Lingering in Laos

LUANG PRABANG, Laos – There is something eternally pleasing about lounging in a waterfront cafe, drink in hand, watching the sunset over some slow-flowing Asian river, the water like molten silver, the sky ablaze with a million crimson hues, people along the shore clad in sarongs and saffron robes.

The meandering Mekong River gently glides past Luang Prabang at sunset (top), while young monks, summoned from their sleeping places around the temple grounds by a daily drumbeat, parade through the city streets early in the morning, collecting alms (middle), and a Buddhist offering.

Especially if that place is Luang Prabang, the ancient and royal capital of Laos, a city so lost in time it really does seem like you've stepped into some bygone age, Somerset Maugham sitting at the next table over – discreetly eavesdropping on your every word – and Rudyard Kipling spinning outrageous tales at the bar.

Borrowing a line from Led Zeppelin – a band with a deep appreciation for exotic locations – the song remains the same in Luang Prabang, and thankfully so. It is a place where the only “traffic” is the pitter-patter of monks on their early-morning rounds, where the most overwhelming smell is bread being baked in the local boulangeries, and where the loudest noise is traditional music pouring through the open doors of the National Dance Theatre.

Sprawling across a thumb-shaped peninsula between the Mekong and Khan rivers, Luang Prabang is in many respects the Havana of the eastern hemisphere – preserved in an almost pristine state by a combination of politics, poverty and perhaps just dumb luck.

The die was cast in 1899 when the French moved their colonial capital down the Mekong to Vientiane, which subsequently became the country's political and commercial hub. As a result, Luang Prabang avoided much of the warfare that ravaged Laos during the latter half of the 20th century. It simply wasn't important enough to attack or destroy. When the current Communist regime took over in 1975, it didn't have the funds or the foresight to develop the ancient capital into a modern city.


But economic stagnation can sometimes breed welcome side effects. Recognizing Luang Prabang as “the best preserved traditional town in Southeast Asia,” UNESCO declared the entire city a World Heritage Site in 1995.

Attached to this designation was a comprehensive urban development plan that severely curtails new construction and the inappropriate renovation of older buildings in an effort to preserve the city's historical essence. The plan also mandates preservation of the Mekong River shoreline opposite Luang Prabang – a “natural protection zone” that serves as a deep green backdrop for the city's exotic skyline.

Over the past decade, the United Nations has supplied funds to restore the city's numerous Buddhist temples, resurface the streets with antique brick paving, erect wrought-iron lampposts like those that would have graced the city in French colonial days, and bury unsightly power lines. Meanwhile, private enterprise has kicked into high gear. Ramshackle old French colonial villas have been converted into lovely guest houses and broken-down shop houses into trendy eateries, Internet cafes and handicraft galleries.


“Luang Prabang has changed a lot just in the last year,” says Francis Engelmann, who came to Laos as a UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) consultant, fell in love with city and decided to stay for good. “You now see cell phones and satellite dishes and new vehicles instead of the old Soviet cars barely hanging together. You cannot deny people the ability to raise their standard of living. But there are ways to channel development in a direction that doesn't necessarily have to include casinos and loud night life. And that's what we are hoping to do here in Luang Prabang.”