Lovely Luang Prabang. And devil worship

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Lots of wood and shutters filtered though Asia and France with some incredible temples - I like the architecture here. And there are cakes and baguettes too, so I can see why people stay awhile. This is a town where baked goods make sense again. The streets are quiet and leafy and the river is a soothing presence.

It's not so cheap here, as we found when looking for a room. But there are some very tasteful guesthouses with polished wooden floors and so far, no cockroaches. Ellie makes friends with a guy in the foyer and discusses travel plans and saving money.

Ellie, Nigel, Amy and I are later wandering around the night market and Ellie finds someone ... it's Martin. He looks a bit haggard - a trifle Nosferatu. He's already worked out which bars serve cheap beer, and though he tries to take charge, we go to the river.

I ask him about the monastery. 'Two days was enough,' he said. 'One afternoon this woman was trying to give me orders, saying you have to do this, you have to do that, and it was too much and I told the teacher I am leaving. Anyway, ' he went on, 'I was one with Buddha, Jesus and all that and I decided that these Buddhists were wrong. Enlightened people would not say these things.'

We reached a bar by the river and sat down. Martin tried to move us to another table, and then move the table itself but we couldn't be bothered. I could see Amy and Nigel were embarrassed by him bothering the waiter who just didn't understand Martin's demands. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing, just how he was doing it.

Anyway, according to Martin, hippy haven Pai is now a hotbed of devil worship. He explained that when he returned to 'his' guesthouse, it was pulsing with heavy metal 'satanic' music, the kind that fills your mind with subconscious messages when you play it backwards that make you turn to drugs.

Amy raised her eyebrows. 'You may laugh,' said Martin, but you'll see it's true when people start dying and on certain dates.' He added ominously: 'You can read about it on the internet.'

Then it must be true, I thought.

Martin hadn't finished. 'I went to the owner of the guesthouse, who is a prostitute, and I told her the devil music must stop or I would leave and never recommend her place to anyone else.' He left.

Then we chatted about New Zealanders and comedy, subjects which baffled Martin.

'What a freak,' said Amy afterwards. We suspect we will be spending time with Martin until Claudia arrives.

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