26 people/km2

Via a couple of weeks dodging falling plaster (both for my personal safety and that of the soup) in the kitchen of Princesse Marie-Blanche Broglie and long afternoons in the heat of Parisian greenery or holed up in the mezzanine level of the Musee Quai Branley (easily my favourite free archives) after London election fever i've come to Laos. The sleepyside of Asia.

Arriving into Bangkok I did have small problems as it appeared that STA had in their usually efficient style managed to strand me in a state of emergency. Added to which at 1am UK time there was no chance of STA picking up the phone. On the up side this allowed me to buy a ticket that didn't require a 12hr bus connection at the other end AND meant that I was soon chowing down on the free popcorn in the bangkok airways lounge. yum.

Finally I got into Luang Prabang only to come face to face with a laser - apparently this is the Laotian version of the infra-red rooms at large international airports.

This sleepy former capital is a tiny city where the temple atop Mount Phousi dominates easily despite not being either that high or that large but only relatively giant. A real highlight was climbing to the top to watch the sunset over the temple. The night market at Sisanvango was amazing too as were the plentiful handicraft and jewelery shops which i'm now severely depressed about not cleaning out! one branch of the night market was the food alley where all you could eat accompaniments to either grilled fish, chicken, duck or 'lucky' mystery animal were enticing and clean as well as being a steal at 10,000kip. The curfew ensured that even the travellers managed a healthy glow although just out of the UNESCO zone (a fact ruthlessly exploited by the tuktuk mafia) was the locals discotheque, having seen how South Americas agrarian society was a living time capsule in bright native patterns it was surprising to find that Laotians spurned traditional shens and instead wore western clothing - no more so that in the hysterical local disco. My personal favourite locals were a middle aged couple seated around an oil drum with a birthday cake perched precariously atop it whilst they stared agog at their surroundings amid the lowtech lasers and sound systems.

Luang prabang boasted some beautiful monastries and many of the young monks are keen to practice their English (and be brought a milk drink) with the tourists who venture inside, we even managed (aided perhaps by the curfew) to wake in time to watch the monks collecting morning alms (sticky rice, fruit and meat) as sun rose one morning. Food is beginning to be recognised as a pleasure rather than solely a means of survival and so some good restaurants and bars have started (often with a westerner at the helm - for example at Utopia built by a Canadian and run by a Scot) to cater towards a tourist budget. The French and Thai influences are particularly strongly felt.

The day after climbing the nearby waterfalls (very steep but 100%worth it once you reach the natural infinity pool at the valley entrance looking over the jungle, although this did require deviating from the path and instead climbing up the stream) Lizzie and I managed in between massages for $1.50 to bargain our way to kayaking to the Pak Ou caves where thousands of Buddhas were hidden at the end of the C19th to save them from destruction and then elephant trekking and bathing before a tour of 'whiskey village.' The elephant trekking was novel but otherwise similar to riding a bristly, badly behaved, somewhat slow and bamboo-partial (if rather larger) pony but washing them was amazing. Especially when we had underwater races with only the end of the trunk occasionally surfacing to indicate the presence of an elephant at all. Mine was especially keen on elephantine bronco, so it was fortunate that falling off only meant a quick submersion. Onto whiskey village we were treated to free LaoLao and firewhisky. LaoLao is digusting, I do not recommend it to anyone who has the option of drinking some other alcholic beverage barring the Potosi miner's ethanol. However, it was worth consuming given that it pickled a variety of commonly hated animals - from snakes to scorpions (rumoured to be a natural aphrodisiac according to our guide). After we managed to muscle in on the afternoon break of the local women and were treated to a variety of local snacks - to my surprise my favourite was the thin strips of fried mushroom. Our aching muscles from the strong current crossing home had us back in the arms of the masseurs by dinner time and happily sampling wonderful Lao soups (pumpkin, tamarind and chilli came out tops although bamboo shoot was a close second) and sharing a plate of 5 bites which ranged from cured buffalo meat to ginger preserved bok choi stems in local favourite Tamarind opposite the small but beautiful Wat Nong.