Laos, a place that feels stuck in time, is at the precipice of change. Backpackers discovered the country decades ago, drawn by staggeringly beautiful limestone mountains, elaborate Buddhist temples and an unhurried and inexpensive pace of life.
But only the most intrepid travellers followed, as Laos, Southeast Asia’s only landlocked country, operated few – and no long-haul – flights, and potholed and shoddy roads were the norm.
Those who made it traded no-frills accommodations and hourslong bumpy drives for adventure, and almost always tacked Laos onto multicountry itineraries that included neighbouring Thailand, Malaysia and Vietnam, all well-oiled tourism machines that each draw at least three times the number of visitors than Laos annually.
Laos wants to change that. While flights remain limited, the country’s visitor infrastructure has strengthened in recent years with new hotels, improved highways and, most notably, a new train system that runs as fast as 160kmh and connects some of the country’s most popular tourism destinations. Last year, the government designated 2024 a national tourism year, expanding visa waivers, improving tour guide training, and holding dozens of grand festivals.
Yet the country and its tourism industry were shaken in November, when at least six young tourists fell ill in the town of Vang Vieng and later died. Officials suspect methanol-tainted alcohol is the cause.
I had visited Vang Vieng in July, when my partner, Eli, and I set out for a weeklong trip in Laos. We had wondered what it would be like to visit a country on the cusp of a potential tourism boom, particularly one with a long-standing reputation as an inexpensive, under-the-radar destination. We travelled mostly by rail, but also by bus, to find out.
THE LAO-CHINA RAILWAY
Laos, which is roughly twice the size of Pennsylvania, has been trying to build back the record tourism numbers it reached in 2019, when 4.8 million foreign tourists visited. This year, according to the Lao government, it succeeded, with more than 5 million tourists visiting. The Lao-China Railway, which runs from Vientiane, the capital of Laos, to Kunming in southern China, is key to the momentum.
The US$6 billion (S$8.2 billion) project, financed by China, is part of China’s Belt and Road initiative that aims to connect countries across five continents; Laos is a key hub for China to reach the rest of Southeast Asia. The Lao-China Railway opened in late 2021 for journeys within Laos, and cross-border train service between Laos and China began in 2023. Laos, a one-party communist state, has strong ties with China and is deeply reliant on Chinese investments to fund its infrastructure projects.
The semi-high-speed train will whisk you to cities and towns with dramatically different landscapes in just an hour or two, replacing the car or bus rides that used to take all day.
The train now offers seamless journeys to Vientiane, the most industrial part of Laos, and where malls and temples coexist; to Luang Prabang, a UNESCO World Heritage Site with dozens of elaborate Buddhist temples and elegant French colonial villas; and to Vang Vieng, an outdoor adventure hot spot where tourists explore the area’s craggy limestone mountains, caves and lagoons, and dance until the early morning at raucous bars.
At the Vang Vieng station, I met Cheryl Lau, a 68-year-old retiree from Honolulu who was en route to Luang Prabang. Though she frequently travels abroad to Japan, she said going to Laos initially felt out of her comfort zone.
“It wasn’t an easy decision. I am by myself and I’m older,” Lau said, adding that she was encouraged after researching online. “I don’t think I would have done it without the train. I’m loving it right now.”
GILDED TEMPLES AND RIVERSIDE BARS
I found the train to be an almost effortless way to travel through Laos and experience the country’s very different lifestyles.
In Vientiane, we walked through gilded temples, stayed in old French colonial villas and strolled by the Mekong River at night, where an amusement park, night market, bars and open-air restaurants with seafood on ice welcomed patrons.
While we had many fantastic and affordable meals throughout the trip, the best was at Doi Ka Noi, a convivial restaurant where the seasonal menu changes weekly; we paid about US$30 for lunch for two. Their crispy rice salad featuring sour pork and loaded with fragrant herbs is reason enough to visit to Vientiane.
Other highlights included a visit to Ock Pop Tok, a textile collective based in Luang Prabang, where we watched artisan weavers hard at their craft. In Vang Vieng, we booked an excursion with Green Discovery, a local tour operator. We paddled kayaks on the Nam Song River and went tubing in a cave.
SHIFTING PATTERNS
We stayed at the Settha Palace Hotel (two nights, US$240), a boutique hotel built by the French in the 1930s and later restored by a Lao family. Its rosewood furnishings (including stately four-poster beds) and marble floors made us feel like we were in a time warp. We took breaks from the city’s swampy humidity in the hotel pool, which was ringed by a lush garden.
But the centre of luxury travel in Laos is undoubtedly Luang Prabang. Amantaka, an Aman Group resort, opened more than a decade ago, and in 2018, Rosewood Hotel Group opened an opulent 23-room resort on a secluded property.
Travellers, too, are becoming increasingly aware of Laos and its allure.
Like Lau, the retiree from Honolulu, most travellers I encountered weren’t only targeting Laos (Lau was also visiting Thailand on her trip). This phenomenon is likely driven in part by the country’s lesser-known reputation and the fact that international travellers from outside the region must first connect at airports in cities like Bangkok and Hanoi.
And those flights to Laos are limited. In 2024, there were fewer than 1.8 million airline seats to Laos, most of them offered by Chinese and Thai airlines, according to Cirium, an aviation data company. By comparison, more than 46 million seats were available to Thailand.
“Laos has always been a ‘plus-one’ country,” said Jason Rolan, a tourism expert who lives in Vientiane. “Its remoteness has kept it sort of preserved as something tourists want to see, but they don’t know about it.”
ON THE BUS TO NONG KHIAW
With just two days remaining, Eli and I visited Nong Khiaw, a rural town that was a three-hour drive from Luang Prabang. Enticed by pictures and reviews online, we decided to spend a night there. The journey was deeply uncomfortable. We were crammed in a small van with about a dozen sweaty people sitting thigh to thigh. There was no air conditioning and only the suggestion of a breeze. Portions of the roads were unpaved and filled with ditches. I really missed the train.
But it was worth it. Nong Khiaw’s limestone karst landscape loomed over the placid Nam Ou River, where water buffalo rested languidly on the riverbanks. We barely saw anybody else there.
It was also extremely cheap. Comfortable lodging throughout Laos is generally under US$100. In Nong Khiaw, we paid US$32 for a night at the Nong Kiau River Side, a charming riverside hotel that had an excellent restaurant serving fresh spring rolls and noodle soups.
The experiences we had there were the best ones of the trip. Eli embarked on a steep hourlong trek up to an overlook called Pha Daeng Peak and enjoyed sweeping panoramic views of mountains ribboned with mist and the curving Nam Ou River. I crossed a rickety bridge through a rice paddy to visit Tham Pha Thok, a clustre of caves where villagers hid during the Vietnam War.
One night, we went to Hive Bar, a drinking spot beloved by tourists. I asked Thieng Soudakone, the bar’s owner, how he felt about the tourism changes and burgeoning development. He welcomed the train, he said, but Nong Khiaw was different from other tourism spots, and he hoped it stayed that way.
“We still have more nature and it’s a peaceful, quiet place. No big hotels and hostels, no traffic here yet,” Soudakone, 45, said. “The tourists here prefer a bumpy road like this. They don’t need prosperity or civilization in their holiday. They spend their lives closer to locals.”
By Christine Chung © The New York Times Company
The article originally appeared in The New York Times.
Source: New York Times/mm