Pha That Luang, or the Great Stupa, in Vientiane, was the national symbol of Laos. Not visiting it would be like a foreign tourist visiting New York and not looking at the Statue of Liberty.

67% of the population of Laos was Buddhist, with colorful gold reminders seemingly far exceeding the real economic well-being of the area.

The sun pictured here was setting over the Mekong River, Thailand being on the other side.

The countryside was often mountainous and scenic, as pictured here.

Much of the labor force in the fields and mountains were women.

In a small mountain village this was the general store.

The people of the north were often as curious of me and my motorcycle as I was of them and their lifestyle.

The Plain of Jars, near Phonsavan in the Northeast of Laos, was still without an explanation for being, or from where they came. The depressions in the ground around the 2,500-3,000 year-old stone jars were from bombs dropped by the USA during the American War (1964-1973).

A sign at the Plain of Jars indicated the site had been cleared of UXO, but tourists were warned not to wander off the main trails, a warning well heeded.

This marked bomb crater showed how close the bomb had come to the stone jar.

The biggest of the jars weighed 3.7 tons. This one was mid size.

One of the few intact stone jars had its lid in place, on top.

If traveling through Phonsavan, it was hard not to see remnants of the American War like the spent ammunition and ordnance pictured here outside a guesthouse.

In Phonsavan at another hotel guns and larger ordnance were displayed as tourist attractions.

Hotels were easy to identify and inexpensive. This one offered rooms for $20.00 USD with hot water and a light breakfast.

This was a “One-Stop Guesthouse” offering everything from a room to sleep in, Internet to surf over, beer to swill in and outdoor couches to chill on.

Better than taking a chance by driving at night, this small roadside shelter offered a higher probability of finding me alive (albeit cold) in the morning.

Breakfast could be had Western style, with very good bread, a reminder of the French being in Laos for so long. The price was $2.50 USD.

One half a world away from the Wild West of the USA I found this “country” bar and restaurant in Vientiane serving steak and French fries to the background sounds of country and western music.

Secure and protected motorcycle parking left little doubt that small displacement motorcycles dominated the market in Laos. I did not try to find a slot for my 400 cc Honda Transalp with its wide saddlebags; it would not even easily fit through the toll gate entrance.

My motorcycle was obviously atypical of what the locals were using as seen in this street scene.

A typical intersection on a busy street with no stop signs, no stop lights and no policeman directing traffic seemed to work well for the locals and they weaved and dodged each other. All were courteous and there was no horn-honking as would be found in the neighboring country of Vietnam.

I noticed the special handle grips for the helmetless child pictured here, as well as the Lao style of riding boots for both driver and passenger.

The umbrella these ladies were using was to protect them from the sun, not the rain. No helmets, no boots and no gloves, but no sunburn.

This Japanese imported Yamaha would cost at least twice the price of a similar Chinese imported copy due to the trade relations with China versus Japan and the subsequent importation taxes.

This 70 cc Honda was a daily commuter for its proud owner, who guessed it had 50,000-60,000 miles on it.

Pictured here was a copy of a Honda that had enjoyed partial customizing.

Pictured at a motorcycle parts store was a project bike, ready for restoration and it looked like it had been ready for quite some time.

I found this Russian Minsk, likely brought in to Laos from Vietnam, to be in “very good condition” given the Minsk’s I had used in the past. The factory had ceased production of this two stroke work horse, and made bicycles instead.

There were a few “big bikes” around, like this Honda cruiser, but only seen in the major cities. I saw none “touring” to countryside.

Pictured here was a police motorcycle, a Honda, spotted in Vientiane. The officer, who did not want his picture taken, was surprisingly pleased and became friendly when I told him I wanted a photograph of his motorcycle and not him.

Spotted here was an ice delivery motorcycle sidecar, used to deliver daily crushed ice to restaurants.

A tuk tuk, powered by what was once a motorcycle, was a local form of taxi.

Also called a “jumbo” by the locals, these small displacement Chinese motorcycle tuk tuks were an inexpensive way to get around town.

This was a typical motorcycle dealership, offering Chinese imported models, most under 125 cc displacement.

At a dealership in Vientiane I found larger displacement motorcycles available, but nothing one would consider a super slab eater.

A local motorcycle parts shop had what the rider needed for ordinary spares for their local smaller motorcycles, but nothing for my 400 cc model.

One of the motorcycle rental agencies in Vientiane offered a street side selection of larger cc displacement options.

Wayward tourists discovered they had overshot their turnoff by 25 kilometers. They had left the rental agency with no map and a $12.00 a day rental motorcycle, but plenty of time for adventure.

In the countryside gas was often hand pumped from fifty-gallon drums. This was the form of the local gas station.

In the cities modern gas stations were attended by “pump girls” who numerous times asked me if they could go traveling with me.

The modern city-style gas station sold gas and little else. ATM cards were not accepted, business was cash and carry only.

A stop sign in town was usually observed; vehicles stopped most of the time, but not often enough to trust your life to not slowing and checking both directions before passing through.

Pictured here was a “motorcycle only” bridge in the town of Luang Prabang.

Pictured here was a “motorcycle and foot bridge only” way to cross a river. Cars and trucks had to use a small ferry boat, as would a large displacement adventure touring motorcycle unless the owner had great faith in their ability to squeeze through and in the strength of the supporting ropes and boards.

Ridge top riding in the mountainous areas of the north and east of Laos offered grand views of this scenic area.

There were twisties to be found, and some with better quality pavement, but the unknown of what was around a corner let caution override wild tire sliding for me.

A local businessman was pictured here on his way to market.

A unique use of a two lane road: Mini bus passing a motorcycle while a big bus was passing the mini bus. Notice the motorcycle on top of the big bus.

I was driving up this hill in the lane on the left in this picture as the truck coming down the hill in the right lane lost its brakes, crossed into my lane and tried to climb the embankment on the left side before flopping over. The driver was unhurt, but I spent many nights reliving the experience in my nightmares.

Broken pavement, potholes, and these goats in the road exhibit why I long ago gave up driving motorcycles at night, like here in Laos on the main road between Vientiane and Luang Prabang.

Bad road and animals could be found around a curve or on a strait section of road. More than a few motorcycle wheel rims had been waffled by their pilots not being able to avoid them.

No lover of snakes, this one I gave this plenty of time to slither into the jungle grass after I discovered my Gross Vehicle Weight did not exceed its ability to survive.

My road into a local village was an uphill struggle when dry, but would have been impossible when wet, the mud becoming slicker than ice.

This posted notice reflected a bad adventure for some traveler.

Pictured here was a sample of an Internet café. They were quite common in the larger tourist areas, and inexpensive.

Pictured here was the interior of an Internet café. Use was less than $1.00 USD per hour.

Traveler.