Journal Entry: April 9

In Luang Prabang I sit, overlooking the Mekong with lukewarm Beerlao, trying not to sweat and failing miserably. Sitting absolutely still, I can feel the tiny beads forming on my arms and sliding down my chest, back, and legs. Even on the eve of the Lao New Year, the town is sleepy, almost like time has been slowed to 1/4 speed. There are a few youth on the sidewalks, armed with plastic basins, throwing water on the passing motos. A few falang too, are taking part in the water fight, spraying passersby from their cafe chairs with massive water guns, but otherwise the people, both Lao and foreign, seem quite subdued--drugged by the heat and the calm of the river. The sky is smoky from the burning fields outside the town, as farmers prepare to plant. Dropping below the palm branches, the pink-orange sun is swallowed by the haze well before it sets behind the mountains on the far side of the river.