The ‘VIP’ coach trip from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, the ancient capital of Laos, was everything that had it threatened to be. An alleged distance of 400km. A scheduled journey time of 9 hours. That rattled out to an average speed of about 45km/hour. Some indication of the roads and terrain to be traversed! The first hour of the journey found the coach’s occupants making friends, sharing concerns and shuffling seats to achieve best space usage in a quest for crumbs of comfort. A quest thwarted significantly by seat backs that only rested in the dentist drill position and leg space only adequate for small Asians. Visions of VIP comfort dissolved into a reality of discomfort endurance well before the ‘free’ lunch. I wondered if the free lunch was an attempted ploy to recover the customer smile. At the table with my lunch in front of me I realized such tactics were not in the design. To have been charged anything for the bowl on the table would have turned the absent smile into a scowl at best.
Some 4.5hrs after the lunch stop and a seemingly endless tour of winding mountainside roads we pulled into a dusty, late afternoon, Luang Prabang Bus Station.
Scant negotiations with guesthouse and tuk tuk operators at the bus station foresaw a short ride into ‘town’ in the cooling light of the day. I plumped for the third guest house I saw which was 13USD for a room with fan, own toilet and shower, clean bed and a stones throw from the Mekong River; which occupies it’s bed fully at this location. It didn’t take me long to unload the one bag I’d carried and head off into the town to explore.
It was all worth it!
The hair on my arms stood and the goose pimples bristled as the tingle of excitement rippled through me. A walk along the street just two blocks from my accommodation, which I later saw described as the most atmospheric street in Luang Prabang, made it all worthwhile. The far end of the street disappeared into the warm red orange arc of the days lost sun. Handicraft and art shops dotted amongst candlelit open fronted street side restaurants and a few bars produced a warmth of mood that the day had lost with the setting sun.
I succumbed to my food weakness and ate Indian at probably the least attractive looking restaurant along the road.
Post dinner explorations revealed more tingling experiences with the discovery of a night market that focused mostly on garments and household throws for anything from beds to bidets. Linen and Laos silk figured strongly. Laos linen patterns were bold but simple and kept me wishing I had a place of my own to decorate with this stuff. These people are subtle and artistic. How many night markets have you been to in Asia where there are no DVD’s, no music, and no copy goods? It was like visiting a tastefully decorated house and brought that similar feeling of well being.
I went to sleep with an inner and outer smile that night.
The following couple of days saw me move accommodation once, explore the town architecture which included some breathtakingly beautiful Wats and took in some Colonial French and modern French buildings, and chance meet and chat with various members of the touring party that shared that arduous bus ride from Vientianne. One of the more spooky visits was to the National Museum which until 1976 was the Royal Palace. Laos is a communist state which it became when it was ruled by Vietnam from around 1976. Prior to that time there was a monarchy and presumably a democracy. No one knows what happened to the Royal Family (isn’t that sad!!) but many of the artifacts of their existence are displayed in this building. One life size full length painting of one of the kings has everybody open mouthed. It is hung so that the kings feet, adorned with ordinary black shoes are at about chest height for the tourists. The left foot is at 90 degrees to the right foot when stood directly in front of the painting. When you walk to the right the angle of the foot the forward pointing foot increases and ‘goes with you’!! When you walk to the left the angle decreases and the foot still goes with you!!!
My departure meant an early rise on the Monday. I was waiting faithfully, as instructed, outside of my accommodation at 7am in the morning for the tuk tuk to the bus station. It’s cold then. In fact one needs a duvet at night not aircon. The morning chill spikes the early morning light. One needs coffee early. In a surprise finale to my visit I am treated to the Monks procession. Something I had read about but doubted whether I would see. Young Buddhist monks march a route through the town streets in their orange robes to collect their gifts of food for the day. The mood is somber fitting together oddly but aptly with the light and cold of the early morning. Even this event has a subtlety to it that borders on the artistic. More tingling.
Down The Road 
