Drowsy with the early morning Lao heat and with an unshakeable lethargy in my tired limbs, I happily clambered aboard a rusty minivan, destined for Laotian hill tribe villages south of Luang Prabang.
A bone-rattling journey ensued, swerving to avoid potholes and stray dogs, and quickly bumping me to my senses. Mountains, vegetable farms, pineapple and banana plantations whizzed past in quick succession, before we arrived, out of nowhere, at the traditional Khmu village of Ban Pa Noh.
Reputed in Laos for being highly superstitious and practising magic to ward off danger, the Khmu people have a rich history which is has been passed down through the generations for centuries. I didn’t visit late enough to witness families gathering around nightly fires to share their tales and pass on their culture, but a snapshot of Khmu life was enough to reveal the unique belief system at work here, where houses are holy and taboo reigns supreme.
Winding higher into the mountains, we reached Ban Tin Pha, home to the Hmong people, famed for fighting during the Laotian civil war. Friendly women busy with embroidery wowed in their bright coloured clothing while gurgling toddlers delighted at running circles around them and between the traditional thatched cottages.
I also visited Ban Long Lao, the biggest Hmong village in the area, which only enforced the rich cultural customs which make Laos so inimitably appealing: the Hmong people were extraordinarily welcoming, and eager to share their traditions.
Gratified and humbled by my experiences, we headed on in the minivan, destined for the organic farm in the remote Laotian hill village of Phongvan. Prepared by now for the winding, unpaved roads, and trusting my driver, I sat back to take in the countryside.
Through dusty windows I spied crouching figures, carefully tending rice crops. We hadn’t travelled far, but the air was cooler in Phongvan, and quiet as the choking engine cut out. My thirst was quenched on arrival by a sugary local ‘cocktail’ that slipped down quickly before the impressive 8-hectare paddy panorama that now revealed itself.
Next mission: food. A young chef with a toothy grin exuding irresistible charm was tasked with expertly guiding me through the preparation of a feast of Tam Mak Hoong and Moo Phak Sikai; spicy Papaya salad followed by an aromatic pork curry, and sticky Lao rice. While the rice bubbled, we readied the ingredients. Juicy papaya, crunchy vegetables and a colourful array of spices quickly sizzled into delectable dishes as day light faded.
We devoured our creations by candlelight: with hunger triumphing over conversation, croaking frogs and chirruping crickets provided a harmony for the soundtrack of evening village life. Appreciating my middle-of-nowhere location, I let out a contented sigh and helped myself to another spoonful of Tam Mak Hoong.
