If you land in Luang Prabang, you have a feeling that you transgressed to another world. Everybody is calm, nobody presses the horn, and you’ll get lost in tranquility. Time also seems to borrow a slower flow matching the nearby Mekong River. People greet you with a warm smile, exuding kindness, and courtesy. 

In the dark light of the mornings, rows of monks in their orange robes march on the streets doing their tour of duty to receive the offerings of rice in silence and peace. When the Communists took power in 1975, they attempted to ban all rice offerings, but they quickly reinstated them after the popular uproar.

After about three days of exploration, we drove East to reach the Plain of Jars, scattered with megalithic stone cauldrons, their origin still veiled in mystery. We got to Vang Vieng, the ideal hang-out place for backpackers, filled with cheap accommodations and bed-tables in restaurants facing large TV screens, ending our tour to Vientiane, a serene capital city filled with temples, monuments, and, of course, the lazy Mekong.