Trip to Thailand and Laos (page 4 of 19)

No memory of Mount Phousi??? Nor the monks' procession, for that matter...

On the other hand, the expedition to the waterfall, oh yes! !😄 No road to get there back then... just 10 people on the site...

It's funny what sticks with you from a trip 25 years later.

Hi there, No, you wouldn’t recognize Vientiane now—the markets are organized, the little street restaurants along the river have disappeared, and there’s a train station. That was my first trip in 2000. Luang Prabang has changed too, but since it’s a UNESCO World Heritage site, it’s evolved less and follows certain rules more strictly. Still full of charm, except for one touristy night market on the main street. Have a good evening!

Day 7 / Day 8 / Day 9 / Day 10: Nong Khiaw and the villages of the North

Heading to the small town of Nong Khiaw, we set off to discover a more rural side of Laos. From Luang, it takes nearly 5 hours to cover the 150 kilometers between the two towns. A real ordeal.

The route we take is undoubtedly the worst in Laos. The road is riddled with potholes that force the driver into constant zigzags, the asphalt is covered in a layer of dust that dirties all the roadside vegetation and reduces visibility. Yet it’s a busy route, crowded with trucks that are often in a big hurry. Fortunately, our driver is cautious and calm, and after bouncing along, we finally reach our destination. Bruised but safe and sound.





Nong Khiaw, a small urban center of 4,000 inhabitants, bathed by the beautiful Nam Ou, a major tributary of the Mekong. The Nam Ou View Villa is slightly elevated above the riverbank. The rooms line up on the first floor along a walkway. From there, we can admire the river stretching peacefully, bordered by lush jungle. A whole palette of greens unfolds before our eyes, from the emerald of the water to the deep green of the dense forest. Peace and beauty.





We’re on the right bank, and this part of town is organized around a long straight dirt road lined on both sides with small open-air shops—general stores, hardware shops, barbers, little street restaurants, as well as bars, tour agencies, and a few souvenir shops. A curious mix that blends local life with a moderate tourist presence. The vibe is very "Lao," "backpacker," and "slow travel," with lots of young travelers. As with every new arrival, it takes us a while to get our bearings, especially after such an exhausting journey. While Bruno and I stroll absentmindedly along the dusty avenue, Kate and Nathalie set off to find an agency to organize tomorrow’s outing. The plan is to head upriver to explore the small Kamu villages nestled in the heart of the forest. We chat in English with the young Lao people running the agency. We agree on a half-day canoe trip: visiting two Kamu villages, a walk through the forest and rice fields, lunch included, and a French-speaking guide. The program sounds great. Now we just need to negotiate the price. And our chief negotiator, Kate, takes charge. Two million two hundred fifty-five thousand kips (2,255,000). All those millions actually only amount to around 100 €, or 25 € per person. Good deal, Kate!











Night falls quickly in the tropics, and as soon as the sun dips behind the mountains, it starts to get chilly. But before dinner, we treat ourselves to an aperitif on the hotel’s small balcony. Lao beer all around! Tomorrow, departure at 9 AM.



The rest here

I assume we still pay in cash? Brings back memories of those millions of kips! To fly from Vientiane to Phongsaly, we had to pull out a huge wad of bills! As for the Nam Ou, we did the descent from Phongsaly over 3 days... Tough on the behind in that pirogue! Luckily, there were quite a few stops in villages along the way, including Nong Khiaw in the end.

I guess we still pay in cash? Brings back memories, all those millions of kips!

Yeah, everything’s paid in cash. Sometimes taxis or hotels accept dollars. We didn’t know where to put all those millions of kips! When we exchanged our euros at the bank, the stack of bills for the four of us was bigger than a box of sugar cubes!

As for the Nam Ou, we did the descent from Phongsaly over 3 days... Tough on the butt in the pirogue!

So enjoyable but so uncomfortable! 😉

From Luang, you’ll need to allow nearly 5 hours to cover the 150 kilometers between the two towns. A real ordeal.

Whether in a private or shared van, this road is unanimously agreed upon. Against it.

Vibe that’s very much "Lao," "backpackers," and "slow travel" all at once,

I really loved NK—both for its atmosphere and the people I met while passing through. My best pizza in Laos, just to the right after the bridge! (A French guy, actually.)

And it’s our sales manager, Kate, who handles it. Two million two hundred fifty-five thousand kips (2,255,000). All those millions only amount to about 100 €, or 25 € per person. Good deal, Kate!

She takes photos, negotiates prices... A real Swiss Army knife, that woman!

