with crushed rock and is surrounded by open-sided grass huts for vendors selling food, drinks and the local trinkets. I look quickly at the trinkets, and am pleasantly surprised to discover they are not the usual Chinese-made fake trinkets one often comes across all over South East Asia; rather, they have the appearance of genuine cottage-art stuff that may well have been made within a few kilometres of this place.

There is no obvious sign, but we find a path into the jungle and amble along it. Soon we come to the “conservation” display; there is a lone Asiatic tiger sleeping in a large chain-mesh enclosure [a storyboard tells the story of how she was captured by poachers as an infant, but found and rescued by authorities who are well-meaning but have no idea how they might repatriate her into the wild]; there is another enclosure containing about 6 or 8 Asiatic black bears, but I am unclear on how they happen to be in a cage rather than wandering about in the jungle eating foreigners and doing other stuff that large bears might like to engage in.

Our path continues on past the enclosures. Soon enough we are crossing small streams of sparkling water, and feel we are heading in the right direction. We cannot hear the roar of water falling…perhaps due to the deafening high-pitched buzzing of what must be thousands of native crickets in the jungle; I think, “this noise must drive the poor tiger nuts”.

Now we arrive at the first stage of the famous Waterfalls. We are not alone; in fact, there are dozens of tourists swimming and cavorting in a pool under a modest waterfall…obviously taking the sign “Bathing Permitted” to mean “Bathing Mandated”. I dip my toe in the water…Whao! Cold! I perform a quick, unscientific census, and conclude the estimate that 50% of adult westerners on Earth are significantly over-weight might be a little on the conservative side. There is a thick, knotted rope dangling from a high branch in a nearby tree, and so we are treated to the continual “Ka-Voom” sound of large tourists performing generally clumsy bomb-dives into the pool.

The path continues on, up to several additional levels of the waterfall. There is a modest volume of water flowing, but there are a couple of places where I see rubbish caught in tree branches metres over-head indicating the place would be very impressive after a heavy rain. There are several more “Bathing Permitted” water-holes, also full of whales-at-play.

Finally we are at the top stage of the Waterfall. Here the water is a series of cascades over rocks, falling perhaps 150 vertical metres before the final drop of about 50 metres.

It is a beautiful place. We sit in the shade and enjoy it for a long, long time. While we are sitting, two large groups of middle-age Chinese tourists come to the place; they make a lot of noise, bumping and jostling each other for the “best place” to stand for a picture with the waterfall as a back-drop; they are all looking pretty hot and sweat-damp, but it appears they all forgot to pack their bathers. There is a lot of wealth in China these days, and the evidence suggests the World is about to be inundated with hordes of Chinese sight-seeers.

Eventually we wander back to the swimming hole with the rope-swing. There are still a lot of foreigners wallowing in the water, but the rope is in the process of being taken over by a group of 8-10 year old local girls. The young girls arrive about the same time as we do. They are dressed in blouse and traditional wrap-around skirt [sarong]. There is a bit of a comedy while several of the girls change into their bathing shorts in an energetic manoeuvre that involves loosening the skirt but leaving it around them like a kind of portable change-room while they pull on their shorts. One girl does not have shorts, so she reties her sarong such that it is now an effective pair of bathing shorts.

Now the girls show the foreigners how it is done; it is clear they have had plenty of practice, as they perform expert swings and dives, sometimes even 2 or 3 on the rope at the same time. The girls make a lot of noise…peals of high-pitched, joyous child’s laughter ringing through the trees.

Now it is time to head back to the van. We have a few minutes to wait at the carpark, so purchase a couple of fresh coconuts and consume their fluid. We are all on-board more-or-less on time. Before leaving, we make it clear to the driver that we understood his need to switch off the air-con on the way up, but will have low tolerance of any attempt by him to repeat the performance on the return trip. It is late afternoon, but the heat is still extreme.

We start the return trip.

The driver announces “We can make stop at Hmong village as we go down….ok?”

One of the more talkative tourists…a lady who had told us her life-story on the way up, and included the key fact that she is Canadian…not American! …says “Well, I have no interest in making a stop at some tourist village where they will try to flog us fake trinkets and junk and you [the driver] will take a commission. Is that what you are offering?”.

This has obviously stretched the driver’s English comprehension skills beyond their working limit. He speaks Laos to Na, and she responds in Thai…they can understand each other reasonably well.

After a while, Na turns to me and says quietly, “The driver says this is a real Hmong village…no trinkets and rubbish…no commission for him. Please explain to the other people”.

So…I say, loud enough for all to hear, “The driver says this is a real Hmong village…no trinkets and rubbish…no commission for him. So…do you wish to stop, or not?”.

There are a few half-hearted murmurs of interest, and then the Canadian…not American! lady speaks up again “So…if they are not going to sell us trinkets and junk, then….eeeer…what are we supposed to do…wander around their damn village staring at them?”.

Clearly, this lady is not very warm to the idea of a stop on the return trip. I decide to not burden the driver with the search for an answer to this one; I reply, for him, “Yes!”. I keep the longer response to myself, as it is clear she does not wish to hear it. [Footnote #1]

So, we do not stop at the Hmong village and, soon enough, arrive back in Luang Prabang. Time enough for a short rest, then shower, then we can go to eat at a restaurant down the Mekong river bank.

