It’s easy to write about the charm of Luang Prabang.
It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen in a long time, steeped in charm, temples at every turn, lush green fields and the mighty Mekong by which to stroll, not to mention gracious, hospitable locals who can’t do enough for their visitors.
I feel safe, comfortable and welcome.
I awake each morning smiling.
I even fantasise about returning here, renting a small place by the river, drinking my morning coffee at the river’s edge, reading novels, writing my travel blog, living on rice, vegetables and coconut shakes.
I feel completely content as I wander the backstreets, lost in thought, taking every day as it comes.
It’s easy to write about what I love here but harder to explain what has increasingly bothered me, as the days passed. And whilst I could write at length about my misgivings, let me sum it up in one word - overtourism.
Since being given UNESCO World Heritage Status, visitors have flooded into this tiny place. Years ago, I’m told, there were just a few simple guesthouses. Today, there are hundreds of hotels, many of them far from simple, which has attracted a whole different clientele.
In the past, I suppose, it was backpackers who arrived here, or at least those who didn’t mind ‘roughing it.’
Now the town is packed to capacity, with more tourists in the centre than locals. By 7pm, the place is jammed, with endless white minivans pulling up to the Night Market, depositing waves of Chinese tourists. They’ve been driven in from hotels outside town to engage in some shopping - two hours later, the vans will return to pick them up.
The fact that almost no-one in Laos owns a motor vehicle (most ride a bicycle or a scooter) makes this fleet of vans even more conspicuous.
Unfortunately, most of the locals will never see real income from this wave of neighbouring tourists .
This is because they sleep in Chinese-owned hotels, eat in Chinese-run restaurants and are ferried around in vehicles owned by Chinese drivers.
Dawn is no better. The daily alms ceremony (for which Luang Prabang is famous), involving monks walking through town to collect sticky rice in their bowls, has descended into chaos each morning, with tourists jostling for spots along the procession route, armed with their cell phones and cameras, desperate for the ‘perfect Instagrammable shot’.
There’s a complete lack of respect for local culture and the vendors who sell the sticky rice to visitors are weary and angry - they need the income to survive yet also feel as if this sacred ceremony increasingly resembles a photo shoot, rather than a charming Buddhist ritual.
And, just as it is in Barcelona, Amsterdam and Bali, the demand for tourist accommodation is so great now in Luang Prabang. the people born in the town can no longer live there. Predictably, they’re being relegated to the outskirts of the town because it’s more lucrative for their landlords to convert their homes into hotels and ‘AirBNB’ type lodgings than rent them to locals.
The high-speed train which now links southern China to Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng was built to boost the local economy and, to an extent, it has. But at what cost? Five star hotels around every corner? French bakeries selling flat whites and croissants that no Laotian can afford? The Mekong River full of cruise boats at sunset, packed with raucous tourists?
I’ve loved being here but I can’t help feeling uncomfortable because the cultural identity of this town seems to be in serious danger. At the beginning of my trip, I met a cool Dutch couple who’d been cycling around Asia for 18 months. They’d travelled all across Laos and seen the abject poverty. In their words, this place was nothing short of Disneyland.
I feel sad writing this but it’s a painful truth - money talks and as more and more people rock up in Laos, looking for a ‘unique travel experience’ this idyllic spot won’t be idyllic for much longer. I feel lucky to have seen this part of the world and to have a pocket full of western dollars because even though I live modestly, my greenbacks are much needed here and go a long way.
And now it’s time to head south.