Lan Xang

In the morning markets, women traded everything from miniature coconut pancakes wrapped in banana leaf to tied bundles of live river crabs. There seemed to be a temple for every person and infinite exploration awaited on every path.

A morning climb up Phousi Hill revealed the town like a compact jewel surrounded by folds of blue-green, forested mountains. Locals released tiny sparrows from bamboo cages as living prayers, and incense smoke rose in billows from Wat Mai and the grounds of the old palace.

At dusk, as the sun sank into the Mekong, sometimes silver sometimes gold, I joined the novices chanting in Wat Xiengthong. I chose from the best of Laotian or French cuisine and ate in lotus and lily gardens, on riverboats and among tropical palms, before falling into bed dreaming of the day's adventures. It was hard to have to leave.