Footnote #1 … There are Hmong communities in Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and possibly South China and Cambodia as well. They are a very disbursed people. Over many hundreds of years the Hmong have tended to be wanderers…perhaps somewhat like the Gypsies of Europe. Because of this, The Hmong do not have a country, and have tended to develop their own culture rather than merge with that of their host country. There is still quite a lot of cross-border nomadic behaviour amongst the Hmong, some of it motivated by extreme antipathy of the host country [Myanmar is particularly heavy in this sense, and are believed to be conducting a campaign of genocide on Hmong…and other minority… peoples]. So, a lot of small Hmong communities welcome foreign tourists, as a low-key way of making themselves and their plight known, and trying to show they have a unique culture and no aggressive tendencies.

6. Only mad dogs, Englishmen…and tourists…

Dinner, down the Mekong river-bank, was excellent, last night. The food was fresh, tasty and inexpensive. Plenty thirsty, from a full day of playing tourist, I washed the food down with a couple of bottles of the excellent local Beer Laos. We shared the restaurant, inadvertently, with a bus-load of Thai school teachers on some kind of a packaged tour. It turns out only the eating area of the restaurant is down the river bank…the kitchen is in a building on the other side of the river road.

Today it seems the hotel cook has remembered to get out of bed in time to prepare breakfasts, so there are no delays after we make our order. We are done quite quickly, so there should be time to do a bit of tourist stuff and still be able to vacate our room by 11:00am as required. I suggest we hire a small motorcycle, and just cruise around town for a couple of hours. I ask the hotel manager about motorbike hire; he stares at me as though suspecting I might be barking mad, but then remembers his role and says [with a broad grin]:

“Not sure about where to hire motorcycle. I will call my brother to find out.” Presumably brother is the local genius who knows all things.

A quick toilet break in our room, and we are back at the front desk.

“So sorry”, says the manager, “but you cannot hire motorcycle in Luang Prabang”. It’s my turn to do the “you must be crazy” body language. He sees that an explanation is in order, so conjures up the following: “Before…it was possible for tourist to hire motorcycle…but, too many problems with tourist driving too fast and having many accidents…now police [Footnote #1] say tourists cannot hire motorcycles, to fix this problem.”

“So, where can we go to hire bicycle?”

Now he is in familiar territory. He quickly gives directions that are almost completely nonsensical, but somehow Na and I both get the message that we need to walk a couple of hundred metres up from the river to the main part of town where we will find plenty of bike hire places.

So, we step out of the hotel, into the 35+deg heat that already exists at 8:30am, and slowly make our way to the main part of town. Sure enough, as soon as we get onto the main road, we see there are at least 3 or 4 bike hire places. We approach the old couple running the closest place, which has several single-speed bikes parked on their stands outside a tiny workshop. There are 2 models…identical, except the boys’ bikes are blue and the girls’ bikes are pink…both have a pillion seat fitted. I take a quick peek inside the workshop…there is a flattened cardboard box on the concrete floor; there is a small box of basic tools, and another of small bolts and screws, and a few spare wheel spokes.

"sabai dee [Footnote #2], I say.

“sabai dee”, responds the old lady.

“We wish to rent two bikes.”

Old lady hand gestures to the bikes; “10,000 kip per day per bike”.

“We just need for 2 hours. Can you rent for half-day?”

There is a brief conference between the two oldies. “OK. Can. 5,000 kip per bike.” [that’s 20 baht per bike.]

I hand over my Australian driving licence as security. Then there is great mirth when I demonstrate my incompetence with the bike-stand technology. The old lady gives me a demonstration, then restands the bike and insists I show her I have now mastered the technique. Seeing I am part-senile, the old lady shows Na how to manage the cable-lock technology, and makes a great show of handing the key into her care.

Off we go. It is about 9:00am now, and the temperature is probably close to 40deg by now. Traffic is very light, and there is the 35kph speed limit in town, so there is little danger of accidents even though the Laos roads operate the American way instead of the Australian/Thai way.

We cruise for an hour or so, just sort of going wherever we think there might be something of interest. We stop a couple of times to look at temples, and at small groups of people who are evidently engaged in a community town clean-up working-bee. Luang Prabang certainly is a small town. Cycling is a good way to see the place, except that the heat is over-powering at this time of year. The heavy, basic bicycles are in good repair, and the town is reasonably flat so lack of gears is not a problem

After an hour or so, we find ourselves on the riverside road. A restaurant beckons. We order fruit shakes, and sit and watch the bright orange Chinese water of the Mekong pass by…quickly but silently. Now it is time to take back the bikes, return to the hotel for a shower, check-out, kill a bit of spare time with a Laos version of a Thai foot-massage, and finally make our leisurely way to the airport.

Footnote #1 … During the whole visit to Luang Prabang we did not see any uniformed policemen. For sure, there would be police, but perhaps they all take a break during “low” season.

Footnote #2 … At first we found this greeting to be a bit strange, but got used to it after a while. In Thailand, a typical greeting would be something like: “sawasdee krub” [Hello to you] “sawasdee krub” [Hello to you, too] “sabai dee mai” [Are you well?] “sabai dee” [yes, I am well]

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