“Think of what you want to make, get an idea,” says the kind lady at Ban Chan Pottery village, nestled in the outer reaches of Luang Prabang. In a flash, this DIY experience whisks me back decades to Mr. Atkin’s marvelously messy—if musty—Year Nine art room. The wet laterite in my hands, however, is nothing like the ochre earth of Western Australia, and my previous aspirations of single-handedly shaping Guinomis Japanese tea cups—those icons of high ceremony—belong to a distant world. So, in a slightly dusty and exceedingly hot enclosure, armed with the singular idea of going big and not going home, my pottery teacher for the day and I coax into existence an object resembling an oversized, handleless coffee mug-slash-soup bowl that was soon ready for its close-up in the kiln. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a month.
The Ban Chan Pottery village stop is part of a five-day immersion in Laotian arts and culture by boat along the Mekong. I gain first-hand insight into the Laotian way of life: easy-going, slightly rambling chats unfailingly delivered with a smile. As a first-time visitor, flashes of familiarity constantly surprise me—village scenes seemingly lifted from the pages of National Geographic and the explosively sweet mangoes of the season. After landing at Luang Prabang’s airport, a swift transfer in Avani+ Luang Prabang’s Great Wall MPVs leads to the concrete steps descending to the Mekong’s lower bank. Here, the triple-level river boat Boheme, refurbished into a superyacht-level vessel, extends its welcome.
The 13-suite Boheme, though musically themed, is so in name alone. In appearance and spirit, she echoes the elegant river crafts plying the Nile, and is part of a fleet of vessels by the luxury Mekong Kingdoms. My suite, named after Francis Garnier, is an epitome of modern luxury, tinged unabashedly with French colonialism. Monsieur Garnier, after all, was responsible for the 19th-century versions of Google Maps charting the Mekong’s intricate twists and turns. My room, on the other hand, was completely 21st century in personality. Besides river-inspired artwork, there is the hotel-level bed and full amenities, including an aluminum pod coffee machine, and a breezy outdoor terrace to enjoy fresh brews.
One afternoon, as the Boheme glides toward destinations such as the Pak Ou caves and the mythic-like Kuang Si waterfalls (which, incidentally, could well be the location for an ultra-luxury resort), I can’t help but imagine Garnier’s thoughts as his craft navigated these waters. They must have differed wildly from my own. Moments before, I had worked up a sweat on the steps leading to Pak Ou cave. The setting, resembling an over-zealous antiques dealer’s warehouse with thousands of Buddha figurines, exudes a palpable reverence. Yet, unusually, the cave’s inner sanctum—a space that feels millennia-old—is almost devoid of tourists. Perhaps the scorching afternoon sun acts as a deterrent. Whatever the reason, I sit on the cool limestone cave floor, not looking yet still finding a sense of peace while facing an ancient statue of Lord Buddha, who, during his lifetime, I feel, never could imagine the ways he is worshiped in the present day.
Laos—quieter and more restrained in its tourism—retains an undeniably authentic spirit. Nothing matches the visceral experience of stepping off a luxury cruise boat directly into the gardens and occasional front porches of villagers’ homes along the Mekong’s banks. But, are we explorers or interlopers? The answer, possibly, depends on from which point of view one takes.
On a different equally sun-blazing mid-morning, our group ventures to the residences of a group of engaging non-humans. At Xayaburi Elephant Conservation Center, we observe pachyderms in their daily routines of prodigious eating, leisurely bathing, and more eating. This ‘luxury’ retreat for elephants stands as an anomaly in Southeast Asia, where these gentle giants endure considerable stress: physical, mental, and emotional. Over several illuminating hours, the centre’s staff—comprising European gap-year volunteers, medical personnel, and paying guests—guide us through the resources dedicated to each animal’s well-being. The sobering fact: the lifetime cost of caring for a single elephant could fund college educations for two or three people.
Come cocktail hour, chilled glasses of prosecco and expertly mixed negronis, courtesy of drinks manager Nui and served by the personable Lang and Mick, accompany conversations about the day’s excursions and discoveries. In the moments before sunset, this part of Laos changes from shy sepia-tone day to opulent darkness that gives rise to clear star-studded skies. It’s as if there is a shift change in Mother Nature’s factory of wonders. The absence of industry and light-polluted skies in this almost untouched part of the country allows stellar stunners such as Orion and Venus to shine brilliantly. The Boheme’s zig-zagging course results from a man-made intrusion—upstream dams in China that constrict water flow. For us, this translates to a dramatic 90-degree traverse of the Xayaburi Dam, a hydroelectric behemoth supplying power to neighboring Thailand. After nearly two hours spent adapting to lowering water levels, before reaching the water level on the other side of the dam, the Boheme, along with its seasoned captain, navigates shallow, rock-strewn waters to reach Pak Lay, where the aquatic part of the trip concludes.
At Pak Lay’s ramshackle docking area, an MPV awaits to convey us on the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Vientiane, where an Avani property will soon open. The Mekong of today differs vastly from the waterway Garnier encountered two centuries ago. The French cartographer could scarcely have imagined a future where humans wield the power to reshape the river with colossal concrete structures, all in the pursuit of profit. Yet, for now, Orion and Venus still shine unapologetically across the Laotian night sky, and the mangoes remain intensely sweet.
