Boating for beginners >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 30

Oct 31: Night, Luang Prabang

After last night's tasteless noodles served by lethargic staff, we walked to the guesthouse opposite to try their breakfast.

A ragged-looking girl came with two grimy menus. Not very hungry, we ordered a hard-boiled egg with one serving of toast and coffee. The egg was very boiled, the toast very dry and the coffee very thin. The utensils did not appear very clean either. When we paid for our 6,000-kip meal with two 5,000-kip bills, the girl indicated that they had no change.

Since last night, we have been paying tourist prices for lousy food, overpriced room and patchy service. All in all, Pak Beng cannot be recommended. We hope other visitors have a different experience.

We left the village after breakfast, feeling that those in the tourist trade see foreigners as walking dollars in a captive market. A pity, as Pak Beng can be a pleasant overnight stop on a memorable journey down the Mekong.

The Lao people we have meet so far are reserved in the presence of strangers. I think the locals are bemused by the foreign ways of travellers. It must be stressful to have to cope with people who speak, eat, dress and behave so differently. Even those who help with passengers' bags across tricky parts do not give a hand when passengers are struggling up and down planks and slopes.

An hour into our second-day journey, the engine died. Once again, father and son spotted pinched looks. They tried to steer our boat to shore, but the Mekong is no meek mistress. We drifted for half an hour or so, the crew looking very worried as they alternatively anchored and steered to avoid eddies and rocks.

Gazing at the swirling waters, Annie said: "What's to be's to be." Guess we might as well enjoy the scenery while we could! So I took her advice and paid homage to the majesty of the mighty Mekong.

Then, a motorboat passed by. It stopped to help our captain tow the boat to shore.

The next hour was spent on repairs. While waiting for the repairs to be done, we clambered up to the village above the beach. A sandy gully almost a metre deep proved too much for me. After some hesitation (When is the last time I try a long jump?), I barely managed to leap across it on the way up. On the return trip, I ended up in the gully. Someone stretched out a hand and hauled me up.

And the village? No toilet we knew of, only a few dusty bottles of Coke and many a bemused villager looking up from their chores to see a horde descending on their village in search of loo, drink and snack.

We reached Luang Prabang early evening. Again, there was no jetty visible. Our boat parked next to another, away from the shore. Within minutes, the crew had cut the engine, secured the boat and disappeared, leaving the passengers to make it to shore on their own steam.

First, we hopped from our boat to its moored neighbour. Although this boat was the closest to the beach, it was also taller than ours. Looking down from that boat, I saw we were almost two metres above dry land. We had the choice of leaping from the boat to ground or walking down two planks joined end to end. The second plank, the one wedged into the sand, was half the width of the first.

An American middle-aged couple was one of the first off the boat. It was the husband who found the plank route. He reached the ground first and walked off, leaving his wife to follow none too steadily. Both left without looking back. Others had also jumped off from another side.

Gathered around the plank, the rest of us looked at each another. One of the taller girls jumped. I think she was one of several Scandinavian girls. If she had landed wrongly on the uneven ground, she could have sprained her legs or worst.

She was all right.

We passed her the biggest backpacks and then the rest started down the planks, one by one, some teetering more precariously than others. Oooo, not fun if you are afraid of heights, although you would not drown in the shallow waters should you topple off.

All the cabbies and guesthouse touts watched us from the top of the landing while we figured out how to get to dry land. When enough of us made it, they hopped off their perch to tout their business.

The tuk-tuk is called the jumbo here.

As usual, the driver quoted a ludicrous price for a ride less than 1km. We bargained to one-third of the original price, piled in and made our way to check out the first guesthouse we had marked out as a possible place to stay.

After two interesting days, we are in Luang Prabang.

Ancient abode of royalty. Elegant city of culure. Former capital with fabled past. It feels less like stepping into the past, more like the past coming to meet the present.

In a place like Luang Prabang, history feels like now.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> US$15
Breakfast >> K6,000
Jumbo (tuk-tuk) >> K5,000
Dinner >> K27,500

Next... R&R