After saying goodbye to Chiang Mai again, I took the one-hour flight to Luang Prabang and coasted through probably the easiest entry to a new country that I’ve ever had. The visa was trivial to get since I had brought dolla bills with me from America, the ATM outside the small airport dispensed reasonably sized notes (ahem, Thailand…), and the very short taxi ride to my guesthouse was an easy flat rate.
I liked it there immediately. The beautiful, hazy, green mountains are impossible to miss, the weather was cool enough that I could wear pants and a long-sleeve tee at any hour of the day and feel very comfortable, and the Lao speed of life was already discernible, even to someone who had never been there before. Once again, I was reminded about why I love coming to this part of the world in December. The weather and surroundings even reminded me a bit of my first day in Nepal, though far, far less crazy.
In fact, the only thing I really knew about Laos before researching this trip was that Lao people had been described as the most chilled-out people on the planet. I can vouch that that description is absolutely true, but I think “chilled-out” is not quite the right word, as it conjures up images of hippies in hammocks smoking joints on a beach. When I think of Luang Prabang, the words charming, quaint, calm, and relaxed come to mind. As I mentioned to a few friends after I had been in town for a couple days, I found this place to be charming AS FUCK. And yes, that is possible.
For starters, there is hardly any traffic, especially compared to the constant roar of motorbikes you’d find in any other city in Southeast Asia. There are roads, of course, but seemingly not enough vehicles. Locals are polite and not pushy at all; I can walk past tuk-tuk drivers on the sidewalk and not hear a peep from them. And the place is clean! Like, Western clean! On top of all that, it feels like there are more temples and monks per capita than anywhere else I’ve been, which absolutely adds to the quiet respect of the place.
The governments of Laos and Luang Prabang also foster this culture with certain legal restrictions. Most businesses, especially bars and clubs, shut down by 11:30 – in part because Lao people are usually awake by 6:00 in the morning – so there’s no crazy party scene. Renting motorbikes in Luang Prabang is actually kind of expensive, so it’s rare to see tourists riding anything other than bicycles. And it’s illegal in Laos for a foreigner to have sexual relations with a Lao national if they are not married, punishable by some pretty harsh fines. All in all, the culture doesn’t encourage wild behavior and as a result, the country seems to attract a like-minded demographic of tourists: also polite, quiet, and respectful. Even though the countries are neighbors, Laos feels very different than Thailand, where anything goes and almost everything is for sale.
The one exception to the good behavior of tourists is during tak bat, the morning alms ceremony that happens every day. Monks and students from the temples solemnly walk past rows of people in certain parts of town, accepting small food donations so they can eat that day. Lao people appreciate the sacrifices the monks are making and so they do their part in taking care of them; providing food is the easiest and most direct (and most obvious) way of doing so.
The procession happens before dawn, around 5:30 or so. I’ve actually been woken up every morning well before that, as the monks at the temple across the street play the massive drum and ring the bells at about 4:00. It’s quite the alarm clock!
Unfortunately, tourists now play a major participatory role in the daily ceremony, even though most of them are clearly not emotionally invested in the act. I had booked my guesthouse specifically because it was located directly across the street from a temple and from this morning ceremony, so I was planning on sitting at one of the tables, watching quietly, and respectfully taking photos from a distance. I did not realize that pretty much everyone offering alms would be a tourist – mostly Chinese tourists in their typical massive groups – and that everyone would be snapping away on their cameras only a few feet away from the monks. Also, most people still clearly have no fucking idea how to turn their camera flash off, so this somber and peaceful procession felt more like paparazzi crowding around a red carpet at a Hollywood premiere.
I’m initially tempted to blame this on the Chinese, because their large tour groups ruin fucking everything, but there were plenty of farang fucking this up too. It was disappointing all around. And the country has no real reason to change things because the event brings in lots of tourists and their money. In fact, I’ve read that when the monks tried to protest and boycott some time ago, the government told them that if they didn’t do it, it would hire actors to wear the robes and impersonate the monks. (Laos has a long history of happily accepting foreign aid, so this didn’t surprise me one bit when I read it.)
Nevertheless, I sat on my second-floor patio with my camera and watched the people below quietly buzzing around.
My initial plan when I made this itinerary was to spend the first day wandering the town and the next two days for outdoor excursions. In the late morning of the first day, I found a riverside cafe and unintentionally spent two hours mindlessly watching the gentle flow of the Mekong River, daydreaming, and sipping Lao coffee. After that, I revised my plan to spend two days wandering and one day adventuring. By the end of that first day, I had scrapped all my plans and decided to chill out for all three days. I totally got sucked into the slow pace of life really quickly. And you know what? I’m on holiday and I’m an adult, so I can do whatever the fuck I want.
