We could have flown. Immigration, taxi, hotel, pool by noon — and fewer protests of “Are we there yet?” from our five-year-old. But where’s the thrill in that? So, bleary from an overnight train from Bangkok, my wife, our son, and I crossed the Mekong into Laos in a rattling carriage, armed with only one hotel reservation in Luang Prabang and a hunger for the unscripted adventure of a backpacking trip we’d taken more than a decade earlier.
Laos had changed. I remembered long, winding drives and cramped pickup trucks stuffed with strangers. Now, a Chinese-built railway slices north from Vientiane into China at up to 100 miles an hour, collapsing daylong journeys into an hour or two. The cavernous Vientiane station felt like a small airport: a lone café, a shop with odd snacks, and a sudden eruption of movement as a shrill whistle announced the train. Monks in saffron, passengers with rice sacks, Chinese tourists with luxury knockoffs and Germans with battered Lonely Planets moved through efficient, impersonal processing.
Ninety minutes later the countryside sped by until the karst-draped hills around Vang Vieng loomed. Expecting nostalgia, I found renewal instead. The once-notorious party town, known for river tubing and boozy bars, had morphed: pickup trucks now hauled kayaks, neon-soaked bars had given way to neat coffee shops, and the atmosphere was family-friendly rather than raucous.
We rented a motorbike at dawn, stopping at viewpoints to watch the Nam Song River wind through rice paddies. Kids dove from bamboo platforms into emerald lagoons; farmers spread reed mats for impromptu picnics of stir-fried noodles and mango shakes. Evenings drifted slowly: paragliders skimmed pastel skies above the riverfront, lanterns carrying wishes rose into the dark, and distant karaoke strains threaded through the air.
From Vang Vieng we took the train north to Luang Prabang. The ride tunneled more than it revealed, but when light struck the landscape the rewards were cinematic: dramatic limestone outcrops, sleepy villages, and the town’s gingerbread mansions and gilded stupas felt like stepping into a sepia photograph. French baguettes stuffed with herbs and pâté still sold cheaply at the market; at sunset people climbed Phou Si Hill to watch the town soften into gold. Our lodgings were a marked upgrade from our backpacking days — the plush Amantaka with its stuccoed walls and polished teak felt like a civilized fantasy where even breakfast croissants felt elegant.
We returned to familiar pleasures: slurping noodles at stilted cafés under bougainvillea, cycling the French colonial Old Quarter to temples where monks still outnumbered tourists, and watching my son treat Buddhist murals like oversized comic strips. The morning market remained a riot of sights and smells: banana blossoms, honeycomb, and the occasional bamboo rat wrapped in plastic — a vendor’s wink and chop-motion sending my son into amused squeals.
Our final stop was Namkat Yorla Pa lodge in Oudomxay province, a rainforest retreat once a half-day drive from Luang Prabang and now just 30 minutes from the nearest station. Surrounded by bamboo forests, ancient-rooted trees, suspension bridges, zip lines, mossy boulders, and crystalline streams, it felt deliciously wild. An ethnic Khmu village overlooked terraced rice fields; villagers now work at the lodge, and a new irrigation system supports three rice harvests a year instead of one.
Revisiting places from the past carries a selfish hope that time froze them unchanged. But as our train pushed us home, I realized change and nostalgia are companions. The Laos I remembered had evolved into something different but equally compelling. Progress had tempered some rough edges and opened fresh possibilities; the spirit of the places remained, if seen with new eyes. Sometimes the best way to appreciate that is to take the long way home.
Where to stay
Vang Vieng: Riverside Boutique Resort
A smart choice in a town increasingly populated by basic guesthouses. Set on the Nam Song River, the 34 rattan-and-teak rooms, riverfront terrace, and pool make for a relaxing base after days exploring.
Luang Prabang: Amantaka
Housed in early-20th-century French colonial buildings, Amantaka feels removed from the bustle yet is within easy reach of downtown. Elegant suites, a courtyard pool, and curated off-resort activities — including teak river cruises at sunset — invite lingering.
Oudomxay: Namkat Yorla Pa
Founded by conservationist Somphet Maopaseuth, this lodge is a launchpad for treks, zip-line tours, and bird spotting. Rustic villas, a breezy restaurant serving Lao staples like or lam and nam jim jaew, and a full jungle setting complete the experience.
This article appeared in the April 2026 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe here.
