Our short Southeast Asia stop: We survived the tiny, flooded World Hotel in Luang Prabang, explored the Pak Ou Caves, climbed to the beautiful Kuang Si Waterfalls, and took the two-day slow boat to Thailand. In Chiang Mai, we celebrated Nicola’s birthday at a cat café!
We hopped a quick flight from Hanoi to Luang Prabang—just six days over New Year’s because the calendar had us on a leash. We needed to be in Manila by January 8th to meet Moire, so the plan was: Dec 27–Jan 2 in Luang Prabang, two days on the slow boat to Thailand, then Jan 4–8 in Chiang Mai. The Laos visa set us back $42 CAD each—steep for such a short hello—but we’d already booked things, so we leaned in and kept moving.
The Worst Room (Sorry, World Hotel)
I don’t usually name-and-shame, but for your sake: World Hotel. We booked a “classic studio, 30 m².” We got a room barely bigger than the bed—maybe 9 m² on a generous day. The bathroom wall was broken so the shower sprayed through to the bed, and the “mattress” felt like a box spring with ambitions. We moved rooms and woke up to a flooded bathroom—two inches of water creeping out a floor drain. Staff were kind and breakfast was good, but honestly: book somewhere else.
Pak Ou Caves by Scooter
To shake it off, we rented a motorbike for 24 hours—12:30 p.m. to 12:30 p.m.—so we could split sights over two half-days. First up: Pak Ou (Buddha) Caves, about 40 km out. Parking, river ferry, entry—each just a couple bucks. Inside, hundreds of “retired” Buddhas crowd ledges and alcoves—quiet, dusty, and strangely tender. On the way back we stopped at a whiskey village where bottles of liquid bravery sometimes include a scorpion. I sipped once; Nic wisely bought a silk scarf from a local boy. Back to town before dark, dusty and happy.
Kuang Si Waterfalls
Round two with the scooter: 40 km to Kuang Si Waterfalls. Another couple bucks to park and enter, then that dreamy turquoise water you’ve seen in a thousand photos. There’s a moon bear sanctuary inside—rescued from bile farms and now snuffling around in safety. We climbed tier after tier, lingered where the water fanned into milky blues, then raced the clock back to town to return the scooter at 12:30 on the dot.
Utopia and Mount Phousi
We found our happy place at a riverside hangout called Utopia. Floor cushions, slow food, a deck over the water—perfect for a long card game and a longer exhale. We also joined the Mount Phousi sunset stampede. The view? Lovely. The crowd? A thicket. For romance, try sunrise or literally any non-sunset hour.
Sai Bat and New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve started pre-dawn—at least on paper. We aimed to see Sai Bat, the monks’ daily alms. We went too late and learned 5:30 a.m. is the real time. We wandered the morning market instead—local life in bowls and baskets—then returned on Jan 2 to quietly watch the procession. We didn’t buy rice; we stood back and let the rhythm pass us by.
That night we started at Utopia—slow-eating through appetizers and a pizza, playing Bohnanza, people-watching. Near midnight we drifted to the town center: music, raffles (we think), countdown, cheer, and a walk home under new-year air.
Two Days on the Slow Boat
On Jan 2 we swapped land for river—the two-day slow boat toward Thailand. A tuk tuk scooped us at 7:30 a.m., handed us a blank ticket and the cash we’d paid so we could queue when the counter opened (Laos loves a workaround). The boat seats are old bus chairs bolted to planks; sometimes they slide, and so does your patience.
Day one was nine hours of brown-green river and dramatic banks, with me (tall) playing Tetris with my legs. We pulled into Pak Beng and treated ourselves to a comfy mattress because… well… see World Hotel. Day two was eight hours to Huay Xai, less crowded and more legroom. You can take a fast boat and do it in one day, but every story we heard used “stressful” and “dangerous” in the same sentence. Hard pass.
Across the Border
At the border we did the Laos exit → shuttle to Thailand → small overtime fee after 4 p.m. → ride into Chiang Khong dance. Easy enough. We found a comfy hotel without a booking and crashed. With more time, I would’ve lingered by that river.
Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai
The direct Chiang Khong → Chiang Mai bus was sold out, so we hopped to Chiang Rai, then grabbed the 4 p.m. Chiang Rai → Chiang Mai. Our tuk-tuk driver literally flagged the first bus from the roadside and waved us aboard. With four hours to kill, we wandered Chiang Rai’s Flower Festival and picked up a Thai SIM for about $6 CAD—15 days, 30 GB. Canada, take notes.
Nicola’s Birthday
We rolled into Chiang Mai on the evening of Jan 4, just in time for Nicola Day: her birthday on the 5th. The plan: They Call Me Cat—the cat café with 26 furry coworkers. For about $7 CAD we got a drink, a packet of treats, and all the cat therapy a traveler could want. Don’t tell Charlie. Lunch at the Riverside, then cakes at a bakery where the staff sang happy birthday and we stuck a candle on top that I’m 90% sure said “riches” in Thai. We booked a trek for the next day and wandered home smiling.
Doi Inthanon Trek
Jan 6 was our Doi Inthanon trek: picked up at 8 a.m., about six hours of trails and four waterfalls (I swam in one—icy and perfect), plus a picnic lunch the guide grabbed from a roadside stall. I slipped once on a narrow bit of path and slid about five feet into a bamboo clump—left knee scraped, ego mildly bruised. Someone caught part of it on video, and I forgot to ask for it. Rookie move.
Goodbye, Chiang Mai
Jan 7 was our last lazy lap around Chiang Mai—wandering, snacks, and packing. On the 8th we flew to Manila to start the Philippines chapter. Southeast Asia treated us well: waterfalls and river bends, early-morning rituals and late-night street parties, good noodles, bad mattresses, and the small moments that make a place feel like it’s yours for a minute. We didn’t see it all. That’s okay. It just means we’ll be back.
Reflection
If there’s a lesson tucked inside these days, it’s this: the best parts rarely happen on a schedule. They hide in the detours—a cat café on a birthday, a moon bear sanctuary beside a waterfall, a bus you board from the side of the road, a monk’s quiet footfall at dawn. Even the worst room gave us a better story. We’ll forget the exact prices and bus times, but we’ll remember the blue of Kuang Si, the hush of Sai Bat, and how it felt to be small on a big river heading somewhere new.
