There’s not a soul to be seen as the green hills on either side of the Mekong River steadily cycle past and we make our way downstream on a riverboat bound for Luang Prabang, Laos. The only audible sounds are the water hugging our boat, the occasional clanging of a bell from the neck of a cow grazing along the shore, and the distant yelps of village children swimming along the shore.
I’m sitting so close to the front of the boat on a mini bamboo chair, strategically pulled to one side so as not to block the pilot’s view, that I almost forget I’m on a boat. I feel weightless, gliding along with placid river water, like magic, and a deep feeling of peace. Huck Finn’s river adventures cross my mind for the first time in decades, and an ironic and unexpected fleeting love of Americana occupies me while I take in the rolling, tree-covered hills that are the backdrop of our first hours in Laos.
We boarded this two-day riverboat cruise this morning, a bit bleary-eyed from our early international boarder crossing from Chiang Khong, Thailand, with several guides in tow and no clue what to expect. We were whisked onto our boat just in time for departure. We oohed and aahhed once onboard, feeling like spoiled guests in an elegant Lao home in our surrounds of spotlessly polished rich dark wood complemented by bright pink and purple-cushioned bench seating that would make for the perfect future nap.
Our gratitude for the relaxed vibe on board was underscored by the announcement that the final passenger count of just nine people was only a quarter of the boat’s capacity. “So you can change seats four times every day,” Sonny, our river guide, joked.
From our comfy cushioned benches we acclimate to our new surroundings. Tables sit in front of us with perfectly pressed white cotton table clothes, their corners blowing in the soft breeze. Straps from life vests overhead on floating shelves hang down like bright orange ribbons decorating the boat. A small bar sits a the back. Tiny bamboo plants are placed strategically throughout. We are charmed.
My tour companions are two fun-loving Australian women, a bit older — and wiser — than me, with a knack for knowing just when to have a laugh and when it is time for a glass of wine. Once on board we met our six river boat companions – a young Swiss couple obviously in love, and a French family of four led by a sharp-as-a-tack-in-the-softest-kind-of-way single mother, her bookworm adolescent sons, and her four-year-old daughter with piercing blue eyes and a heart that melts glaciers. Our tour leader Sonny, a family man with a daughter of his own in Luang Prabang, quickly claims her as his “second daughter.”
The boat is owned and operated by a family who live onboard, with the women doing the cooking and cleaning, the husband piloting the boat, and a quiet adolescent cousin about the age of the French boys who was learning the trade by spending his summer with the family. We enjoyed a daily homemade lunch buffet of traditional Lao dishes cooked by the women. Plates with scoops of rice were handed to us to serve ourselves from platters of delicious fish and vegetable dishes garnished by “flowers” expertly carved from vegetables and fruit. They even made a special vegan meal for me and one of the Swiss passengers. We felt pampered.
“The pilot tells me that the water current is fast today, so we will make good time to Pak Beng, our destination this evening,” Sonny tells us. He shares some background on the Mekong River, the twelfth longest in the world, which he says starts in the Qinghai province of China, and ends south of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, at the South China Sea. The scale of this river that knows no borders dwarfs our little Laos trip and makes me curious to explore more. My tour mate tells me of a trip she made on the Mekong in Vietnam that I note for future travels.
On this trip, we will sleep over tonight at a small town, Pak Beng, along the shore of the Mekong, as the boat isn’t large enough for sleeping accommodations. We reached Pak Beng a few hours ahead of schedule, just in time for a much-needed pre-dinner dip in the pool. We trade travel tales with the handful of European tourists having a swim, and head upstairs for a relaxed dinner on their giant porch overlooking the muddy Mekong that resembled a sort of prehistoric paradise. We relished our brief stay at this tiny river paradise.
Our meeting on board early the next morning was not without fanfare, as our group converged from our various hotels and the small family arrived last, with Sonny rushing up the hill from the boat in the dramatic morning light to help carry the darling daughter onboard while some of us cheered them on from the boat. We commenced our official sailing with another “meeting” led by Sonny, a complicated lecture on Lao culture and history, including an enlightening Lao perspective on the Vietnam War. He apologies to us — actually, probably mostly me, the only American on board — when he explains that it is called the “American War” in Laos.
Our boat stopped several times as we glided downriver to Luang Prabang, first for a definitively precarious climb up the muddy hillside for a glimpse of life in a typical small river village.
And almost equally notably, on day two, to stop to deliver fuel to another village. The pilot sounded a loud whistle to call the man to pick up the fuel and, startled by the volume of the whistle, I involuntarily jumped from my favorite bamboo chair at the front of the boat and gave the crew a laugh.
The cows along the shore were equally startled as the man interrupted their peaceful grazing in his rush to meet the boat and scattered as he greeted us with used fuel containers in tow. He handed a wad of cash to the pilot’s wife with a look of gratitude as the crew worked to quickly transfer the full fuel containers to shore so we could continue on our way.
We got closer to Luang Prabang and made our final two stops, first climbing several hundred steps to a the Pak Ou Caves, formerly frequented by monks that’s now a well-known Buddhist pilgrimage. Shortly after we stopped over at a village specializing in rice-whiskey production and weaving. We quickly learned this was the highlight of the trip for Sonny, a former monk who was clearly a whiskey fan. Meanwhile, I bought a fuchsia hand-weaved silk scarf with the help of all of my fellow cruise companions who helped me negotiate the price. Every moment of this trip was memorable.
In our last minutes of the trip, Sonny generously shared his fresh bounty of whiskey with the passengers on board who enjoyed it enough to partake – all the way to our final stop, just a few kilometers down the river.
Our arrival in Luang Prabang felt premature, as our journey had been more emotional and intellectual than a physical transfer of locations. We arrived with fresh and surprisingly deep bonds, and important insights from our Lao guides that we would be hard-pressed to find in our home countries. We parted only after spending a few minutes with Sonny’s wife and children who were waiting for us to arrive. In the giggles and smiles of our hellos and goodbyes, I almost forgot about my luggage and where we were going next.
