Rollin' down the River

Luang Prabang exudes an enchanting character unlike any other I have experienced thus far in Southeast Asia. I love how the French colonial architecture has mixed with local design elements and nestled itself among golden temples, lush greenery and the waters of the Mekong and Khan rivers. The town is quite small and very quaint. I’m not the only Farang (foreigner) to fall in love with this place, as almost every other shop, restaurant or hotel is owned by a Westerner, but the place is not a tourist trap, it is still quintessentially Lao. Today, I set out with my guide to discover just exactly how Lao the area really is.

It was raining hard as we left the town, and my guide was concerned that we may have trouble getting down the road to the village. One phone call ahead to the village and his worries were moot because it wasn’t raining there. Turning off the main road, I quickly realized the source of his concerns. The road to the village was a narrow dirt road with many steep hills and sharp curves, and when I say “dirt road,” I don’t mean a North Carolina style dirt road paved with gravel, rather genuine dirt that when mixed with large quantities of water would turn into a slippery, muddy path of nastiness. Once at the village, we boarded one of the traditional long narrow wooden boats with a local fisherman for a short cruise down the river. We stopped at the various nets and bamboo traps along the way to check for the morning’s catch. On the other side of the river, we stopped for a demonstration of how the local Lao Lao rice whiskey is made.

The Lao Lao village was small and rural. There are no access roads, only the river. Chickens and dogs roamed freely around the village while young ladies wove silk and grandmothers tended their grandchildren. A petite middle-aged woman came out to welcome us and took us to the site of her Lao Lao production. She had already steamed some sticky rice in the morning to prepare for our visit. She washed the sticky rice repeatedly before draining it and mixing it with a rice derived yeast. Normally, they make the yeast themselves also using sticky rice, but during the rainy season, they cannot dry the rice because they have no drying machines. Once mixed with the yeast, the rice is added to a large pot for fermentation. After weeks of fermentation, the rice produces rice wine, which must then be distilled to make rice whiskey. Long stalks of bamboo are used to fuel the fire underneath the distillation barrel. The ends burn in the fire, and the stalks are pushed gradually deeper into the cinders as they burn away. A metal distillation funnel and a lid sealed with a cloth rim ensure that the rice whiskey makes it’s way into a clean jar through a cloth filter.

Following the demonstration, I bought a couple bottles and we moved on to some old caves downriver. Originally thought to be the home of a Naga (a mythical serpent), many animists used to make sacrifices in the caves. One of the local Kings decided to turn the cave into a sacred place for Buddhists as well, hoping to convert some of the local village people. Soon the caves were filled with Buddha statues. From as early as the 15th century, the Buddhas of varying size and shape peer tranquilly out towards the river. The hike up to the upper cave was long and exhausting, and the thick sticky air made the journey daunting. A wet sweaty mess, I survived and saw the place where my guide’s family and other villagers once hid during the war, side by side with centuries of Buddhist history.

Back at the village where we had boarded the fishing boat, my guide’s father, the former village chief, invited us for a traditional lunch in his home. We sat on the floor and enjoyed truly local fare. Chicken soup, minced pork and vegetables steamed in banana leaves, stir fried ‘morning glories’ (which upon googling, I just discovered are on the USDA’s “Federal Noxious Weed List” and the plants are illegal in the US…Mmmm…they were good though), fried river shrimp, bamboo shoots and hot chilies mixed with crab paste, all served with sticky rice. The food was delicious, especially the noxious weeds. I think my guide’s father was concerned at my single marital status because the lunch conversation seemed to revolve largely around weddings and marriage traditions.

After lunch, we went to a small village where we watched paper being made from mulberry bark, and then proceeded to a silk weaving village. The silk weaving village was a real treat because it was truly off the beaten track. We drove down another even more treacherous mud road as far as we could, walked across a rather rickety bamboo bridge, and then wandered down the path through the village to the silk weaving center. The women there demonstrated how the silk is dyed using natural products, as well as some of the long weaving process. One young lady was working impressively fast at a rather difficult pattern of silk. The owner of the center said that this particular girl earns as much as $6 USD per day because she is able to finish more weaving every day.

Tired after a long day of exploration, I took an afternoon nap before heading out for a walk around the night market and finding some dinner. I ate at a small restaurant called Arisai, which was excellent. The owner was a Lao gentleman who moved to Paris in 1975 when the communists took over. “Now we are able to come back.” he told me, and come back he did. His restaurant was elegant with a definite French flavor.

This town has a way of feeling both exotic and comfortable at the same time. The Lao people are very friendly, and they have taken the best of their colonial history and blended it seamlessly with their local culture and heritage like a fine woven silk of overlapping patterns and colors. On one side of the street you may have people enjoying sticky rice and steamed fish while fresh croissants and pain du chocolat are being served on the other. The sophistication of a French town met by the peaceful country existence of the people just a short way down the Mekong. I’m both surprised and delighted by what I have discovered here.

