Laos - the new place to chill

Hidden between Thailand and Vietnam, Laos is a landlocked nation of five million utterly laid-back people, nominally communist, deeply Buddhist, still munching baguettes with fish sauce - the legacy of 50 years of French colonial rule.

I'd heard of people who get emotional about great rivers, and now, winding down the Mekong in a small wooden boat, I'm one of them. Skirting Laos's western flank on its 2,800 mile journey from Tibet to the South China Sea, the Mekong has a bewitching beauty; so confident and purposeful - and it looks like a nice cup of tea. Cold morning mists hugged the thickly forested riverbanks as I chugged south for two days aboard Pak Ou, a slender, 100ftlong riverboat with a Laotian flag fluttering from a bamboo pole.

The joy of Laos is that many of its gentle citizens seem refreshingly disinterested in tourists. No one hassles to be your guide and if there are postcard-sellers outside the temple they are probably fast asleep - well, the local currency is the kip.

Savaged by the Vietnam War, caught in the folds of the Iron Curtain, Laos has been gradually opening up to travellers since the early Nineties. Now reliable operators and decent hotels are falling into place. In Luang Prabang, the Phuo Vao hotel was once a grim bolt hole for Russian officials. It has just reopened, under French management, as an oasis of Asian calm with large, serenely furnished rooms, a pool with intoxicating views over the hazy palms and a restaurant serving regional specialties such as Luang Prabang watercress soup and Mekong perch.

Once the Laotian royal capital, this overgrown village is the sort of place where you could easily spend a dreamy month - cycling by the river Nam, sitting in sundappled temples, having massages at £2 a go. Dining on the first-floor terrace of the colonial-era Villa Santi, the atmosphere is a suitably Graham Greene affair with whirring fans, chandeliers, white linen, glasses of Pernod and a menu featuring the recipes of the former royal chef, Phia Sing.

At the nearby L'Elephant brasserie, the wild boar, venison and chanterelles on the menu du chasseur are all local products. Laotian food is similar to Thai, using lemon grass, ginger and coconut to flavour fish, chicken and minced duck.

After three indolent days, I was ready to drop out - shave the head, get a floppy monk's bag, sit by the river, selling sheets of paper embedded with marigolds. But I was having a love affair with a great river, so I flew on south to Pakse, where the Mekong starts to widen. Here I boarded the Vat Phou, a steel barge converted into an airy houseboat with shiny rosewood decks, 12 comfortable cabins, elegant cane furniture and smiling staff in silk.

For three nights we mooched around the sleepy islands bordering Cambodia, visiting the Khone Pha Pheng waterfalls and climbing to the crumbling Khmer temple of Wat Phou. Pre-dating Angkor by two centuries, its vast ruins were deserted save for the passing of butterflies and the gentle fall of frangipani petals. I didn't think they made countries like this any more.

Sailing back to Pakse for breakfast, I crossed into Thailand at Chongmek, flew to Bangkok and was back at Heathrow by the next morning; all so easy. If you want to relax, river journeys are the answer.

Way to go

Nigel Tisdall flew to Chiang Rai in northern Thailand via Bangkok with Thai Airways (0870 606 0911; www.thaiair.com), then crossed into Laos by private car transfer. Returns from £740. Scott Dunn World (020 8682 5010) can tailor-make packages, 11 nights in March from £1,985pp with three nights in Luang Prabang and river cruises aboard the Pak Ou and Vat Phou. Useful websites: www.visit-laos.com and www.mekongcenter.com. Visas required, details from the Laotian Embassy, Paris (00 331 4553 0298).

The late escape to South East Asia