Lao beer for everyone!

Ah, finally—about time! [;]

. Lao beer for everyone!

Oh finally, it was about time! 😉

Yeah, you're right. While at home I tend to drink like a fish, when traveling I develop a kind of asceticism that could get annoying. But as you can see, my buddies here restore the balance. 😉

I haven’t been there myself, but I recognize "my" Laos! 😉

No mention of tasting Lao Lao, the drink that can make you go blind...?

No tasting of Lao Lao, the drink that can make you go blind...?

That was a close one! But no, we were good 😉 But I almost regret not trying it.

That stuff was brutal...

And they served it like water...

Anyone who drank the whole glass probably didn’t walk straight afterward...

No tasting of Lao Lao, the drink that can make you go blind...?

I still have good eyesight, even behind my glasses! 😉

Yeah, you're right. While at home I tend to drink like a fish, when traveling I develop a kind of asceticism that could get annoying. But as you can see, my buddies restore the balance. 😉

I’d tend to do the exact opposite, if only to soak up 😏 the local customs… And maybe also because my license is my job, and I keep an eye on it during my outings in France 😕

Yeah... Lao-lao in Laos, grogue in Cape Verde—aren’t these destinations targeted based on certain local customs?😉

Yeah... Lao-Lao in Laos, grogue in Cape Verde—aren’t these destinations maybe chosen based on certain local customs?😉

And like every country, or even every region, has its own specialty, I’m not done with my travels yet!!!

Discovering the Kamu villages

It's chilly this morning for breakfast on the terrace by the river. We were actually quite surprised in Nong Khiaw by the significant temperature swings—cool mornings and evenings, and intense heat during the day. 9 AM, the boat is docked. The young man from the agency greets us with a smile, Sabaïdii, and introduces us to an elderly gentleman with a venerable but sturdy appearance, wearing small round metal-rimmed glasses, one lens of which is chipped. He’ll be our guide. In fairly decent French, he welcomes us and explains the day’s itinerary. We board the boat. In the coolness of this still-misty morning, we shiver a little, but the air whipping against our faces is invigorating. The boat glides along the great liquid artery hemmed in by these mountains with their dense vegetation. Tall, but with rounded summits. They seem different in shape from the ones we’re used to back home. I’m not quite sure why, but to me, they’re emblematic of the natural landscapes of Southeast Asia as I imagine them. A throwback to movies or photographs?





First stop after a good half-hour of navigation. We carefully disembark and climb a steep slope that leads us to the village. We’re among the Kamus, a minority ethnic group but still quite numerous in the mountains of northern Laos. Their language, different from Lao, and their traditional animist way of life make them a distinct group, partially integrated into modernity, even though in the village, the satellite dishes and mobile phones of the younger generation reveal inevitable changes in their way of life. Our guide, who seems to know the locals well, puts us at ease. Still, we feel a bit awkward. Isn’t our presence too intrusive? Aren’t we just visiting an "Indigenous village"? But the people don’t seem bothered; they’re used to these visits, which are frequent but not yet excessive—at least for now. They go about their business calmly, not really minding our arrival.



The settlement isn’t very dense; it sprawls along a large central dirt path. Some houses are built with traditional materials—woven bamboo facades, thatched roofs—but most have concrete foundations and corrugated metal roofs. While Bruno and I politely try to follow our guide’s explanations in increasingly broken Franglais, the girls, who seem to have tuned out, are more interested in the village life around them, especially the children. With her trained eye, Kate picks her subjects, particularly a mother bathing her little one on the porch of her house. A little further on, women are cooking rice the Lao way—very compact and sticky. The smell of grilled meat fills the air; chicken breasts are cooking over a wood fire under a "non la," the conical hat widespread in Vietnam and Laos. Steamed.



The walk continues, pleasant but a bit frustrating. Personally, I’d have liked to learn more about these people—their daily lives, their work, their social organization. But after all, we’re not ethnologists, and it would be pointless to pretend we can truly understand people we have no real interaction with. Under a tree, two grandmothers, sitting on a bench—or rather, a wooden plank—chat and soak up the sun. Their mannerisms remind me of my mother and her friend. Even on the most distant travels, there are human behaviors that touch on the universal. I don’t know why, but that thought comforts me. At the end of the main path stands the village school. Apparently, it’s recess time; the children are playing outside in a joyful, universal hubbub. In the courtyard, I spot a well-maintained flat area where young boys are playing. It’s a pétanque court! One of the legacies of French colonization. Apparently, Laotians are quite devoted to this sport and particularly skilled at it.

