As tourism continues to reshape Luang Prabang into a more worldly destination, the seductive appeal of the ancient Lao capital—and the lush countryside surrounding it—endures.

Photographs by Christopher P. Hill

Left to right: The Royal Palace Museum; a staffer at the Rosewood Luang Prabang.

For the uninitiated, the best spot in Luang Prabang to discover the joys of jeow is a place called Little Lao Culture Bar. A staple of every Laotian table, this spicy, earthy chili dip is to Laotians what sambal is to Indonesians and nam prik is to Thais. Pretty much every household has its own recipe, and the variety is staggering. At Little Lao, the menu lists no fewer than 20 jeows, all contributed by local families and ranging in heat from “medium spicy” to “very spicy” to “Lao burn.” I brave one from the latter category—jeow pak hom—to go with my nam khao, a crispy rice salad served in a lettuce leaf. Both pack a fiery punch, but the dip, a mix of green onion, coriander, and charred chili pepper, is so thrillingly spicy that I almost shed a tear.

“That’s my mother’s recipe,” beams owner Vansana Nolintha, who opened Little Lao last year on Sisavangvong Road, the main drag through the city’s UNESCO World Heritage–listed old town. Born here in 1985 but raised as a teenager in the United States, he relocated to Luang Prabang a few years ago on what he calls “a journey home.”

Having co-founded an acclaimed Laotian restaurant back in Raleigh, North Carolina, Nolintha was keen to launch something similar in Luang Prabang. He eventually acquired a 200-year-old shophouse that has since been transformed into one of the town’s most exciting additions. And not just for the food. Every corner of the slim downstairs restaurant celebrates Lao craftsmanship, from hand-stenciled floors and intricate floral offerings to a black stone countertop etched with intricate dragons, phoenixes, and other traditional motifs. On the exposed-brick wall behind the bar, a trio of ornate liquor cabinets—carved and gilded by grandsons of the late Manivong Khatiyarat, one of the country’s most influential artists—gleam like heirlooms. Much of the tableware is also the work of local artisans.

“I want to help keep Luang Prabang’s cultural heritage alive,” Nolintha says. That mission extends upstairs to sister establishment Sun Song Social, which I visit later that night. Accessed via a vintage spiral staircase, the sexy cocktail bar is adorned with red-velvet sofas and backlit screens of scarlet saa (mulberry) paper. But the real scene-stealer is a circular peacock mosaic of meticulously hand-cut glass. Inspired by the Tree of Life mosaic at nearby Wat Xieng Thong temple, it glints like a disco ball.

Left to right: Poolside at Avani+ Luang Prabang; stirring things up at Little Lao Culture Bar.

I’ve come to Luang Prabang for the first time since 2021, when the city became a stop on the new Chinese-built railway between Boten, on the border with China, and Vientiane, the Lao capital. Would it be overrun, I wondered? Concerns about Luang Prabang’s ability to balance tourism—its main source of revenue—with heritage preservation are nothing new, of course; backpackers and more affluent visitors have been flowing in ever since the UNESCO designation put the ancient royal capital on the map back in 1995. The core of the heritage zone, a beguiling blend of traditional wooden houses, centuries-old Buddhist temples, and French-colonial buildings squeezed onto a slender peninsula at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, seems too delicate to bear the strains of mass tourism. Alarmingly for a small, low-slung city of 62,000, Luang Prabang welcomed a record-breaking 1.5 million foreign tourists in 2024—more than twice the number recorded in 2019, when I last visited.

So no, Luang Prabang isn’t quite the somnolent backwater described by British journalist Christopher Hope a quarter of a century ago as “a place which seems not to wake so much as roll over now and then in its sleep.” On Sisavangvong Road, mornings begin at dawn with a phalanx of camera-toting tourists giving alms to passing monks, and evenings bring almost impassable crowds to the night market in front of the old Royal Palace. Party boats cruise the Mekong well past sunset. And yet, there’s no denying the persistent allure of a town that, like nowhere else in the region, still offers a sense of what Indochina once was.

“After a 20-year absence, I noticed that many things had changed, but so much surprisingly remained,” Nolintha tells me. “The traditions, the rituals, the rhythms of the day—they all invite people to slow down, be more reflective, more kind.”

