Laos - Reliving Luang Prabang Written and photographed by Ray Mina
The plane tilted it’s wing down and made a graceful turn
to the left, revealing the emerald beauty of Lao’s northern
mountains.
Moments later I got my first sight of the place I had been wanting
to return to for so long. A town of magic, tucked in between the
intersection of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers. Like a precious
baby cradled in the arms of her mother, there was Luang Prabang.
Since my first visit in 2003 I had been dreaming of a return
trip to Laos and especially Luang Prabang. Now six years later,
I was back, and wanted to see how time had treated my favorite
city in southeast Asia.
The earlier Luang Prabang that I remember has certainly changed.
For one, it’s not so off the beaten path anymore. If I
couldn’t tell this had turned into a popular destination
from the hundreds of tourists dressed in khakis and tevas, the
pizza parlors and wine bars would have certainly given it away.
I remember passing time in the afternoon, enjoying a Lao coffee
on a tranquil and quiet side street. There were more pedestrians
than motor vehicles. Today the town is filled with motorbikes,
buzzing up and down the cleanly paved roads. I don’t know
if it’s possible, but it seems like there are more scooters
than residents.
But parts of Luang Prabang have retained much of their original
charm. The tip of the peninsula, around Wat Xieng Thong, looks
exactly the same as it did years ago. With distressed wood colonial
homes, some of the cities most memorable Wats, and a riverfront
lined with palms, it’s one of the most beautiful settings
in all of southeast Asia.
When I visited Luang Prabang the first time, it was the people
who truly made a lasting effect. It was impossible to walk down
the street and not receive smiles and greetings of sabaidee. Some
of those locals I met in back then are still around.
Mr. Leng can still be found every afternoon, riding his bike
through the streets. With floppy hat and dark sunglasses, he sells
Chinese made ice cream from the back of his rickety bicycle. He
says his business isn’t so good these days because people
don’t have the money. Judging by the prosperity of the town
and the not so tasty flavor of his coconut ice cream, I suspect
that disposable income isn’t the issue.
Back in 2003 I sat for much of an afternoon alongside the Mekong
with Thongdy Siphanthong. He told me stories of Laos, of his family,
and about the friends that had come and gone along the way. It
was a conversation and a face I have never forgotten. I was hopeful
to someday see him again.
It took me a while, but by the morning of the second day in Luang
Prabang, I stood face to face with a smiling fifty-five-year-old
man. Without a doubt, I had found my friend.
Thongdy was a longboat captain back then and is still guiding
visitors on tours of Pak Ou caves and Tat Kaung Si waterfalls.
The entire family, including his one-hundred-nine year old mother,
still lives in the same house, although it has undergone some
dramatic remodelling over the years. Surprisingly he hasn’t
changed a bit. His face, smile, and hospitality have all remained
the same.
Luang Prabang has changed since my first visit six years ago,
but for a moment on the afternoon of my last day, everything feels
the same. A friendly greeting of hello from passing school children
as I walk past Wat Sansoukaram, a farewell handshake and warm
smile from Thongdy, and Mr. Leng wishing me good luck as he pedals
his ice cream into the sunset.
Ray Mina
is a San Francisco based entrepreneur whose love for photography,
story telling and travel has taken him all over the world.
He is currently spending the year trotting the globe.
