When I flew into Southeast Asia's most remote, landlocked country, little did I realize that I'd find myself teaching English to a group of young monks – and on my first night there! But expect the unexpected in Laos, and doubly so when visiting the former imperial capital of Luang Prabang. This unspoilt, Unesco-designated world heritage city is so isolated, it takes an arduous two days’ slow drive from the administrative capital of Vientiane, a mere 420 km away, if you count all the twists and turns. Yet tour books frequently caution you about bandits. The alternative of boating down the swift Mekong – complete with rapids and whirlpools -- holds just about as much appeal. Up until recently, Vientiane was the only legal port of disembarkation into the country, and all approaches to Luang Prabang had to be made via the capital. Nowadays, regional airlines are finally discovering this gem of a destination, and you can fly conveniently from Bangkok or Sukhothai, Thailand directly into Luang Prabang on Bangkok Air, or less capably via the small national, carrier Lao Air. (Alas, sometimes you have no choice!)

Most people know little of Laos, outside of what they may have seen in an occasional movie like “Air America” with Mel Gibson. A former colony of French Indochina, Laos maintained its nominal independence as a kingdom until the collapse of Vietnam and Cambodia to communism. Laos followed suit, and this tiny, mountainous land of some 6 million stayed one of Asia’s hermit kingdoms until recently. Nowadays, it is still a distinct backwater -- with rudimentary infrastructure: no railways, a paucity of roads and only intermittent electricity. Yet the country proves a refreshing change from tourist throngs, and the experiences here are magical, if not unique.

It was then that I learned the difference between a true monk, as opposed to a monk novice. It seems that here, as in Thailand, most boys become monks during their life. Their deceptive saffron robes are just a kind of school uniform, part and parcel to going to school -- and in fact, if they don't become novice monks and attend a monastery, they probably won't get any education at all.

"Manchester United,” chanted the class. “Oi, oi,oi.”

They obviously mistook my accent for English. Visions of a diplomatic incident between Australia and Laos formed in my mind. How could I get out of this? By divine providence, their nighttime curfew came to my rescue, and I was soon free to roam again through these quiet streets.

Luang Prabang is celebrated for its temples, some dating back to the 16th century, and more than half of the original 50-some still survive. This is considered the cradle of Lao culture. Colonial French villas – some dilapidated, but others showing a new affluence -- dot the streets and side lanes, and the old royal palace is now a museum. This is one of the few – if only – Asian cities where it is truly safe to hire a bicycle to explore both the town and environs alike. Motorized road traffic is a minimum, and indeed, there seems more hustle and bustle on the rivers than on the roads. Which makes sense, as this mountainous country’s waterways have historically been an easier – and safer – route around the country.

Near the dusty centre of town, chartered boats leave early each morning from the city’s main port, tripping up the mighty Mekong into lands of stunningly picturesque mountains, remote prayer caves, and small craft villages specializing in local arts --from weaving to paper making, to pottery and even alcohol distillation. Intricate silver craft, however, remains the urban domain of Luang Prabang itself. Sadly, the onset of tourism is bringing its own wake to these villages: local distilling brings in fewer dollars than touristy trinkets, and the famed Ban Xang Hai whisky village upriver – where a delicious red brew from sticky rice is the specialty – progressively loses market share to trinkets and curios. Some locals contend they won’t even be making fiery Lao lo here by next year. And in the grimy pottery village of Bhan Chan, directly south of town, locals now post gatekeepers to charge unsuspecting tourists entering the area.

Whisky and tariffs aside, Luang Prabang is renowned for local delicacies unique to this region, unknown in other parts of Laos – which is fitting, considering the area’s royal imprimatur. The first Lao cookbook translated into English, written by Phia Sing, chef to the king, focuses on this region’s dishes, from a simple quail braised with cabbage to an elaborate wild deer curry. The popularity of game is a constant theme of Lao cookery, with buffalo and venison seemingly more popular than beef and pork. More humbly on a street level, perhaps the best local fare is a smoky tasting jeow or chilli jam that includes tiny bits of buffalo hide. This is delicious served simply with a bowl of steamed rice, or conversely, eaten with grilled meat. Small plastic packets are available at most roadside markets, in various degrees of spicy heat. Native vegetables, especially the wild salad greens like mountain watercress, are unique, and most with untranslatable equivalents. Aw lam, a stew of meat, mushroom, tiny egg plants, and flavoured with a local bitter yet spicy root, is not to be missed.