Today was a travel day, moving from Laos to Malaysia, on my way to Myanmar, so nothing much to tell you, except that exchange rates at Luang Prabang airport are excellent. I had 200,000 kip left, which is worth $24, and they happily gave me $23 there. Unusual. Brilliant. There are restaurants directly opposite the airport, but having walked there I was happy to pay slightly inflated prices inside to use up the other £3 worth of kip I had left.

Tuesday, then, my last full day in Laos, and I was reminded, as I walked past a place offering them, that one of my favourite things here is a massage. Foot and leg, please. I decided to walk a bit further, down to the main tourist strip, which has at least two massage shops next to each other, from which the cry of “Hello, massage?” rings out often enough that anyone called massage would feel very popular indeed. I’d shared a laugh about hello massage which a  passing Lao man on my first day in Luang Prabang, and that memory was enough to take me back there.

I arrived, and answered “hello, massage?” with a firm “yes!”, sending small Lao ladies scurrying, as if they couldn’t quite decide what to do now someone had said yes. Eventually they decided that downstairs was the right place for me, I sat down, and a young lady, braces on her teeth, washed my feet and got started on the foot and leg massage. Even that lower limb massage is quite an intimate thing, and I spent the first few minutes working out whether looking at her was rude or the very opposite. We did the ‘where you from?’ bit and I settled back, podcasts in my ear. A minute or two later she tickled both feet to get my attention, then seemed to be asking whether that was good or not, but I think she was actually checking whether I was going to squirm. No squirming here. I settled back again, and she got firm thumbs into the base of my feet. A little while later she gently slapped my leg to get my attention and gave me an ego boost.

“You handsome!”

Well, thank you very much. I had *just* washed my hair for the first time in days, and clearly that had had an effect. It is slightly awkward being paid a compliment like that when the giver could be your daughter, but never mind. Thanks!

About half way through, Sia told me her name and found out mine. One other gentleman had come down from upstairs but otherwise the place was empty – just me and the massage ladies, some outside keeping up the ‘hello, massage?’ siren song, others walking through to take selfies or plug their phones in. Now the owner, or at least the lady who takes the money, came and sat next to me. She paused for a minute, to let me concentrate, then said;

“You handsome!”

Again, thank you very much.

“You are… 30?”

Well, no. Or yes, but also add a decade or so. The other girl on the room, lying down on a couch, chimed in with

“40-handsome!” and rolled over to go to sleep, her bon mot for the day delivered.

As Viang (by now we’d swapped names) started her spiel, I remembered the words of my Lao neighbour in Vientiane, who had several times joked (I think) that I was not allowed to go to the night market on my own, because I would be stolen. She had taken us to a local ‘sauna’ (more like a torture house – plastic rollers up and down your back, as you lie under a heated blanket, then retire to the next room for even more heat), and there at one point 5 ladies had been stood round my bed. Nothing I said was quite able to put them off. “You not so fat!” was the high point of the praise, but compared to the other middle-aged men they see, that was indeed unusual. I mentioned my big nose, but that just led to “you give me big nose baby!”.

I was getting a distinct echo of that here as Viang asked if I had a girlfriend. It didn’t matter what I said, she pointed to the empty chairs either side of me to make the point that there was no girlfriend here.

“I’ll be your girlfriend” (with a lot of laughter). “Can I have your number?” I pulled the ‘no phone’ excuse. I couldn’t tell whether Sia was amused or put out by all this, but she carried on squeezing and priming my feet and calves, so all was good.

“After you finish, I massage you? With oil?” suggested Viang. “When you leave?” asked Sia, “come back tomorrow?”

I felt ever so popular. I paid, tipped, and left. I did not go back the next day.

