where is the change?

When Marc and I took our first trip together in November 2005, I had never traveled anywhere exotic. I'd been to Merida and Cozumel in Mexico; Toronto and Quebec City in Canada; and Paris, London, Edinburgh, and Glasgow in Europe. Nowhere that pressed on me in any direction, nowhere that was outside my comfort zone. What a way to initiate me into leaving my comfort zone: Vietnam, all on our own. No guides, no group, just Marc and me in Hanoi, Hoi An, Nha Trang, and HCMC. I vividly remember hitting some kind of wall on day 2, partly due to jetlag but mostly due to being so foreign. There wasn't a word written anywhere I could read. There wasn't a word spoken anywhere that I could understand. The money made no sense -- 148,000 dong to a dollar? I'd never had such a shock of Otherness and when I hit the wall with that, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to stay. A nap and a couple of hours later and I was OK. I still couldn't read or understand anything, but it was OK.

That whole first trip I felt my Otherness, but it was interesting. A few years later when we were planning our second trip to Vietnam, I wondered: would I hit that wall again? Would I feel impossibly Other? I imagined that I might not, for the simple reason that I was so very different the second time. We had traveled to India, Peru, Croatia, Honduras, Laos, and Cambodia between the two Vietnam trips, so I thought it likely that I would not -- maybe could not -- feel so Other again. And I didn't. I looked around Hanoi, familiar to me now, and took pleasure in that familiarity. We relished going back to familiar places, seeing new ones. We took a 3-day boat ride through the Mekong Delta, no Otherness to be felt in me. But the familiar was sweet, the place didn't feel disappointing at all because of the familiarity. We leave for Hanoi later this afternoon and my pulse is quick, anticipating that jolting smell of the air when we step out of the airport. Ah, Hanoi, I love you so. After Nong Khiaw, Luang Prabang felt so fast, like such a big busy city. Hanoi will probably feel shocking, like New York City.

In the years since our first visit to Laos, I have held Luang Prabang in such a close spot in my heart. And a vivid, red part of that experience involved eating in the night alley, drinking fruit shakes (or Oreo shakes or coffee shakes). Gosh, how often I've thought about that, and how much I looked forward to going back. I specifically wanted to eat Thanksgiving dinner there, for a purely sentimental reason of . . . well, thanksgiving. Marc said that perhaps we should eat there both nights, since I was looking forward to it so much, but I felt like one more dinner there would be enough.

We left our hotel on the early side and walked down Sisavangvong Road as the Hmong Night Market was being set up. It must be some kind of holiday in Laos because the big square has a stage set up with VERY loud music playing, and occasionally we see kids dancing -- and last night at least two songs were about Luang Prabang, and one was the same song we heard in Nong Khiaw when the students were dancing. So it was very loud, much more than usual. We made our way to the alley and negotiated getting our dinners. Lining the alley are a series of stalls, most selling a buffet -- a couple of dollars buys you a plate and you can heap it as full of food as you want. A drink costs a few kip extra, and water and BeerLao are roughly the same price. Marc bought spring rolls at one stand and grilled chicken at another, and then joined me at the buffet stall I'd picked out, the same one we'd eaten from years before. I had to pick through the piles of plates to find two that were not greasy, but I just decided not to think about that.

The price went up, and the plates seemed smaller. The food was just cold. Marc's spring rolls were cold and one was somewhat interesting. The grilled chicken was pretty good, but the plate of food from the buffet was disappointing to say the least. The air was thick with charcoal smoke from the grills lining the alley, the tables were dirty, there were no rolls of toilet paper (the usual supply of napkins), and the whole thing just felt sad to me. We quickly finished and headed out to soothe ourselves with shakes, which we had loved the last time. Mine was an icy disappointment. We bought small cakes, as we'd bought last time, and they were spongy and dry and not very good.

Excited before we started....

my plate in front, Marc's behind

Marc's plate and his chicken, held between split lemongrass

Such a good sport about it

behind the scenes of a shake vendor

a Hmong vendor not under the tents, selling silk scarves

she was making those delicious coconut rice puffs, like we ate in Nong Khiaw

so very glad to be here, even if the dinner was disappointing

one small segment of the blocks of Hmong vendors -- this in front of the LP Natl Museum

Monks everywhere, always monks. We saw one with a giant camera with a long lens and a tripod.

Yep.

Where was the failure (to call it such)? Was it in my too-high anticipation? Has it really changed? Or was my pleasure last time due entirely to the surprise and novelty of happening into that impossibly exotic (to me) place, to successfully navigating an encounter that felt confusing? Maybe my memory embellished the experience over the years, or maybe my newness gave the earlier experience the full joy I remember.