When I wasn’t temple hopping or eating or getting massages, I was actually productive and inspired in various creative ways. I spent a lot of time reading, writing, taking photos, and meditating by the river. I even felt motivated to work on my personal website, a project that I had been putting off for many months. Even though I found myself in such a peaceful, lazy environment, I felt procrastination melting away.
Luang Prabang was certainly responsible for a lot of these feelings, but let’s also be frank about the real reason: I was on vacation and didn’t have to deal with work for well over two weeks.
The most important tourist site in town is Wat Xieng Thong, a temple complex near the tip of the peninsula. On the morning I went, there were many Lao and Thai tourists, including many monks who were snapping away with their own cameras. Monks, they’re just like us!
The second most important tourist site is the Royal Palace, though it’s not very royal anymore; soon after the monarchy was kicked out in 1975, the palace became a museum. The throne room was incredible gorgeous with beautiful red walls and golden everything, but surprisingly, everything else was very humble and understated, including the bedrooms, dining room, and the very small collection of cars (mostly donations from America in the 1960’s). The royal boat, used only for going to the orchard – a tidbit I loved reading on the nearby placard – looked like something I could afford.
Photography is not allowed inside the museum buildings, so I wandered the grounds with my camera instead.
That evening, I climbed Mount Phu Si, the iconic hill that rises sharply out of nowhere in the middle of town. I knew it was a popular spot for sunrise and sunset, but didn’t realize how popular; when I arrived at the top about twenty minutes before sunset, I found it completely packed and there was no place to stand to get a good view. Slightly annoyed, I wandered elsewhere on the top of the hill and ended up talking to a monk student who was sitting by the temple. Within a minute, he started telling me about his poor family in the countryside and his need to buy “books for school”, so I knew exactly where the conversation was heading. I talked to him for a little while and then obliged to his request for money. I have a feeling it might be against the rules to give monk students money, but, let’s be real here, he’s a poor monk student in a poor country; those six dollars I gave him mean a hell of a lot more to him than they do to me.
Later that evening, I went to dinner at a restaurant across the Nam Khan, the smaller of the two rivers that form the peninsula. This particular meal required crossing one of the bamboo foot bridges that are built every year during the dry season when the water levels are low. (Had I been here during the rainy season, a boat ride would have been required instead.) Dinner was excellent, but clearly the charm of this meal was crossing the small bridge illuminated by string lights.
I expected my last morning in Luang Prabang to be uneventful logistics as I went through my normal travel-day routine of getting up early, eating breakfast, packing, and reading up on my next destination. About a minute after I sat down for coffee at the cafe next door, I heard a lot of noise coming from down the street. As I looked up to see what was happening, the monks across the street started playing their drums and bells. They were playing their instruments in the same musical manner that had woken me up at 4:00 that morning, which was noticeably different than the other three mornings of my stay: more “musical”, almost danceable.
The noise I had heard was made by thousands of Lao people, dressed nicely and clearly headed to Wat Xieng Thong to make offerings. Some of them even had large, elaborate money trees that required several people to carry. The procession took about fifteen minutes to pass by and though I was annoyed at myself for not having my camera on me, I took lots of photos and videos on my phone as I scarfed down my eggs-and-potatoes baguette sandwich and coffee.
And just like that, it was time to move south to Vang Vieng. In a way, I definitely didn’t make the most of my time in Luang Prabang: no excursions, no crazy adventures, no parties, and only really a minimal amount of sightseeing. But in another way, I absolutely killed it there: I felt more creative in those 72 hours than I have in the last year, I thoroughly enjoyed lots of quiet working time at many of the French-Lao cafes, and I settled nicely into the Lao speed of life. I’m happy with all of this.
I’m also happy to add Luang Prabang to the list of cities I’ve discovered over the years that subscribe to the philosophy of being a smaller (usually second-largest) city that is more cultural, relaxed, traditional, and charming than the capital city. Others (that I’ve been to personally) include Valparaiso, Ubud, George Town, Chiang Mai, Siem Reap, Kyoto, and Pokhara.
To resurrect another aspect of my old travel blog, here’s my current reading: The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life by Mark Manson. A very good friend recommended this to me and it’s been a very helpful and relevant read for someone who just turned 35 and enjoys constant self-evaluation. Mark Manson also backpacked around the world for years before settling down, so his writing has been especially insightful for me because it’s coming from someone with a not-so-different background. On top of that, a lot of his thoughts are seemingly contrarian and counter-intuitive – as the title suggests – but actually align nicely with some of the principles of Buddhism. An appropriate read considering what countries I’m traveling to!