I had spent several days in Luang Prabang without ever feeling quite the sense of overwhelming beauty that people talk about. That changed yesterday, when I decided that my town centre hostel, despite its lovely atmosphere, could be bettered. – proving that the town itself is perfectly attractive, but coming back to, or sheltering from the heat in, a place without a comfortable social area wasn’t quite what I wanted. Town centre hostels seem to mostly have long tables in the front room as their social area, and that’s about it. They are adapted from town houses, which have the front room, open to the street all day, as the focus of life. That front room is pretty full, with a TV on a wall or otherwise central, hard-looking wooden chairs around the edge, motorbikes wheeled in at night and so on. It doesn’t make for the most comfy spot.

I went wandering in the morning, aiming for a guesthouse with a view of the river. It was being rebuilt, so I went back to the hostel to pay up. In the end, Sa Sa Lao was recommended. I assumed I’d head towards the Mekong for the view and ambience I wanted, but this is the other way, back towards the airport, and overlooking the Nam Khan. I arrived and was sold immediately – a walk down a dirt side-road brings you to a tree-shaded set of buildings set amongst lush greenery. Bungalows are available for 220,000 kip (£20) – very reasonable, but not quite what my budget calls for. Might as well save while I can, and the dorm beds are 41,000 kip a night, and quite beautiful; large airy rooms, open to the air at the top. Probably more than a bit hot in peak temperatures, but there have been a couple of storms which have cooled everything down.

I only got a quick view of the waterfront spot when I looked and booked, before going back to get my stuff. A bit of a walk in the heat, from Thavisouk family home to here, but a shower waited at the other end. And then, the river. As well as the central area, which has a restaurant, reception and so on, there are a couple of groups of chairs in the garden, and two wooden-boarded areas looking down over the river.

Perfect. My haven – even the sound of music and, as time went on, karaoke, drifting from the other side of the river, near the ‘new bridge’ off to the right, could spoil it. Not so much near here, and when I found a restaurant that looked open they were only serving barbecue, but I went with it and enjoyed barbecued duck with greens to dip with it. “Will you take a Beer Lao” asked the owner, and I figured I would. For a moment, as I agreed to take a seat with no further ordering needed, I wondered whether it would be expensive, but given that the barbecue was sold to me as “very Lao”, that was unlikely. Total cost – 40,000 kip.

On Saturday night, I’d met Evan and Katy for dinner. They’d been to a Lao dance evening, which had left them a little discombobulated. Walking away from the night market, outside the Royal Palace on whose campus the theatre sits, we had no clear idea where to go, but ended at a restaurant their guidebook had already recommended – Tamarind.

A budget buster, with a 120,000kip set meal, but boy was it worth it. The company would have made any meal, as our conversation roamed from British to US commonplaces, through joy and fears of travelling and the meaning of ‘authenticity’ (and why it’s annoying when ‘authentic’ is used to mean ‘the experience I expect to have). The food was great, though, with each course explained by a series of staff all with excellent English. The place gives teaching courses too, which explains how that has come to be, though it is still impressive. They start you off with a flavoured rice whisky – which is fortunately not followed by several others, which has lost me a day on a previous visit. Bamboo soup to start, which is perhaps a Lao staple –

certainly I had it served me at Kham’s (friendly neighbour in Vientiane) house. Then a plate of appetisers, seaweed, Luang Prabang sausage and others, an aubergine (?) based-dish, chicken stuffed with lemongrass – pull the lemongrass aside to set free the chicken, all with sticky rice. And finally, our favourite, wrapped up in a bamboo pocket, fish, heavy on the dill; the waitress told us to be careful when opening it. “Oh,” we said, “why’s that?” as I thought perhaps it would expand. “The fish is sleeping” she said, and giggled.

Delicious. Dessert was sweet sticky rice and four fruits, only two of which I can name – Dragonfruit and Banana. The other two were interesting more for texture than taste. One seemed not to be a mixture of several fruits with a bit of ginger thrown in.

A fabulous meal with fabulous people, that set me up for a half marathon the next day.

Stayed: Sa Sa Lao (was Fan Dee, judging by some of the posters etc), booked in person (which may be cheaper – because the budget accommodation prices are so low, I suspect they put them up a little to allow for websites’ referral fees). Booking.com lets you see rough prices, though.