If Luang Prabang was a man, I would marry him after only three full days of dating with no prenup. As soon as my van rolled to a stop, I couldn’t help but think Oh, I’m going to like it here. Maybe it was the smell of firewood perfuming the air as people heated dishes on traditional cookstoves or the small roads with slow moving traffic. Whatever it was, I could feel my spirit shift.
As usual, the end of the semester was stressful. I was fruitlessly running back and forth to the US Embassy, working until 6:00, 7:00, or 8:00 grading essays, going to the doctor because I thought I contracted a ringworm (thankfully, it wasn’t), and Go-Jeking food like I didn’t have a fully functioning kitchen (well, almost fully functioning. My oven is useless).
I was regretting my decision to fly out the first Saturday after school ended until my feet touched the winding pavement in Luang Prabang. Originally, I was so tired I wasn’t even going to venture out for dinner. I ended up walking to the Night Market, exchanging money at a roadside stall and eating a delicious traditional dinner at 3 Nagas.
There’s something about unwrapping a banana leaf to access my food that gets me every time. It’s a small but joyous act.
Luang Prabang was the beginning of a honeymoon with myself. I’ve traveled to eight countries solo, but this was the first time I felt day after day like a place was seducing me in the best possible way. From small teapots to wooden shutters to sunny crisp days, I felt loved, safe, and at peace. I got lost while biking around the town (I would manage to not be able to follow the mighty Mekong from one destination to another), popped into wats that dotted the town, and sipped wine that a 70+ year old Swiss man surreptitiously slipped to me in a restaurant because “Life is too short to drink bad wine.” According to him, all the wine in the restaurant was subpar. He had a bottle in his backpack in case just such a thing would occur.
As a teacher, I honor all who are prepared like this Swiss man.
A former French colony, I enjoyed a croissant that was so good it caused me to tear up and a daily basket of warm bread with pineapple, tomato and/or banana and mint jam. There were scones to be
scarfed savored, creamy pumpkin soups to enjoy, lemon tarts to rejoice over, crepes with homemade chocolate to relish, fish to…the list goes on and on.
Of course, Lao food is a must. Though I’ve taken cooking courses in New York City, Peru, Indonesia, and Thailand, the best cooking class of my life was in Luang Prabang. Sign up with Tamarind to cook and eat in a gorgeous open kitchen. While there, I tried buffalo for the first time and left with new friends as well as a cookbook (included in the class cost).
Trips to a nearby waterfall are popular, but I said no. I preferred to wander in the small city. I took early morning outdoor yoga classes, watched the Tak Bat (which has so many tourists taking pictures–myself included–I felt bad for the monks. I wouldn’t want to have flashing lights in my face every morning), chatted with other travelers over Bite Mes at the Icon Klub, cruised down the Mekong at sunset, shopped, and luxuriated in the blessing that was, and is, my life. I was back in my hotel room by 11:30 every night. There’s actually a curfew in the city (according to my hotel), so everything shuts down by 10:30.
Laotian people are friendly but more reserved (shy even) than other Southeast Asian ethnicities. Where Indonesians would stare at me with no shame even if I caught them looking at me, Laotians would avert their eyes embarrassed. Where Vietnamese street hawkers plied me with their wares and one woman put all ten fingers in my hair, a Lao woman in one shop told me to come back after thinking about it more and no one touched my hair.
Laotians are laid back and sweet people despite a horrific history. What I learned about that history will be shared in a future post.
Until then, I’ll keep honeymooning with myself.