Luang Prabang to Angkor – Day 3: Kuang Si Waterfalls

On the morning of our last day in Luang Prabang, I made a quick excursion with my camera to Wat Xieng Thong. It had been cloudy during our previous visit, and I really wanted to get a few pictures of the temple under clear blue skies (Barron quite rightly made fun of me for being a slave to Instagram). Having completed this task, Barron and I checked out of our hotel and walked to a nearby motorcycle rental place. For about eight dollars, we rented a motorcycle for the whole day, with no questions asked about licenses or insurance. I imagine the lady renting us the motorcycle had some second thoughts about this policy when I asked her to start the engine for me.

Our ride to the Kuang Si Waterfalls took perhaps an hour and a half. It would have taken a car fifty minutes, but I drove very cautiously as it was only my second time with my hand on the accelerator. Just outside the city, we filled our tank at the first gas station we passed, as we started out almost completely empty. Driving on, we passed by a few buffalo herds, village temples, and waving children. The forests were breathing out their cool humid air, refreshing us between spurts of breathing in dust kicked up by cars on the sundried roads.

We found the tourist infrastructure around the Kuang Si Waterfalls more developed than we had expected. Driving up to the reserve, we were directed to an extensive parking lot, where a guard took a payment of five thousand kips to repark and keep an eye on our bike. After paying an entry fee at the visitor centre, we were taken by shuttle all the way to the beginning of the well-kept trail to the waterfalls. Before reaching the stream, however, we walked through the sun bear reserve, which houses several bears rescued from poachers. It was heartening to find them kept in quite good conditions, but we were mortified to see a group of Chinese tourists throwing them food and trying to wake them up by shouting and banging on the railing. Barron even went as far as to berate one of them in Chinese, and she at least had the good sense to look abashed.

Despite the number of busses we saw at the parking lot, the waterfalls were not overrun with visitors. The stream stretched for a good few minutes in the mottled shade of the forest, spilling down pristine cascades into light blue lagoons. At its end, towering above all else, stood the Kuang Si Waterfalls. We climbed up a dirt path to their right to reach the very top, catching a few glimpses of the surrounding hills draped in deep green foliage. I tried very hard to keep Barron from noticing my shortness of breath, but I had already prepared an excuse for myself even if he did: I have been feeling a little ill these past few days. We used the metal staircase to get back down again, after which we made our way back to the shuttle stop. It was almost noon by then and we ate some roasted eggs and bananas to keep our hunger at bay.

We thought we would visit a museum after returning our motorcycle in Luang Prabang but failed to consider that many museums are closed on Mondays. Instead of letting ourselves be educated, therefore, we returned to yesterday’s pastry shop and tried some new baked goods. It was a busy day at the pastry shop: Barron and I spent a good half hour watching an influencer set up her phone on a tripod and take pictures of herself behind an intact pain au chocolat. After that, a dog slipped into the café and flopped onto the floor in front of the air conditioning; one of the waiters had to drag it out and guard the door to keep it from following new guests in. At some point, Barron went out with the intention of getting a massage but changed his mind after discovering that one of the receptionists at the parlour was quite literally a child.

We ate dinner at five o’clock, and at six, we had our hotel arrange us a taxi to the Chinese-built railway station. Bigger than any building we had seen in Luang Prabang, the station seemed like an alien spaceship. Its name, written in Lao and Chinese (but proudly eschewing Latin script), shone into the night in red neon, but the staircase below it probably needed a few more lamps. We showed our passports and tickets behind the front door, after which we passed through a security check like at an airport. Entering the hall, we noticed that the vast majority of travellers were Chinese, though a few Europeans were scattered among them. Once we passed the ticket check, all the Chinese tourists queued up by the pillar indicating their carriage number, while the European tourists – all travelling in the first-class carriage – formed a big undisciplined muddle.

The empty platform was a good place to reflect on how the passenger service is only a sideshow to the core of the whole Boten-Vientiane railway project: on one of the farther tracks, we saw wagons upon wagons of freight destined for China. Judging by their logos on all the folding trays, the Bank of China must have invested a good amount of money into the scheme. Despite these larger geopolitical realities, however, some facts of life remained comfortingly familiar. As soon as the train pulled up, several Asian-looking men quickly jumped out of the entrance and lit their cigarettes, while someone else disposed of a bag of sunflower seed shells by the door. We reached Vang Vieng in less than an hour of a very smooth ride, though we did not see much of the scenery because it was pitch-black outside.