Luang Prabang, Laos - Grand Finale

This goes back aways, as I try to play catch-up. I’ve got quite a backlog of drafts, and I’m hoping to whittle away at following my morning outings as I seek cool in my room on these hit and steamy afternoons. As much as I’m traveling at a somewhat leisurely pace., 4-nights here, 2-week there, everything is new, so sensual, so many experiences, At the end of the day, perhaps I jot a few notes, review and edit my photos, but typically fall asleep soon after I hit the hay.

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Luang Prabang, Laos

A couple days ago I went on my first outing. I knew there were places to go, places to see, but I was feeling quite content exploring the many charms and discovering hidden-away temples and treasures in this former capital with French overtones city.

My Aussie friend, Sue, had gone home to her 18-year/old cat; aa door closed awaiting the next one to open. On my way home after evening chanting at Wat Mai Suwannaphumaham temple, as grand as its name is long, I was ambling along feeling every little thing was quite alright with my world. And out his uncle’s scooter rental shop steps Ki. You tend to know immediately the character of a person. At least I seem to have developed that knack over time. Maybe that’s what they meant by “elder wisdom”. Typically, I would move quickly on, but something hinted he was the real deal. His uncle had helped him buy his own used tourist truck. I liked that it had four wheels whereas tuk-tuks have three. He offered to take me to the waterfall the next day. His truck looked better than rickety, and I said yes.

And so relatively early (since I’d overslept), Ki and I went exploring. Every taxi-truck and tuk-tuk we passed had many passengers, some over-flowing. His truck could hold 8 in the back on two parallel padded benches, but I was his only passenger, and we rode together in the front seat. Lucky me.

What started out as 1/2 day became a full day plus. First, Kuang Si waterfalls which involved 572 steep steps leading up several tiers to a triplet of lovely swimming pools at the top. Alas, I didn’t know and wasn’t prepared, so I only got to dip a toe in.

And so I’m at the top of the waterfall, and a single woman from Denmark starts chatting with a nearby couple, asks where they’re from. “Ireland, Galway.” And the single woman says, “Oh, I attended a wedding there last year.” And they keep talking and turns out the couple knows the family of the bride.

Not to be left out, I say: “My brother was just in Galway, and I’m thinking I may go to Ireland on my way back to the States in April or May.

“Well, if you go,” says the wife, “I recommend you visit Inisbofin. It’s an island and you take the boat from Clifton. And I give her my phone, and she writes this down. “And I’d recommend staying at Murray’s Hotel, my two sisters work there. Especially if you like Irish music, you really must go.”

Life on the road, the flow of connections much like the flow of electricity. Never a surprise, never fails to amaze me.

Next a stop to see wild buffaloes floating languidly in a pond. Then a stop for an iced cappuccino overlooking fields of sticky rice while Ki, unfortunately, alas, had to fix a flat.

Undeterred, I say “onward”, and we stop in a village of women weavers who also brewed whiskey made of sticky rice, chilies, lemongrass, garlic and galangal, a tuber in the tumeric-ginger family.

Next we visited the caves, land of thousands of Buddha statues. I was getting hungry, having overslept and missed breakfast, and a stop for ginger buffalo milk ice cream along the way was a sweet treat that staved my growing appetite. For good measure, I splurgeon a 2nd scoop of Lao coffee ice cream, figuring my 572 steps to the top of Kuang Si had earned me sufficient merits.

An hour or so of pot-holed roads later, we arrived at the staging village to the Pak Ou caves along the Mekong River. We board a long boat to take us to the other side only to be greeted by another steep flight of ~300 steep steps to the “upper cave” where the Royal family would make annual pilgrimage and folks would bring their Buddha statues for washing, leaving some behind. As in 6,000 or so. A bit quirky, but highly-regarded and actually quite fascinating and holy-feeling.

Note: Pak Ou Caves, originally called Tham Ting in the 15th century in reference to the hanging stalactites, were once buried under the sea. Aeons later, ancient tribes settled in the caves, bringing religious practices that worshiped Phi or the spirits of nature, and later, the river spirit.

All along, Ki, my intrepid guide and driver, who himself had been a monk for three years, is playing Bob Marley full blast and we sing One Love, One Heart, giddy as school boys out on a lark.

I finally asked if he could play some Lao music which much pleased him as he could sing along and explain the lyrics: love found, love lost, I gathered. And such is life the world around.

We got along famously, and he invited me to dinner. I was beat, and dusty inside and out. Thankfully, his wife begged off, much to my relief as much as I was interested in seeing his bamboo house and meeting his wife and 7-year-old daughter. Not to be dissuaded, he instead invites me to go with him to his village the following week. His cousin is getting married, they’ll be a festival with lights, music and dancing. “You must change your flight and come. You will be like family.”

Internally, I roll my eyeballs even as my curiosity is peaked by the opportunity. “We’ll see,” I say. I’m pleased he seems pleased by answer. Note: Time flew by, other opportunities arose, and I decided to save this for another time - ☺️.

All of eight hours later, I felt such relief seeing the sign: Welcome to Luang Prabang.

But, oh no, there’s more. He knows a woman from the village he’s from who makes paper from Mulberry pulp. Do you want to see? What do you think I answered? You’re right, and off we go.