It’s six in the morning and I’m sitting on the balcony of our guesthouse in Luang Prabang, relishing the slight chill in the air and smooth teak floors under my bare feet. I’m watching and listening as the day comes to life. Today is our last day here and I want to soak it all in.
A door creaks and the young wife across the street emerges, gingerly carrying something. She places a protective votive of marigolds wrapped in banana leaves on the windshield of her husband’s white truck, says a prayer, and pats the hood. She wants to keep him safe today.
February 19, 2012