No More Virgins in Chiang Mai

“Passenger Stephen George please come to the service counter.” I thought maybe the announcement had something to do with making sure my luggage was transferred from my Dubai flight to my connecting flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, but the news was a little less mundane. The Thai Airways staff had received a message at the gate requesting that they notify me that my flight from Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang in 4 days had been cancelled. I think the gate staffed were pleasantly surprised and somewhat relieved at how well I took the news. I took the phone number for Lao Airlines in Chiang Mai and thanked them for letting me know. Why should I get upset? I’m on vacation.

I made it to Chiang Mai where I was met by a compact, energy-filled, young lady who was to be my tour guide for the next couple days. For those of you that have met my friend Uzma (Hi Uzma!), Gina is the Thai version. Her smile and her bubbly personality were contagious, and I think I spent most of my time with her laughing. Having not slept much since I left Doha, I was a little tired and chose to take a long nap at the hotel when we arrived. Gina returned in the evening to take me to a local khantoke dance performance and dinner.

I had a very large and enjoyable dinner of chicken soup, yellow curry with pork, crispy noodles with tamarind, fried chicken with herbs, fried bananas, chili paste with tomatoes, chili paste with eggplant, sticky rice, steamed rice, fresh cucumbers and long beans, stir-fried mixed vegetables, and fresh fruit with sweet rice cakes for dessert. Gina thought it would be best that I sit on the floor to have a real local experience, and once I saw the “tables”, I completely agreed with her decision. The tables still didn’t have seats, they just brought you and the food a bit higher. By the time the dance performance was starting though, my right leg had gone completely numb. I was trying so hard to follow local etiquette and keep my feet behind me to prevent pointing the soles of my feet at someone (a sign of disrespect in Thailand), but I was beginning to worry that my leg might fall off from lack of circulation. I managed to maneuver into a more comfortable position without offending anyone. On the way back to the hotel, Gina mentioned that she hoped it would not rain in the morning. She explained a local ritual to prevent rain that involves having a virgin place an upside down stalk of lemongrass into the ground. "Problem is, impossible to find virgin now!"

The next day, Gina and I, despite a little rain, went up to Doi Suthep, a local mountain crowned by an important Buddhist temple. The mountain is called Elephant mountain because the legend says that an elephant carried the remains of the King to the top of the mountain and then died itself. “Do you know why the elephant died?” Gina asked. “Try walking up the mountain and you’ll know,” she answered for me.

At the temple, I learned to always walk clockwise around the temples and how to pay respect to Buddha in the Thai style. When visiting the mountain, it is said you are allowed to make one wish, so I followed the tradition and wished away. There is also a very interesting tradition involving asking an elephant figurine any questions you might have. You first ask the elephant your question and then try to lift the figurine with your pinky (for men, ring finger for women). Then, you repeat your question, but ask the figurine to become heavier or lighter if the answer is yes. I tried it, and I liked my answer.

The day continued with visits to a Jade workshop, teak carving factory, silk weaving factory and a few more temples. When the tour ended, Gina asked if I would like to join her for the special Sunday “Walking Street”, a local market where they close down some of the main streets in town to allow vendors to set up their goods for sale. Together, we wandered around town a bit looking at all the cheap goods on offer. We stopped at a street stand to try some of the local noodles, which were fantastic; spicy and sweet, full of flavor, and right up my alley. After our spicy dinner, we grabbed some black jelly, a strange herbal gelatin made from the root of a Chinese herb that supposedly helps lower cholesterol. The jelly is shaved off a giant jiggling mass, placed in a bowl of crushed ice and topped with palm sugar. It was a perfect dessert.

Gina didn’t accompany me on Monday. Instead, I took an all day Thai cooking class. We went to the market in the morning and then prepared six different Thai dishes during the day, eating each one after we were done cooking that particular course. It was a fun class, and Thai food is a lot less complicated than I thought. During my first day in Chiang Mai, I had visited a tailor to have some new suits made for school since many events require formal business attire, so after the cooking class, I stopped by for my final fitting before they pack up the suits and ship them home. You have to love a place where you can get three bespoke suits made in two days and it costs the same as one suit at home. I polished off the day with a walk through the night market where I bought some tasteless t-shirts for gifts.

This morning, I packed up and went with Gina to the airport where we said our goodbyes. Boarding my Lao Airlines flight to Luang Prabang, I wasn’t the only one that found it amusing that we were flying a small Chinese-built propeller plane. Several of the young Western travelers whipped out their cameras and started posing in front of the plane. I had to practically fold myself in half to fit through the door of the plane, and I kept hitting my head on the overhead compartment doors that were a little less than overhead for me. At one point during the flight, people sitting towards the front started turning around with a look that screamed, “What’s that smell?” The smell was our inflight meal being passed out by the stewardess starting from the back. Despite the smell, I chomped right into the pork meatball sandwich. It wasn’t the best meal of my life, but it didn’t kill me.

