The warmth, slow pace of life, and strong sense of community can be a refreshing change from the busyness and personal distance

I was awakened daily by lively music and chanting from our village’s Buddhist temple at 4 in the morning. From my mattress on the grey tile floor, I rose to turn off the exhaust fan, which squeaked and rattled away in its attempt to exchange hot, stale, indoor air for cooler outdoor air. On days when I forgot to turn it off during the chime of early temple bells, I was reawakened an hour later by smoke funneling into my bedroom from my neighbor burning her garbage just beneath my window.

Some days, I rose early — before the sun began to climb over the dense green mountains in the distance. I slipped my feet into sandals and walked through my dusty front yard, past the potholes and cinderblocks littering our side street. I walked by my neighbors’ thatched bamboo homes lifted up on wooden stilts. I walked by the cement homes of other neighbors, built solidly and surrounded by metal gates. I walked and breathed the coolness of the morning air.

I was never the first one to arrive on the main road. Dozens of women, dressed in sins (traditional Lao skirts) lined the road, holding woven baskets of sticky rice and other food to distribute to the singlefile row of barefoot Buddhist monks who approached through the mist from our city’s many temples.

By the time I began wandering home on those early mornings, my village was awake and bustling. Children were playing games making trucks out of bricks and driving them along little pathways, chickens wandered aimlessly, and the rusty gates of corner stores were being creaked open.

It’s difficult to describe the beautiful sense of home and welcome that this city, much more like a sprawled-out village, offered. The people were quiet and welcoming, quick to offer smiles. Outside, most of the little shops along the road, plastic chairs, and short wooden stools gathered passers-by to stop and sit and chat throughout the day. This warmth, slow pace of life, and strong sense of community was a refreshing change from the busyness and personal distance that was too often a part of my life in America.

Luang Prabang, in particular, has a rich and wonderfully maintained culture. The entire city was claimed a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1995, to try to preserve the culture of the city for future generations. Many tourists, though, in sticking to the well-worn trails of backpackers before them, miss out on true village life, neighbourly hospitality, and the soft-spoken, genuine kindness of the Lao people. It was through living and learning among my neighbors that I began to understand how dear this place and these people really are.

There is a morning market and a night market every day, which is set up and taken down by each seller. The city’s night market is a massive transformation of about seven blocks of Luang Prabang’s main road into an elaborate market around five pm every evening. Blue and red tents cover each vendor and their wares. For hours, friends and family can wander together through the narrow paths and shop for shoes, pants, shirts, hand-stitched purses and bags, beautiful paintings, lamps, carvings, and a plethora of other trinkets and daily essentials. The market, though now a major tourist attraction, has been a part of the city’s routine since long before European backpackers started flocking to Luang Prabang.

After spending some time shopping, people often stop over to the night market’s food stretch of roads to enjoy a dinner of spicy noodle soup, grilled meats and fish, fresh spring rolls, or sticky rice and jao (a paste made of crushed chili peppers). Alongside these main meals, many other snacks are available, like sweet, grilled coconut rice balls, fried banana chips, and sour mango dipped in MSG, sugar, and chili pepper flakes.

Luang Prabang has a beautiful variety of foods and activities for people to enjoy. Because of the French colonisation of Laos, it is easy to find delicious French breads, pastries, and desserts along with the more traditional Lao cuisine. And the lush, humid, yet mountainous landscapes make ideal conditions for growing excellent coffee — which is locally harvested and roasted, then sold in great little cafes around town.

Trekking companies line the main road with offers of elephant rides through the Mekong River, motorcycling around impossibly green rice fields, visiting distant villages for week-long homestays, and adventures walking through the beautiful, undeveloped northern mountains of Laos. Near Luang Prabang — only a 30 km tuktuk ride away — is a natural series of stunning waterfalls and pools called Kuang-Si Waterfall. A favorite destination for locals and tourists alike, Kuang-Si waterfall begins with a massive cascade into a large, turquoise-blue pool. Each successive pool somehow seems more beautiful than the last. One pool near the end of the series is always filled with rowdy adventure-seekers and spectators. A long rope hangs from a tree nearby for those who want to brave the swing and drop into the cool blue water. And there is a continual line of people waiting to stand atop the smooth, slick rock above this waterfall and leap over the edge into the water below.

There are also a number of cultural festivals during the year in Laos. The exact dates change, because they are based on the Lao Buddhist calendar. A few in particular stick out in my memory.

In the spring, usually in April, is Pii Mai, Laos’ New Year. Luang Prabang, even more than the other cities of Laos, is known for its wild celebrations of this festival. It occurs before rainy season starts, and is a time for ceremonial cleansings. Around the city is something akin to an enormous water fight. At any moment during the three to seven days of celebration, if you are outside your home, you are likely to get doused with water. People on the side of the road spray you with squirt guns and hoses, and people driving along in trucks with their whole truck bed filled with water will scoop it onto anyone nearby. It is an exciting time! And, it’s a time to always keep phones and electronics in secure plastic bags, of course. In the fall, there are two interesting festivals. One is a city-wide boat race. Each village builds a boat and puts together a team to row in a race against all the other villages’ teams. Spectators line up along the Nam Khan River and watch as boats race all day, two at a time, until one team wins the final round. The other is a beautiful ceremony marking the end of both monsoon season and the Buddhist monks’ threemonth seclusion. It is celebrated with lights all around the city. Temple courtyards are decorated with lights. Thousands of small banana-leaf boats filled with candles and incense are released into the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers. Hundreds of large “floating lanterns” are lit and released into the sky, creating a stunning effect

The culture, food, traditions and people of Laos quickly became a part of my life and heart. A nation very different from my own taught me so much. The Lao people; warm, kind, and welcoming, taught me about family, friendship, and love. Luang Prabang stays very near to my heart, and is to this day never far from my thoughts.