I left my heart, in Luang Prabang city . .. .
Published Sunday, March 26, 2006 by Carolyne | E-mail this post
(It's gotta rhyme in some language, somewhere)!
Yep folks, we are in beautiful Luang Prabang, the old imperial capital of Laos, home of the lotus eaters and gentle people.
It didn't seem like that at first though, as we had something of a culture shock going from sweet, gentle Thailand on a two and a bit hour bus from Chiang Rai to Chiang Khong, where I got a couple of passport photos taken for my Laotian Visa (40 baht), and enjoyed a caffe dopio in an Italian cafe. Then, a walk across the brownish sand to our 'ferry', a guy with a long boat and the trip to 'The Far Side'. No fancy pants ceremony here, change your hard currency into Kip (we were briefly instant cash millionaires, at 7,200 kip to the Australian dollar), buy your Visa (15 days only, and renewals only possible in Vientiane, the capital) and once again we were in frontier territory; no pictures of King Rama (everywhere you look in Thailand), barely paved roads, and a more reserved attitude.
Our accommodation was basic at best, although at a comparatively high price (500 baht) for clean-ish squalor. Our evening meal was in a carport at the front of the house (Grandpa watching TV in his chesty bond a metre away through the open door, very tasty, despite there being no shared language.
The slow boat to Luang Prabang was a tale in itself: one other western couple, and many locals, winding our way down through the gorges of the upper Mekong passing an increasing parade of people on the riverbank, cleaning, swimming, panning for alluvial gold with bamboo baskets, fishing and living a true subsistence existence. It was all rather surreal (again! De ja vu) listening to Paul Kelly singing about the MCG, St Kilda and Bradman with this as a background.
The boat didn't arrive until nearly 6:00 pm and there was much consternation from we westerners who had their tickets collected and not returned. We were told (we think) to be down here (no wharf, just rocks to clamber over) at 7:30 am to catch the boat. With some lack of conviction we trundled up the track that passed as the main road and diverted along the bank to see how how preferred accommodation rated. OK, but not too well. It was new, but overpriced (400 baht, despite how hard Bob tried to negotiate), with no pretence at hot water or furniture beside a pair of beds. New beds with plastic on the mattresses and a fake fleece blanket instead of any top sheet, bedspread or anything (but new nevertheless).
We had a reasonable meal in a local place, sharing it with their daughters watching fascinated at a very melodramatic Thai soap opera. I must admit, even I was wondering what was going to happen! I especially liked the cartoon music that accompanied it to mark the plot.
Thankfully an early night meant that we were in bed and the garmin charged from the one light switch/power outlet just moments before the power cut out. Pak Beng was the worst sort of tourist 'development' (I use the term loosely), and we were looking forward to leaving.
Fortunately, we did manage to con our way on another boat down the river to Luang Prabang, this time mainly full of young 20-30 something backpackers with a sprinkling of locals carrying metre long fish, bamboo poles, Lao Beer and sundry groceries between the sparsely hutted villages along the river route.
It was a lazy, hazy, Sunday afternoon kind of trip (even though it was a Saturday) and took a whole day, not arriving until the sun was beginning to set. Touts for guesthouses and tuk tuks at the wharf (a well made concrete road this time) were a little persistent, although far more polite and Buddhist in their behaviour. We were enchanted as we made our way up through the laneways of this UNESCO World Heritage Town, and found a good hotel back from the river at USD$18 per night (negotiated down from USD$20) - the Rama.
I may have enjoyed a shower more, but this came pretty close, and clean and refreshed we hit the street for a couple of noodle soups (Ban Than for Bob - special dish made with ravioli like noodles), and a Spicy Pork Noodle soup for me, with added lettuce, chilli, fresh lime juice, cress and Vietnamese mint. Mmmm. We also shared a Salaa Paa - a Chinese style steamed bun.
A walk around the night market stalls revealed the best non-food markets I have ever encountered. I am not a market person, and not a shopping (sport and technology items excepted) person. So it was with considerable surprise that I was moved to gasp in awe at display after display of richly woven fabrics and hand embroidered wares. It was made so much better because the people are wonderfully calm and peaceful, not only peaceful, and not pushy, but artisans themselves carefully working away on their craft as we strolled the street, not just there to sell.
