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I know I will get on well with novice monk Palitha as soon as I discover he's never heard of Lady Gaga.

I had been sneaking around Wat Siri Moung Khoung, a Buddhist temple in the northern Laotian town of Luang Prabang, looking for a saffron-robed monk to include in my photograph, when I found him. As I composed a picture, I noticed through the viewfinder that my subject was beckoning me nearer. 'How long are you in Laos for?' he asked in fluent English, much to my surprise. As I replied, I noticed the thick volume on his lap didn't contain Buddhists texts but was an English grammar exercise book. He smiled and politely asked if I could help him with his tenses. It's not often you get the chance to offer enlightenment to a monk.

There are a limited number of ways to reach remote Luang Prabang. Flying in from Bangkok, is without doubt the easiest. The two-day boat trip along the Mekong River from Thailand is the most adventurous and then, for masochists or enthusiasts of the Laotian public bus system, there's the bone-shuddering 12-hour journey up from the capital, Vientiane. Purely for research purposes I opted for the bus.

Aware that space would be limited, I arrive early in the hope of getting a seat. The best spot, however, seems to be on the roof, clear of jostling elbows and the tinny din of the sound system. I clamber up, imagining myself reclining on a comfy sack of rice, the wind in my hair, enjoying the elevated views. Two minutes before we leave, a dozen pigs in bamboo baskets are hoisted up and wedged between the grain, rusty power tools and boxes tied with bits of string and tape. I settle for lower class.

It's a good idea to break the arduous drive north with a stopover in Vang Vieng, a town in that transitory stage of being no longer a well-kept secret nor quite in the tourist big league, yet. River rafting and canoeing amid the serrated limestone pinnacles tempt thrill-seeking visitors. Clean guesthouses, internet cafes and video bars have arrived, though there may be a bit of a wait for top-end hotels and scenic helicopter flights.

Fully refreshed after two days in Vang Vieng, I board another overcrowded, overloaded bus, which wheezes along the ominously named Route 13. The endurance-testing ride is dramatic, with mist-cloaked mountains hemming us in on all sides. I might have appreciated the scenery even more were I not wedged on a plastic stool in the aisle with chickens pecking at my ankles.

Lethargic Luang Prabang is a real gem. Shaven- headed monks glide along in slow motion. The Mekong River loops around the historic district, giving you the impression of being surrounded by water, or caught out at high tide. Watching the sunset from the temple on Phou Si Hill is a great way for new arrivals to get their bearings.

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