Off the main streets, that magic is still easy to find. Laneways lined with gabled teak homes and colonial villas carry the scent of frangipani, incense, and the damp, earthy tang of the rivers. Farmers and villagers haggle over their produce in the umbrella-shaded alleys of the wet market. Schoolchildren assemble before classes in the courtyard of the École Primaire to sing the national anthem. And in between tour groups, moments of profound stillness can even be found at Wat Xieng Thong, the most beautiful of Luang Prabang’s many temples.

My wanderings take me down to the banks of the Nam Khan, where I stop for a drink on the terrace of The Apsara, one of the peninsula’s original boutique hotels. Ivan Sholte, the soft-spoken British owner, recalls first visiting Laos in the late 1990s and falling in love with the unspoiled beauty of Luang Prabang. He opened this place shortly after, followed by a ritzier version with a pool on the opposite side of the river. Sholte has seen plenty of changes over the years, but he affirms that the town’s “spirit is still intact.”

Left to right: A riverside pool villa at Rosewood Luang Prabang is perched above a waterfall; a team member at The Apsara, the town’s pioneering boutique hotel.

Left to right: Inside the YaiMaii shop, which sells Lao-designed casual wear handcrafted from natural fibers like hemp and linen; boats on the Mekong River.

These days, that spirit is finding new expression in a clutch of businesses that have sprung up in the last couple of years. Little Lao Culture Bar is one; another is nearby Lost in Baan, an airy French-owned gastropub with an eclectic menu of Asian “soul food”—betel-wrapped buffalo skewers, say, or Mekong fish balls with a spicy pineapple dip.

On Sakkaline Road, I walk through the pistachio-green louvered doors of YaiMaii, the ethical clothing brand of Vientiane-based designer Douangmany Heuangkhamsene. Best known as the founder of Her Works, a women-led social enterprise that produces contemporary ethnic handicrafts, she opened this boutique last year in a revamped colonial-era shophouse that now showcases a line of breezy casual wear handcrafted by rural artisans from hemp and linen.

Just up the street is Lu La Lao Coffee, perfectly positioned for a caffeine hit between temple visits. Japanese owned and minimalist in design, the farm-to-cup café focuses on single- origin beans from the highlands of Laos. Each pour comes with a card describing its provenance and taste profile, which is how I learn that the beans in my cold brew were grown in the neighboring province of Xiangkhouang and promise “an aftertaste like almond chocolate.”

Also worth the search is Artisan, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cocktail den tucked down a residential passageway. With just 15 seats and dimly lit interiors that nod to the bygone glamour of train travel, it serves some knockout drinks, from cold-brew martinis to the Gentle Sour, an herby riff on the classic whiskey drink made with bourbon-infused red plum and smoked anise. It’s a world away from the rice whiskey shacks and cheap beer bars that once defined the local nightlife.

Not much stays open past 11:30 p.m. in Luang Prabang, but I manage to round off the night at Sun Song Social, which buzzes with a hip young crowd. “Lots of talented people are moving here, from Vientiane and all over,” says Nolintha, whose latest project—an adjacent shophouse dubbed Little Lao House—encompasses a café, a market-style restaurant, and a crafts store selling locally designed organic-cotton apparel, ceramics, and fragrant rice soaps. “It’s a great time for Luang Prabang.”

Left to right: Nam khao salad at Little Lao Culture Bar; a lounge area at Avani+ Luang Prabang.

My base for exploration has been the Avani+ Luang Prabang, one of a wave of luxury boutique hotels that followed the bar-raising arrival of Aman in 2009. (Amantaka, just up the street, is a stylish reinvention of the old city hospital where Nolintha was born.) Located at the edge of the heritage zone, the Avani+, with its clean-lined interiors and 25-meter pool, is well placed for ambles through the old town as well as trips farther afield, be that a cruise—the hotel is home base for Mekong Kingdoms, which operates a fleet of smart riverboats—or, in my case, an early-morning visit to Kuang Si Falls.

The 50-minute drive into the countryside takes us past the sweeping red gables of the Luang Prabang Station, where a high-speed train from Kunming in Yunnan deposits hundreds of passengers daily. My escort from the hotel is unimpressed. “Chinese tourists stay at Chinese hotels, eat at Chinese restaurants, go in Chinese cars… Laos gets nothing from them.”

The expanded parking facilities at Kuang Si suggest this popular attraction gets very busy indeed, and not without reason: ensconced in a forest of towering hardwoods, the waterfall’s multiple cascades and pools of milky-aqua water are undeniably beautiful. But we’ve been granted early access before the gates officially open at 8 a.m., and there’s not another soul in sight.