There’s something delightfully old-fashioned about sleeping in a four-poster bed surrounded by a mosquito net blowing gently under the breeze of a ceiling fan (ok, so I have an AC unit too). I’m laying here getting ready to call it an early night here in Luang Prabang, and I have a very pleasant first impression of this town. The French colonists left their mark on this small town full of colonial era buildings, bakeries and coffee shops, yet the town has a distinctly Lao flair to it. I wandered up and down the main street of town this evening and visited the night market. The people here seem friendly and easy-going, and I think I’m falling in love with the overall atmosphere. It’s hot and sticky outside, but somehow that adds to the experience. I had dinner at a traditional Lao restaurant recommended by my guide here, and I’m not entirely sure what I ate, but I enjoyed it. I started with some fresh spring rolls and then moved on to a Luang Prabang Pork Casserole (really more of a hot pot type dish) with sticky rice. The spring rolls were very familiar, but I’m not sure I want to know which parts of the pig were in my pork casserole. There was a lot of indistinguishable gray and white minced meat, some of which I think were different organs, but even with my highest suspicions, not knowing for sure meant I was able to eat and enjoy. Tomorrow, I have an early start to my Lao adventure, so I’m off to eat my goodnight cream puff (Vive la France!) and drift off to sleep under my mosquito net.

A beautiful day in Chiang Mai

Squat and wish - guess Jessica is good for something!

Gina and I at the Yaang Come Village Hotel

My room at the Hotel Les 3 Nagas in Luang Prabang, Laos

Getting to know the bar with Valeria

Having returned from my excursion to central Verona unscathed by the wrath of the photo Nazi, I changed into my bathing suit and went to the pool. The wind was a little chilly for swimming in an unheated pool, so I chose to soak up some rays instead. A very eager young Italian gent was working the pool area and seemed quite bored, so he kept bringing me things like water, towels, even a Caiparinha. After a couple hours at the pool, I went back inside to write some emails and check up on the happenings on facebook. The computer room was apparently part of an art tour of the hotel for some visiting Americans. The large group all properly labeled with their names and hometowns wandered in, surrounded me and started commenting on the creepy clown pictures all around me. The guide explained the origins of the various pieces of "art" in the room, and even pointed me out as one of their guests. Who knew I was a tourist attraction?

Soon enough, it was time to get changed and take advantage of some more of my room perks, specifically, a cocktail and dinner. At the bar, Valeria, the bar tender, was excited to have her first guest walk through the door. I gave her my cocktail voucher and she began to mix me a "Siren" cocktail. She handed it over to me saying, "It's really quite odd. Do you know what it is?" It was a blend of pear juice, pineapple juice, vodka and saffron, the golden color of which was meant to be reminiscent of the sculpture I had illegally photographed earlier. Chatting a bit, Valeria and I started talking about her favorite drinks. This young Italian woman was easily bored by traditional drinks and enjoyed experimenting at the bar. She promised to make me one of her favorite drinks after dinner. I enjoyed my Siren along with some fantastic olives, sundried tomatoes and Parmeggiano Reggiano.


Down in the restaurant, all of the staff were eagerly awaiting my arrival for my "Flower Paintings" dinner. They gave me my choice of tables in the empty restaurant, and immediately poured me a glass of Prosecco. After receiving my approval for the menu the chef had prepared for me, they dashed off to get things rolling. I carefully noted every part of the meal, and I intended to photograph it as well, but sometimes I got a little fork happy before I could grab my camera.

I started with an amuse bouche of a poppy seed encrusted scallop with a balsamic reduction. Next came some fantastic fried zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta cheese and anchovies, perfectly fried langoustines and a mango puree.
The next course was a plate of kamut noodles with a ragout of rabbit, valpolicella olives and marjoram.
The main course consisted of lamb medallions "cacio e ovo" served with artichokes and a savory baked egg custard. Coconut-lavender semi-freddo served as a palate cleanser. Dessert was by far the most creative of the dishes, and I have great intentions of repeating it when I get home. It was a "Sweet Club Sandwich" - thin slices of saffron and basil cakes layered with strawberry and vanilla gelato, pineapple "fries" and strawberry "ketchup".
Everything was topped off with a nice espresso and some friandises.
After dinner, I went back up to check on Valeria at the bar. She was ready to fix me her special twist on a Caiparinha. Fresh oranges, muddled with some sugar syrup and crushed ice, a splash of amaretto and Schweppes Bitter Lemon to top it off. It was fantastic - such a refreshing drink, and the orange/amaretto combo was very good. Valeria and I then proceeded to go through every bottle on the shelf discussing possible combos, the good and the bad, and even trying a few samples of the more unusual bottles. I woke up bright and early the next morning to drive to Slovenia. Multiple Slovenia updates to follow.