I returned to the city, as I had splurged and bought a flight from Luang Prabang straight to Bangkok in a few days. The minimum two day bus journey to cover the same ground would have just been awful. I was already dreading the flight home.

Last spring, it had been a claustrophobic nightmare, making the near fourteen hour Toronto to Seoul journey where I had enough time to revaluate my entire life and question the decision to live abroad. I kept waking up to the reoccurring nightmare that I was stuck on a plane to find it was my reality. I figured this time, I would make my three flights home as easy as possible by sleeping in as many beds as I could beforehand.

Luang Prabang didn't quite welcome me back.  It likely sensed my apprehension and nerves. Anna, my kayaking buddy, had highly recommended a spectacular rice farming experience just outside the city. Finding the place that offered the service was another challenge.

The guesthouse I was staying at claimed they had no phone that called out, even for a local calls, so I walked through different tour agencies, none of whom would help me book the tour I wanted or let me pay to use the phone.

After wasting most of the afternoon, I finally found an internet and phone place that charged 50 cents a minute and ended up having a conversation as expensive as my room just to book a tour that, at this rate, I'd likely hate tomorrow. After all that, I still couldn't find the Elephant restaurant where they wanted to pick me up.

In the end, there was one wonderful agent who helped me find it on a map and let me use their much cheaper phone service to confirm the pick-up for tomorrow. Hopefully worth all the hassle.

When I returned to my room and found that my shower that hardly flowed, just dripped out, I decided I had had enough and went back to the guesthouse where Alberto, Maria and the rest of us had stayed the first time. I booked a room for the following two nights. The group was long gone, but the place was still nice.

The next morning, I was up early to bring my bags to my new/old guesthouse before the tour pick up. The people working were friendly as per usual and I even managed to sneak in an egg and baguette for breakfast across the street.

I met up with the tuktuk driver and we took off to pick up Paul, a retired man with an interesting history. He had been born in Hawaii, later lived in Wisconsin, and relocated to Bangkok, something we had in common. When we arrived at Living Lands Farm, most people thought I was Paul's daughter since I seemed to be the only one under thirty. There was an Asian woman who may have been closer to my age, but otherwise the farm didn't seem to be where the young people congregated. That was fine; the group had better stories anyway.

The group of Americans travelling together also worked for tour agency back home and were exploring Laos. We had Laotian two guides for the day and the first one explained that we'd be learning about the fourteen steps of rice production.

The first step was grain selection. They had a container filled with salt water and used an egg to test the salinity before dropping the seeds in. He threw in a handful to test them. The best seeds sunk the bottom while the mediocre ones floated at the top. The second step was germination when the seeds were placed in a small basket with dirt and watered twice a day. After twenty days, they were reading to be planted. The farm had plants in the different stages so we could continue through all the steps in one day.

Next, we went down to the field to feed salt to Susan, the water buffalo. The name 'water buffalo' came from the fact that insects would pester the animals until they went into the water, up to their necks, to escape the pests. Susan helped us plow the area the traditional way, with a wooden plow. Many farmers used machinery more in present Laos. Two commands helped us control Susan were "Huoy-huoy" meaning 'go' and "Yoo" to stop her. We plowed from the outside and in.

Most of the group was shocked we had to hop into the field barefoot and actually do the work. I tried not to laugh. What else had they expected given the tour's description? We weren't actually doing work for long enough that it contributed to the farm overall, even with the ten of us. The 'natural fertilizer' that Susan provided while she worked definitely didn't help their motivation. In the end, most of us gave it a try. I thought it was pretty fun as long as I kept my baggy shorts hiked up high enough.

Next, we went over to a plowed field with the young seedlings. They needed to be planted root deep and a hand apart from each other. Since I had tiny hands, I opted for a hand and a bit and ended up with quite a few rows.

After all the rice was planted, the farmers would flood the paddies rice then dry it out to get more rice and encourage resiliency in the plants. It kept it healthy, but also forced it to work in conditions when there was less water. The two rice planting seasons were in June/July when raining season began in full force, as well as in December/January, but the second was less productive due to less rain.

The guides handed us hooked blades to harvest some of the nearby rice stalks. One stalk contained 100 to 200 grains while the whole bunch contained 20 to 30 stalks. We had to cut the bunches by pulling the hooked tool away from us and grabbed the bunch afterward. When we had a large enough bunch, we tied them together with a rice stalk and placed them with the others. Harvest generally took place in October/November as well as right before the Laotian New Year, around March.

After our harvest, we were told to wash off our muddy feet at the bamboo foot wash station. We sat down to watch and partake in a blacksmith demonstration to see how the harvest hooks were made. I beat away at the hot metal bar with a hammer for a bit and eventually got the hang of it. We also got to partake in a bamboo weaving demo where they would create animals and other decorations out of long thing pieces of bamboo. Our job with just to create the thin pieces with a stalk and a knife. We all got a bird to take home in the end and the weaver also gave me a buffalo.