This is our last day in Luang Prabang; this afternoon we leave for Hanoi, for a very short visit just because we can't not go since we're this close. I can't wait to smell that air; I know it will not disappoint. One of the wondrous things about traveling is the surprise, the way something will be better than you ever could've imagined, the way your anticipation can fail to match the experience, the way the familiar can be precious or boring, and for me anyway, there is no way to know which it will be. Laos stays in our heart, but I think for both of us the locus has shifted farther north, to that beautiful small village of Nong Khiaw. Farewell, sweet Laos of orange-robed monks; of brown rivers; of languid sabaidees; of Hmong women crammed underneath red and blue tents selling cheap t-shirts or handmade textiles; of soup for every meal if they had their way; of quiet backstreets and bougainvillea draped over doorways; of giggling young Lao men practicing their English; of papas walking kids to school and mamas picking them up; of slow boats and lovely smiles.

Elephants on Thanksgiving

Until now, my most unusual Thanksgiving ever was at Angkor Wat -- a place I never dreamed I'd see. Marc took a picture of me at dawn as the sun came up behind the temple, symmetrically framed by tall palms, and I thought I would never be more surprised than that. But here we are in Luang Prabang, and after a lovely Lao breakfast -- unlike any other breakfast I've had on any other Thanksgiving morning -- we took a chilly tuktuk ride about 45 minutes outside of town to ride elephants.

As we climbed into the little boat for the short ride to the falls, I laughed out loud. I remembered being in a boat like this four years ago, riding to the same falls (but we didn't ride elephants then). I remembered the surprise of it; back then we'd thought the tuktuk would take us directly to the falls, so the boat ride was entirely unexpected. I remember laughing out loud then, at the wonder of being in a small boat somewhere so far away from my wildest dreams, under a brilliant blue sky. This morning the sky was not blue, and the air was chilly, but as the boat pulled out into the river I couldn't help but laugh out loud again at the wonder of my life.

Freezing cold! And about to climb into that boat behind us.

I love being in a boat with this guy.

Riverside gardens everywhere, and those baskets are for fishing.

The elephant camp is near Tad Sae waterfalls, which feature brilliant aqua-colored water. They also offer ziplining, but we were there to hike around the area and then ride an elephant.

such a soft color

happy Thanksgiving!

Tad Sae Waterfalls

really beautiful

This picture makes me smile so much

flat pools

we hiked pretty far back

Then it was time to hop on an elephant. We had the option to ride directly on the elephant's back, but I have these terribly itchy bites on my legs and remembered how hard-bristly the elephants' skin was when we were in Sri Lanka, so we opted for the seat -- which was nice, because it allowed us to sit side-by-side. Our mahout was great, and extremely strong and nimble. He reached for our camera, climbed down the side of the elephant, took LOTS of pictures, and then slung it over his shoulder and climbed up the elephant's side.

SO much fun!

We didn't get the elephant's name, rats!

Marc's beautiful shot of the back of the elephant's ear

and such a bristly head -- but the hair on the elephant's back was soft

something to remember always

the rear view -- maybe the elephant wouldn't like this shot

the mahout took us into the water too

and grabbed this shot

a short 30-minute ride

Then it was time to undo the getting-to: down to the boat, back to the dock, tuktuk back to Luang Prabang.

I asked if I could take his picture, and he struck this pose.

blue skies for the ride back to the dock

We were back in Luang Prabang just after lunch, and tonight we plan to eat dinner in this fantastic little food alley, where we ate four years ago. I have been daydreaming about it ever since:

Happy Thanksgiving! As always, I have so much to be grateful for, including the best traveling partner in the whole wide world.

Nong Khiaw

For the last four years, I have daydreamed about Luang Prabang. It's one of my favorite places we've been, ever, alongside Hanoi. When the plane dipped down out of the clouds and we started to see the mountains and that deep brown, winding river, my heart leaped into my throat. Luang Prabang, there it was. The visa line moved fast enough, the immigration line moved quickly, our suitcases were there, the driver was there, check check check. We pulled out of the airport and within minutes were recognizing corners, buildings, landmarks. "Oh, I remember that!" "There's that one wat, remember that?" "Now I know where we are -- we go around this curve, remember how we stopped in that shop?" Such a lovely feeling, familiarity in a surprising place.

The last time we were here we stayed in a great little place on the other side of the river from everything, and while we loved the hotel, it was not all that thrilling to me walking across that high bridge in the dark. The middle of the bridge is reserved for motorcycle traffic, and pedestrians are relegated to the outside walkway. The boards are loose -- sometimes 3 boards wide, sometimes 4 -- and some boards are warped, there are random nailheads sticking up which require me to keep my eyes on the boards, which means seeing through to the muddy river far below. All at once it will get to me and I am nearly paralyzed.

So this time we chose a hotel on the side of the river with all the stuff there is to see. The hundreds of gorgeous wats, the restaurants, the Hmong night market, the shops, the riverside walk. It seemed more filled with tourists this time than last, but maybe I'm not remembering correctly. By the time we got to the hotel it was around 3pm and we'd spent the last 26 or 27 hours getting there. After a change of clothes and getting settled in, we headed out to walk around the town. We'd already made a reservation for dinner at 7, at Tamarind -- a restaurant we ate at last time, and coincidentally next door to our hotel.