Yep folks, we are in beautiful Luang Prabang, the old imperial capital of Laos, home of the lotus eaters and gentle people.
It didn't seem like that at first though, as we had something of a culture shock going from sweet, gentle Thailand on a two and a bit hour bus from Chiang Rai to Chiang Khong, where I got a couple of passport photos taken for my Laotian Visa (40 baht), and enjoyed a caffe dopio in an Italian cafe. Then, a walk across the brownish sand to our 'ferry', a guy with a long boat and the trip to 'The Far Side'. No fancy pants ceremony here, change your hard currency into Kip (we were briefly instant cash millionaires, at 7,200 kip to the Australian dollar), buy your Visa (15 days only, and renewals only possible in Vientiane, the capital) and once again we were in frontier territory; no pictures of King Rama (everywhere you look in Thailand), barely paved roads, and a more reserved attitude.
Our accommodation was basic at best, although at a comparatively high price (500 baht) for clean-ish squalor. Our evening meal was in a carport at the front of the house (Grandpa watching TV in his chesty bond a metre away through the open door, very tasty, despite there being no shared language.
The slow boat to Luang Prabang was a tale in itself: one other western couple, and many locals, winding our way down through the gorges of the upper Mekong passing an increasing parade of people on the riverbank, cleaning, swimming, panning for alluvial gold with bamboo baskets, fishing and living a true subsistence existence. It was all rather surreal (again! De ja vu) listening to Paul Kelly singing about the MCG, St Kilda and Bradman with this as a background.
The boat didn't arrive until nearly 6:00 pm and there was much consternation from we westerners who had their tickets collected and not returned. We were told (we think) to be down here (no wharf, just rocks to clamber over) at 7:30 am to catch the boat. With some lack of conviction we trundled up the track that passed as the main road and diverted along the bank to see how how preferred accommodation rated. OK, but not too well. It was new, but overpriced (400 baht, despite how hard Bob tried to negotiate), with no pretence at hot water or furniture beside a pair of beds. New beds with plastic on the mattresses and a fake fleece blanket instead of any top sheet, bedspread or anything (but new nevertheless).
We had a reasonable meal in a local place, sharing it with their daughters watching fascinated at a very melodramatic Thai soap opera. I must admit, even I was wondering what was going to happen! I especially liked the cartoon music that accompanied it to mark the plot.
Thankfully an early night meant that we were in bed and the garmin charged from the one light switch/power outlet just moments before the power cut out. Pak Beng was the worst sort of tourist 'development' (I use the term loosely), and we were looking forward to leaving.
Fortunately, we did manage to con our way on another boat down the river to Luang Prabang, this time mainly full of young 20-30 something backpackers with a sprinkling of locals carrying metre long fish, bamboo poles, Lao Beer and sundry groceries between the sparsely hutted villages along the river route.
It was a lazy, hazy, Sunday afternoon kind of trip (even though it was a Saturday) and took a whole day, not arriving until the sun was beginning to set. Touts for guesthouses and tuk tuks at the wharf (a well made concrete road this time) were a little persistent, although far more polite and Buddhist in their behaviour. We were enchanted as we made our way up through the laneways of this UNESCO World Heritage Town, and found a good hotel back from the river at USD$18 per night (negotiated down from USD$20) - the Rama.
I may have enjoyed a shower more, but this came pretty close, and clean and refreshed we hit the street for a couple of noodle soups (Ban Than for Bob - special dish made with ravioli like noodles), and a Spicy Pork Noodle soup for me, with added lettuce, chilli, fresh lime juice, cress and Vietnamese mint. Mmmm. We also shared a Salaa Paa - a Chinese style steamed bun.
A walk around the night market stalls revealed the best non-food markets I have ever encountered. I am not a market person, and not a shopping (sport and technology items excepted) person. So it was with considerable surprise that I was moved to gasp in awe at display after display of richly woven fabrics and hand embroidered wares. It was made so much better because the people are wonderfully calm and peaceful, not only peaceful, and not pushy, but artisans themselves carefully working away on their craft as we strolled the street, not just there to sell.
We slept well that night, in crisp white sheets, strong air conditioning and chooks to wake us in the morning. Life is good in Luang Prabang!
It sounds wonderful and peaceful in Luang Prabang. Those markets sound stunning - hope you are tempted to buy yourself something special.