Our guide showed us how to thrash the rice, which was as fun as it sounded. We held our bunches of rice stalks over our heads and hit them down on a tarp on the ground so all the rice would come out. There were also thrashing machines for the modern farming industry, but I quite enjoyed this manual section, perhaps not as much if it were my job for the season.

To remove the small pieces of stalk from the rice on the tarp, a big wooden fan came out and our guide demonstrated techniques that made him look like a graceful martial artist, especially in his pointed bamboo hat. After that step, the rice was collected in baskets and carried back to the home with the baskets supported by a forehead strap. It was then traditionally crushed by a foot controlled device to remove the husks.

A tossing and catching activity with a flat shallow basket, allowed the wind to pick up the light empty husks and blow them awhile, while the heavier rice fell back into it. From there, it could be ground into rice flour, or soaked overnight to be steamed the new day. We tried out the rice grinding machine: a push and pull device. I had trouble getting the rhythm.

We used a manual sugar cane crusher to make ourselves some juice. My excitement grew, as I had had sugar cane juice on my last visit to Laos and it was refreshingly sweet. The guides took us through an organic vegetable patch that supplied many of the more elite restaurants in the cities, the ones that I had likely walked by and felt I absolutely didn't belong, nor were the locals welcomed with their ridiculous prices. There were several plants in the garden from basil to strawberries, as well as tomatoes and peppers.

The guides invited us upstairs for step fourteen, eating the rice! The table spread offer sticky rice, rice cakes, crepe rolls, crispy treats in the shape of flowers and a spicy meat dip (drats). The rice cream cone the guide had recommended was very good.

Our group asked a lot of questions. Since I rarely went out of my way to voice mine, I appreciated when I could still have them answered by other people's curiosity. Living Lands Farm had not started as a tourist attraction, but a real farm. It grew to offer tours by foreigners wanting to experience more of Laos. They wanted to see the farm where the food was grown. Since they were five star hotel guests (in contrast, the hostel owner would have laughed and told us to rent a bike), the staff made an effort to make that happen. From there, the whole business developed and I was sure their income focus shifted as well.

I wouldn't be surprised if most of Laos' tourism had developed in a similar way. It would explain why most locals weren't too fond of the industry, just tolerated it, if that. Was it something they never really wanted and just deal with now? Regardless, the people running the tour had given off the opposite sentiment and I was quite happy I went to through all the hassle to get myself here.

In the afternoon, I made my way back to the city and checked into my new and wonderful room. I ventured off to get yet another baguette sandwich. I seriously had a problem, but I managed to limit myself to one a day. It wasn't my fault French food was so darn delicious, vegetarian friendly, and technically it had been around here long enough that it was integrated into the Laotian culture.

I did make it to one cultural museum that saved me from a rain storm. It was interesting to see all the outfits from the different hill tribes, many of whom also had counterparts residing in Thailand and Myanmar.

I used an internet cafe to find the Uxo visitor center once and for all since not one Laotian person knew what I was talking about. It was behind some large monument some distance away. The museum was tucked away in down a back street, but worth finding. The woman working was quite kind. She showed me around the one room museum and we chatted about travelling. She expressed how lucky I was, as Laotian women weren't allowed to travel alone.

The museum was dedicated to the bomb problem the country faced. Uxo worked to located and disarm the active bombs before anyone else could find them and get hurt. Many children in poor villages would try to use the scrap metal from them to sell for money, even knowing there was a chance they could still be active. The situation was so sad. Maps showed what areas of the country were still heavy with bombs and statistics about the whole issue. Uxo also went around to educate people of the dangers of those bombs.

On my last full day in Luang Prabang, I didn't do a whole lot. I lazed around in the morning, skyped with my family who I would be seeing in three days. It was surreal to think I was returning to a life I had left behind a few days shy of a year ago. I kept checked the weather and crossing my fingers that the late April snow would melt. No friends or family believed my wish would come true.

I rented a bike and tried to go to a museum that claimed they closed halfway through the day for an hour or so and would reopen. I didn't care enough so I went back to my room to rest and try to get rid of the food poisoning I'd had since Nong Khiaw.

I realized I should probably spend the rest of my Laotian cash since it was better than trying to exchange it and losing value. I headed out to the night market and found teas and coffees for friends and family. I found trinkets and purses for my cousins and a blue suede purse with flowers for myself. A veggie friendly buffet soothed my hunger, but didn't pack enough flavour to be a memorable last meal here. I couldn't say I liked the ultra touristy city of Luang Prabang with far too much European influence to please the tourists. It left me feelings cheated of a true Laotian experience, as I hypocritically consumed every other baguette I could find.

It was also likely that with my departure date nearing, after such a long stay away from home, no place could calm my nerves or live up to the hype. I had messaged Sabrina, Chloe and Taylor and the three of them had hated their final days in Malaysia, even Penang. When I went in October, Penang was a beautiful city with many different architectural influences and amazing food. I salivated at the mere thought of the food court haven of Red Garden. I would have gone back just to eat!

My whole Asian adventure would all come to an end the following night and I couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far. Say hi to Susan on the side, such a sweetie. If you're enjoying the story, let me know with vote or comment. We've nearly made it to the end! Thanks for your support.