The truth about Luang Prabang

I used to dream of Luang Prabang. It seemed in my imagination to be the most delectable of all Shangri-las. Other countries in Southeast Asia might be tainted by tourism, but not Laos. And whereas Vientiane must be the shabby, dusty capital it is so often described as, Luang Prabang must surely retain the purest essence of Buddhist charm, pastoral quiet and Asian serenity.

The reality proves rather different.

"We accept Lao kip, Thai baht, US dollars and euros," says a notice outside Nao's Place where the big draw is a large-scale satellite TV screen and live coverage of UK soccer. On the night Liverpool was playing Manchester United it was impossible to find a seat.

Luang Prabang is the kind of place that would produce insanity after a relatively short period in any reasonably active mind. There's quite simply little to do other than eat and sleep. It's true you can walk along the road above the bank of the Mekong during the hour after sunset and watch the colors change from dim pink to dim mauve to dim violet while the river eddies round its broad sandbanks and reflects back hints of the dusty glow above the distant hills. But one such evening walk is very much like another, and the thought is unavoidable that if the essential boringness of existence lies at the root of Buddhist philosophy, then this explains why there are so many temples in Luang Prabang, some 32 in all.

But what was once prized as a backwater to beat all backwaters has, since UNESCO named the town a World Heritage site in 1995, been transformed into an up-market "boutique" destination. The result is that there are now two worlds in Luang Prabang. There is the world of the backpackers, struggling into town with their muddy boots and heavy packs, searching out the US$6 guesthouses, and eating at a US$0.50 vegetarian stalls partly hidden behind a screen -- you fill your plate with the veggies of your choice and the concoction is heated up in an oily wok. Next day, perhaps, they head off into the wooded hills on three- or four-day trekking packages guaranteed to include an elephant ride, time on a raft and overnight stays at minority villages.

And then there is the proliferation of top-class hotels like the central Villa Santi (www.villasantihotel.com; tel: (+856 71) 253 470) or La Residence (tel: (+856 71) 212 104 or 212 530) where rooms go for around US$150 a night minimum.

Luxurious restaurants cluster along the middle stretch of Thanon Phothisalat, the main drag, offering fine wines, French food and candle-lit intimacy, the tables spread with Lao textiles and the manageress in an haute couture version of traditional costume briefly visiting each table with an apparently genuine smile.

Some of both groups probably appreciate the Buddhist languor of the place, equally represented by the slow-moving Mekong and the monkish temples (few of whose monks appear more than 20 years old). And some up-market restaurants display their former origins on the back pages of their menus -- banana pancakes for US$1 and cups of tea with sweet condensed milk for US$0.30.

Nor are the eateries entirely segregated. The excellent Nisha Restaurant can't be faulted -- one Japanese visitor told me it served the best Indian food he'd ever tasted and I had to agree with him. Prices are low, the quality high (try the nam if you don't believe me), and the clientele are people who appreciate good value whatever their incomes.