Escaping the crowds is easier still at the Rosewood Luang Prabang, where I spend the next three nights. Set on the jungly fringes of town beside a babbling river, the 23-room enclave is the work of Bangkok-based hotel architect and designer Bill Bensley, who went big on French-colonial romance. The guest quarters—including six hilltop tented suites—are an ode to 19th-century explorers and naturalists, decorated with vintage trunks, botanical prints, and framed maps alongside Lao stencil work and antiques. My riverside pool villa overlooks a modest waterfall. Downstream, The Great House is a whitewashed mansion where meals (highlighted by local specialties like sai oua pork sausages with crispy river weed and or larm, a stew of braised buffalo, eggplant, and pepper wood) are served on a terrace overlooking an oval pool or, in the cooler months, beside crackling hand-plastered fireplaces. There’s a bar on a covered bridge filled with elephant-themed decor, and spa tents where you can gaze down at a brook through glass squares in the floor while enjoying a Lao massage or herbal poultice treatment.

Left to right: Rosewood Luang Prabang’s Great House; a villa bedroom at the same hotel.

Left to right: Sai oua sausages with river weed at the Rosewood; the glass peacock mosaic at Sun Song Social.

Indulgences aside, the Rosewood also offers some excellent off-site experiences. One morning takes me to the MandaLao Elephant Conservation sanctuary on the banks of the Nam Khan River. Spanning 150 hectares, the preserve cares for a small herd of pachyderms mostly rescued from logging camps, now free to live out their days in peace—“No chains, no hooks, no hammer,” as our guide says. The highlight is a languid walk through a teak forest with two of the gentle giants.

Another day, I cross the Mekong with the hotel’s resident Buddhism expert, Noi, for a tour of the temples scattered along the river’s north bank. The vibe is more rural on this side of the water, with few other tourists around. Following a village path lined by stilt houses and home gardens where chickens scratch at the earth, we pass venerable shrines, meditation caves, and crumbling stupas. A final climb up 120 stone steps brings us to Wat Chomphet, a faded hilltop temple with sweeping views of Luang Prabang and the wild mountains beyond.

Noi, a former monk, also brings me to the dawn sai bat (almsgiving) ritual at Ban Phanom, a traditional weaving village on the far side of the city. In the gloom of a temple courtyard, I wait with a handful of local women for the arrival of a dozen barefoot monks and novices, who appear like apparitions just after 6 a.m. to receive apples and handfuls of sticky rice for the first of their two daily meals. I am the only foreigner present. The intimate ritual is over in a few minutes, but I linger for a while, savoring the moment as the rising sun lights up the golden finials on the temple roof.

And I recall something Nolintha told me back at Little Lao: “This is a place that beckons you to come without an itinerary and just be. That’s the enduring magic of Luang Prabang.”

Monks arriving for the morning almsgiving at the temple in Ban Phanom; a floral offering placed at the feet of a guardian lion statue along the Nam Khan river.

Luang Prabang Unlocked

GETTING THERE

Luang Prabang is now connected by air to several regional cities, including Bangkok and Hanoi.

WHERE TO STAY

Rosewood Luang Prabang
Nestled in a lush river valley outside town, this evocative property inspired by Lao and French-colonial architecture features just 23 rooms, villas, and hillside tents (from US$600 a night).

Avani+ Luang Prabang
The first property opened by Avani+ back in 2018 set the bar high for what to expect from the luxury lifestyle brand. Built around a courtyard where a towering banyan tree shades a 25-meter pool, its 53 clean-lined rooms are just steps from the old town’s markets and temples (from US$245 a night).

WHERE TO EAT, DRINK, AND SHOP

Artisan
An intimate cocktail lounge with a serious mixology program (856-20/2389-2778).

Little Lao Culture Bar/Sun Song Social
This revamped historic shophouse is a celebration of Lao culture and craftsmanship, both in the ground-floor restaurant and the sexy cocktail bar upstairs.

Little Lao House
Right next door to the above, blue-trimmed Little Lao House purveys ceramics, apparel, and other locally made items alongside a restaurant and café.

Lost in Baan
The free-spirited vibe here is matched by an eclectic Asian fusion menu.

Lu La Lao Coffee
A minimalist café pouring single-origin coffees sourced from Laos.

YaiMaii
Vientiane-based designer Douangmany Heuangkhamsene’s Luang Prabang boutique showcases ethical fashion handmade from natural fibers.

This article originally appeared in the October/November 2025 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“It’s a Kind of Magic”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

Luang Prabang Revisited