It's time to head to the second village a little further upstream where we can have lunch.





We were hoping to have a shared meal in this village, but we end up eating at a guesthouse overlooking the river—charming, sure, but clearly aimed at tourists. Still, it’s a bit of a letdown. Under the scorching afternoon sun, we first walk through the vast rice fields in the area. In January, the fields are already harvested, and the yellowed plots are only used for feeding livestock. Our guide explains that during the rainy season, some isolated farms are cut off from the world and live in complete self-sufficiency. On our way back to the village, we come across a group of very young girls carrying bundles of wood with a strap around their heads. They greet us politely. A little off to the side, I spot a Buddhist temple that looks abandoned. I ask our guide about it. I don’t quite catch his explanation, but I think I understand that the monks left due to a lack of regular religious practice among the locals. A word keeps coming up: “animism.” The Kamus, in fact, believe more in the spirits of the forest than in the Buddha’s teachings.





The day was beautiful, full of discoveries, but long under the sun, and we’re still happy to return to our hotel. And we’re a little disappointed that our very kind guide didn’t facilitate more interactions with the villagers. But maybe that was too much to ask. We board the boat again in silence as the daylight fades. It’s getting cool again... Tomorrow, no visits, no excursions. A free day, as they say in organized trips.





The rest here

I catch myself checking the travel journal for new posts to find out what happens next... The writing is perfect, made even better by Kate’s stunning photos—I love it!

Good news: the heat is (too?) present. And in the end, these riverside villages were a lovely detour.

Thanks Bruno, that’s sweet! 🙂

I’ll take this chance to add my two cents...

While Bruno and I politely tried to follow our guide’s explanations in increasingly broken Franglais, the girls, who seemed to have tuned out, were more interested in the village life scenes, especially the kids.

We didn’t understand a single thing! It would’ve been better in English. Seriously, you did your good deed, but we found him a bit weird from the start. As soon as we got off the boat, he ripped some leaves off a plant he claimed was aphrodisiac, shouting, « good, good, sex, woman, house, day, night » while miming with his body what everyone could easily guess. Grandpa was *really* into it!

And we’re a little disappointed this super nice guide didn’t help us connect more with the villagers.

Without real conversations, photos let me have small interactions: glances, gestures, a few words... Nath and I spent a good while with a mom and her baby.

We didn’t understand a single thing! It would’ve been better in English.

At the same time, finding a French-speaking guide for the next day in the middle of nowhere in Laos—wasn’t that challenge just a *little* too ambitious?

I can just picture a Laotian trying to find a fellow countryman in the depths of the Auvergne (with all due respect to Agnes, of course)

Those mountain silhouettes with sharply defined trees and misty clouds—we know them well from Chinese paintings... I used to think the Chinese painted imaginary, mythical mountains... until my first trip to Asia in northern Thailand, where I saw that kind of landscape "in real life."

I’m happily following along on this trip to Laos, a country I’ve visited partially twice before. The first time was in a small group back in the '90s with Nouvelles Frontières—it was quite the adventure. Between Luang Prabang and Vientiane, the driver and guide were worried about bandit attacks. In Vang Vieng, there were already guesthouses filled with young Europeans consuming illicit substances and riding truck inner tubes down the rapids. We took a beautiful two-day journey down the Mekong on a stunning wooden boat, with stops to meet ethnic groups the communist government was forcing to settle. We bought gorgeous textiles from Thai ethnic groups, silk dyed with plants, traditional jewelry, baskets... and *so many* photos—or rather, slides. It was a dream trip for me.

On my second trip in 2005, with friends, Luang Prabang was a UNESCO site, and the choice of accommodations and restaurants had improved significantly. There were still few tourists. I struggled to organize a circuit with a driver. The one who took us knew Nong Kiaw and the boats on the Nam Ou—it was a lovely excursion—but clearly, he’d never been to Muang Sin near the Chinese border, where a big regional market was held. The roads at the end of the world were in terrible shape, and we couldn’t find a driver in the morning to take us to the market far from our lodging. In the end, we walked to the market... only to find it was over. We saw a few stragglers heavily under the influence of local alcohol heading back to their mountains, and piles of trash. A gloomy return to Luang Prabang, where we had to catch a flight to Chiang Mai.

But overall, I’ve kept good memories of this country and its people. I love the architecture of the temples, with their curved roofs almost touching the ground.

As for the economic colonization by the Chinese, it had already begun—it’s only progressed since then!