Our ultimate destination for the day was the small riverside village of Muang Ngoi Neua. In order to reach it however, you need to first make your way by bus to an equally sedate village by the name of Nong Khiaw.

It’s a four hour journey from Luang Prabang and we didn’t go by bus. We went for the budget option. We went for the sawngthaew. For the benefit of you who are unaware of this particular mode of transport I shall fill you in. It is, effectively, an open back truck, with a wooden bench lining either side. The word basic is an understatement. Furthermore, the objective of any self respecting sawngthaew driver is this:

To see how much in the way of both people and stuff you can cram into the back.

If cramming people into things were an Olympic sport, the wonderful inhabitants of this charming landlocked country would be gold medalists. Every time.

I believe there were approximately nine people on either side of the rear of the truck. That’s eighteen in total. Plus one child laying across the piles of luggage and food (live and otherwise) strewn up the centre and in turn denying you any leg room.

Close your eyes, just for a second, and Imagine sitting, knees against your chest, in a kind of squashed pencil formation due to the lack of shoulder room, locked in your small allocated spot, with inquisitive locals eyeing you from opposite and others, to your side, falling asleep and trying their utmost to slobber on your shoulder. Top that off with the fact that it was bitterly cold (the truck was open by the way) and the fact that every single grain of sand or gravel on the road was felt - ten fold - in the weary nerve endings of your bruised and battered rear end. Seriously, my arse felt like it had spent the last four hours as Mike Tyson’s punch bag.

I can say with the utmost confidence, with hand on heart, that this journey, was the single most uncomfortable either of us have made in our lives. It was however, cheap. And that was all that mattered. That made everything ok. Including my dead arse.

Nong Khiaw is a small fishing village nestled by the banks of the Nam Ou river. Made up of a series of crude dirt roads lined with wooden buildings and home to a collection of smiling locals, of whom, from their various vantage points, watch with curiosity as you pass through their home. It reminded me of an old western town. The kind you see in the movies. Only with friendly Asian inhabitants rather than the usual Clint Eastwood look-alikes.

It also struck me as being a nice place to spend the night. Unfortunately for us however, we were only passing through in order to catch the one hour long boat up the river to Muang Ngoi.

As you reach the banks of Muang Ngoi, and the boats engine is killed, the air is filled with silence. You find yourself surrounded with nothing but nature and the charming simplicity of the small village that sits here, eyeing you from above, itself dwarfed by the giant limestone karts that reach towards the sky and look out over the entire area. From the gentle flow of the river, to the lush valley that lines its sides, it is a fine sight. You can feel the smile filling your face and that warm feeling of peacefulness filling your mind as you take in the view for the first time.

Stepping out of the boat and making your way up the small collection of concrete steps up towards the village that feeling does not subside. Before coming here we had read that this place was like a step back in time. That it was, to use a cliché, something else. ‘A travellers gem’, it was described as. You can see why.

The village is made up of one long, narrow dirt street, running parallel to the rivers edge. At one end of the village sit’s the customary red and gold Wat, housing the few monks that reside here. Lining either side of the street, amongst the colourful blossom of the plants and flowers growing wild, beneath the bright golden glow of the Asian sun, you will find a collection of wooden buildings, ranging from the numerous guesthouses to the charmingly simple restaurants, and even a bakery - offering fresh bread twice daily. Add to that the ever smiling locals and you can, maybe, get some idea of the marvel that is Muang Ngoi.

We stayed at a relatively new guesthouse that sits on the bank of the river, just at the top of the steps as you enter the village. The Rainbow Guesthouse. Inside the room we found two large candles. At nine thirty that evening we discovered why, when the entire village descended into complete darkness. The generators that provide the limited electricity here are turned off at that time each evening. Following which, beyond the muted sounds of dogs wandering and the laughs of the locals and backpackers echoing through, that peacefulness again takes over. The sound of nothing.

Prior to the black out we ate at one of the small restaurants. The menu was incredibly basic, offering not a great deal more than fried rice and was handwritten in patchy English. Judging by the faded appearance it also seemed it had been written some time ago. It didn’t seem to matter though. In fact not much seemed to matter here. It seemed incredibly easy to forget all your worries and just well, do as the ever happy locals seem to do and, relax.

It is amazing. It also makes you wonder sometimes, who has the better end of the deal. In this being the modern age of cars, convenience foods and reality TV. Do we really have the higher standard of living? When you compare the stress and depression that many residents of the so called ‘first world’ countries suffer, to the care free, relaxed existence that the people here experience, I’m not so sure.

I would have happily spent a week here, just taking in the surroundings and losing all sense of time. Unfortunately we had planned to be in Thailand for Christmas and the new year and, well, the calendar was advancing, rather quickly. As a result, and much to my regret, we only spent that single night here. The following morning, at 09:00, we said our goodbyes to the guesthouse owner and boarded that same traditional long boat that had brought us here, and headed back down the river towards Nong Khiaw, to begin what was set to be a marathon two day journey to the cultural capital of Thailand (as many Thai residents proudly describe it) Chaing Mai, in northern Thailand…