LUANG PRABANG, LAOS (dpa) – “Sawadi!” comes the welcoming cry from a house in Luang Prabang, in northern Laos. A group of young girls – five in all – rushes out out of the house, their hands stretched out in greeting.
Another ear-shattering “Sawadi!” follows before they resume their happy chattering in Lao.
Travellers who venture to the ancient capital of the Lang Xan kingdom are an amusing distraction for the locals, although holidaymakers are certainly becoming less of a rarity in the “Land of the Thousand Elephants”.
Since Laos opened up to tourism in the mid- 1990s, their numbers have soared.
It is not only Luang Prabang’s 32 stupas (temples), the well- maintained French colonial architecture, the world-famous Plain of Jars and the capital, Vieng Chan (commonly known as Vientiane), that are attracting more and more cultural adventurers and individualistic vacationers to the Mekong River.
It is also the feeling of timelessness which pervades Laos. Derided as “the world’s longest ribbon development”, there is no danger of being run over on Vientiane’s wide boulevards – even chickens dare to take a sand-bath at the side of the road.
Laos and its two most important tourist destinations contrast sharply to the chaos of Thailand’s Bangkok and the glitter and glamour of wealthy city-state Singapore.
Taxis, even in the capital, are still virtually unknown. Instead, on almost every corner stand brightly painted three-wheeler mopeds – “tuk-tuks” – which sound exactly like their name.
Some 15,000 kip, about two dollars, will buy a roller-coaster ride across the city. Since the national currency began its steady decline, tuk-tuk drivers prefer to be paid in U.S. dollars. In hotels, this has always been the case.
In general, Laos offers excellent value to the visitor. An ordinary meal costs about two dollars, a bottle of Lao beer – the country’s only really successful export – goes for 75 cents.
A comfortable room at a hotel like the Tai-Pan on the banks of the Mekong costs 50 dollars a night.
The Mekong is a magnet for visitors to the city, especially at sundown. Laos aficionados swear that nowhere else does “Beerlao” beer taste better than here, accompanied by grilled fish and chicken roasted in makeshift huts.
The easy-going pace of life by day slowly melts into the quiet of the night, when bars and restaurants dim their lights, and darkness envelops the empty streets. The crime rate is low and it is generally safe to take a walk at night.
It is difficult to believe that the Lao People’s Democratic Republic is one of the world’s last bastions of communism. It has none of the grey apartment towers common to other socialist countries, and the capital’s Morning Market is overflowing with wares.
For tourists with money to spare, the first-floor jewellers are worth a visit. The market is only a few minutes by tuk-tuk from Pha That Luang, the country’s golden shrine and a religious symbol for Laotian Buddhists, who comprise 80 per cent of the 5.2 million inhabitants.
En route to the market stands Patuxai, an imitation of Paris’s Arc de Triomphe, complete with a souvenir stand under the arches.
Laos’s communists, in power since 1975, have learned not to meddle with tourism. Until the 1980s, the Vietnam War and fear of “negative influences” meant Laos remained practically cut off from the rest of the world, and visitors still require a visa.
But by 1999, with 100 million dollars in foreign currency coming in every year, tourism had become the economy’s largest single earner. In 2000, Laos attracted around 480,000 visitors.
Laos nevertheless remains one of the world’s poorest countries with per-capita earnings of just 350 dollars a year.
And the country is not always as serene as the numerous pagodas and temples might suggest. In late January, the latest in a series of bombs exploded at a customs post on the Thai border, much to the consternation of the authorities. Conspiracy theories abound, but it appears the government has yet to identify those responsible.
Luang Prabang is far removed from all that. In this little town of 30,000 people, the only explosions are in terms of visitor numbers.
There are several flights a day from Vientiane to the former royal residence in the northwest, which was declared a World Heritage Site in 1995.
Six years ago, there were just four hostels here. Today there are 11 hotels and 90 simple guesthouses, although the town has been spared the excesses of mass tourism – for the time being.
Luang Prabang, on the northern tip of the peninsular between the Mekong and Khan rivers, boasts Laos’s most important site – the wat (temple) ruins of Xieng Thong. The temple is relatively calm and the bald, orange-clad monks are still eager to talk to visitors in the hope of improving their English.
The town is full of temples. In fact, a third of Laos’s 100 wats are to be found here. Another prominent feature is the 100-metre high Phu Si hill in the town centre. Visitors flock to the hill at sunset, making it virtually the only place in Luang Prabang which might get crowded.
In the capital, on the Mekong River, wooden longboats vie for custom. For about five dollars, they’ll row visitors upstream to the caves at Pak Ou which are crammed full of Buddha statues of all shapes and sizes.
But the real experience to treasure, many agree, is the boat trip itself, past mangrove swamps, paddy fields and green hills.
The people living in the raised longhouses on the outskirts of Vientiane are familiar with the German Markus Peschke, a former postman who regularly leads groups of mountain bikers to the region’s most remote locations. Daredevil river-crossings in long boats and tough climbs up rainforest paths are all part of the package.
Two years ago, Peschke opened the Indochina Spirit restaurant in Luang Prabang. He has mixed feelings about the increase in tourism in his new home.
“Luang Prabang is booming, and we’re always full,” he says cheerfully, but underlines the potential pitfalls of this development: “The country is still unspoilt, with the emphasis on ‘still’.”
