Contrast
Luang Prabang, Laos, August 2004
In Luang Prabang we drank coffee at two very distinct places. Every morning we drank muddy, Laotian brew, slightly sweetened with canned condensed milk, at a bamboo hut along the river. We sat at low tables, slightly above steet level, and watched the mighty Mekong river and Laotian street life flow by. During our five days there we saw only local, Lao men at this traditional, Lao coffeeshop. And Lao style, the shop served coffee with a side of hot, herbal tea. Our bill was always the same: 40 cents for 2 coffees and 2 teas.
Then there was our other favorite coffee shop, Joma, in a restored colonial building. Joma served dark roasted expresso, French pastries and light lunches in air conditioned comfort. Jazz recordings muted the traffic noise. The staff continuously filled our water glasses with icy water. Our drinking companions there were tourists, not Lao. Our bill for 2 large coffees and water: Two dollars. Not that we ever ordered just coffee. Cinnamon-pecan rolls, apple croissants or banana bread sometimes accompanied our caffeine fix.
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Welcome to Luang Prabang, a sleepy, backwater, French colonial village caught in a timewarp of change. The two distinct coffee shops symbolize the clear contrast existing between traditional and tourist.
We saw the two cultures again in markets. Laotians shop at bustling daytime wet (fruit and vegetables, fish and meat) markets and dry-goods markets. At night they set up a night market for tourists on the main tourist street in town, closing one long block off to traffic. Here visitors buy exquisitely woven silks and local handicrafts. Restaurants in that part of historical Luang Prabang, often with dishes priced in dollars, cater only to tourists. Most of the restaurants were French.
Paul and I tried to enjoy both the local, traditional and the French-colonial cultures. We sometimes had misunderstandings. Our first morning in Luang Prabang we headed out, with our friend Dale, to wander through the various local markets and outlying neighborhoods. When hunger finally got the better of us we selected a sidewalk Chinese foodstall. They had a menu in English. We selected our dishes, or thought we did. A young girl escorted us off the street into what looked to be the family living room. We sat at a big table under the cooling breeze of a fan.
When the food arrived all three dishes had been fried with pig's liver. I'm a vegetarian, and Paul and Dale certainly didn't think they'd ordered pig's liver. But we pushed the liver aside, and made do.
Every meal required a choice: Laotian or French food. We always chose French for dinner. A compelling reason to visit Luang Prabang is to eat well-prepared and artistically presented French food at reasonable prices. During our five day visit we dined twice at L'Elephant Cafe, our favorite find. The high ceilings, swishing fans, white linen table cloths and napkins, and comfortable yet elegant furniture worked together to create the optimum tropical dining experience. The Laotian French-trained chef took advantage of fresh local ingredients. Thinly sliced Asian eggplant in a tomato sauce topped with béchamel sauce and then gratineéd. Watercress soup with warm croutons. Mekong river fish with a light cream sauce. Wild boar fricassee. A tartine made with mango, apple and pineapple. All accompanied with freshly baked baguettes and red French wine. L'Elephant looked to be the restaurant of choice for wealthier Laos and for ex-pats living in Luang Prabang.
With the infusion of dollars and tourists into Luang Prabang, will the future bring fusion or confusion in what is still a quaint, sleepy village?
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