The pictures in the previous post followed us around town, down to the river, in the streets, to the restaurant. We were pretty shattered, and at 6 went to the restaurant for dinner. We were asleep by 8pm, deeply exhausted and looking forward to our trip to Nong Khiaw the next day.

Lao breakfast -- Marc's noodle soup (L) with fixings (middle), and my rice porridge (R)

We set off in a big van that could've held 10+ people, but it was just us and the driver. Even though the trip from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw is only 59km, we were told it would take 3 hours and we couldn't figure out why. We still can't, but it did. We were often going 40km/hour, but still it did take 3 hours. And I was as carsick as I've ever been. The road was often potholed and sometimes there wasn't a paved surface, but instead a pile of rocks -- and granted, I was lying down trying not to vomit so I didn't see too much of it. Marc wasn't at all sick, it was just me, but that was a terribly long 3-hour trip. I was never so glad to arrive anywhere as I was to arrive at Mandala Ou.

And SO BEAUTIFUL it is, too. Our room has a porch that faces the Nam Ou and some giant mountains that are just otherworldly. When we arrived it was sunny and just looked for all the world like a movie. We ate some lunch -- a vinegary green papaya salad -- and we swam, though the moment we decided to jump into the small infinity pool at 3:30, the sun slid behind the mountain and it was cold. We were in and out of the pool pretty quickly, and while we were drying off, another guest slipped into the pool and looked at up us. Marc said, "It's cold, isn't it!" and he said in his chipper British accent, "It's refreshing!" We all laughed through chattering teeth. My stomach still wasn't great so I rested a bit while Marc explored. We wandered into town, crossed the bridge under the night sky, and ate Indian food at Deen's - $6 got us channa masala, chicken tika masala, rice, and garlic roti. We were asleep by 9pm.

But this morning, oh this morning. The first morning light was astonishing. Soft soft soft coming over the mountains, and low-lying mist everywhere.

the view from inside our room

gorgeous just around the bend -- that's the yoga studio with the blue banners

if only the pictures could capture it

Before breakfast, Marc took a little walk into 'town' and came back grinning from ear to ear, talking non-stop about the little market, the feeling in the quiet little town, how much he wants to move here, how easily he could live here, and asking if I would walk with him very early tomorrow morning. Which of course I will.

the security gate at our hotel. yep. bamboo. big gaps.

walking toward the market

this is the corner -- turn right at the umbrellas

oranges? limes? RATS? and um, no idea what the thing at the top is but check out those teeth.

the market materialized and was gone a couple of hours later

I wonder if people get there early to get a particular woman's stuff because it's extra good.

peppers, everyone has peppers

After breakfast -- totally nondescript toast and yogurt and coffee....not even the thick Lao coffee -- we walked into town and stood on the bridge over the Nam Ou. HOW I wish I could catch the feeling of the place. It's very different in the misty morning than it is around noon when the sun is bright. We just kept standing there saying stupid stuff over and over: Gosh, can you believe it? This is so beautiful, can you believe it? It's unreal, I can't believe it, can you believe it? Look over there -- did you see that? Can you believe it? Neither one of us could believe it.

the view from our breakfast table

walking to the bridge.....can you believe it? I can't believe it!

standing on the bridge looking toward Vietnam, I think

on the bridge looking the other direction. that's the boat dock, obviously.

i don't know. i just can't believe it. it's too beautiful for words.

We came back to the hotel to recover from all the scenic splendor -- too bad! It's scenically splendiferous here too! So I took myself down to the yoga spot where I could hear the river running past, and birds singing. Marc lay in a hammock while I did my thing:

OH did that feel good. Excuse the hammock.

Marc's view

All good things end with a bit of a corpse pose.

Then we borrowed bikes from the hotel and rode into/through town, up to a small wat on the hill, had a bit of lunch, rode back, swam in the hot sun for an hour (but boy was the water cold...) and listened to some radio program Nick, the owner, was listening to. Paul McCartney got some kind of lifetime something award? So it was all his music, Beatles, Wings, one gorgeous song after another. On a sunny November day in Nong Khiaw, in mountainous northern Laos.

Tomorrow morning we're getting in a boat for a ~6-hour ride up the Nam Ou, where we'll stop in some small villages that are only accessible from the river. We'll poke around in some caves -- karst landscape is brilliant for caves. And once again, it will be us in a boat on a river in southeast Asia, which is certainly one of the best places to be.

Yeah, we just want to stay here. Skip Luang Prabang, stay here until it's time to go to Hanoi, come back here again and again and again. Live here. But the hotel is booked and I do want to eat in that alley in Luang Prabang again, so our only solution is to come back here another time. Gosh this place is so beautiful. I can't believe it.