It's not really cold in the north of Laos, but the evenings and nights can be quite cool. So at least for one day, warm weather can be hoped for (tomorrow in Hanoi I'm going to be back in the cold).

And an extremely tedious trip from Luang Namptha to Luang Prabang, mostly on a road that does not really deserve this name. It's more than two hundred kilometers that the minivan must plow through deep potholes, outstretched lorries, deep trenches, wrapped in a dense cloud of dust.

Sometimes I doze off, lose the connection for a few minutes, until the next pothole wakes me up from my well-deserved slumber. It's strangely quiet in the car, only drowned out by the hum of the engine, the picking up on an incline. The next time I wake up, we're somewhere where children's cries greet us. A stop.

An exotically assembled group

We are a rather exotic group (as usual): two Polish people, a South Korean couple, young Laotian girls, heavily loaded with sacks and the devil knows what. Other, unidentifiable nationalities ... The usual composition.

packed bus
A packed bus

Back in Oudomxai

Stop in Oudomxai, a faceless town that doesn't give much, but two years ago I had a really good time here. At the bus station it suddenly becomes clear to me that I was standing on the same spot exactly two years ago, on the same day and hour, still a little undecided how the journey should continue. The day on which I finally just set off to look for a waterfall.

All kinds of delicious things, but also grilled snakes
All sorts of delicious things, but also grilled snakes

And back at the Nam Ou

The trip does not seem to want to end, but after Pak Pong the road gets better, it's now direction Luang Prabang. And then he suddenly appears, broad, wild, one believes to hear the roar of the waters. The Nam Ou, my second favorite river I drove down 2 years ago, and it was one of my favorite adventures I ever did.

The trip seems not to be possible anymore. The official version is that the water level is too low, unofficially it is quite clear that the dam, built by the Chinese, is to blame for it. So again a unique experience has been made impossible (and by the way a lot of people have lost their subsistence).

And back in Luang Prabang

Arrival in Luang Prabang, same city, same atmosphere, same busy attitude. And even more tourists than the last time. Heaps of tourists. The restaurants along the main road are full of them, as well as the night market, which seems to be getting bigger every year. A kind of strange second encounter ...

But in the morning, birdsong welcomes the sleepy Traveler, a warm breeze blows, a taste of the hot day. Today I'll take it easy, because all that awaits me is Deja-Vus. So first breakfast in the shade of the trees, while the thoughts head to the cold that awaits me in Hanoi.

Breakfast with birdsong
Breakfast accompanied by bird chirping

All things are impermanent

It's only been two years since my last visit, and yet it seems to me that the city has lost its monastic peace. Unrest has emerged, hectic pace, the fast money that flows now in large quantities into the city. All things are impermanentas the Buddha blessedly noted.

So I retreat to the Mother River. For a long time I sit alone on the bank of the Mekong, looking into the sometimes calm, sometimes wild and swirling flowing masses of water. The river has already covered a few thousand kilometers since the source in Tibet and just as many ahead of it to its mouth in the South China Sea.

We'll meet again …

Mekong in Luang Prabang bridge

Traveling by bicycle

I set out to explore the city again. The bike is just as old and rickety as the one two years ago, but that applies to me too ...

So I follow the streets leading me along the main road down to the river and on, wherever I want to go.

To where the ships dock on the banks of the Mekong. Where I meet old friends in their orange robes. Where I admire the ornate flower arrangements. Where I don't buy anything from the old lady, but exchange a few friendly looks, that's all it takes. And where I scurry past images of varying quality before the seller spots me.

Main street in Luang Prabang Mekong,

Meetings with old friends ... I admire the artfully made flower arrangements

... which are sold at the entrance to the temple ... or the more or less artistic paintings

And of course, sooner or later, one always ends up at him, Gautama, in all his splendor, and - as a special surprise - at the imprint of a foot of his holiness. Of course, there are some things to say or to ask about this: first - how can a man of the short-grown species of that time have such big feet. And secondly - why should Buddha have been here and have had the kindness to leave a footprint here of all places?

But these are just the questions arising in Asia, they remain unanswered, and that's just fine.

... and finally end up with him once again ... and the imprint of his feet (?)

And so the day goes by. With lots of déja vus, providing me with endless joy the second time around.

Farewell

And so I return to my hotel, say goodbye and get ready for the flight to Hanoi, back to the cold.

It's gone dark
It's getting dark
P.S. Matching Song:  Radiohead - The Tourist
And here the journey continues … in Hanoi

 

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