North Laos

My boat arrived at Luang Prabang in the afternoon and I found Michelle's guesthouse. The city was gorgeous, sandwiched between two rivers, the mighty Mekong and the Nam Khan. A French colonial city, the city was lined with pillared white houses, each with a balcony. If not for the palm trees and tuk-tuks, one could imagine this was some far flung arm of Southern France, though I've never been there myself. Baguettes outnumbered sticky rice baskets and all food was dripping in butter. It was not without its Asian charm, such as beautiful, yet peaceful wat that were scattered throughout town. My favorite, Wat Tham Phu Si, sat atop a forested hill in the center of town, up a staircase with dragons for railings. The Laos wat were how Buddhist temples should be, relaxing, set into nature and possessing of a simple beauty. Thai wat are too institutional and ornate to achieve this. Michelle and I watched three days melt away in the slow, relaxed pace of Laos. Most days were spent merely sitting along the Mekong, sipping coke and Beer Laos over lap or baguettes. We walked around a bit, leaving the old city by rickety bamboo bridge, strolling through the simple villageside, basking in the smiles of the children or the helpfulness of the scattered orange-robed monks. It was an easy place to love and relax; the two rivers were dotted with fishermen and the surrounding jungled mountains drew stares that could last for thirty minutes or more. Luang Prabang was one of the greatest food cities I've ever visited. Every restaurant was incredible. I treated Michelle to dinner at one of the fine dining establishments in town, L'efant, where we shared two set menus, one French, one Laos, both fantastic. The French menu featured a mushroom-stuffed quail with a berry compote, melting in the mouth with pure bliss. The Laos set introduced us to a few of the local specialties: fried riverweed with sesame seed, a fish coconut cake steamed in a banana leaf, and the single best lap I've ever had, a simple meat salad comprised of green onions, shallots, garlic, chili, lime juice, mint leaves and fish sauce, all served with a heaping basket of purple sticky rice. A dry red accompanied our meal. It may have been one of the best meals of my life, but hardly the most memorable thing I ingested in Luang Prabang. A group of Australians and we stopped by a riverside cafe for a Southeast Asian specialty, Cobra wine. This name, however, was a bit inaccurate for what we actually drank; the jar contained copious preserved carcasses, including lizards, geckos, centipedes, even turtles, and of course, some cobras. It tasted less like wine and more like taking sips from a natural history museum exhibit. It didn't taste too bad, just bitter, though we should have taken warning from the owner's decline when we offered to buy him a glass. Thankfully, we did not get sick. My friend Daan from my travels in India, upon seeing my facebook status proclaiming my love for Laos, basically ordered us to head north to Nong Khiew and Muang Ngoi Neua. We had no plans and took his advice, heading in a minivan through the spectacular hills, mountains, and rice farms of the North. The van dumped us at Nong Khiew, right near a towering limestone karst, jutting right out of the river. "They at least could have dropped us off someplace pretty," quipped a Canadian from our van. We were glad to have taken Daan's advice, as it was one of the most beautiful places of my travels. Michelle and I booked a lovely bungalow on the river and soaked in the beauty of the town. Though we never made it up river to Muang Ngoi Neua, we never complained; there is no point in rushing out of such a place. While there, we explored a nearby cave which hid the villagers during the American carpet bombing of Laos. Our first week in Laos was quickly showing why every real backpacker in Asia had been raving about the country.